There was a dreary road made of asphalt which had faded to a light gray. On its surface, a small economy car, a Honda Civic, rode lazily upon it. It was colored a dark red, and sported a few scuffs and scratches upon its body. Suspicious white puddles dotted the top, and the bulbs of its front lights were barely visible beneath a layer of haze.

Still, the man driving the vehicle was rather clean cut. Jet black hair was slicked back, threatening to become a slippery mullet. While still appearing rather young, the definition of his sharp jawline, and the general exhaustion of dark colored eyes suggested some sort of experience. His shirt was white and neatly pressed, and his tie was dull and uninteresting, a maroon fabric adorned with diagonal white stripes. The black shoes that cautiously pumped the accelerator possessed little luster, though unlike the car, they lacked scuff marks.

A lazy turn was made, the man taking little care to observe his immediate surroundings. Such was his distraction that only one hand lay on the steering wheel. Upon this hand, on the third finger, was a simple golden ring. It glimmered, even under the overcast evening sky.

What had caught this man’s fancy was a rather large structure down the road. All other dwellings, simple one-story houses, were absolutely dwarfed by the monolith. Aside from its size, however, it was almost as plain as the others. Large panes of glass which could have accommodated at least seven stories of windows graced the street-side face of the building.

The rest was of a dull gray material. A simple dark roof over hung the top of the structure.

The man eyed a path leading directly to the building, about the width of his car. Pumping the breaks, he performed a nonchalant one handed turn. The narrow road was long, and the colossal building he approached appeared to black out the already gray sky. As the Civic rattled alongside the building, it came to rest near a white painted garage door. The paint upon the door was beginning to flake, and thus, the man made a note to himself to schedule when he would have to attend to that matter.

The walk from his car was brisk. He did not even bother to retrieve his black handbag, which rested on the passenger's seat. By the time he remembered where he left the item, the man had already made it to the door within.

A pale hand entered his right side pocket of the nearly smooth black pants. The tell-tale jingle of keys had been made obvious as he rummaged through. He managed to grab an object, but then curled his lips in dissatisfaction, for he had mistakenly retrieved his detached Id badge.

Upon it lay his indifferent expression, and the name, “Andrew”.

Storing away the badge, his second attempt proved to be successful. With his curled lips now in a small smile, the door was unlocked, and he wasted nothing on ceremony to enter.

Before him lay a massive room. Wooden floors with large panels appeared to stretch for an eternity. Daunting walls, and several tall structures occupied the area. An acute observer would note that these very structures possessed the appearance of scaled-up versions of tables and chairs, as well as a kitchen island. Peering across the vast expanse, one would observe a colossal, yet humble electric stove and oven. And if they were to crane their necks high enough, they would observe a black, finger-smeared microwave above it.

Andrew had taken care to remove his shoes, before setting inside of the gigantic kitchen.

About five steps in, he knelt down, and swiped a finger across what little of the floor he could cover. Bringing the extremity to his face, he scrunched his nose upon observing a faint gray tint.

Dang, it would take forever if I tried to clean the floor again. I know Caitlin’s gone for the day, but …

The thought ended as the finger was dusted against the side of his pants. His opposite hand crawled up to his neck, loosening the Windsor knot that had held his collar hostage for nearly eleven hours. Andrew broke into a small jog, which would have to suffice as his exercise for the day.

A dark brown eye shot up, not able to peer at the top of the table that he now passed under.

To him, even as he hastened his pace, the surrounding area appeared slow to pass by. A growl from his stomach only provided further encouragement.

He then approached the kitchen island. Drawers with handles that would require his entire wingspan to grab ahold of loomed menacingly above. Upon closer inspection, the entire structure was made of a cheap polymer pseudo-wood. At his income, such was necessary to accommodate the sheer scale it was built.

He let out a satisfied exhale as the shadow of the island was left behind him. A stories-high refrigerator now loomed above him, despite the fact that he stood a great distance away. At the base of the great cooling unit, there was a minuscule perforation, perfectly fit for him to march on through. Andrew jogged towards it, but slowed down, for he observed a dark, shiny spot on the floor. It was a dark brown, a shade that evoked either coffee or tea. However, this particular spot did not tremble on his approach, nor did it shine like a liquid would. Instead, it lay still, staining the floor below.

Part of him was tempted to cease, and scrub away the offending spot. His growling stomach forced him to leave that activity for later.

At last, his destination had been reached. Cool air greeted him as he dragged open the heavy door. Right at the entrance lay various containers, filled with leftovers, although these were of scale for him.

Of course, if he were to venture further into the fridge, the tubbaware would be far larger.

He enjoyed a cold dinner quietly, and quickly, settling for eating just outside of the fridge. Andrew eyed a massive doorway right next to the fridge. It was made from a wood-like material that took up the massive height of the gigantic room. The man let his glance linger a bit too long, before he continued shoveling leftovers into his mouth, taking care to not allow a drop of food touch the floor.

In far less time than it took him to retrieve it, dinner was finished. Dishes were stacked in an orderly manner, before being marched off to a mirror black dishwasher. Much like the refrigerator, there was a ground level entrance to scale which allowed him to deposit his dirty dishes.

Andrew trekked across the floor once more, speeding past the central island, all the way to an oversized white-painted door. Nothing but black could be discerned under it, yet he ducked under the bottom, easily able to fit within the allotted room the door allowed. He took care to avoid any splinters that passed by overhead, before he had managed to enter the next room.

This particular area he had entered was not floored with massive wood panels, but a thick carpeting with strands than made it up to his knees. As such, Andrew’s steps became comically large as he forded forward. To him, the material was course, rough, irritating, and managed to drag everywhere, pulling upon his ironed pants, his neatly pressed shirt, and even snagging his tie

Up ahead, much like in the kitchen, lay familiar objects at an unfamiliar size. The looming bed dominated the space in the room. A dark, thick comforter that could at least cover a block of an average neighborhood lay on top, before drooping down over until some of the material lay sprawled upon the carpet. Standing right next to it was a nightstand, which held an alarm clock.

Taking another step, he nearly lost his balance, for the terrain had abruptly changed. Instead of raggedy, course carpet fibers that loved to hug every nook and cranny of his business suit, now he had trudged upon a smooth, silky nylon sheet.

Managing to steady himself, he narrowed his eyes as he viewed the edge of this new area within the massive bedroom. Tight threading left the nylon bunched in a pattern of distinct folds. If he were to take a step back, it would have been easy to observe that these rhythmic folds formed a gigantic waistband … a waistband to an equally colossal pair of shorts.

From the rather stout width the legs of these shorts possessed, one could conclude such a massive article of clothing would have only covered a fraction of the thigh of whoever could fit into it. Its smooth nylon material easily captured every bump and dip of the carpet.

“Didn’t even bother to fold these, eh?” Andrew mused to himself. He bent down, grasping some of the silky material. Immediately, a faint odor of musky sweat and a suspiciously fishy taint reached his most discerning nose.

His lips curled, before he puffed out a disgusted exhale. Taking a quick glance behind, it wasn’t long before the material was brought before his face.

The silky fabric was then pressed against his nose. A long inhale was taken, bringing with it all the odors he had sensed before, amplified to a far greater intensity.

“Definitely needs to be washed soon,” he noted to no one. Immediately, the smelly material was dropped with little ceremony. The office man then trudged forward once more, noting that the black material of his own pants appeared to hug his waistline more tightly than before.

Andrew could only discern the black outline of the clock, but didn’t have a chance to tell the time. He trudged forward, making it to the side of the bed. A glance to his side was met with the foot of the nightstand, with a thickness that challenged even the mighty sequoia. This was also host to a small metal platform, with a dark metal line leading up to the top of the stand.

It was here that he had fully loosened his tie, before setting it upon the carpet, taking care to hang it over one of the strands that had stuck out. A pale finger was brought to his collar, and one-by-one, his white shirt was unbuttoned. He worked carefully, lest he undid any of the threading as he made his way down. The article was not merely set aside, he managed to fold over some of the sleeves, before it too was set upon the carpet.

His white undershirt, belt, pants, shoes and socks were discarded in a similar manner, each finding a designated strand of carpeting to balance upon. Andrew’s physique was nothing impressive, as expected from an office worker. Yet his strange, oversized lifestyle, and a methodical diet, allowed some semblance of physical fitness. He was thin and lanky, yet there was evidence of wiry muscle within.

His wrists tensed as he grabbed ahold of the overhung comforter. For a moment, he glanced towards the nightstand lift again, before letting out a determined exhale.

Loose fabric provided plenty for him to grip. He could feel his shoulders, abdominals and biceps ache, yet the pain of a good workout neither discouraged nor dismounted him. Unlike the carpet, the comforter proved rather soft. The office worker almost found himself falling asleep against it, yet the anxiety of falling from such a height dampened such prospects.

With the grit of his teeth, Andrew pulled himself over. A massive pillow lay before him, easily the size of a house he could not afford. Running up against it, his hand traced under, before touching a rather hard material. Grabbing a hold of it, he inspected the hard cover book. It’s styling was simple, with a gold-emblazoned word for its title, “The Silmarillion”.

Andrew had taken a position on top of the mansion-sized pillow, completely absorbed in the novel. Hours passed by, drawing the room into eventual darkness. The light of the billboard-esque clock, which read “11:32”, allowed him to continue reading. It was not long before he heard a couple of thunderous thuds from the kitchen. Dark eyes tore themselves away from the novel, towards the entrance to the adjacent room. The door remained closed, yet he could observe a moving shadow from the light that lay visible underneath.

A loud creak was heard, and the massive monolith of polymers moved. The bedroom was flooded with incandescent kitchen light. A humanoid shadow blocked the way, filling in the doorway from floor to ceiling.

There was a heavy rustle as the figure made its way in. Earth-shaking thumps softened as massive feet rolled over the ragged carpet. From the shape of the hips, and the curves of the torso, which were somewhat hidden beneath baggy denim, it was easy to assume the newcomer was female.

In an instant, the heavy jacket that adorned this woman was thrown aside. In a massive heap, it crumpled, giving off a loud rumble as it impacted the ground. With another motion, her legs kicked off the loosened jeans that bound them. Warm light caught curvy, bulging limbs, and smooth, slightly tanned skin.

The pants also landed with a powerful thump. Andrew heard a small chuckle. Her voice was low, gritty, yet possessed a distinctly feminine timbre. The discarded nylon shorts that had caused him some trouble before were whisked off the floor, before sliding up the massive pillars of leg the woman possessed.

Her shadow was cast over its singular, small occupant as she approached the bed. Andrew caught an off-white tank top that hugged tightly across her chest area, before falling loosely over her waist. He heard nothing but the rustle of heavy footfalls and tired breathing. With a snap, he closed his book, setting it down carefully upon the bedsheets.

There was a loud thud, and a great tremor that shook the bed. Andrew let out a surprised yelp as he was launched into the air, making it to ten feet before falling back down. The squishy pillow managed to absorb the impact, preventing what damage could have been caused if the surface was far less forgiving. Brazenly, had the woman leapt onto the bed. So desperate for rest was she, that the other occupant had slipped beneath her notice. But, Caitlin was not always the most graceful of creatures.

For a brief moment, there was silence. Andrew could no longer see the alarm clock, for the massive form of the woman had blocked it out. What little light were was that originated from the kitchen allowed him to discern deep auburn hair which fell over a young, slightly freckled face. A steel gray pupil, almost obscured by a heavy eyelid had turned to acknowledge him, an eye which would have put to shame many large flat-screens he could care less to put in his budget.

As soon as she had settled down, he heard and felt, heavy breathing. Its powerful cadence was almost enough to lull her to sleep. Andrew took the time to slide down the pillow, the pillow he now shared with this titan. Keeping an eye on the eye that was in danger of closing, he opened his mouth.

“Long day eh?”

He received a rumbling “Mmmmmh” that vibrated the material beneath. Andrew folded his arms, doubting he could be observed in the shadows. He still felt such an action would make an impact.

Whether by placebo, or an actual result, Caitlin’s face wrested itself from the grip of the soft pillow. “Five demolitions,” she explained “Messy cleanup.”

Andrew’s own dark eyes traveled from her face, down her exposed neck, to a breast tightly compressed within the dirty tank top. Thought it was late at night, and he had to be in the office by 5 in the morning the next day, the man could feel his enthusiasm grow.

“Need me to help you unwind?” he suggested, attempting to sound as innocuous as possible.

“No worries, I’m-”

A loud yawn blasted through the night. The woman’s voice had become even lower than before. Bass registers rumbled, rattling Andrew’s bones. Hot, moist air teased his skin, while the odor of onion mixed with human musk assaulted the senses. Despite this, he remained enthused.

“Are you going to shower?” he asked, wiping his nose.

She nodded, rustling the sheets. “Tomorrow.”

“Well, I ought to get some of that gunk off now,” he suggested. Andrew felt his bare feet trace a circle upon the bed sheets. His arms, which had been folded once before, were now clutched behind his back. Eyes that had been so focused keenly upon the massive form before him were now averted from her tired gaze.

Upon his offer, steel colored eyes harshly zeroed in on the man, as the brow’s upon her face began to furrow. Yet, beset with such intensity, Andrew could only muster a mischievous smile, and grow even more enthusiastic.

“You’re my husband,” Caitlin declared, her harsh glare beginning to soften, “not my personal slave.”

“I’m doing this for both of us. You’ll stink up the bed if I don’t.” he sheepishly justified. One of his hands began to rub the back of his head, beginning to undo his slick, quasi-mullet.

“Too late for that,” she stated. Caitlin’s own eyes now had taken care to not stare at Andrew, but focus on the bedsheets below. In a far more quiet, not to mention timid voice, she continued, “but I suppose you might as well …”

The man had already begun eagerly making his way down. As he trekked over the comforter, he felt his progress slow as each step sunk into the soft fabric. A dark eye veered back to his wife. Even on her back, she exceeded the height of most houses. Of course, some areas reached higher than others, as he so lecherously noted.

Andrew made it past her dirty white tank top, and was currently walking alongside her waist. He brought himself closer to her position, close enough to where he was but an arm’s length away. The temperature had notably rose, and the faint sweaty odor that he had detected when she first entered, became rather overpowering.

There was a shift in the nylon, a ripple as Caitlin attempted to make herself more comfortable. Her husband staggered as a result, requiring a steady hand against her monolithic thigh to regain balance. He was able to maintain contact, even as he progressed down to the point where her shorts no longer covered her skin.

He continued to trace his hand against the skin, even as Caitlin allowed herself to remain still. Her flesh was firm and taught, and if he pressed further, he would detect sinewy muscle that had been well worked. Yet, the skin upon her leg was smooth, more so than the slightly dirty wooden floors and a lot more pleasant than the coarse, rough irritating carpet fibers of the bedroom.

In minutes, he had left the thigh behind, and moved adjacent to her calf. The man had adjusted to the steep indent his wife left by her sheer mass. Such weight was formidable, easily lethal to men whom would be considered physical juggernauts, of which Andrew himself was not. Yet, he continued to tease danger, tracing his hand all the way to Caitlin’s ankle. By then, the skin there was dry, and lacked the waxy smoothness of her thigh. Yet, Andrew was not deterred in the slightest.

Rounding by the ankle, he was now face to face with her heel. His wife’s foot was a structure in of itself, easily exceeding several stories. Scaling it would have been a strenuous adventure, comparable to climbing smaller cliff faces. Even a good amount of expertise and effort would have been required to even make it past her heel.

As he traced his hand against the heel, Andrew detected many bumps and callouses. A nose was brought against the thick skin. A deep inhale took in dirty, pungent odors. In any other instance, he would have forced to upchuck his dinner after experiencing such a scent. But now, he could only stand erect, determined to treat his wife well.

In circular motions his hands moved. Some dryer skin flaked off as he rubbed. A cheek was brought against her heel, his softer skin giving way to the tougher surface. The bedroom was relatively cold, as they were still in the winter months. Thus, feet warmed from an entire day in heavy boots proved a comfort to him.

As he worked on her heel, he felt his tongue slip out, and sampled the salty humidity still trapped upon it. Such cuisine would have been fit for the most desperate of street urchins. For Andrew, it was priceless. He stood even more erect, as to not miss a patch of skin.

Caitlin felt her tendon’s and muscles loosen upon her serviced foot. Andrew’s cool touch caused her to let out a small exhale, blowing out the labors of the day she had endured. Yet, this was followed by a frustrated grunt, as she thought to herself, Dang it, I did need this. But Andrew needs to sleep …

And even as her foot was able to cool down from Andrew’s efforts, something within her had begun to warm.

There was a pause, and she felt Andrew walk away. Immediately, did her spirits dampen. Her foot felt hollow, as if a piece was missing. However, she was keen enough to hear the small patters of Andrew’s walking, as he ventured towards her other heel.

For another couple of minutes, Caitlin could only bask in the small, yet refreshing sensation of her husband servicing her tired heels. She would feel a spike of warmth for every small prickly lick against the skin. Unconsciously, she had begun to bite down on her lower lip.

It was still an unpleasant surprise when Andrew stopped again. Gazing upwards, he eyed the five digits that lay above, bathed in faint incandescent light. He felt his arms fold, debating if he had enough strength to make it to the top.

He shook his head. Leaning to the side, he cupped his hands over his mouth, before shouting, “Mind putting your toes down? That’s where the real nasty stuff is.”

His small voice traveled far, and was received crystal clear by gigantic ears. Caitlin let out a sigh, before muttering, “Honestly, by the time were done, you’re going to stink.”

“True,” acknowledged Andrew, keeping his eyes upon the toes, “but I’m not going to be contaminating an area the size of a football field.”

Caitlin was relieved that her massive foot blocked out the view of her face. Her eyes rolled, and if she wished it, they could have traveled back into her skull. “Really underselling me there honey.”

Her knee, once flat upon the comforter, now rose. To Andrew, it was as if he were witnessing the ascension of a newly christened hill. As such, he had to watch the colossal foot he was once up against, retreat from him, compelled by an overwhelming force. Such an event provoked excitement, equivalent to watching elephants or dinosaurs move; a pure fascination with how something massive and monolithic moved with graceful ease.

By bending her legs, Caitlin was able to bring her toes down to the comforter. Unconsciously, they flexed, giving off the impression of some lovecraftian monstrosity beginning to move. Cool air seeped between them, allowing the giantess a brief refreshing sensation, though nothing what could prepare her for what followed.

Here we go again, thought Andrew as he approached the first set of toes he had set to service. The putrid odor he had so judiciously absorbed just moments before only intensified.

Each digit proved formidable; her large toe was just outmatched by a large sedan, while the other toes could be compared to far more economical vehicles, much like his own Honda Civic. Andrew himself was taller than her big toe; it only came up to his chin.

He bent down, taking in the odor wafting from the space between her big and second toes. There was a strong vinegary quality that seared his nostrils. Both hands braced upon a toe. He laid his left on the greatest of the digits, while his right lay on the second.

His second course had begun, as his tongue lapped up the grotesque sweat which had fermented all day within heavy socks and bulky boots. The hands that held him up began moving in circles, creating clear indents within the bony extremities.

Andrew veered to the second toe, his tongue servicing it more frequently. He had taken his feet off of the bed sheets, and had fully mounted his wife’s foot. Now his knees lay suspended on the big toe, while he attended to the second. A tremor was sent into his chest as his wife wiggled her toes by pure instinct, almost unseating him.

Deciding to move on, he pushed forth, eyeing the space between the second and the third, but a large dark shape caught his attention. He reached out with both hands, yanking out of the gap. What he held was a wrinkled, mangled ball of black fabric. The smell of course, was incomprehensible.

Caitlin had begun to notice that the crushing exhaustion that had thrown her into the bed had begun to lift. She especially perked up once she felt the quaint tickle of Andrew’s lips graze her toes.

It appeared nearly an eternity as her husband continued to kiss, lick and rub her toes, even as the old layers of pungent sweat were replenished. Once again, he had to trek across to reach the other foot, so that the toes upon that pedal monstrosity would not go neglected.

As before, he threw himself on top of the foot, not even bothering to tease the matter with a light message. Andrew headed straight for the sticky, fermented perspiration coating the toes and in-between. The office man was better prepared to handle his wife’s instinctual flexing and bending of the toes this time around. He rose and fell with each digit, even embracing one to stay attached. By his actions, Caitlin was made explicitly aware of her husband’s enthusiasm for this self-imposed task.

At last, Andrew had finished. The feet were as wet and smelly as before, yet he could tell his services were no longer required. Looking past the gargantuan ankle, he began making his way up her leg.

“I’m done here,” he announced, “Now the pits.”

“You walked right past them,” Caitlin pointed out. Despite this, her tired arms rose, until they were tucked behind her head, compressing her thick brown hair.

Andrew nodded as he continued, once more admiring the shadow of the immense leg. “I like to work my way back,” he explained. He then began his trek back, going up the length of her foot, making past her ankle to her calf.

Progress was slow, initially. His wife’s calf was smooth, with only spare hairs to grip on. This became less of a problem, for Caitlin would see to it. Akin to a river bridge lowering to reconnect the road after a passing ship had gone by, her leg had begun to sink down back into the comforter. Andrew too, felt his stomach sink along with the incline. As the angle had become less daunting, Andrew found it easier to stand on his two feet.

His pace was brisk upon her leg. Even the obstructing plateau of Caitlin’s knee cap was not much of a challenge to climb over. However, as the plain of flesh widened on her thigh, he had begun to slow for far different reasons. Once he had reached the edge of his wife’s loose fitting sport shorts, Andrew had come to a stop.

One hand gingerly gripped the edge. He lifted, similar to how one would lift a tarp. The man was met with a massive heat wave, a blast of muggy air strong enough to knock him flat. It arrived with a strong stench of a far different kind. All of this only elicited a mischievous smirk from him, as he gazed into what lay beyond, up his beloved’s thighs.

“What are you doing?” Caitlin inquired, with a knowing inflection. She had attempted to sound annoyed, but felt as if insufficient effort was put in to make such a phony objection convincing.

“Just previewing,” Andrew answered in the most matter-of-fact way he could. The heat and humidity had begun to make him sweat, and as such, he wished to bathe in it.

“Uh-huh.” Caitlin murmured, feeling hot blood rush to her cheeks, and other organs within, “I don't mind if you dive right in, but I won't be able to help you out. I'm as sleepy as a sloth.”

“Hence the preview.” he ejaculated.

At this, Caitlin rolled her eyes. She also bit her lip once more.

Andrew released his hold upon the shorts, and begun to climb on top of the material. His neck strained as he forced himself to look at what was ahead of him, lest wandering eyes lead him away from his destination. A deep dark valley, obscured so selfishly by silky fabric, tempted him with wild detours.

Still, he pressed onward. Soon, smooth nylon transitioned to soft skin. There was a sizable portion of exposed flesh in the expanse between the shorts and her tank top. Caitlin’s belly button was slightly visible, for her top had ridden upwards. It had been surrounded by small, organized hills of taut abdominal musculature.

Here, Andrew had ceased once more, thought he did not attempt to pry open the waistband of his wife’s shorts. Instead, his gaze was focused northward. Despite making it to her torso, he could not behold his wife’s face, for something, or two, had obstructed it.

“That’s a mountain I’m not climbing tonight.” he commented.

Andrew then veered off to the side, sliding down the skin of his wife’s midriff. The comforter made for a soft landing, although he had to roll to fully minimize the impact. Once re-situated, the man had broken into a small jog, for his destination was straight ahead.

Heavy, estrogen-tainted odor dominated his senses. Andrew found the area here more humid than in the foot. As he made it to under Caitlin’s shoulder, he could observe the area of interest covered with slick, short, curly hairs. Only flashes of wrinkled flesh could be caught between the maze of wiry fibers.

As with the feet, Andrew thrust his head into just below the center of Caitlin’s armpits. Even more perspiration coated his already soaked hair. His body was brought against the area as well, forcing its way through twisted fibers, attempting to come into contact with as much of her underarm flesh as possible. For a moment, the bushel of axilla threatened to completely swallow him in.

“Hold on, fire in the hole.”

Andrew broke from his trance, hearing his wife’s voice booming from the outside of his little world. There was a shift in the bedsheets, as she had lifted her legs.

A sound of thunderous flatulence bellowed out from beyond. The man could have sworn he felt the bed vibrate as his wife dispensed with all other grotesque odors caught within her system. Luckily, she had directed the wind away from him, so only the faintest scent of crappy emissions hindered him. Of course, considering his current predicament, the smell would have gone on unnoticed.

Andrew pressed on, taking in pints upon pints of salty liquid caught in his wife's hairy underarms. In many ways, he could have compared it to a rather pungent oasis that no desert traveler would partake in, lest they were on the brink of death. Yet, like an unexpected spring of water in barren lands, each drop sent a new spark of life within him.

He pressed even further, as if he were trying to become one with the moist flesh. Some of his hands unconsciously twirled a wayward hair, whose thickness could have been mistaken for a small rope. His hair at this point was no longer neatly slicked back, but had become soaked, tangled and messy, falling over his face on inopportune times.

Pulling away briefly for a fresh breath of air, Andrew’s head was reintroduced to the sweaty underarm far sooner than he had expected. An unrelenting force had pressed him in, deforming the skin so that it folded around him. Slick hairs molested his body as he had been compelled by this same force to travel across the vast terrain of the odorous armpit in a circular motion. Movement quickened, and he became short of breath. In his heart of hearts, he wished it would last an eternity.

A mere finger of Caitlin’s was the only digit required to trap Andrew against her underarm. Her heart raced like an accelerating drumbeat. She could feel her ribcage rattle as her heart furiously worked to arouse her senses. The sensation of her husband pressed into her armpit had sent her into a frenzy. Closing her eyes, she could feel her breathing only becoming more desperate as she applied even more force to the area.

Finally, Caitlin managed to catch herself. A brief vision of her underarm hairs stained blood red was the only thing that stopped her. In the dark, she knew her cheeks had been flushed beet red, in a volatile mixture of embarrassment at her own actions, as well as something else she would be addressing in a moment’s notice.

As Andrew lay in a forest of axilla, beaten and exhausted, he could only think to himself, the things I do for love.

From the infernal pits, he was lifted, held captive by an index finger and a thumb. Of such great girth were these members, that they had nearly engulfed his frame, leaving only his chest and head visible from above, and his knees from below. There was a slight restrictive compressing within his diaphragm from the applied force of both digits, yet he was sure his wife was attempting to be as gentle as possible. Were her desires far more malicious, the grinding of organs and the crushing of bones would only require a minuscule effort. It was this thought that reminded Andrew that, despite the ride he had been taken upon before, he was still quite erect with enthusiasm.

He was brought before Caitlin’s face. Her hair was artfully splayed out, where if she were to stand, it would fall messily down to her neck. Steel gray eyes pierced him with such an intensity, he felt as if their mere glare would crush him before her fingers would. Hungrily they focused on him, foreshadowing what was to come.

His view traveled down her round nose, and to her slightly agape lips, an entrance to a maw that would have made him a lesser snack. Yet, the hunger his wife experienced was not of the sort that satisfied the stomach.

“You’ve done more than enough there,” she declared, out of breath herself, “but there’s one more place that need your attention.”

“Yeah, the other side,” Andrew sheepishly suggested. But, all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.

Caitlin shook her head. Her mouth had closed, and sported a mischievous smirk. “Nope, wrong answer.”

Andrew’s next words were not chosen so carefully, “I mean, if you wish, I could go anywhere.”

Caitlin felt her heart skip a beat. “Your funeral.”

“Oh no...” was all Andrew could vocalize. However, even though part of him was exhausted, the other member he possessed still had some juice left.

“Lets expand on that little preview you did, shall we?”

…

Night had fallen. The stars were now fully visible. Yet, the large truck that maneuvered through the neighborhood and to driver within, bright incandescent lights outshone the heavenly lights.

The massive vehicle was currently in the shadow of a more massive building. Multiple bins of trash had been stacked neatly at its side. With little enthusiasm, the truck driver maneuvered his truck, so that the carrying crane would retrieve one of these bins.

In an instant, he began to feel a slight tremor. The truck driver’s eyes grew massive with fright. In the distance, he heard a rhythmic pounding, and his head darted around and about, attempting to locate the general epicenter of this unusual quake.

He then heard a scream, a woman’s scream that echoed with magnitude and intensity. Yet, this was not the sound of despair. As realization dawned over him, the driver felt his shoulder’s relax. A knowing smile crept across his face.

The man sniggered, as he continued his work undisturbed.

…

A loud klaxon had shaken Caitlin from her slumber. Heavy eyelids rose, revealing a bright LED display that read “4:30”. Reaching a lazy hand over, she slapped the top of the clock, silencing its morning call.

Mouthing inaudible murmurs, her head sunk back into the pillow, and she felt peaceful rest begin to take over once more.

One detail kept her conscious. Behind her head, upon Andrew’s area of the pillow where he usually rested besides her, she could not hear a single rustle. Rolling over, twisting bedsheets and comforters, she was greeted with the sight of empty fabric.

Caitlin let out a sharp exhale and shot up, still seated within the bed. Alert eyes had begun to systematically search the bed, glaring at the various folds and valleys for a miniscule body, or even worse, a miniscule blood stain. Her heartbeat became as a dreadful drumbeat within her chest, the perfect sound to her rising anxiety as each passing second of the search proved fruitless.

With no sign of her husband, Caitlin rotated to the side, allowing her feet to touch the carpet below. That was when she figured out where Andrew had gone.

As she had turned, she felt a peculiar bump within the depths of her shorts. A cautious finger had begun probing the designated area, until she could feel the familiar contour of her husband within the confines of the nylon.

It was then, when Caitlin had recalled the last thing she had done before she had gone to sleep. This particular memory saw the return of a mischievous smirk.

“Oh right,” she could only say to herself.

Her finger then gingerly brushed against the band of her pants. It then sunk even deeper, sliding beneath the edge of her underwear. There was a slight sticky resistance as she pulled both articles back.

Sprawled against the white strip of her panties lay Andrew. The surrounding area, however, possessed an off color. Arms and legs moved, breaking away some sort of flaky coating that had somehow adhered itself to him the previous night.

Caitlin could feel her face flush red once more as she admired the small shape of her husband in the depths of her underwear. She could observe his head swivel, attempting to ascertain his surroundings. Perhaps he too had difficulty with recollection.

“Sleep well?”

At the sound of her voice, Andrew’s head shot up. The environment was alien to him, the white cloth he lay upon, the black background, and whatever strange ceiling lay right above him, slick, red and covered with hair. He managed to catch a glimpse of the thumb that had pulled back the canopy of his private prison.

While he knew from where Caitlin spoke, he could not see her face, for something blocked his view.

Nevertheless, he responded, “Sleep was the only thing I could do after what you put me through. Or, into more accurately.”

“I’m sorry … “ Caitlin apologized, turning her head away, “I got carried away.”

“I'm not complaining,” Andrew reassured her.

His wife rolled her eyes, even if her loving smirk never left her. She suppressed a giggle, for that would only encourage him.

“Alright, Let’s get you to the shower. You don't want the boys at work asking questions."

At this, Andrew smirked, "I'm surprised you know what a shower is, stinky."

Caitlin could only sigh. She was slightly tempted to reintroduce her husband to his prison for the night. However, she decided that such an action would have to wait until after the workday was done.

There was a sound of thunder. Quakes shook the land, as Caitlin made her way through a back road. It was a simple dirt path, carving through a forest. The trees barely made it to her ankle. In fact, such an assessment was rather generous to the trees. Beyond the forest lay a suburban neighborhood, a neighborhood she easily towered over. Were the sun not setting in the west, Caitlin would have easily cast a shadow over a significant amount of the properties.

She grimaced as she glanced ahead. Her home was not far off. It stuck out as always, a blocky gray monolith among the comparatively minuscule dwellings that stood near it.

Even as she made her way, there was a notable limp in her gait. Every time she moved her right leg, the soft of her foot would act up. The pain was sharp, as if a pair of claws were tearing the tendon within. She made sure to keep her weight upon her left foot, yet even that could not stifle the agony she beared.

It felt like an eternity before she made it to the entrance. Andrew’s garage was oriented towards the neighborhood. The door that stood before her was situated near the back of the house, allowing easy access to the path she had just tread. Such was necessary, or her transit to the construction site would be a destructive one, no matter how much caution she practiced.

She practically fell through the entrance, her boots thudding against the floor. Her construction gear felt heavier than normal. It was a relief to take off her hard hat, allowing matted hair to fall over her face, her ears and her neck.

Next were her boots. Caitlin had to lean against a wall in order for her to comfortably remove the heavy footwear. For good measure, she also threw off her thick brown jacket, leaving a clearly undersized tank top to cover her torso.

It took a minute to shed her boots. She endured another pang of agony that shot through her foot. There was a great temptation to let out a curse, but Caitlin stifled such an instinct.

It took a great deal of effort to lumber through the kitchen to the bedroom. Were she not a giantess, Caitlin’s house would be considered positively minuscule. The door to the outside was rather close to the entrance to her bedroom. She was practically leaning against the door as her body stumbled through.

Andrew witnessed the titanic form of his wife shift into the bedroom. He had taken a small nap on the pillow, but had been stirred the minute he heard Caitlin enter the house. Concern overcame his face as he witnessed her limping gait. Such a sight was comparable to a collapsing skyscraper, yet his worries lay more with the skyscraper, rather than whether he would be caught in the path of destruction.

And concerned he should have been about himself. His comparatively minuscule form had jumped down from the pillow, and raced towards the edge of the bed to greet Caitlin. Yet his wife, occupied with her strained foot, did not notice his presence.

Still, he shouted out to the approaching colossus, “Hey Cait, are you alright? Did something happen at work?”

Giantesses possessed a heightened sense of hearing, particularly when it came to human voices. This, however, was to no avail. Andrew’s vocal chords could only project so much sound that Caitlin could pick up on. Her distracted disposition did not help matters.

She loomed over the bed. Andrew was about even with her thighs. It was always awe-inspiring, among other things, to be flanked by two overwhelmingly massive pillars. The fact that they were concealed behind dark-blue denim detracted little from their majesty. He dared not look upward, for the view there promised to be even more enticing.

So transfixed was Andrew, that he did not wonder why his wife was turning her back to the bed. So fixated he was, that it did not register when her jean-clad rear, like a falling meteor, descended towards where he stood.

It was only when Caitlin’s tush had completely overshadowed him, that Andrew realized his predicament. He did not bother to shout out to Caitlin, his voice would be impeded by massive barriers. Instead, he scrambled forwards.

A giantess taking a seat is not such a mundane event to those far smaller than her. The mattress was not very stiff, and thus, when Caitlin’s weight was brought to bear, the terrain sank. Andrew found himself out of immediate danger, for he had surpassed in impact zone. Yet impacts had shockwaves. He had to grip the comforter, lest he slid down the incline created by his wife, down to her crotch.

Caitlin leaned over, resting her elbows on her legs. A small groan escaped her lips. Her head hung over, allowing brown hair to cascade down.

Her eyes widened, as she was able to spot who lay between her legs.

“Crap!” she exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

She scooted back, as well as widening her legs, giving Andrew more breathing room. The bed quaked, and he dared not stand up, for the shifting terrain would make balance tricky. As he looked back up, he saw a wave of relief wash over his wife’s face.

“No worries, I thought I’d be able to avoid you with that limp,” he cheekily replied.

A sheepish grin crossed Caitlin’s face.

“You noticed eh?”

“Honey, you’ve got the grace of a Tyrannosaurus, but now, you’re just a Bronto.”

Caitlin assumed an expression of faux-offense, “Don’t call me a Tyrano-whatever! I bet I’m way bigger!”

“And heavier.” Andrew added on with a smirk.

A denim-clad leg shifted. Andrew found himself under a great shadow. Gradually, he felt the titanic weight of Caitlin’s thigh settle down upon him. Her jeans were softer than they appeared, for they had seen many years of use, even before they were even married. It possessed a distinct odor that was a mix of fabric, and stale sweat, something which made it uniquely Caitlin.

Despite the force now pressing down upon him, Andrew was in no pain. The soft mattress beneath him, cushioned with layers of comforter and bedsheets took the brunt of the weight. He was certainly pressed deeper into the surface. His back was tightly hugged by the contours of the comforter, while his front had been consumed by his wife’s thigh. It was a complete hug of fabric, a prison of oppressive comfort.

Caitlin felt another spike of pain, and moved her thigh off of her husband. Andrew was given a clear view of her face, twisted in agony. He too, felt a twinge of pain, more from empathy, and not from the avalanche of jean-clad flesh he recently found himself under.

“Frickin a, I can’t even torment you properly,” she lamented.

Once he sensed his wife settled down, Andrew took the time to stand up. Her “torment” had certainly straightened at least one thing out, but her current predicament stifled his excitement. He placed a fist upon his chin, giving an impression of contemplation.

His contemplation did not last long, for he suggested in short order, “You should probably call in for tomorrow.”

Caitlin furrowed her brow, “No way!”

Andrew winced from the force of Caitlin’s shout. The mere air pressure emitted from her mouth almost sent him on his back, not to mention the volume of her voice was quite powerful as well. Still, he had become a veteran of dealing with giantess outbursts, and managed to steady himself.

“You’ve been on the job ever since you’ve been employed,” he explained, “Throughout your employment, you’ve only taken 24 hours of vacation.”

His wife raised an eyebrow, “How do you…”

Andrew tapped his head in response, “It’s a requirement for my own job.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. A hand reached for Andrew. He was pinched, held by her thumb and two fingers. Methodically, she placed him on the nightstand.

Grunting, Caitlin managed to shimmy her pants off. She smirked, feeling her husband’s wandering eyes upon her bare thighs, bulging with flexed muscle. Grey fabric concealed her privates, and she contemplated shifting her position to give Andrew a better view. Her sore foot brought her out of that line of thinking, and she continued, with great strain, to free her legs from the confines of her jeans.

She considered grabbing some shorts to cover up her undergarments, but decided the journey to her drawer was not worth it. It lay a short distance a way, but her sore foot complicated matters. Instead she brought her legs on the bed. Her socks were discarded by her feet, although using her right foot to uncover her left caused her significant pain.

As her head settled upon the pillow, she sighed, “Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch.”

Upon the nightstand, Andrew found himself close to her face. His view couldn’t even account for it’s entirety. He found himself solely gazing into gargantuan eyes. “You should probably spend the day icing it down.”

“If you get paid to work, you work.” she refuted, “My Dad always said that.”

Once more did Andrew bring a fist to his chin. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose…”

Dark eyes scanned the expanse of the giantess’ form. They settled on her bare feet, resting near the end. Such a simple sight was made grand from the sheer scale and distance Andrew found himself from her. At least, parts of her. Were Caitlin his size, he could simply walk in the span of a second to reach her feet.

Making the distance would be significant exercise at the very least in his current situation.

Bringing his attention back to her face, he asked, “Does that at least feel better?”

Caitlin nodded slightly, shifting the pillow, “It’s a bit sore, but sure beats walking.”

Andrew inhaled deeply, before bringing his idea to light, “I can help out with that, you know.”

Silence emerged between the two. Caitlin let out a small huff, before giving him a knowing glance. Before long, her arm, previously prone at her side, reached out.

Andrew was taken from the night stand. He managed to fall into her palm. The skin there was slightly calloused, but at the very center, where he was held, there was a tenderness that he rather appreciated.

He would not get an opportunity to appreciate it for long, for her hand tipped, depositing Andrew next to her waist upon the bedsheets. Andrew wasted no time, taking off on a jog. He devoted little time to appreciate the thigh to his side that formed a wall easily three stories high. Eventually, the thigh tapered off to a knee, which was only two stories high; not as impressive.

Making it to her feet, he rounded the corner, making it past her left foot, and settling in front of her right. Placing his hand upon her heel, feeling the tough, yet flexible skin, a smile crosses his face. A distinct odor crossed his nose, yet he persisted in not succumbing to disgust.

He peered around the inside of the foot, if only to project his voice to his wife’s ears, which currently lay behind hundreds of feet of leg, waist, and chest. In fact, because of her chest, Caitlin’s face remained obscured.

“So, where’s the damage?”

Caitlin bent her neck up, “Right in the middle, right inside the arch.”

An arm stretched up, not even making it past the jut of her heel. Peering around again, Andrew shouted once more.

“You mind?”

Caitlin felt a blush flush her cheeks a slight shade of red. She turned her foot to the side, allowing her pinky toe to rest upon the bed, while her big toe still hung in the air. Andrew wasted no time repositioning himself against her arch.

Nimble hands pressed into more tender skin. Beneath, Andrew felt a distinct rut, and focussed his efforts there. He heard a sharp gasp from his wife in response.

In a way, it was almost magic, as every trace of pain evaporated away. Caitlin felt her foot loosen, as if strings that had been binding it ever since she had tweaked it, had become undone. As she basked in the feeling of relief, she murmured, “Gosh, you’re doing an even better job than I could.”

“Massages feel better when someone else is giving them.” Andrew responded.

“Point taken,” replied Caitlin. A small smirk crossed her face, “Hope you don’t mind the smell”

A shade of red bloomed upon Andrew’s cheeks.

“It’s a bit much,” he admitted, “but I can manage.”

Story of your life with me, eh? Caitlin mused, as she felt her eyelids become heavy. It became a struggle to maintain consciousness, for it was the first time of the day she had a chance to truly relax. Soon enough, she had fallen asleep.

By the time her eyes opened once more, it was clear that time had passed. Her maw opened wide, letting out a breathy yawn. “Oh man, how long was I out? It isn’t morning yet, is it?”

“Relax,” assured her husband, still at her foot, “It’s only been half an hour.”

Caitlin’s gaze focused upon Andrew’s form, completely outclassed by her foot. There was not much she could make out of him, least of all, what expression he was wearing. What she could tell, was that Andrew was hard at work. There was a small warmth within her chest simply observing the sheer difference in scale. It was as if he were washing the side of a wall.

“And you’re still going at it?” she commented.

“I can do this all day,” Andrew declared.

A mischievous thought crossed Caitlin’s mind, as she replied, “Really?”

Her foot turned over, trapping Andrew underneath. He was pressed into the arch. There wasn’t as much pressure applied if happened to have the misfortune of being under either the ball, or the heel. Still, smelly, sweaty skin had been forced against the entirety of his body. His breath would inhale a full, unrestrained dose of pungent odor that tingled the sense, and filled the lungs.

By doing this, Andrew had ceased his labors. Caitlin was rewarded with another bout of pain, and responded by giving out a strained yelp. By reflex, her foot veered off of Andrew, giving him relief from her foul oppression.

Andrew did not bother bring himself to his feet, for an idea had popped in his head. A terrible, wonderful, awful idea. He could not match this idea with a gross smile, yet the thought certainly excited him.

“Everything alright?”

Caitlin had managed sit up just enough to get a clear view of her husband’s sprawled form. With baited breath, she awaited a stir of movement from him.

“I was just thinking,” she heard him respond, allowing herself to exhale.

“What exactly?”

Andrew sat up, “How about I help you get through your workday tomorrow.”

An eyebrow rose upon the colossal woman’s face, “How do you figure to do that?”

“Easy,” Andrew claimed, “I’ll just massage your foot until you clock out.”

Caitlin immediately shook her head, “You have work tomorrow as well, don’t you?”

“I can call the day off.” he countered, “I have paid time to spare. Lawrence doesn’t mind, and if I say I’m helping out my wife, I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But … but …” she protested. Her objections were soon reduced to a series of inaudible mumbles. Silvery eyes shifted to the side, and she could only pray that the blush that occupied her cheeks would go unnoticed.

“You don’t have to do that for me!” It was at this moment that Caitlin felt as a petulant child trying to refuse something a parent suggested.

“I’m afraid I’m martially obligated to. ‘In sickness and in health’ remember?”

“I can do this without using you as a footstool!” the giantess declared. Even at her feet, Andrew could still feel the immense pressure her powerful vocal chords could generate.

To prove her claim. Caitlin swung her foot over the edge of the bed, making sure Andrew was left untouched. But even as she placed weight down on her foot once more, her foot cramped up again, far more powerfully than before. In such pain was she, it was preferable to jam her foot into the joint of a door, than remain standing.

Remain standing, she did not. Her rear crashed back into the bed, the shock sending Andrew into the air for but a few feet.

It was through gritted teeth, she then conceded, “You win this time buster.”

…

Caitlin was stirred awake through the blaring of her alarm. “6:00” read the digits upon the digital interface. An arm lazily reached out, before smacking the clock, effectively silencing the blaring klaxon.

She rolled her head to the opposite side. To her surprise, Andrew was already up, standing on his own two feet upon the pillow they shared.

“Morning, you ready to work?”

Her mouth opened wide in response, allowing a breathy yawn to pass. It was assured Andrew would be bearing the full brunt of her morning exhale, along with everything else that was allowed to ferment within. As she witnessed her husband stagger from a meager yawn, a smile grew upon her lips.

“I sure am!”

Caitlin set to get herself out of bed. Her cheerful disposition disappeared, as the same pain from the previous day made itself known as soon as significant pressure was placed upon the affected foot.

Her back hunched over, half to bear the cramp, half in frustration. It appeared to be, her final defeat in this resistance.

“Andrew,” she whimpered, “… I …”

Her husband had already made it to her side, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Upon the nightstand, there lay a pair of clean socks. A firm hand retrieved them. Her left foot was dressed easily. Her right, would not be such a simple task.

The remaining sock was grasped firmly. With measured movements, Caitlin retrieved her husband, allowing him to stand in the palm of her hand. Curled fingers provided a protective canopy. Andrew was in nothing but his boxer-briefs, for anything additional would only add to the pile of clothes he would have to wash, not to mention, the heat.

He was carried up to her face. It was easy to falter under her gaze. Caitlin’s enormous eyes, even in a state of morning struggle, could be quite intense, even without the benefit of putting billboards to shame.

“Don’t try anything fancy, alright?” she stated, “I’m gonna call it a day if I think you’re on the verge of popping”

Andrew nodded in response, “I’m a hard guy to pop Cait.”

This comment caused a small smirk to cross Caitlin’s mouth.

“Sure, big boy,” she said with a snicker. Her jovial manner did not last long.

“If this gets to be too much for you, remember, four taps,” she instructed. Caitlin leaned forward just in the slightest, as if doing so would give her words greater weight. She got a nod from Andrew.

With a nervous exhale, she began bringing him to his destination. “Good luck” was all she could say.

“Break a leg,” Andrew responded, winking. It was the last word in before he felt himself swept in momentum.

Her other hand pried open the end of the sock. Caitlin had chosen a white pair to wear. Even in shadow, the bleached material would reflect away excess heat. In theory, that at least, was how Andrew put it to her. In practice, she had her doubts.

Meanwhile, Andrew had been rolled into the snug grip of her fingers. He witnessed the fabric tunnel draw close. It almost appeared to be sucking him in. While Andrew had traversed his share of messy clothing, casually tossed aside by Caitlin, never had he taken the time to truly be consumed by one. In the dim light of dawn, he could make out every individual thread. They were stout things, far greater in size than any that made up his clothes at least.

As Andrew was brought in the mouth of the sock, he was hit with a smell of detergent. It was a blissful fragrance, most likely the last that he would experience that day. Caitlin had showered, for once, but her own potent stench was bound to be unleashed throughout the day.

Once he was far enough in, Caitlin let go. Gravity took Andrew, sending him tumbling down, down to the foot of the sock. The fabric proved soft, fortunately, and ultimately, the only harm done to him was the rush of momentum.

Caitlin carefully prodded the sock, feeling for Andrew’s form. Once satisfied, she brought the sock to her injured foot.

Slowly, did the fabric slide over her skin. Andrew could not see clearly from his position, his view was dominated by a fluffy white tapestry. With little light flowing in, the material appeared darker than it was. But, if the material was dark, Caitlin’s foot was a monolithic shadow. Andrew could make out the silhouette five digits entering in.

It was like watching a train pass over in slow motion. Instead of rattling tracks, however, the entire canopy began expanding and twisting. Andrew fought to remain in the center, keeping his eyes upon the approaching mass. From below, he felt a slight tugging. His stomach dropped as he sunk even more into the cotton depths.

Outside, Caitlin had pinched the area where her husband laid, pulling it down. Her toes, and the ball of her foot was able to pass over him with ease. She felt relief overcome her as Andrew’s form had fallen within the soft of her foot. She released the fabric, allowing the sock to bring him against her skin. Tiny hands grabbed at folds of flesh, allowing Andrew to follow her foot until the journey’s end.

Finally, her toes made it to the front of her sock. She tugged at the end, securing both the sock, and her husband, snug against her. A curious tingle traveled through her spine, for the sensation of Andrew’s miniscule body held tightly to her skin, was something both hauntingly alien, yet exquisitely familiar. Already, her foot had been relieved of soreness, and Andrew was not even working on her yet.

Caitlin mounted the occupied foot upon her opposite knee. She could observe the small outline of her husband within the fabric, but a layman wouldn’t have been able to observe something remiss. For a minute, she marveled at the sight.

With a shot of awareness, she called down to her husband, “If you can’t breathe, four taps, if you can, two.”

Two taps, light as feathers, small as sand, and comforting as a fluffy pillow, sunk into her flesh. With a heavy sigh, she set her foot down.

“Alright, I’m gonna go on a little test drive. “

Caitlin stood up.

Andrew felt a great shift in momentum. His experience with being carried by Caitlin, however, prepared him for the movement in her legs. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the immense feeling of pressure, once Caitlin had set her foot on the ground. An overwhelming force had pressed against his back. It was all-encompassing, leaving not an area of his body untouched.

He inhaled, and was immediately granted a whiff of fragrant flesh. The residue of the soap she had used in her shower the previous night, remained. It had mixed with her own scent, fresh and clean. Andrew would have to savor this, for Caitlin’s foot would not remain pleasant for long.

It was indeed, fortunate, that he found himself in a rather advantageous spot. Stuck directly against the arch of Caitlin’s foot, his wife’s massive weight had been mitigated. The sock and the carpet both provided some semblance of relief as well.

Caitlin took a step with her affected foot. Even with her foot off the ground, she still felt Andrew against her. It was a slow, deliberate move. She had become aware of even the smallest of details. From the heel of her foot settling down, to the pad and her toes coming to rest on the ground, everything progressed at a snail’s pace.

For Andrew, there was a release of pressure as the step proceeded. The swing in momentum, he felt sufficiently prepared for. What ultimately took him out was when the massive extremity was brought to the ground once more. Even with the care Caitlin practiced, the increase in pressure was dramatic. Andrew had to wonder if being squeezed by a wrestler was comparable to the situation he now found himself in.

I can do this. I have to. I’ve dealt with more pressure meeting deadlines. This will be a walk in the park. Or the construction zone, wherever she’s headed off to.

Fully committed, Andrew began to dig himself into the flesh that lay above. He was made aware of the affected tendon, as his hands, his elbows, his knees, and even his own feet kneeded the arch of his wife’s foot.

Caitlin took another step, before pausing in utter resignation. What had pained her before the entirety of yesterday, and for most of this morning, was virtually gone. Walking would be as easy as it ever was, with a tiny caveat of course.

She turned back, before lifting the heel of her occupied foot. From where she stood, she couldn’t find a trace of where Andrew was, despite the fact that she could certainly feel him.

“You hear me?” she asked once more, “Two taps if you can.”

Again, she felt two taps against her skin.

“How’s the pressure?” she further inquired, “Four taps, too much, two taps, just right.”

Again, there were two distinct taps.

Her brows furrowed. She had to wonder if was possible for Andrew to see her glare through the fabric, if he could even peel his face off of her skin. With a foreboding tone, mixed with a touch of playfulness, she warned, “If I crush you in there, I’m gonna kill you when we get home.”

She spent the rest of the morning getting on her work clothes. While she had washed her socks, Caitlin stuck with her old pair of jeans. A heavy jacket was thrown over her tank top. Her boots, airing out all night, were next. There was great care taken when she slipped on her right boot. The cushioning within, however, made her feel better about Andrew.

There were other concerns, however. While she was now confident that Andrew wouldn’t meet his end by crushing, she could already feel her feet perspiring within the heavy footware. Heat and pressure were dangerous adversaries when mixed.

The commute to work proved far easier than yesterday. Even so, Caitlin took measured steps, ensuring her willing passenger remained comfortable, as well as intact.

Aside from her house, she was easily the tallest sight in the neighborhood. Nothing, not even water towers, trees, or powerlines, exceeded her knees. Streetlights still remained on, despite the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. Quite rarely, could Caitlin spot another walking the streets of the neighborhood. It was far too early for even highschoolers to wait at the bus stop. More common were cars that occasionally drove down the adjacent roads for their own early morning commute to work.

Of course, not one soul was on the path Caitlin took. She could recall awkward interactions with curious woodsmen who wouldn’t read the signs carefully before they wandered into her designated path. Ultimately, should anyone met their untimely end on the designated giantess pathway, Caitlin wouldn’t be held responsible. Of course, there was proof required that the victim chose of their own will to venture on, but the necessary monitoring would be in place. Despite this, she did try to avoid casualties, if for the sole purpose of an easy conscience.

As she drew near to the downtown area, Caitlin found her height challenged. Multistory structures would come up as high as her chest. It still wasn’t like a major metropolitan area, where literal skyscrapers would double or even triple her stature. There was, however, a sense of comfort that overcame her, as she stepped onto elevated metallic platforms to navigate through the town. Underneath, cars and people proceeded as they normally would. Few winced as they sensed the tremors and creaks that emanated from the platform as Caitlin’s titanic form passed overhead. She didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, unlike the suburb, where she could be spotted for miles. Here, there were buildings that at least could hide her.

Eventually, she reached a clearing within the town. There were few structures, but no roads. The ground was essentially dirt, lined with debris, gravel and other fare. The buildings that occupied the area were either half-completed skeletons of criss-crossing metal and wood, or dilapidated warehouses.

Here, her steps were far more delicate, for various bright orange and yellow construction vehicles crossed her path. Even men scurried about her feet much like bugs. While many hastened their pace once they realized exactly who approached in close proximity, there was little panic when they did so. Avoiding a nearly 500 foot titan was done with the urgency of avoiding an oncoming car.

Already on the worksite, there was another giantess, dressed in the same construction wear Caitlin was. She was kneeling next to one of the abandoned buildings, with a proportionally-sized tape measure. The structure, despite her crouched posture, only came up to her chest.

It appeared she had sensed Caitlin’s presence, and turned around. Wide, innocent blue eyes grew even larger as she recognized her peer. Vibrant blonde hair hung down under her construction hat. It flowed over her shoulders as she moved. Despite working in an outdoor occupation, her skin was as pale as a princess. When she rose to her full height, she proved a head shorter than her coworker.

A nervous smile appeared on her face, “H-Hey Cait. You’re alright from yesterday right?”

Her voice was high-pitched, yet soft in demeanor.

Caitlin straightened her posture, and placed her hands on her hips. “Never better Angela! I feel right as rain.”

She wiggled the toes of her right foot. Even bearing her full weight, she still felt Andrew vigorously working away.

Angela nodded, “Oh … that’s-”

There was an additional set of thunderous footsteps entering. Another giantess came into view. Her gait was confident and unimpeded, even as she expertly navigated the hustle of vehicles and workers scurrying about at her feet. Her complexion was a dark brown, and shimmered in the dawn sunlight. Thick dreadlocks hid beneath her own construction hat, creating an awkward fit that she didn’t appear to mind.

Unlike the other two, she was dressed in a pair of denim jeans that made it down just above the middle of her thighs. Much like Caitlin, her legs rippled with developed muscle, though the heavy construction wear obscured her upper-body.

She greeted her fellows with a wide smile, armed with teeth that could match the noon sun in radiance. Her smile only grew wider as she made eye contact with Caitlin. As she made it to the duo of giantesses, it was clear she was the tallest, although she had Caitlin beat by only a forehead.

“That’s a quick recovery Cait!” she commented. Her voice was clearly trained with a southern twang, “Too quick if you ask me. You sure you ain’t just puttin’ on your usual tough girl routine?”

“There’s nothing to put on, I’m fine Jackie,” Caitlin dismissed. She paced about, feeling her husband sink into her right foot whenever it landed. It was fast becoming an addicting sensation.

She held her hands out, “See?”

“Wish I could get rid of my cramps in one fuckin day,” Jackie lamented, “You took any special pills or somethin’.”

Caitlin had begun to stretch her arms to the sky, enjoying the sensation of tension it created in her tendons and muscles.

“Nope, just some water and sleep,” she explained.

“And I bet some special foot care, right?” her other coworker jumped in, sounding a bit too eager.

Quickly, did Caitlin turn to face Angela, who had gone red in the face, “What do you me-”

Her confrontation was interrupted by something small, comparatively speaking. A man in a construction suit leaned out one of the windows of the abandoned building. A megaphone had been affixed to his mouth.

When he spoke, it was clear it was with authority, “Hey ladies! You gonna spend all day gossiping, or are you gonna help out clearing this debris? We’ve got two demos we gotta complete!”

“Yessir!” Caitlin responded, giving him a mocking salute.

The day progressed as usual. The giantesses were often called for big, crude jobs of moving tonnes of debris out, and materials in. Debris was collected into large plastic bags, and hauled off to several locations off-site. The men below were for fine-tuned work that required a precise and delicate touch, something the massive titans even to the best of their abilities could not provide.

Compared to the previous day, Caitlin moved with ease and agility. She was able to outpace her peers with regards to raw production, and never ceased to tease her fellows about it. Banter was often peppered with profanities, something she had grown accustomed to mitigating whenever her husband was in earshot. Of course, now, her husband was with her at all times.

Profanity was the furthest item from Andrew’s mind at the moment. Caitlin’s boot had become a sauna. The sock he had found himself in was as damp as a wet blanket. As the sun grew higher, heat had become all-encompassing. He had a hard time telling if the sweat that coated his body was his wife’s or his own.

Still, Andrew labored as hard as he did in the morning. The flesh above had become slick with perspiration and oil. And yet, he kept digging his hands into it, no matter how greatly he was smothered by another step. In some ways, despite being stuck against a crude extremity of his wife’s, there was a sort of intimacy he experienced as he was trapped. His movements had become less reliant on deliberate action, and more on instinct. Embarrassingly, he even felt his hips move with the rhythm of the longest foot rub he had ever given his wife.

Even as the smell grew more putrid by the hour, Andrew did not feel his energy diminish. It was an intense odor, featuring sharp blasts of vinegar, mixing with musky fabric and funky fermentation. Andrew hated smelling like this, after workouts, enduring hot weather and other dirty deeds. But the smell here, amplified by the vastness of his beloved, fueled his enthusiasm.

At one point, he had decided to dig his elbows into the soft of Caitlin’s foot. His wife immediately replied with a pleasurable yelp, something that did not go unnoticed.

“You good?” inquired Jackie, as she had slung another bag of debris over her shoulder. Her eyebrows rose in a suggestive position.

“Nothing but the goodness of a job well done,” explained Caitlin, returning Jackie’s attention with a nervous smile.

“Whatever you say…” her coworker replied, as she soldiered on with her load of debris.

The day progressed to Caitlin’s personal favorite job of the hour, demolition. She stood over the dilapidated structure, a heavy hammer in hand. The tool’s head, rectangular in shape, and black in color, was the size of her own fist. She held the hammer in two hands, one near the end, the other choking up near the top.

A sonorous voice sounded throughout the construction site, the voice of her boss, “Alright, prep’s done lads. Clear out, clear out, we’re getting the big guns!”

A pickup truck passed the overseer before coming to a stop. Another construction worker leaned out the window.

“We’ve got all supports weakened, we’re good to go.”

His superior raised an eyebrow, “Everyone out?”

The worker nodded, “To the last man sir.”

“Caitlin!” shouted the boss, craning his neck to the sky, “You ready?’

Caitlin swung the hammer 'round, feeling the weight of the tool in her hand. She grasped it once more, lest it accidentally pulverized a stray vehicle.

“I’m ready to make a mess sir!” she responded, a big smile upon her face.

Her boss indifferently gestured to her, “Get on with it!”

Caitlin turned back, noticing Jackie was currently occupied with some other task.

“Hey Jackie!” she shouted, causing the other giantess to face her, “Watch this clunker!”

The pressure upon Andrew was great as Caitlin dug her heels into the ground. It was now he had become concerned. His bones began to creak. Yet, the pressure kept on building. He had half a mind to alert his wife, but he had been able to glean a little information from the outside world, for Caitlin’s boots, thick as they were, did not block out all sound. There was little desire on his part to interrupt his wife’s work on her task, but as the flesh above pressed down, and he found himself short on air, he had to wonder if his hesitation would prove to be fatal.

Meanwhile, Caitlin continued to swing the hammer. At that point the excitement of the demolition had dominated her mind, and she had briefly forgotten who currently lay under her right foot. Momentum picked up, and the black top of the hammer became a blur.

She finally brought it over her head, before swinging down. The head of the hammer struck the center of the building. Its collapse was instantaneous. Brick, concrete and metal broke into shards. Debris caved in, falling towards the epicenter of destruction. Few, smaller pieces, flew out. A large cloud of dust sprung up, causing Caitlin to avert her eyes.

In a few minutes, the dust settled. The hammer was still buried in the middle of the pile of debris. Caitlin gingerly lifted it out, breaking apart a few larger pieces in the process. Mounting the tool on her shoulder, she soldiered off.

“Nice and clean,” she commented to none but herself.

“Alright! Good work guys and gals,” the boss commended, “We’ll break, then we’ll spend the afternoon cleaning up this mess big girl Cait left us.”

For the last part of his statement, Caitlin could only roll her eyes. Jackie had already finished with her own work, and now approached her dusty coworker.

“Packed anything special?” she inquired, as Caitlin retrieved her lunch pail.

‘Not now Jackie,” Caitlin replied, wiping away some dust from her eye, “I gotta take a shit.”

At this, did Jackie scrunch her nose, “Thanks for helping my appetite.”

Caitlin shot Jackie a cheeky grin, before heading towards one of the few structures in the immediate area that exceeded her height. It was rectangular, and colored a bright orange. The side facing Caitlin featured a door, with a great label in the center with the text, “Honeypot”. Her hand gripped its plastic handle, and swung the door open.

The interior was as putrid as always. Caitlin closed the door shut to the Honeypot and removed the lid. Her nose curled as she inspected the septic contents. She turned around, and, after placing her lunch pail to the side, pulled down her jeans, and sat down upon the toilet.

Once settled down, she began to remove her right boot. Despite the Honeypot’s potent odor, the smell of damp fabric and moist flesh tickled her nose. Ordinarily, Caitlin would have been slightly amused at such a sensation, but now, she could only consider simply how intensely her little helper had it.

The removal of the sock was a difficult task. Moisture caused the sock to adhere to her skin. It took her in the span of five minutes to do so. Once off, she immediately saw that her husband had been adhered to her arch by a layer of sticky musk.

Andrew felt a rush of cool air once the canopy of white fabric had been removed. There was not much light in the honeypot, but he could discern a great deal more. He was made intimately familiar with the terrain of his wife’s foot, his sole companion for the past couple of hours. For hours, he could admire the contours and folds of flesh, how callouses had roughened the balls of her feet, and how what little light struck it, revealed a slick sheen of moisture.

Even more pleasant was when he peeled his face away to gaze into her face. He almost had to stifle a laugh from how concerned she appeared. The fact that the face that betrayed such sentiments was of titanic proportions, somehow made it far more endearing.

Two fingers freed Andrew from the crude adhesive. Caitlin’s hands were far dryer, not to mention rougher. Andrew had to dust some powdery stone off his shoulder. Yet, a cheeky smile grew across his face as he drew closer to his wife’s own.

“I heard something out there,” he began, “did we have an earthquake?”

He felt his now wet and matted hair blow back from the massive sigh Caitlin let out of her.

“That’s a demolition,” she explained, sounding almost relieved. “How are you holding up?”

Andrew shook his head rapidly, allowing droplets of moisture mist away. He took another deep breath, unaffected by the scent of the Honeypot, for he had been smelling something far stronger.

“Fine,” he ensured, “It’s a tad humid down there, but I’ve had worse.”

“It gets worse.” Caitlin insisted, “You sure you can keep this up?”

Andrew pondered for only but a moment, “I might need a water break every now and then, not that its dry or anything down there…”

At this, did Caitlin roll her eyes, “Ha ha, but you need a break? It’s been going good this morning. I should be able to…”

At the most opportune time, did her cramp return. Her teeth gritted and her eyes squinted. Andrew could spot the individual contours of tendon flex within her jaw. Sounds of exhalation became breathy and strained. With her free hand, she vigorously massaged the affected area. Large fingers made deep divots right in the center of the sole of her foot. Far greater pressure could be applied than Andrew could even dream to muster, yet, his own administrations had proven more effective.

“Fuck, I was hoping this would go away by midday.” Such a crude statement was more for herself, than for her husband’s ears.

“You’ve been putting weight on your foot all day,” he explained, “that’s not going to help.”

Caitlin did not protest, but could only remain resigned. Wordlessly, she reached down, grabbing her canteen. With one hand, she was able to wrest the top off, revealing the water sloshing about within.

The open mouth of the canteen was brought to Andrew. It was easily the size of a backyard pool, if not larger. Luckily, as the torrent of water was tilted to where he could access it, the liquid inside did not taste of the chlorine that was used to keep the pools clean.

Even though Andrew had been able to sustain himself with another form of hydration, fresh water, untainted by wasted electrolytes and pungent oils, proved to be most needed. It also helped that it was delivered via container, instead of flesh.

He drank for three full minutes. It was ambiguous if he gave himself a chance to draw breath, yet he was able to obtain enough air to keep taking in water. Despite his ravenous thirst, the water level of the vast canteen had barely shrunk. Satisfied, Caitlin brought the canteen away, taking a swig herself, something that did noticeably drain the volume of liquid inside.

After she set the container aside, she then reached for her lunch pail. A rather thick turkey sandwich was retrieved. Multiple layers of meat and cheese were stuffed between tanned slices of bread, while leafy greens formed the least robust part of the sandwich. Everything was appropriately scaled for Caitlin. The bread, cross cut, easily outsized Caitlin’s hand, as did everything in between.

The sight of food drew Andrew’s attention, causing him to scrunch his nose in a disapproving manner.

“Is this the best place for food?” he inquired.

“Better here than where the girls could see you,” Caitlin explained, “I’d get all sorts of questions, especially from Angela…”

The colossal sandwich was brought to Andrew. To him, however, it was hard to imagine it as something he could eat. Caitlin might as well be shoving a two-story suburban dwelling in his face. Such was its size, that details that would have gone under his wife’s attention were made explicit to him. He could observe every little fold and flake in the dark brown crust of the bread. Meat fibers, bright with moisture held slices of oven-roasted poultry together. Even the miniscule layer of green leaves, settling atop of a foundation of sharp orange cheese, was of such a size, that Andrew felt he would fit within the folds of vegetation quite easily.

As such, once the sandwich settled upon the surface of Caitlin’s hand, Andrew had no choice, but to rip off chunks from the bottom of the structure that he stood before. Brown flakes of bread crust and tears of turkey were greedily grabbed from the sandwich and stuffed into his mouth. He could not reach the thick layer of cheese, nor the layer of greenery that lay above. Andrew did not bother informing Caitlin of this, for in this moment he felt quite spoiled.

The bread was nothing impressive, a whole grain loaf that tasted more of cardboard, although certainly more favorable and hearty than wonderbread.

Even the gigantic version of Wonderbread tastes like nothing. You thought they would have fixed that.

The turkey, by contrast, possessed a sweet, if smokey flavor. It was harder to chew than the lunch meat Andrew usually bought, for the meat fibers were far larger than what he was used to. Caitlin likes the honey-roasted stuff a bit too much. Too bad it’s the one thing that doesn’t make her stink up the bed.

Andrew gave the signal to his wife that he was finished. He was getting ready to scold her for eating in the Honeypot (making him a massive hypocrite in the process), but held his tongue as she placed the sandwich back in her lunch container.

A peculiar, if familiar sound of streaming water caught his ear. The outdoors were dominated by noises of moving vehicles, and obnoxious machinery. The Honeypot’s walls were somewhat effective at muting such noises. This new phenomenon, however, had clearly originated within the plastic walls.

His eyes widened as he peered downwards. It was until now he had noticed, that Caitlin’s jeans were now bunched below her knees. Above, even in darkness, he could trace the toned, tanned shape of her bare thighs, as they rested on the toilet. Limited lighting, not to mention, the shadow cast by Caitlin’s heavy construction jacket, prevented Andrew’s eyes from perceiving what lay further beyond.

A distinct smell, even among the pungent odors of the Honeypot, began emanating from below. Andrew gave Caitlin a quizzical look, then a cheeky smile.

Caitlin did not even attempt at making eye contact with her husband. Instead, her cheeks blushed, and she turned to the side.

“Uhh, I did say I was gonna take a shit,” she stuttered. Part of her statement was inaudible, yet Andrew could fill in the blanks.

“I – I don’t know where else to put-”

Andrew raised a hand, “It’s fine Cait.”

He suddenly felt himself sweating. Perhaps for the first time that day, the layer of moisture covering him, was his own.

His own stammering was almost as desperate as his wife’s, “I’ll l-look the other way if you’re uncomfortable.”

Andrew kept his eye’s trained upon his wife’s face, which had only gotten redder. She was also clearly straining, as eyes squinted and teeth clenched. Shoot, is her foot ache back in full force? Maybe she should put me back against her foot, that’ll kill two birds with one st-

The sound of streaming had stopped. Now, Andrew could hear something moving. Whatever it was, it was slithering across something wet and sticky. He could imagine its mass, although he could not identify what it was.

As a new odor entered his nose. Andrew’s questions were answered.

There was a massive splash, as whatever was moving, had found itself within the toilet.

Rapidly, did Caitlin grab a white roll of paper, ripping off a relatively long strip. Her weight shifted, and Andrew found himself negotiating with her palm shifting its incline. It was not long before her hand was free of the paper; presumably it had fallen into the toilet.

Caitlin wasted no time returning Andrew to her sock. While he had drank and eaten his fill, his damp mobile residence was currently stuffed inside the opening of his wife’s discarded boot. Now it was retrieved, and shaken. The climate within had considerable cooled, perhaps too much so. It was shocking lying against the cloth once more. Goosebumps began to line his skin, and Andrew even felt the ghost of a shiver creeping up his spine.

His wife’s foot, luckily, came to the rescue. The massive, meaty, calloused extremity of flesh, muscle and bone warmed and dampened his already damp environment. Moisture made slipping the sock on more challenging, yet the slower rate of her foot’s approach, allowed Andrew time to adjust and find within the darkness, the soft of her sole once more.

Soul to sole, he was once more. Before she even moved to slip her damp, socked foot into her boot, Andrew went to work once more. Food and water had rejuvenated him, and he massaged with greater vigor than before. Relief swept across Caitlin’s body, as she slipped the socked foot back into her boot.

Once more, Andrew was pressed upon two fronts. His back stood against damp fabric, which had begun leaking fluid fluid once squeezed. But the material of the sock was simply a cover for the gelled padding of the boot, which stood against the unyielding ground. His front yielded against soft, yet supple skin, which wrapped tendons that weighed more than cars, not to mention muscle and bone whose mass could only be measured in tonnes.

Caitlin emerged from the Honeypot, her eyes veering from side to side. Unbeknownst to her, the construction crew below had begun muttering speculation as to exactly why she had spent so much time within. But, Caitlin’s rather massive eyes would not have been able to catch such gossip. She finally managed to spot her fellow titans, seated several paces away, deep in conversation.

Both the forms of Angela and Jackie loomed over the construction site. In the afternoon sun, their titanic stature cast shadows that some of the construction crew had taken advantage. There were several abandoned vehicles parked nearby. The closest was a heavy debris truck, something that required a man to mount a step ladder to enter its cabin. It lay feet from Jackie’s outstretched hand, something with which she used to prop herself up as she lay upon her side. The truck was easily dwarfed by it; at least by a factor of two or three.

Angela was red in the face. Her knees were brought against her slight chest, which now served as platforms for her to pound her fist against as she made her point.

“He likes it! He begs me for it!” she declared.

“Honey,” Jackie replied, with a calm chuckle, “there’s only so much abuse your hubby can take. You’ve gotta slow down!”

The blonde’s eyes brightened as she mused aloud, “Yes, slow … slow and sensuous! Jackie you’re a genius!”

Jackie shook her head, allowing some of her dreadlocks to sway in the air, “I feel like I’m just fanning fire at this point.”

It was at this point Caitlin had decided to inject herself into the conversation. “Hey Jackie! Trying to save Angela’s husband again?”

Jackie let out a great sigh as she explained, “If I did half the stuff this crazy yahoo did to my man …”

As she said this, her free had gestured in Angela’s direction. The smaller giantess hid her face behind her knees as a result.

Jackie continued, “… He’d wedge himself in my throat and let nature do the rest, if you get what I mean! How’s your hubby doin’ by the way. Office stud grinding away?”

The perspiration upon Caitlin’s face had turned ice cold. There was a pause before she squeaked out, “Yeah, yeah, he’s got things afoot.”

“That’s what I should do!” Angelia exclaimed, almost leaping up, which would have certainly disturbed the workplace, “Stick him in my boot! It’s been awhile since I’ve done foot stuff with him!”

Sweat began flowing freely upon Caitlin. She felt several drops fall off of her nose and lips, to be absorbed by the dusty ground below. A slight tremor had captured her leg. Otherwise, it felt as if she had been glued to the ground. Even the refreshing massage her husband was currently administering within her boot was now but a distant thought.

This did not go unnoticed by Jackie, as she raised an eyebrow.

Luckily for her, speech was not something that had been taken away from her in that moment.

“I like keeping this stuff confidential, if you will Angie.” As she finished, an accusing glare was shot towards the blonde.

“But it’s hot!” Angela declared, remaining indignant.

“That’s the weather Angie.” Jackie deflected, raising a hand to give her face some much needed shade, “It’s gotta be at least 80! I’m sweating buckets! We ought to be able to remove one layer!”

Caitlin’s eyes shifted to the rest of the crew on break milling about. She had to squint to even catch some as they had gathered in groups, enjoying their own lunch. “I’m not letting those guys oogle the goods.”

“Yeah!” agreed Angelia, “I only strip tease for my husband!”

A small smirk formed upon Caitlin’s face, “Cool it with the anti-wholesome remarks Angie.”

Angela could only pout, before the megaphone-enhanced voice of their boss signified the end of the break.

The giantess unit was put to work cleaning up the newest debris pile Caitlin had created. The work was monotonous, at least Caitlin had thought so. Her work was thus, a tad deliberate, as she took her time shoveling debris into massive bags, before hauling them off to the facility to process.

Caitlin’s boot had only increased in humidity and heat as the day pressed on. With the sun at its apex, the black material of the boot absorbed copious amounts of heat. While her feet could tolerate the extreme temperatures, Andrew found himself becoming compromised. The sensations of Caitlin’s massive sole, her damp sock, the musky odor of vinegar, sweat and fabric all melded into one. He swallowed a good amount of perspiration, the taste becoming normalized to his tongue. Andrew was not even sure if he could call the surface he pressed against flesh.

Motion had thrown off what sense of orientation he had. Was Caitlin’s foot pressing down on him from the top, or from the bottom? Even though he was protected from the brunt of her mass, simply by being wedged in the arch of her foot, pressure had contributed to the assault on his senses.

In such an impressive climate, there was no thought, just instinct. Andrew’s instinct was to persist, and he threw himself into his task. His task was that of friction, to press against that which pressed him. Who stood on him, why he had agreed to such a task, all of it was irrelevant. His task, his glorious task, that was his key to survival.

As the hour retreated from noon into evening, the sun had gone from a harsh white, to a warm orange. It was well on its way down. Their tasks done, the giantess trio bade their peers farewell, and clocked out. Each attempted to avoid the scurrying workers below, as they began to end their workday as well.

The walk home was unlike that of the previous day, with nothing of note. Caitlin did wave to a couple of kids playing outside after school, the little ones staring in awe as the titan passed by, looming over their homes, despite being such a great distance away. Her journey was a comparatively quick one.

A she sat down in the shoe room, taking the time to relax, a nagging through prodded her in the back of her head. It was as if she forgot something. Caitlin checked to see if she had remembered her canteen and lunch pail. Both items, however, had been stored away once she had swung open the door. She leaned forward, putting weight on her right shoe, tapping it repeatedly on the ground as she tried to recall what she could have left at the worksite.

But then, she realized, it was not what she had forgot, it was who she had brought with her. Her tapping immediately ceased. Caitlin forcefully removed her right boot, not even bothering to undo the laces. The fabric of her sock had darkened considerably from the moisture it absorbed. As she turned her foot over, she saw the small, almost inconsequential lump pasted against her sole.

And pasted against her sole he was, as Caitlin peeled away her spent sock. Unlike before, Andrew’s slight form lay still against the bulwark of her massive foot. Gray eyes squinted as she leaned down for a closer look. From her vantage, she could not determine if her husband’s tiny body was even drawing breath.

Panic took hold, and with a finger and thumb, she peeled him away from her imposing sole. Andrew’s eyes were squeezed shut. His pale, porcelain skin had taken on a shade of red, and was absolutely smothered with a thick layer of musky perspiration. Carefully, he was brought before his wife’s face, concern etched into the curves of her cheeks, the flare of her nostrils, the folds of her lips, and the windows of her eyes.

Finally, a sputtering cough wracked Andrew’s body. He flailed about, but Caitlin’s massive digits which he found himself pinched between pressing him from shoulder to leg on either side, kept him steady. The scene before him proved epic beyond proportion, as he witnessed his wife’s expression loosen. Her mouth morphed into a soft, almost cooing smile. Her eyes brightened much like the morning sun. A hot, humid exhale consumed the entirety of his being, laced with scents of digested food, and pungent saliva.

Despite Caitlin’s grip preventing him from moving all that much, Andrew was resigned to not move at all.

“Need anything?” she inquired, “Food, water?”

“I had enough water,” Andrew refused, forcing himself to give his wife an appreciative smile.

The entire face before him lit up bright red. “Oh … I see.”

Caitlin continued pressing Andrew, asking him if he wanted anything to eat. He doubted his arms would even have the strength to bring food into his mouth. And while the prospect of his wife hand-feeding him was positively enticing, all that occupied his conscious mind was falling asleep.

From his vantage within the vast terrain of his wife’s palm, he saw her push aside the massive entrance to their bedroom. Yet, Caitlin did not drop Andrew off on their bed. Instead, her detour took a sharp turn, venturing instead into her own personal bathroom.

While the lavatory proved just as grand as everything else within the house to Andrew, the room proved a tight fit for Caitlin. The stark white, slightly textured walls formed a compressed circle. Everything was compacted for minimal room, and maximum efficiency. The toilet was porcelain-white, whose exterior had seen better days, particularly the neck which was dotted with suspicious yellow stains and stray hairs. Its bowl possessed a circumference barely large enough to contain Caitlin’s formidable rear, not to mention, the average payload that she consistently assaulted the poor thing with.

Squeezed right next to the toilet was an equally stained sink with very little counter space, although the stains were less a sickly yellow, and more a pale gray, indicative of excess soap scum and watermarks. Spigots and handles, finished with a cheap tin sheen, dotted with splash stains, was where water would sputter out.

Caitlin had not bothered to retrieve her loose sock. She walked across the bare tile floor, one foot socked, another not. She pried open the glass door to an even smaller, square standing shower. Andrew was placed with utmost care on one of the ledges, within a translucent plastic tray. The edges of the tray were raised on a bias, from Andrew’s vantage, up to his chest. Right behind him was a massive, cream color block of soap.

The shower door was kept open, even as Caitlin shut the bathroom door. She then began to disrobe.

“Hey,” Andrew shouted, as he saw articles of clothing shed, then tossed aside, “I’m still in…”

Caitlin was working on prying off her tank top, when her large ear’s picked up the exhausted, yet concerned tone of her husband. A mischievous glint was shown in her eye, and she placed a finger up against her lips.

“Shhh”

For some reason, Andrew was starting to rouse from his foot-induced trance. He couldn’t quite put a finger on why. Perhaps … just perhaps, it was because there were two, gargantuan, perky reasons that had revealed themselves once Caitlin had removed her tank top. These reasons swayed back and forth, though were constrained by form fitting white fabric that pushed them up. Of course, these reasons of massive rationality and supple logic did not require such support. And, as Caitlin’s undergarments fell away, these reasons were lay bare, a shade lighter than the rest of his wife’s skin, each dotted with a wrinkled gland of a dark red color.

There was no doubt to where her husband was looking. Caitlin could not stop smiling. Despite the labors of the day being finished, her heart beat the fastest it had. A tingle, within the depths of her thighs, was still concealed under denim articles. While such a situation would have to be remedied, she decided to stretch her arms.

Dark eyes traced toned musculature that had always graced his wife’s body. Caitlin could feel them follow the neatly arrayed hills and valleys of abdominal strength that flexed over her stomach. She knew her husband was outlining every defined curve of her arms, from her taut wrists, to her bulging biceps and triceps, to her broad, round shoulders that helped her lift countless construction materials throughout the years. She even felt coy as her husband zeroed in on several scars that streaked across her back, once she presented it to him.

Caitlin’s back, of course, was granting energy to Andrew he never thought he had. He admired the plateau of her shoulder blades, the curves and dips of her defined upper and lower back. It had been awhile since he had traversed such a defined, volatile landscape to loosen excess muscle tension. Upon viewing the tightness with which her back held itself, Andrew made a mental note to schedule such a task, for it appeared urgently needed.

He heard a snap. Slowly, Caitlin’s jeans were shimmied past her waistline. Her conventional, gray panties were dragged along with them as well. During the evening journey back, Andrew had been trapped in darkness. He could not behold the setting sun, nor the pale rising moon. Now, he viewed a full moon in all of its glory. Much like the rest of his wife, it was taut, and possessed outlines of toned sinew.

As Caitlin’s pants traveled further down her thighs, she simply had to bend over to ensure her jeans were properly removed. Her exposed glutes stretched and widened as a result, a most assuredly unintentional result, which served to cause Andrew’s damp boxer briefs to tighten even further. He dared not look down his own chest, but it was getting impossible to ignore that a fifth limb of his had been rapidly growing in the past few minutes.

And I thought I had all my blood flow had been squeezed out of me for the day.

He leaned forward, catching sight of a rather dark orifice, surrounded by wrinkly flesh within the depths of the auspicious valley. Several strands of dark hair lay scattered around the skin which lay in shadow. As his gaze traveled down the great canyon, the hair grew thicker. It was much like tall, curly prairie grass, and from personal experience, traversing it was quite similar as well. That was, aside from the fact that prairie grass did not get as wet or sticky as often, nor did it wrap around his body at the most inopportune times.

At the base, within a grander valley made of muscly thighs, there lay another opening, far grander and far wider. In the bathroom light, he could tell it had taken on some moisture. The flesh surrounding it was fresh, and red, while the hair that lay atop of it was a true forest of pubic proportions.

He tore his eyes away from the enticing sight, witnessing his wife pop her feet out of the confines of bunched denim, one at a time. Dark eyes fixated upon her right sole, the sole he had grown intimately familiar with earlier that day. From his vantage point within the shower, it looked smaller than it actually was; a leviathan of musky, calloused pedal monstrosity. Each fold of skin was taken into account, as his mind recalled it squeezing upon his form while he administered to its well-being. Caitlin was moving far easier, and despite deep red marks that indicated where he had massaged, it appeared her soreness had been mitigated, if not outright eliminated.

If that was so, Andrew couldn’t help but feel utmost pride in himself.

Caitlin turned around, now fully bare. Her lips curled into a knowing smile, as she deliberately waltzed into the shower. A shadow fell upon Andrew as she drew close. She reached for him, capturing her husband in her grip once more. A second set of fingers traced down his body. Despite waking up, his muscles felt completely spent. Still, her finger continued, dragging along his waist, pulling off his boxers with it.

Andrew’s underwear was but a dark spot on Caitlin’s destructive digit, she tossed it aside, figuring it would be found later. Such an act was crucial, for she knew her husband would be grumpy if his underwear would be wet. She also now had a clear, hard, stiff confirmation that Andrew had thoroughly enjoyed her act of disrobing. With a small chuckle, she returned him to his previous position.

After closing the shower door, she turned the knob slowly, allowing cold water to cascade down her form. The shower head was adjacent to Andrew’s location, and he was able to evade moisture for the most part. He still kept his eye on the stream of water, taking great care as it washed down and trickled through every bump and valley upon Caitlin’s worked physique.

Steam began to rise as the water heated up. As the shower reached a comfortable temperature, Caitlin made sure to splash Andrew’s tray. The impact was great, although Caitlin had showed some restraint. Andrew had been thoroughly doused. Yet, he found the event refreshing, for the perspiration that had accumulated on him earlier that day was washed away.

For a minute, he remained mesmerized as water continued to cascade over Caitlin. Her voice, however, interrupted his trance.

“After this, you wanna do anything else?”

Her expression was coy, yet meek. However, no meaning, nor implication was hidden from Andrew.

“I’m thoroughly shot.” he answered. Even the act of running his wet hands through his hair was a rather strenuous task at this point.

“No thanks to me,” responded Caitlin, appearing rather dejected.

“I guess,” Andrew reassured, “But you know you don’t have to do this. I’m not looking for some kind of reward.”

“Reward?” Caitlin inquired, shifting her eyes back and forth in a rather obvious manner, “What are you talking about?”

“The occasions you do shower, you tend not to bring me in.”

Caitlin placed her dripping hands on her hips, “Well maybe I ought to make that a habit.”

She continued to wash herself, retrieving shampoo from the tray opposite of Andrew to froth her hair. A bar of body soap was then vigorously scrubbed into every crevice of her form, and she made sure Andrew could scrutinize every motion. While still soapy, Caitlin allowed some of the suds to fall into Andrew’s tray.

I really wish he could take a ride on this bar of soap, but he felt dead tired when I held him. Even if he is keeping the Bri’ish end up.

Soon enough, every bubble of suds was washed away from the cascading stream. Andrew too, received another douse of water, more than enough to completely cleanse himself of soap.

Caitlin shut off the water. An over head light illuminated the steam that continued to rise.

“It wasn’t too bad in there right?” Caitlin asked, observing exhaustion return to her husband’s form.

“Truth be told, I might have enjoyed myself a bit too much.” Andrew admitted. He made sure to avoid his wife’s now curious gaze.

“Really?” she pressed, leaning into the inflection, “How? You got hypnotized into being a foot guy? I remember when I first started flexing in front of y-”

“I’m a Caitlin guy,” Andrew interrupted, “I can’t help it.”

Andrew was shocked awake. A massive hand impacted the wall right above him. A powerful slapping sound followed, threatening to pop his ear drums. Nervous eyes traced from her hand, to the menacing arm that hung overhead, back to the face of his wife. Her glare was intense, and he could tell within the colorful, silvery folds of her iris’, that something far more instinctual, far more ancient, and far more unstoppable was on the verge of being unleashed.

In a growl that was as enticing, as it was frighting, Caitlin uttered her ultimatum, “I’d keep your suave comments to yourself, cutie. Unless you don’t actually want a good night’s sleep.”

Her husband nervously gulped, swallowing nothing but empty air. I have to weigh my options carefully. You colossal, odorous, unwieldy brute, why do I have to be so smitten? And just why are you so smitten with little wormy me? I suppose it’ll take me a lifetime to find that answer.

Caitlin retrieved Andrew from his tray, before drying the both of them off. It only took a small area of unused towel to completely pat her husband off. She would have preferred a more involved method to wick every single drop of moisture away, but she could sense him losing consciousness.

She didn’t bother gathering up her discarded clothes, figuring she would retrieve them the following day in preparation for the workday. Instead, she cupped her hand around her husband’s prone form. Her gaze had softened, although she intended for Andrew to suffer some form of punishment for his ravishing wooing of her, even if it was unintentional. Of course, he would have to pay in full the following day.

For now she would have to settle for him resting upon her. Caitlin did not bother to retrieve any undergarments to stand in for her pajamas. She instead, entered the bed as she was in the shower, fully nude.

As she lay upon her back, her husband was transported to the valley of her bosoms. They absolutely towered above him. To reach the reddened nipples would have taken a monstrous climb from where he was placed. Scaling a house, or a building would be less daunting. Neither would Andrew do, he simply laid prone, instinctively snuggling against one of the gargantuan fleshy mounds, soaking in the tenderness and warmth that the pillow he usually resided on could not provide.

The hand that deposited him rested over his minuscule form, forming a protective canopy. With her other hand, Caitlin shut off the light and closed her eyes. The feather-light touch of her husband resting within the sanctuary of her chest brought a sense of peace. She was lulled to sleep faster than usual.

Andrew too, was upon the brink of unconsciousness. His head lay against Caitlin’s heart, its rhythm slowing to a deliberate crawl as his wife fell asleep.

As the thunderous drum beat below him with the power of an earthquake, and the intimacy of a hug, the last vestiges of consciousness was banished from his mind, and he joined his wife in peaceful slumber.

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.”

 It was early in the day, and two adolescents had found enough time to play. They slid around asphalt and concrete on their skateboards. Both were dressed for the part, allowing oversized t-shirts to flap in the wind as they skated, while jeans lined with more holes than Swiss cheese allowed them to experience the morning air on their legs.

One wearing an offset cap leaped into the air, allowing his board to flip underneath. A grunt of admiration was exhaled from his friend, who then peppered him with praises coated in slang.

The other teen then swerved around, heading towards a street-side curb. Long hair waved through the wind as his own board lifted off. It landed, straddling the curved concrete. He allowed himself to betray an arrogant smile while his friend hooted and clapped.

A mighty tremor threw him off balance. The teen tumbled over, giving himself a small scrape in the knee thanks to his hole-lined denim. He managed to get on his feet again, while only giving his new injury a cursory glance. The boy was no stranger to such injuries. However, he, and his friend, had bigger things on their minds.

They beheld a titanic woman approaching them. Each step that fell upon the earth would rumble the ground they stood on. Her massive frame carved through the sky like a myth. Her comparatively small black tank top showed off worked, sculpted arms and tough, broad shoulders. Ratty, blue denim covered her legs, held up by a worn, brown belt.

She took another step. A line of houses obscured her feet. But each time she lifted them to advance, the boys could make out brown tennis shoes with black treads. Her mighty shoes appeared to loom over the residences with each new footfall. Chunks of concrete and asphalt would rain from her textured soles, as each casual stride ripped up the road left in her wake.

Steel gray eyes caught the sight of the two gawking boys, held still both by awe, and by instincts only teenage boys could feel when looking upon a young woman. It mattered not how large she stood. A smile slowly spread across her lips. Such a gesture, however, did not give them comfort.

Already, her titanic form blotted out the sun. And, with each pace, she drew herself closer to the two teens.

Her shoe hovered over a house, a residence the boys were skating near. With little hesitation, it fell upon the structure. Wood splintered and glass shattered underneath black treads. Its entire foundation cracked as the full weight of the giantess was brought to bear.

In less than a second, a dwelling had been annihilated. It was not a quaint structure; a two story house that often provided a cooling shadow in the evening. Now it its place lay a massive foot, with splinters of debris and shattered brick sticking out from underneath. The toes and heel of the great shoe even violated the boundaries of the neighboring properties.

Her smile only grew, as she brought her other foot forward. As the boys gazed up the entirety of her body, there was no doubt where she would place her other step.

Already, their sight of her, and everything else that lay above was eclipsed by black treads. One teenager gulped as he saw remains of a flattened vehicle practically embedded near the heel section. Neither of them attempted to escape, for the quaking of their legs proved too great for immediate action. Perhaps they had realized the inevitable was upon them.

There was for but a second, stillness. Then, the tread fell.

Under the weight of her shoe, their bodies were annihilated. When the bottom of her foot met the road, the boys were forced flat. Skulls burst, squeezing out eyeballs, gray matter, and muscle. Bones shattered, mixing along with the mush of organs. Every component of the human body was ground into paste.

She then twisted the offending ped into the road, causing asphalt to crack. The boy’s remains emulsified into one another, and the dirt below.

A gruff feminine voice quipped, “Now you really get to eat dirt!”

She lifted off the offending foot. An area of mashed asphalt marked almost perfectly, the silhouette of her footwear. Two grotesque spots of red indicated where the teens once stood. Considering their lifestyle, it was a likely prospect that their ends would be met performing some reckless, daring, unnecessary stunt earning them infamy, notoriety, and even sympathy. None of that would be fulfilled, for they were now stains on the bottom of a woman’s shoe.

It was indeed, a haunting implication, one that gave Caitlin a good chuckle, as she sought out new targets to terrorize.

A school bus had witnessed her act of terror, and began to alter course. The vehicle skidded to a stop, leaving dark marks in the road. Caitlin’s fatal foot had blocked the road ahead, which compelled the yellow truck’s catastrophic u-turn.

The titaness witnessed the next object of her amusement take off in the opposite direction. Despite burning rubber to avoid the catastrophe, the bus was shaken as a foot landed. The ferocious footwear had obliterated a front lawn and part of the accompanying house, which lay right next to the fleeing yellow-clad transport.

Caitlin knelt down while a hand reached out. She was easily able to anticipate the vehicle’s path. Her large digits compressed the flanks of the bus, yanking it off the road. The vessel’s wheels continued to spin, caused by the driver flooring the accelerator. Yet, the giant’s grip, and a general lack of traction for the tires, meant that precious diesel was wasted on a fruitless effort.

In her grip, the elongated automotive resembled a toy, rather than a complex, life-sized machine. Such artifacts would have been more fit in the collection of young boys. A monolithic stature, however, tended render all great things puny.

The students within banged against the windows and cried out as they were brought before Caitlin’s oppressive glare. They witnessed a tongue slither out between the lips below, which only encouraged their panic.

A small chuckle escaped her lips. “Hey dude,” she addressed the driver with a sneer, “I think you’re taking the scenic route.”

Several of the students covered their ears. The windows on the bus appeared to vibrate, all from words exiting the massive maw. All experienced a shift in movement, while Caitlin allowed the vehicle to settle into her palm.

“Let me show you a shortcut to the high school,” she offered, although her mocking tone did not once depart.

Her opposite hand emerged from behind. Caitlin curled her middle finger, etching the nail into the pad of her thumb. These monstrous digits were then planted before the bus’s rear.

Some teens near the back of the bus had begun realizing what their gigantic captor had planned. Their revelation only fueled the pandemonium that raged inside, as they attempted to jam open the emergency exits.

There would be no escape. Caitlin’s finger flicked forward, bashing the bus’s back panel. Yellow-coated metal caved in from the impact, adhering to the shape of the nail that crashed against it. Her finger’s might sent the bus flying off her hand. True to her word, it was sailing straight for the school.

The careening vehicle spun round in the air. None of its occupants, neither the students nor the bus driver, could get a clear gauge of their destination. Bodies tumbled throughout the yellow hull. Some lost consciousness, or even life due to the chaotic course the bus took.

All lives within ended once the bus smashed into the lot just next to the high school. Sparks ignited, as windows shattered. The bus’s metal frame was reduced to a flattened, twisted imitation of itself, sparing no body within. Meanwhile, the school’s lot proved insufficient to stop all motion, and thus, the bus careened into the institution itself, burying itself through several halls and classrooms, before coming to a stop.

Both of Caitlin’s arms shot into the air in triumph, “Hah! Bullseye!”

A familiar scent wafted past her nose. It scrunched up, even though such an odor had been one of the only common scents throughout her life.

“Ugh, I stink,” evaluated the giantess, “Gotta freshen up.”

Her feet shifted, resulting in more damage to the roads she stood on. Caitlin’s eyes hungrily leered over the roof of each house. She kept her hand extended, allowing it to hover over the residences in a manner evocative of an extraterrestrial craft harvesting its next batch of sapient subjects.

She settled on another two-story property. While not made from any extravagant materials, the exterior was covered in a layer of homely bricks. These bricks crumpled under her fingers as they embedded into the structure’s broadside. In its totality, the house proved a tad too great in girth for Caitlin’s gargantuan grip to completely grasp.

Once a good grip was secured, the titaness yanked off both the roof and top level of the house. Her extraction was not a clean one, for several rooms and walls simply crumbled from the sheer destructive force assaulting the structure. Dust and debris rained down into the level below, coating every room with crumbs of drywall, wood and even brick.

An eye caught the sight of a huddled family bunched up within the first floor bathroom. A husband, slightly balding and just a tad pudgy, was protectively wrapping his arms around his screaming wife, and two squirming children. The family’s young ones appeared to be in their early childhood. Both of their eyes had gone red from tears.

The top of the house was tossed aside, crashing down and destroying another residence. Caitlin did not pay any mind to excess collateral she inflicted. Instead, she choose to remain focused on her prey. As the giantess peered down, her face filled up the entire viewpoint of the sky. Steel-colored eyes focused upon the mother. The matriarch had ceased her hysterics once she recognized that indeed, she had summoned the unwelcome attention of the behemoth that loomed above.

Five fingers descended like tentacles from the kraken itself. If she wished it, Caitlin could have scooped up the entire family herself into the threatening embrace of her fist. Instead, she attacked with her index, attempting to pry the woman from her husband’s embrace.

The man was no match for a single digit, despite his adrenaline-addled struggles. A thumb was brought around, smashing through the adjacent wall. Her all-encompassing grip clamped around the woman’s waist, and her flailing form was brought into the air.

However, her husband did not relent. The patriarch of the family held desperately on to his wife’s leg. But, his paltry strength was no match for the titan, and he was tugged along into the sky as well. Both marital obligation and basic survival instinct compelled him to retain his clamp, while he was carried further away from the ground.

Caitlin allowed herself a small annoyed scowl upon observing she had retrieved a packaged deal, not a singular item. With a single click of her tongue, she brought her free hand up, and pinched the father. He was given a stiff squeeze that proved too much for his frail, insignificant form. The man immediately burst into a red splotch of blood, bones and guts. His torso, and legs, or what remained of them, fell away, while his upper body, including his bloodied lifeless face and arm, still remained attached to his wife’s leg.

The newly christened widow let out a howl of despair as she stared down at her husband’s remains. Frail arms beat against the imposing digits that imprisoned her. Finally, the last part of husband’s corpse fell away, making it’s landing and burial place in the remains of his residence.

She brought the flailing form of the woman to her nose, and took a deep sniff. While the carnage of moments earlier had brightened mood, upon greedily consuming her scent, Caitlin gave a devious smile.

“Mmmmh, strawberry kiwi,” she observed most decadently, “a bit sweet for me, but it’ll do.”

Her opposing arm rose, allowing her hair-clogged underarm fresh air. The widow was brought across her chest, to the bushy, musty area. Her victim was reduced to an uncontrollable sob, which did not cease, even as she was brought against this Goliath’s armpit.

Slick threads molested the woman’s body, while a thin layer of sweat adhered to her clothes. It was laughable that Caitlin thought her strawberry kiwi scent would make any difference in such an oppressive canopy. The woman could only smell her tormentor, and her dominating odor tormented her so. Her eyes were still watery from her sorrows, and they would remain so, as her senses were overwhelmed. Wrinkly, oily flesh molded itself over her face, threatening to swallow the poor woman up.

Caitlin’s motions became more aggressive while she rubbed the woman against her pit. She might as well have been trying to apply a thick layer of deodorant. It proved to be too much for her victim, as skin, muscle, and even bone were shredded against her wrinkled, moist, woolly underarm. Between finger and axilla, the remains of her corpse were ground into a thick paste that easily coated every tangled hair.

Upon wasting her latest toy, she ceased her motions. Her armpit was turned towards her nose. A great inhale was initiated, her odorous musk now enhanced with a sanguine scent.

“On second thought,” she considered, “I don’t think that did anything.”

Her eyes fell upon the remains of the house. The two orphans made not a sound, and could only tremble. A prudent move would have been to flee the destroyed residence while Caitlin had tormented their parents, but prudence fails at such a grotesque sight.

The muscles within Caitlin’s thigh twitched, and she stood there, contemplating her next atrocity. Finally, her foot moved, over the house, and into the adjacent street. Her shadow passed over the two children like an angel of death witnessing a blood-marked door. Out of the scope of her power, they would be left to fate itself.

Caitlin continued treading a path of destruction through the suburban area. Fleeing pedestrians and wandering cars met their end underneath her shoes. Her feet razed through several residences, but left others untouched if they did not find themselves in her way.

There was a persistent whirring noise in the sky. Two black-clad helicopters accelerated towards Caitlin’s advancing form. Once in range, they unleashed their weaponry. Machine guns rattled, while missiles streaked through the sky, before detonating against the expansive frame of the giantess. Their efforts resulted in several painful stings, that left a few small blood splotches on her skin, and tiny tears in the fabric of her clothes.

She came to a stop. Her head turned, eyeing the two gunships. One had drawn in too close, slow to adjust, while the other veered off course. It was the pilot’s fatal mistake. Caitlin lashed out with a mighty arm. Her biceps and wrists bulged as she swept out, catching the helicopter with her forearm. The cockpit crumpled on contact with her tensed skin, knocking out the pilot, sending the Apache on a tailspin to the ground.

“Fuck off!” she exclaimed.

The antagonistic helicopter crashed, consumed in an orange and black fireball.

Caitlin resumed her destructive gait. The surviving Apache gave chase, yet saved up the remainder of its missiles. She was still peppered with repeater fire, but the helicopter’s armament, which could have easily torn apart squads of infantry, registered as but an irritating itch to the titan.

Ahead of her lay the downtown area. Already, panic had hit the streets. An emergency klaxon echoed off building walls. Cars jammed the streets, exiting the backway, attempting to flee in the opposite direction the giantess approached. All roads leading to the city from the suburbs that she terrorized were barricaded off. A line of heavily armored vehicles, including several tanks, and missile trucks stood behind the barrier. This bastion of defense was supported with infantry with standard, semi-automatic arms. Rooftops of flanking buildings were manned by one or two man squads wielding bazookas and 50 caliber snipers.

Upon observing the force scrambled to oppose her, Caitlin could only smirk. She did not slow her pace, but instead, quickened it.

In the center, standing halfway out of the gunner’s hatch, a man in full Kevlar wielded a megaphone. His voice was tempered with authority and military discipline

“Alright Cait,” he bellowed, “You know the drill.”

“I do,” Caitlin huffed, deciding to slow, but not stop her approach, “But, did you figure how your toy soldier army here’s gonna fare?”

The commander’s expression hardened, “I’ll take that as a thre-”

His words were interrupted, not by an interjection, but by action. Caitlin broke out into a sprint, her feet carelessly crushing anything that got in its way. Asphalt, buildings, vehicles, and people were flattened or thrown aside as 500 feet of bulky bone and massive muscle tore through the encroaching suburbs.

Already, several of the tanks had begun to open fire. Their rounds inflicted pain, similar to the sting of a hornet. Missiles rocketed out, creating significant tears in her jeans. Bazookas proved to be the least effective armament, yet still, they managed to effect noticeable pain on the bulldozing monster.

Upon a certain distance away, Caitlin leapt into the air.

For a second, she was suspended, countless tonnes of titan held up by nothing but her own momentum. A shadow grew over the military line as she reached the apex of her jump, and began to descend.

Her feet met the ground, setting off a purely kinetic detonation that mimicked a heavy bomb. Surrounding buildings had their windows shattered and faces deformed by cracks. Foundations sank, unable to handle the influx of weight put upon them. Three tanks, which lay direction under the impact zone, were flattened in the same manner as tin cans in a press, their occupants possessing no chance at survival. Armor and men were thrown aside, ending as splats against the sides of buildings, or toppled over in the streets.

The commanding vehicle suffered little, for the tank was enough distance from the impact zone. The man inside was barking orders, attempting to rally and reform the line. His frantic attempts were interrupted, as a violent jolt rocked him.

Caitlin had claimed his tank for herself. Its treads secure in her fingers she brought it up to her face. Meanwhile, on the ground, a foot swept to the side, knocking asunder a mass of armor that somehow survived her landing. Her foot overturned the road as it advanced, bunching up asphalt, dirt, and even foliage as it collected new victims in its path.

The tank in her hand was lifted above her head. Her eyes followed, devious intent etched into every fold of her irises. A thumb rested on the top of the turret, catching the edge of the hatch.

“And this is me making good on my threat,” she sneered.

She flipped the hatch open, practically breaking it off. The tank was then turned over, allowing gravity to take the commander through the opening. He let out a fatal howl as he beheld where he was headed.

Caitlin’s all-consuming mouth had opened wide. The commander flailed his arms, as if he were in water, and his descent would be slowed or even stopped if he just waved them enough. His destiny was certain, however, as he passed through her lips, and landed upon her tongue.

The giantess wasted no time, shutting her mouth, then bringing her tongue back. A torrential rush of saliva took the commander, overriding any efforts of his, while her writhing muscle forced him down her throat. With a great gulp, he was sent in to the oppressive embrace of her esophagus, which would then squeeze him downward into her gastronomic chamber.

Her morsel consumed, Caitlin turned the tank upright, and curled her fingers around the armored frame. Metal bent and deformed under her fingers. Wheels grew crooked, and popped out of its sockets. Soon the entire tank was bunched up in to the shape of the inside of her clenched fist. The scrunched wreckage was then tossed aside.

Upon crushing the first line of military defense, she ventured into the urban area. Unlike the outlying suburbs, there were occasions where Caitlin’s footfalls would land in a relatively harmless area, only ripping up roads and grass. Now, in the densely packed downtown, each step was a catastrophe, crashing into strip malls, compressing multiple lanes of stopped cars, and annihilating scores of pedestrians as if they were ants upon the sidewalk.

She was still pursued by the lone Apache. Its crew was conservative with their ammunition and they were able to consistently pester her. While they posed no threat to the giantess, Caitlin couldn’t help, but attempt to seek some form of relief from their irksome pinpricks. She headed into an alley, flanked on both sides by tall buildings that came up to her chin.

The width of the alleyway proved a tight fit. As she shimmied to her side, her chest and rear compressed into the sides of the buildings, testing their structures. Occupants within ran from the windows as they strained and shattered. A few lost their lives for remaining still, particularly those given a good view of her bosom and buttocks. A curious phenomenon, that went unnoticed by Caitlin as she attempted to squeeze through.

“Of course, you little bugs can’t accommodate a lady of my size!” she fumed.

Tolerance for such a poor fit had been exceeded. Her hands pressed against the building to her front. With a mighty shove, she sent it toppling over. A mass of steel and glass fell upon pedestrians who had ventured too close. Smaller buildings, roads and cars were caught underneath the structures fall. A great fireball erupted from the bulk of the building upon falling.

Disgruntled, her rear smashed into the other building, but it held firm. A great indent, in the shape of two great glutes was left in its face. The giantess sauntered off, seeking out more murder and mayhem.

…

The state of emergency had reached all who still occupied a building. Andrew, still riding from the high of his morning coffee, was sent scrambling towards the exits. Order was sparse in the office, as people bunched near the stairwell.

Andrew witnessed a middle aged man dressed in a white shirt and tie pass by. He was in management. His flying, flapping nametag read “Lawrence” upon it. As he drew close, Andrew shouted, “The hell is happening?”

Lawrence turned towards the sound of his underling’s voice. His head was glistening with sweat in the florescent light.

“It’s a giantess,” he informed, attempting to avoid eye-contact with Andrew, “One of them’s gone bad. It’s …”

The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes, “What is it?”

With a solemn stare, Lawrence revealed, “They’re saying it’s Caitlin.”

Andrew’s pale skin lost what little color he had. Although the environment in the cubicle-dominated area had become quite heated, he felt quite cold himself. A nightmare scenario he had silently feared was coming to fruition.

With little acknowledgment, he broke into a sprint. He flew past the crowded stairways, and towards the elevators. A frantic finger jammed the “up” button. His efforts were rewarded with the opening of a set of stainless steel doors.

From beyond the doors, he heard the desperate, if scolding voice of his manager, “Andy! Andy! Follow the group! You’re going the wrong way! Andrew!”

The elevator ride felt an eternity. Only one button on the panel had been illuminated, the one leading to the top-most level. Andrew felt a shift in momentum as the elevator came to a stop. He stepped out, then ran through the emergency roof access, finding them curiously unlocked.

Venturing into the outdoors, he picked up a charred smell. Emergency sirens filled the air from all corners of the town. Such sounds rang in his ears, almost causing him to lose his balance.

He raced to the balcony, coming to a stop against thin metal railing. Andrew’s breath was taken from him as he beheld the destruction. From collapsed buildings, destroyed vehicles and torn up roads, he was not sure if a giantess had gone through the town, or a tornado.

His heart sank upon picking up the familiar sounds of booming stomps. It was something that had once raises his spirits, and provoked awe, even admiration from him. Now, the earth shattering footfalls of his wife could only provoke terror.

Dark eyes spotted the monster, but he wished he could have scratched them out then and there. But his eyes dared to remain open, in fact, they were stuck in that state. Andrew could sympathize with the psychotic Alex DeLarge for once, for he could not blot out the terrible scene of her shoes falling upon occupied cars and terrified civilians. He could not banish from his mind, the look of absolute glee as she massacred and massacred again. He wished the scene of ultraviolence was a bad piece of cinema he was forced to watch, for what occurred before him was no movie. To him, it was all too real.

His ears picked up the familiar rattle of a machine gun. The black Apache attack helicopter still harassed the rampaging giantess. Another salvo of its hellfire missiles streaked towards her hulking frame. Despite deadly explosions, Caitlin emerge as well as she could have. Still, damage had accumulated on the giantess. Her clothes sported several rips and tears, while splotches of blood blotted parts of her exposed skin.

A scowl crossed her face as she faced her most persistent irritant. She stopped in her tracks, turning her body to face off against the black helicopter.

“Buzz off you little fly,” she spat most spitefully, “You’re doing fuck all except pissing me off!”

The Apache responded to this insult by firing off another round of machine gun rounds.

“Alright,” Caitlin huffed as minuscule shells bounced against her relatively thick skin, “I’m putting my foot down!”

The giantess removed one of her shoes, ripping off the athletic footwear from her foot. Her shoulder bulged as her arm winded back, before launching the shoe like a great projectile towards the apache.

Her shoe flew wide. Instead it crashed into a crowd of pedestrians painting the street, the bottom of the shoe, and the adjacent buildings red with blood.

No sooner than she had tossed the first shoe, off came the second. Unlike her first attempt, her aim was on-point. Yet, the helicopter swerved immediately to the side, causing the pedal projectile to whiff. The front of the loose footwear embedded itself into the face of an apartment building.

“Lucky bastard,” fumed the titaness.

A nostril expanded, as Caitlin snorted. Moments later, she launched a vicious glob of phlegm from her mouth. Her aim was on target, and her fluids flew faster than a large, clunky shoe ever could. Struck by the viscous saliva, the helicopter was sent into a spin. Foamed saliva obscured the pilot’s viewpoint, while mucus clogged and dragged the mechanics of the gunship. It met its end, crashing into a building, resulting in complete annihilation.

Caitlin let out a sigh of relief, as she continued her path of destruction throughout the town. Her steps brought her close to the building Andrew stood on top of. He felt his legs tremble as he witnessed her leviathan of a physique pass overhead. The office Andrew was employed at was a formidable structure. He found himself even with the bottom of Caitlin’s bosoms. Dark eyes were transfixed on her swaying arms. Even in their relaxed state, muscles still bulged within tanned skin.

Her eyes wandered as she continued on her self-determined trail. It was clear that she was completely oblivious to his presence. The office man swallowed down a mighty lump down his throat.

“Caitlin!”

His voice rang, appearing to echo around the whole town. At the same time, he felt like a mouse, as if his squeaks were barely audible to even the smallest of children in a busy town.

She gave no indication of hearing him.

“Caitlin!” he shouted out once more. He leapt up and down, while waving his arms wildly in the air.

Finally, the giantess came to a stop. Caitlin had almost made it past the hulk of the office structure. Now, she turned back, giving the minuscule frame of Andrew a fearsome, if indifferent glare.

Andrew felt the ground beneath him tremble as she approached. He wondered if the structural integrity of the building would even hold from the tremors he experienced. His gentle wife’s expansive chest nearly eclipsed the view of her face. Only her eyes, the eyes of which burned with something wicked, he could see in full.

Slowly, she leaned down. Andrew felt himself shrink, although he remained the same stature as before. Caitlin’s glare appeared to weight down upon him. No longer was he a man, he was naught but a speck.

“Who are you? And why do you speak as if you matter to me?”

Words could not escape Andrews stuttering mouth. Great rivers of sweat poured down his face. Dark eyes, usually so calm and mischievous, were now wide, and they darted wildly about.

“I-” he finally spat out, “You don’t remember?”

He witnessed mighty eyebrows furrow before him. “I’ve squished hundreds of you bugs so far,” Caitlin explained, “Don’t expect me to memorize every one of you I missed.”

Andrew’s lungs burned from his extensive heaving. “I’m your husband.”

For a second, the noise of the world grew silent. Caitlin’s face was still, as if the words flowed around her with out reaching her ears.

She broke the horrifying quiet. A haughty laugh burst from her mouth, knocking Andrew off balance, and pummeling his spirit. “Oh man! Oh man, that’s rich. Just rich …”

Her eyes then widened, as she realized, “Oh wait.”

A belittling bellow soon followed, even louder than the one preceding it. Caitlin found the need to lean over, for her diaphragm struggled to force out every raucous guffaw. Soon, she calmed, wiping off a tear from her face.

“Fuck me,” she exclaimed, “I forgot all about that! Goddamn did I waste a lot of time on that!”

There was a million ways Caitlin could have hurt Andrew. The words that stabbed at his heart proved the most agonizing.

“You …” he whispered, “… But you ...”

“But what bug?” she interrupted, drawing her face ever closer to Andrew’s cowering form, “Or did you actually think I gave a fuck? You’re as big as my nip!”

Her eyes practically rolled, as a stray finger curled her thick dark auburn locks.

“Seriously,” she continued, “Your dust-brain probably even thought my acting was actually genuine whenever you decided to try fucking me!”

Andrew shook his head furiously, “No … this is wrong … there’s more to this! I .. I never knew …”

“Yeah,” Caitlin stated, “Well having an ant as a pet is fun, but then comes time to squish the bastard. They probably don’t know the reason why either.”

The office man saw a hand loom over the horizon of the railing.

“Speaking of which…”

Andrew was plucked from the top of the building. Caitlin rose up to her full posture, dangling her listless husband in front of her face. In her eyes, Andrew could recognize nothing of what he knew in just he day before. It was as if her kind soul had simply departed, leaving something far different behind.

“To be fair,” she continued, her tone becoming slightly sympathetic, “I was stupid enough to marry you. Should’ve done a good ol’ fuck and forget, but noo, I wanted to play the long game. And believe me, every fuck with you is easy to forget, ‘cause nothing happens.”

Even in her power, Caitlin was content to leave the body of her husband intact, settling for crushing his spirit. Much like so many of her victims before, his will crumbled underneath her overwhelming power.

“There was more,” Andrew pleaded, “There was more to our marriage than-”

“Bullshit!” she cursed, still wearing a jovial grin, “No wonder why you were so duped! Hell, marriage is bullshit anyway. I had to put up with your nonexistent ass for two years, crawling around, thinking you own the place, whining about how messy it is all the time, thinking I gave a fuck when you said I stink.”

“I … I …” he sputtered, as he continued to wither away, “I can … accommodate… I wish to-”

“There’s no point. Besides, you’re a fuckin’ speck, nothing you do ever matters. Wait, fuck, what was your name again?”

Caitlin’s eyes shifted, checking the skies. Moving back to the one who called himself her husband, she turned around, placing her rear against the side of the building. Several employees had been streaming outside, taking care to avoid the great form of the giantess. Upon witnessing what she was about to do, their paces became panicked.

“Let’s take a seat, you measly stain.” she derided, “There is one thing you can do for me.”

Her derriere slid against the steel frame, teasing the strength of glass and steel. There was a scream from below as the evacuating crowd witnessed the might rear smash into the ground below. A few abandoned cars had been tucked next to the hulk of the building, they were flattened immediately as Caitlin took a seat. Her legs bent, almost bringing her knees against her chest.

Andrew felt his stomach in his throat as he descended with her. His legs swung around, flailing from a multitude of forces. Caitlin’s massive digits still retained their oppressive grip. It lacked the usual warmth and care he had grown accustomed to, but still retained the unfathomable strength that felt a hair’s breath away from smashing him into oblivion.

So close he was to her mouth, that each word she spat out sent his body in an uncontrollable swing.

“You see, due to your … let’s say,” she began, “… microscopic pecker, I really had to compensate.”

Her other hand emerged, grasping an object. It was not something she had retrieved from the city, not a piece of debris, not another unfortunate victim, nor vehicle or armor. What was grasped in her hand was long, about as long as several train cars. It was stark black in color and cylindrical in shape. The object possessed a certain flexibility as it flopped in the air. Near one end, it was covered with a patterned array of bumps, whose purpose could only be speculated on. The cusp of the dark object was slightly swollen, curved into a mushroom-like dome.

There was little doubt what she held. Andrew simply wished it was not so.

“Little anty, say hello to Captain Penetrator!” Caitlin gleefully announced.

She shook the imitation phallus, allowing its lewd end to wobble most crudely in the air. A small chuckle escaped her mouth.

Despite Caitlin’s mocking instruction, Andrew kept his mouth sealed. At this, she scoffed, “You really should play nice you ungrateful insect, the ol’ Captain was the reason you even made it past the six-month mark.”

If Andrew was not compelled to say anything, her statement made him even less so. In fact, his entire body was rendered limp, as if his neck had been snapped. Aside from uneven, sharp breaths, it was most difficult to differentiate Andrew’s form from that of a corpse.

“Ah, cat got your tongue?” she observed. She placed his still form upon the cusp of her bosoms, which proved perky enough to prevent him from sliding down their rounded tracts.

“Realizing that some sex toy’s a better husband than you could ever be?” she continued, “Don’t be sad, really, an ant like you never even stood a chance.”

Her freed hand had flown to her jeans. A snap undid her button, before she drew the zipper down, exposing gray panties with a strange dark stain down the middle. In one go, she slid both her pants and underwear to her ankles, before utilizing her legs to fling off her disrobed articles. The jeans ended up as a heavy denim canopy upon a shorter, stouter office building just down the street, while her panties were still stuck inside.

The giantess’s thighs were laid bare. Bulging muscle pulsed, adding curved divots and valleys to her otherwise smooth thighs and calves. Where her legs met, within lay a dark forest, guarding a luscious entrance that was already dripping wet.

However, her bare bottom had become familiar with the carnage that lay on the ground, as chunks of debris and shards of glass tickled the blubbery exterior.

“Ugh,” lamented Caitlin, “fuckin glass, this certainly ain’t the best seat in the house.”

Her focus resumed on Andrew, and the massive mockery of manhood clutched in her fist.

“Now, let’s be honest, the Captain ain’t flawless here,” she elaborated, “He needs a little juice to get him started.”

A hand dipped down, diving into the frantic stream of people still exiting the building. A score of men and women in professional wear were scooped up. Their thrashing forms were dwarfed by her fingers. Andrew even caught the form of his boss wailing against the titan’s imposing thumb.

Caitlin opened her hand, bringing the squirming mass under the shadow of the rubber phallus. Her opposite hand then brought the floppy toy down, impacting with a slap on her palm. At least eight were smashed underneath the vulgar plaything, while the others began to scramble to the edge. At this moment, they appeared to prefer the pain of death from a long fall, than suffer whatever torment the giantess had in store from them. Screams and shouts clogged the surface of her awesome appendage, as she savored the pandemonium manufactured by mere foreplay.

Their howls of terror only grew as her fingers curled around the girth of the toy. Two workers managed to slip between the digits, falling down a great height to the ground below. Andrew did not trace the path of their fall to confirm their survival or demise, for morbid curiosity affixed his view to the scene before him.

All her captives, both alive and dead, were trapped against the rubber surface of the plaything. Slowly, her hand advanced the length of the shaft, beginning a vulgar stroke. Andrew heard guttural shrieks devolve into bloody squelches, for a crimson paint began to coat the exterior of the phallus. Crunches of bone echoed throughout the city, as fully adult men and women were mashed into an incomprehensible plaster of mixed body matter. Parts, whether they be loose organ or pieces of bone leaked between fingers as the giantess continued to pump her favorite toy.

Her efforts left the phallus with a glistening sheen. The top half of it was coated in a chunky emulsification. Caitlin gave the toy two mighty shakes, freeing several fractured skeletons that adhered to the toy’s phallic might.

“Haven’t had some lube like this in a long time,” she commented with glee, “Really lends itself to some texture!”

A bloody hand reached for Andrew. Sanguine matter smeared his face, as he was plucked from the platform of her chest. He was brought down, past her heaving bosoms, past her taut stomach, before coming to a stop before a great forest. A sight that used to elicit such joy and devotion from him, now only served to sicken each of his senses. Fishy odors were clogged with lust, and only lust. There was no love to be made in the engorged slit.

“Alright hubby-wubby-bobubby,” mocked the voice from above, “Let me give you an up close and personal demonstration of just where you fall short.”

Andrew was smashed against the lips of her labia. Muggy musk overpowered his nose, while her touch enslaved him and violated his spirit. He felt tears welling up, while down below, he still harbored a sick sense of arousal that betrayed his very constitution.

He was allowed enough freedom to be able to turn his head away from her imposing loins. However, the broken man would come to regret his action. The vulgar head of the beast she clutched was making its way straight for her crotch. Andrew was just in the way.

The rubber tip assaulted him, forcing him within the most intimate parts of his tormentor. Finally, the despair he had held within was let out as a haunting cry that would never escape the dripping cavern he found himself enclosed in.

Further and further in he was forced, until he was pushed up against her cervix. Thankfully, the head of the rubber monster had retreated. But relief would be short-lived.

Like a mighty locomotive, the toy phallus rammed into him, smashing Andrew up against the end of her cave. With one powerful pump, he felt his ribs crack, and blood burst from his mouth. His mortal liquid mixed with the sensuous release that surrounded his puny body.

Again he was smashed by the false manhood, shattering his jaw. And again, and again, and again would he be struck as the toy stormed Caitlin’s nethers. Her offensive was purely mechanical, too much like that of a piston. He may as well have been surrounded by sterile metal and smashed by a hydraulic press. Pleasure was an afterthought, while pain had his day. Pleasure was the only thing this leviathan sought, not joy, not happiness, not love. Pleasure was what he would be drowned in.

As Caitlin reached the brink, her hand became a blur. Her thrusting had shifted into a furious affair. At one point, was the sensation so great, she splayed her legs out. One of her socked feet caught an armored vehicle, trapping it under her toes. As arousal mounted, her toes curled, crushing the military vessel, and damning each of its occupants to a bloody demise that soaked into the fabric covering her sole.

Ecstasy struck, and Andrew was smashed one last time against the wall. A flood of viscous discharge washed up against him, shredding off bits of skin and muscle from sheer pressure alone. This discharge found its way outside of Caitlin, drooling from her womanly maw, before pooling under her thighs into an obscene puddle.

With something resembling delicacy, she extracted the pseudo-phallus from her luscious lips. Andrew was stuck to the tip, and barely resembled what he was before. He was a mass of broken bones, and bloody limbs that still somehow hung together in something resembling a human body. Matted hair hung over his face, obscuring annihilated cheekbones, and a missing jaw. What clothes remained on him stuck to his battered body in tattered bits.

An eye of his remained functional, wide and bloodshot. It hung on the titan before him, beholding not the face of a vengeful goddess, but that of a lewd girl, winding down from a session of erotic consequences. A toothy smile formed on her face, as she viewed the splattered mess on her favorite toy.

“I see you’ve been properly educated on how to please a woman,” she observed, “Shoulda had that in your portfolio a couple years earlier, eh?”

What was left of Andrew’s mouth opened. A gurgle of blood exited.

Caitlin rolled her eyes, “Oh come on. That was just a little lovin’! Seriously, it’s pathetic you’re this way with me going full steam ahead.”

The head of the phallus was brought to her face. Heavy, musty breath tickled what remained of Andrew’s nerves.

In a fearsome whisper, she struck the last blow, “You aren’t even decent lube.”

A silver eye briefly veered down to her retreating vulva.

“You’ve never filled me up down there.” she claimed, “I wonder how you’ll do in here?”

Her mouth took in the entire top of the phallus. Saliva washed Andrew down her throat. Each time he was smacked into an organic wall, he felt a piece of him break off. Everywhere he was dragged, his broken form trailed blood. Eventually, he was banished down her esophagus, the squeezing action of her tube, crushing which organs lay intact.

As he was deposited in acidic bile, life still clung to him like a disease. Corrosive liquid seeped into every corner of his body, activating the rest of his nervous system with agony. In the dim light of Caitlin’s stomach, he saw another, unfortunate shape float face down, completely still.

Andrew

His throat had been smashed, and what was left of his vocal chords had dissolved. He had no voice, but he wished he could scream. And screamed he did, in a silent, horrifying matter. All functions of his were rendered inert, all from mundane acts of loveplay and dining from the one he called his wife.

Andrew!

He felt her stomach begin to churn. There was a certainty that the motion had forced his frail legs to detach from the rest of his body. Bits of skin and muscle had begun to turn to sludge. It was a violent effort for something so little, a morsel that wouldn’t even register as a snack once she was through with him.

ANDREW!

Waves of acid drowned his debilitated lungs, making each labored breath pure torture. His pain would go unnoticed, contained to this vast, gastronomic atrium. Not even a passing memory would be left of his insignificant life, for how could he compare to such a being? What delusion’s compelled him to convince himself that he was more than a bug to this goddess of might and destruction? Dust he was, but less than dust would be become.

“ANDREW!”

A scream of despair shredded his thoat, as he felt himself jostled on the pillow. Frantically, his arms and legs struggled against a great mass that had pinned him down. His mind made fresh the sting of acid that had just inflamed his sweaty skin.

“ANDREW! PLEASE!”

The desperate shout of his wife ceased his howls. He drew in rapid breaths, threatening to burst his lungs. Andrew tamed his arms and legs, now no longer resisting against the imposing form of his wife’s finger.

Her mighty digit relieved him, slowly drawing away. Andrew wiped down his sweltering face with both hands, before turning to the side.

Caitlin’s massive face loomed majestically, a vista in of itself. It was halfway buried inside the pillow they both resided on. Her lush lips had parted slightly, allowing slow steady breaths to pass through that wrapped around his entire body in the same manner as an invisible blanket. Locks of dark auburn hair hung over her eyes.

It was her steely orbs that captivated him. They were filled with concern, pity, even sorrow. Her lips closed, almost forming into a soft pout. Only moments earlier, were they dominated by arrogance, malice, and ridicule. No longer did her cold gaze stab at his heart.

He let not a word escape him. Not even a sarcastic quip could be composed to alleviate his wife’s apparent anxiety. Silence fell upon them. Only the sound of Caitlin’s breathing filled the bedroom.

“You had that nightmare again, didn’t you?” she asked, still keeping her voice soft and breathy.

Her husband immediately turned away, curling up his lanky form.

“Andrew,” she begged, “please.”

Shame caused him to hide his face. A red blush warmed his cheeks.

“I … I’m sorry … sorry for waking you up.” he muttered meekly.

“Shoot, don’t even apologize,” she rebuked, “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

The terrain of the pillow shifted, as Caitlin attempted to scoot closer to the cowering form of her husband. An apparent shiver ran down his body. Pain stabbed Caitlin’s chest, as she witnessed this brief episode of instinctual fear. Even tears were on the verge of leaking out from the ducts within her eyes.

However, he had managed to calm down. He uncurled himself, and laid flat. Caitlin had brought her hand forward once more, allowing her great index finger to softly caress her husband. Immediately, the muscles in his minuscule form relaxed, and so did she.

Her finger was drawn away, but her head leaned in. A tender kiss submerged her husband in her lips. The mouth that had disposed of him within his nightmare was now tending to his every need in the real world. As her mouth retreated, Andrew’s sweat had been supplanted with a thin coating of saliva.

“Don’t worry Andrew,” she assured, “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Andrew could finally bring himself to face his wife once more. Her finger had returned to tending to him, stroking down his back. She could feel every infinitesimal vertebrae that lined his spine. The digit experienced the small swelling and contracting of his diaphragm, now far more relaxed and steady. Caitlin would have to admit to herself, that she required her tending of Andrew almost as much as he did.

As the couple locked eyes with one another, Andrew could observe her lips purse, as if something had provoked her anger.

“She’s an ungrateful cunt you know,”

“Cait?” he exclaimed with uncertainty. Deep within, however, there was no doubt as to whom she was addressing.

“I know what she was saying to you, in your nightmare,” she continued, “I know why you believe what she says. If she thinks that, she’s an ungrateful cunt.”

Andrew shook his head, “Caitlin, let it go, you’re right, it’s just a nightmare, I don’t want to tal-”

“She doesn’t know how good she has it, being married to you,” his wife declared. Resolve was the entirety of her glare. He witnessed the arm that had stretched over to attend him involuntarily flex, demonstrating her bulky might.

A rosy blush was upon him again. He shook his head once more, far more fiercely this time around. One of his hands rose to shield his face, as his heart beat with a mixture of conflicting emotions.

From out of the silence, he found within himself a relic of his old snark, “Heh, you really lay it on thick do you? You don’t have to exag-”

“I ain’t lying. You just don’t want to admit it.”

In a simple phrase, Andrew’s silver tongue was transmuted to lead.

He had become immediately aware that the moisture coating his body had turned the room frigid. An involuntary shiver rocked his entire body.

A sharp inhale was heard from his wife. Concern came over her once more.

“Andy?” she prodded, “You look cold. Do you want me to hold you?”

No, you stink. And yet, you have the audacity to make the luckiest man in the world.

“I don’t want to bother you,” he begrudgingly answered.

“Please.”

He did not verbalize his wishes. However, he did draw his hand from his face, revealing the remains of his embarrassed blush. Andrew’s expression, always sharp and piercing, ready to gauge weakness, had notably softened.

Fingers wrapped around him. He was lifted, before Caitlin’s other hand fell on top of him. Andrew was enclosed in a small little room, made up entirely of his wife’s hands. Both were then brought to her, nestled just underneath her chest. Andrew felt the rumble of his wife’s might heartbeat, as he snuggled up against one of her palms.

Caitlin lay on her side, allowing her knees to curl up. It was as if her own body was forming some sort of great enclosure, so as to not allow anything past her to get to her own beloved.

“Sleep easy Andy.” she whispered down to her enclosed hands, “She can’t hurt you there. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you from any fucker that wants to hurt you.”

In the heat of her grip, against the monolithic silhouette pf her body, Andrew was lulled to sleep. Her heart still rumbled his own resting form, while the sound of bass-heavy breathing soothed his unconscious instincts.

For the rest of the night, the nightmare no longer haunted him. Neither, did he dream. In a way, Andrew’s own life had become as a dream in of itself.

Their residence was shrouded in darkness. Even relief from pale moonlight was not present, for the moon itself was new. Luckily for Andrew, navigating such a dark atrium would not be a challenge. The worst that could happen would that he would be lost, requiring him to regain his bearings.

His footsteps were light as he snuck through the kitchen. From the soft, but booming snores he heard through the wall, it was necessary for him to stifle unnecessary noise.

Wait a minute, I’m the size of an insect to her, I can stomp around the house like a bull in a China shop, and I won’t wake her up.

Force of habit compelled Andrew to maintain his soft gait. There was a small growl from within his stomach. Despite this, he did not venture towards the refrigerator, situated at the far wall, nor the pantry, which lay adjacent to the back porch. He instead, took a sharp turn to the right, towards the entrance to the bedroom.

His wife’s deep, booming snores had grown more apparent as he stood in front of the towering door. With little trouble, he slipped underneath the crack in the doorway.

Caitlin’s hulking form rested atop the bed. She was on her side, presenting a bare, chiseled back to Andrew. The only article of modesty she had bothered with were a pair of white panties, which struggled to contain her bulbous bottom. Stocky, sinewy legs were slightly bent, allowing the calloused pads of her feet to face out. Even in the dark, the soft ambient light of their alarm clock provided just enough for him to admire the scenery.

Her torso slightly rose and fell as she slumbered. After a pause, Andrew resumed walking, assuming a brisk pace. His brow furrowed as he waded through scratchy carpet fibers, some which proved too friendly with his office suit; a white, collared shirt and black pants.

As he drew close to the bed, the structure loomed over him much like his office building. Regardless, his pace did not let up. Soon, the mattress was his ceiling, obscuring him in near darkness. With confidence, he navigated his way underneath the bed.

Near a wall lay a doorway his size. It led to a small restroom, one of appropriate scale for his use. His own lavatory was arranged in much the same way as Caitlin’s, except the surfaces of each appliance, from the sink, the toilet and the shower were practically immaculate and spotless. As Andrew washed his face, his reflection was perfectly portrayed in an oval-shaped mirror, clear as crystal. He did scrunch his nose upon discovering a small watermark near the edge of the glass, and made a note to get rid of it once he had time.

But now, there was no time. Exhaustion clung to his limbs as he disrobed and stepped into the shower. Hot, steamy water and cleansing solutions did little to rejuvenate him.

Despite a thorough washing, Andrew’s shower lasted not even five minutes. He had neatly folded his discarded office wear, and set them aside. Clothed in nothing but his boxers, he marched swiftly out from under the bed, towards the platform leading up to the top of the nightstand.

Ascending the lift allowed him to gaze upon his wife at rest once more. Luscious dark locks flowed over her neck, and fell upon a pillow fit to be a basketball court. Her head lay at half-court, causing the surface to dip down to accommodate its great mass. His wife, even among her peers, certainly possessed a thick skull.

Andrew had ventured over the gap between the nightstand and the mattress. His feet sunk into the bedsheets. As he traversed the soft terrain, he found his head turning southward.

The dark of night could not conceal the rather fantastic sight of Caitlin’s panty-clad rear. Andrew was as a crossroads, as he gazed back at the pillow. He only needed to travel past her head, and pick a spot far enough from her so that he would not be trapped under a cheek or drooled on. It was a simple task, and as sleep hovered over his eyes, a most needed one.

However, while Andrew was a man of pragmatism, he was also a man of culture. Beauty was something he indeed could appreciate, and with it staring back at him, he had to answer its call. With cautious footfalls, he traveled alongside the length of his wife, admiring the great dunes of muscle that shaped her back. Dark eyes traced the valley made by her spine, and took note of every vertebrae that jutted out from her skin.

The wall of her back narrowed as he travelled further south. Andrew remained fixated on his destination. Caitlin’s buttocks strained against their white fabric containment. Her panties indeed, conformed to the bulbous shape of toned, taut glutes. Material appeared to bunch and fold over in the crease between.

Such a sight could not be taken in all at once. Andrew remained nearby, for if her were to back away to capture even more of her glorious derriere, he risked getting knocked off the bed. Yet, the close proximity possessed several advantages. The office man could make out the texture of skin not concealed by underwear. A faint, but rather unpleasant smell tickled his nostrils, but it was nothing that could dissuade him.

The mattress shifted beneath him. Caitlin’s movements stirred the soft, but vast tectonic plates that he stood on.

What he witnessed before him resembled a tsunami rolling over a coastline. Caitlin was tilting over on her back. Her bounteous rear was along for the ride, and it threatened to completely engulf Andrew underneath its tantalizing tonnage.

Bulbous buttocks fell like a meteorite to end the era of the dinosaurs. Snapping out of his trance, Andrew sensed danger, and sprung into a sprint. As he huffed, he could only admit out loud, “That’s what I get for taking the scenic route.”

He was headed towards her thighs, counting on the gap between them to spare him. But as her monolithic glutes drew close, the sight of the gap began to fade.

Despite his efforts, it became increasingly clear that he would not evade the great descending cheeks. Still, even considering the hopelessness of the situation, Andrew leapt forward.

Immediately, he was entrapped by white fabric, and pressed into the mattress. Andrew had managed to position himself beneath the seam of the paired globes, yet still, the overpowering mass of the rump above had effectively immobilized him. The impact almost knocked him unconscious, for the shock of being smashed by something of immense heft was indescribable. In utter blackness he lay, compressed on all sides by warm, white fabric.

A fermented, rotten smell began to invade his nostrils. This was combined with a stale odor that wafted from the cotton material that was currently oppressing him. Curious, he continued to sniff, as it was the only movement his body would be allowed for the next couple of hours.

“Heh, three days,” he commented, “old habits die hard eh?”

Luckily, as he lay in between glutes, Andrew was able to find more wiggle room. His shoulder’s shimmied, and he felt himself able to drag his body gradually forward over the bedsheets.

His progress halted at the sound of a rumble that had come from above.

Andrew sighed as best he could, “Just my luck.”

The rumbling only grew in intensity. Rotten odors also increased, forcing Andrew to take in more of its foul smell.

Finally, what lay within the resting rear was unleashed. A stream of gas shot through like a thunder strike from the sky above, blasting Andrew further into the mattress. His bones screamed in pain, for the pressure assaulting him was significant.

The rotten, foul odor that had been barely detected earlier, was now the only scent Andrew could perceive. So intense, the smell of the hostile gas was, it had taken upon a completely different nature. Hot air burned his nostrils and moistened his eyes. Briefly, did he wonder if he would be able to differentiate anything else, other than the smell of waste and rectum.

“And I just took a shower!” he fumed, although Andrew’s lamentations were muffled by fabric and flesh.

Soon enough did the flatulence pass. Andrew still lay in a predicament, yet after suffering from such an assault by his sleeping wife, his progress in freeing himself would be delayed. She doesn’t mind if I go sightseeing. Still, if I’m caught like this in the morning, I’m going to be late for work.

Lightning rarely struck the same location twice. But the thundercloud that he found himself under was no ordinary nimbus.

When a second fart thundered through her almighty sphincter, Andrew’s constitution shattered. The force, the smell, the pressure, all overwhelmed his senses. He was banished to a state of unconsciousness, nothing but the musk of his wife’s putrid innards on his brain.

…

Clear blue skies and a sun at its apex gave the lakeside sands a pearly white sheen. While the lake itself at its deepest parts was a comforting dark blue color, near the shoreline, it had taken on a dirty, muddy brown hue. A few boats, both sail ships and motorized speeders, raced across the shimmering surface at varying velocities. Meanwhile, at the shoreline, a plurality of beach-goers splashed and floated within a bob-lined zone.

Of course, the more water-wary occupied the grainy sands. Several children constructed, or attempted to construct sand-castles. Those in the throes of puberty found less amusement in building up structures, instead settling to bury their friends, or their enemies from the neck down in the soft terrain.

Others took the time to indulge in romance. A man looking over the shoreline with his girlfriend, waxed poetic on his negative disposition towards sand, He found the course, rough, irritating granules, that managed to find themselves anywhere and everywhere, a putrid reminder of his labor-intensive childhood.

To the side, a mile’s high chain-link fence sectioned off a piece of the shoreline. The fence was more a marker than an actual barrier, for the links provided large enough openings that nearly three people could file through. A great sign was attached to the intersecting metal wires, reading “Giantess Zone: Enter at Your Own Risk”.

There were risk takers among the beach goers, some simply toeing the line as to aggravate authority. Others completely ignored it, for a variety of reasons. On the opposite side, towering woman thundered about, although their numbers were limited. They were clad in the same kind of articles as their smaller counterparts. The sand they stepped upon was as powder to them. There was a curious addition of several red splotches. These peculiar aberrations were rare among the pale canvas of sand, but to some of the more cautious, they served as an even more blatant warning than any large sign ever could.

None of these crimson stains lingered near a particular giant. She was resting face-down upon her slanted beach chair. Much like many of the beach goers, her modesty was limited. She wore a pale olive two-piece swimsuit. Her trunks were shorts in the most generous sense, covering the smallest amount of thigh possible. The waterproof material strained and stretched over her generous rear, leaving little to the imagination.

Her top would have covered her sculpted dorsal expanse in a crossing pattern, were it not for the fact that the straps to do so were undone. Thick auburn locks, meanwhile only made it to her neck. Only a few strands rested on the great plain.

Meanwhile, her mountainous bosom lay concealed by both the thick threads of her chair, as well as the front of her swimsuit. The giantess’s swimwear overall required greater imagination than most others who settled for skimpy bikinis. Still, her hardened physique was being admired by at least one other beach-goer.

He was an insect compared to her. While the giantess’s complexion appeared quite acquainted with the sun, his appeared less so. Despite this, not a mark of red appeared on his skin, for he was doused in a thick, greasy, pale substance. He wore only black swimtrunks, revealing a skinny, yet not quite emancipated build.

In a great puddle, the sunscreen was gathered, precisely in the middle of her shoulder blades. Skinny arms moved frantically, spreading the grease around her vast terrain. While he found the skin smooth, he would occasionally have to slather the substance most judiciously around a volleyball sized dimple, or across a small hill of scar tissue.

While the comparatively diminutive man worked diligently, he would take small breaks in regular intervals. Dark eyes would scrutinize the landscape. Each time, a small, mischievous smile would form upon his thin lips.

Caitlin’s booming alto rattled the organic ground beneath him, “This honeymoon stuff, I kinda don’t get it. I’d much rather be working on the house. I just need some painting and wiring done, and bam, we’ve got ourselves a residence!”

Andrew nodded, although such a gesture would be unseen, “I kinda feel naked not being in the office for so long.”

A small chuckle rumbled from beneath, “Andy, you’re married to that office. I’m a bit jealous.”

Her husband returned the chuckle, “What can I say, it’s quite spacious and curvaceous, although ...”

He stole another glance down her back. Of particular interest was a pair of pale-olive hills. It was while he was entranced by this auspicious sight, he continued, “… The vista of this place is better than advertised.”

The world tilted, forcing the miniscule man to find some form of purchase. Caitlin’s skin had been rendered slippery from the sunscreen, and her athletic physique ensured it was tight and taut. A few stray hairs prevented Andrew from sliding down into the curvature of her spine, his thin arms gripping them most tightly.

Caitlin, however, had merely attempted to look back, and had to raise her torso to do so. As she glanced out into the shimmering lake, she curled her lips.

“I dunno,” she countered, “The lake’s a bit swampy. Not complaining about the price though.”

Silvery eyes then focused upon her puny passenger, “The service on the other hand is top notch.”

She shot Andrew a wink to emphasize her intent.

With such a small stature, however, the gesture had flown over his head. “Seems a bit bare bones, if I’m honest.” he disagreed.

For a moment, the ambiance of the flowing lake, and idle chatter of beach-goers, big and small, was all that passed between the two. But, it was for only a moment. In the next, both burst out laughing, Caitlin’s own chortle sending Andrew sliding down a few feet before finding other place-holds to secure him.

“Something caught your fancy?” he asked, after allowing himself to calm.

“Yeah,” she responded, shooting her husband a smile, “the hunk greasing up my back is looking real tasty.”

Andrew’s eyes quickly darted around, as if he expected to have company upon his wife’s backside.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, perhaps a bit too quickly, “There’s no one else here.”

His cheeks had turned a bright red, but this was not from sunburn.

Caitlin let out an aggravated huff, “It’s you, dor-”

Her attention was immediately drawn directly down. In the shadow cast by her beach-side chair, a small crowd of a dozen or so stood. Much like the beach goers, these particular individuals wore very little, but instead of revealing bikinis and wavy swim trunks, their attire was made of hand-patched cloth wrapped haphazardly around their waists. They were made of mostly men, but there were one or two women. The women wore their scraps of clothes in the same manner of the men, showing off their bare chests.

At least half of the group clearly enjoyed food and drink more than exercise, and wished to hide their skeletons as best they could under great folds of fat. The other half, meanwhile appeared to be repulsed by the very idea of eating, content on showing off their own bones underneath a thin layer of skin. Almost all were poorly groomed, sporting wild matted hair, and scraggly beards.

There was one clear leader, for he stood out among the rest. Along with his cloth wraps, he sported a white sash covering one shoulder, crossing his chest to his waist. The distinguishing sash rolled over broad, rounded, bulging pectorals and crossed abdominals sculpted from diamond, putting even Caitlin’s mountainous core to shame. His beard, while still visible, was neatly trimmed, while his thick, brown hair was pulled into a ponytail.

In one aspect the group was uniform in was the eyes. There was no concrete description that Caitlin could give them from her vantage, but they looked as pilgrims upon reaching a holy shrine. Each pupil glowed with something strange, alien, but in some ways, familiar. It was similar to viewing a cross-bred animal, for their wild glares were in-between the spectrum of pure reverence, and deadly lust.

Two arms, fit to be official military branches themselves, rose to the heavens. His followers quickly prostrated upon the ground.

“Oh praise be!” he cried out in a deep bellow, “Allow us to do homage to your divine image, oh mighty goddess!”

The so-called mighty goddess, felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, as she murmured, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Caitlin didn’t care that her voluminous vocal chords carried her booming slander down to the ears of her apparent apostles.

“We are truly blessed by the sight of you goddess!” he continued, spitting out every consonant and singing every vowel of his sermon, “Behold, the hills and valleys of your incredible muscles! The soft curve of your breasts! The great plain of your thighs! And the enticing image of your sumptuous feet! Truly, you are a statue of heavenly perfection! We humbly ask that we, wretched souls here, may gaze upon you goddess.”

Large ears picked of a caustic cackle. Upon her back, she felt a tickle. Turing her head, she saw that Andrew was rolling on his own back, laughing up a storm. He rolled about her greasy skin, unable to quiet the tumultuous tremors his cheerful diaphragm had bestowed him.

A lead-colored glare was shot at her newly-wed husband, who took noticed and ceased his merry-making. He still sported a mischievous smile, something Caitlin wished to set aside time to simply admire, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Someone is trying to kill me,” she seethed, “My heart is going to crush itself into a singularity from all this cringe.”

Andrew only widened his smile in response. Rolling her eyes, the giantess returned her attention to the cultists, who had intensified their worship. Each member appeared content to allow their head to smack the sands as they bowed. Even their leader, once proud and tall, had now begun to degrade himself as much has his followers. Praises and hosannas were sent her way, and there was nothing Caitlin could do to avoid them.

Stuttering greatly, she stated, “Uh … buddy … I’m not quite into the goddess thing.”

The Leader paused his prostrations, “Oh, a test my goddess. I shall prove our fealty to you, oh mighty matriarch!”

“You people need Jesus,” she rebuked.

“I have shed the need for our mortal, feeble superstitions,” spoke the man most sacrilegiously, “You, oh mighty one, are the only thing I believe in! It is you who possess power, real power, here on earth! Not our vain imaginations of divinity!”

So much for being a goddess, I can’t even control my own followers. I don’t know why other gals my size indulge in this stupid crap.

Shifting her eyes, and shifting trains of thought, Caitlin decided to settle upon her trump card, “What if I told you guys, I ain’t indulging whatever you’re doing here? I’m married!”

She presented her hand to the crowd. Her fingers spread, so they could catch the golden brand that had been bequeathed to her most recently.

Her actions took immediate effect. The cultists froze, not daring to bend another inch. Several members gasped. A few threatened to faint.

“Blasphemy!” bellowed the leader, shooting an accusatory finger to the sky, “What putrid bug had the gall to try to enslave you to that defunct mortal institution? We shall relieve that stain of humanity from your divine presence goddess!”

The man’s muscles bulged as he cracked his knuckles. His followers appeared eager, on the tips of their toes, as if to spring into action. Eagerly they awaited his command, for whichever daring, if reckless, scheme he had in mind.

At this sight, Caitlin clenched her teeth. Her brow furrowed, while her eyes widened and grew bloodshot. She felt her hand’s grip the frame of her chair, as pure fury pumped through her veins. Her formidable muscles bulged, almost on instinct, allowing her to assume a threatening posture. As her frame had taken up the entire sky, Caitlin certainly did resemble an angry deity, ready to pass down a most vengeful judgment.

“That ‘stain of humanity’ is my fucking husband you dick!” she spat, allowing insult after insult to fly out from her mouth without much thought, “Fuck off and trash-talk some other lady’s guy, or I’m gonna stomp you into the sand you little shit!”

Andrew could only witness the scene with an amused expression. Upon hearing his wife’s foul abuse, he commented in a playful manner, “Language.”

His half-hearted attempts at politeness would go ignored.

There was a moan, a most obscene noise that left little to interpretation. Immediately, the cult leader began to grovel. From within his tattered robes, it was clear he had comprehended most deeply the threat that had been erected before him.

“Oh dear,” he lamented, in a tone that was more fit for a seedy hotel room, “we have offended the goddess! It is clear, we are not worthy of your mercy! We offer our lives so that your righteous vengeance might be sated. Our destiny is to be but red stains, smothered within your bounteous breasts, flattened under your all-encompassing ass, and annihilated under your perfect feet!”

As he listed the various, racy ways he and his fellows would meet their ends, the group had begun heaving in a manner similar to rabid dogs.

Perspiration poured down Caitlin’s face, but this was not due to the afternoon sun. Her eyes darted to and fro, attempting to avoid the ravenous throes of people before her.

“These guys literally are gluttons for punishment, aren’t they?”

Andrew’s voice rang clear in her ear. He had made his way up to her shoulder, though he had positioned himself so that her collar would obstruct the cultists’ view of him.

Out of the corner of her mouth, she whispered back, “I was just gonna bury these guys in the sand, and maybe scare ‘em off, but I think they’re real loons! It doesn’t matter what I do, they’re gonna like it! Fuck! It’s as if God created these guys for the sole purpose of putting me in a jam!”

Her husband offered no recourse, although he appeared to be taking the matter more seriously. The moans of the people below were growing louder. There was no telling what they had in store next, and Caitlin was not eager to find out.

She caught herself continuing to stare behind. It was better this way, for she could avoid the burden of looking down on the cultists. Her eyes lingered upon her husband, taking in his now glistening skin, a result of his sunscreen sponsored expedition around her back. A cool, lakeside breeze caught his jet black hair, causing some strands to fly across his face. Unconsciously, her mouth had begun to water as she took in the sight.

As she pondered, a devious idea had crossed her mind.

“Let’s make some lemonade from these lemons,” she snickered.

Andrew was plucked from her back. He was dropped on the seat, directly below her face. Through gaps in the material, he could view the desperate cultists and hear their howls, although he wished he could not.

He let out a sharp exhale in surprise, for Caitlin’s face had drawn close. Hot air shot from her nostrils, blasting the top of his head. Her lips were an arm’s length away, and were slightly parted. As she breathed on him, his nose was filled with the scent of raw onion and saliva.

For a mere moment, her mouth hovered close. It then shot forward, trapping him in a juicy kiss.

A moan escaped her lips, as Caitlin pressed her luscious maw into Andrew. Not an inch of him could escape her ravenous affections. Saliva coated him, while occasionally, her tongue tasted the bitter aftertaste of stale sunscreen.

The cult had ceased their worship. All stood still, mouths agape. Some appeared on the verge of crying. Their muscled leader let out a few pathetic squeaks, before finally speaking out. “Goddess? What about our punishment?”

For longer than necessary, his question had gone ignored, as the giantess’s lips continued to smother her husband. Loud, juicy smacks rocked the heavens, while joyful mewls sent small vibrations into the sands below.

Cailtin managed to pull away for just a moment to snarl, “Clamp it, don’t you see I’m a bit busy?” Every syllable of her insult blasted Andrew with hot rank air, causing his bones to rattle. It certainly did his ears no favor, for they rang with the sonorous roar of her voice.

She then returned to her business, wetting the plastic bands that kept Andrew pinned against her active lips. His arms shoved against her advances, yet his strength proved utterly ineffective. This was not a deliberate action, it was a spark of the nerves reacting at being subject to power, unlimited power.

Consciousness began to fade from him. The air Andrew swallowed stank of pungent raw onion, and stale beef. His environment was easily twice the temperature of the beach, and there was no benefit of a fresh breeze.

Slowly, but surely, the cult began to retreat. One by one, they turned away, with heads hanging over, and feet, dragging through powdery ground. Among the last to leave was the leader still gazing upwards, as if doing so would draw his goddess’s attention back to him. When it became clear that would not be the case, he too, began to trudge away from the scene.

One remained, a rather thin, lanky man, who’s bare head had attained a luster gold grew green at the sight of. One of his bony hands had been plunged down his robes. It moved in a rhythmic motion, although what it had grasped remained hidden. A wide, drooling smile kept his mouth open.

When not leaking with drool, it leaked out praises, “Oh yes, the utter humiliation of being ignored while her affections are occupied by another man! This is the greatest high!”

Upon hearing this, Caitlin immediately stood up. Her movements caused shifts in the terrain below, although it was not enough to disrupt anyone’s balance. Andrew, soaked in a thin puddle of saliva, and on the verge of fainting, was yanked from the chair as well. The giantess had managed to use her other hand to keep her swimtop adhered to her torso.

She shook her head as she declared, “I’m retreating, this is getting real weird. I should have run away from these fucks from the minute they showed up.”

“Oh yes, discard me like a piece of trash!” begged the man below, his rhythmic motions increasing in frequency.

Before his task at hand reached its natural conclusion, a mighty hand steadied his wrist. “Brando!” shouted the cult leader, addressing the troubled man much like parent would a child, “Come on! We have other duties to fulfill, and other goddesses to worship!”

Brando did not acknowledge his superior. It was only after he peeled his head back, and let out a high-pitched whine, that he began limping towards the leading cultist. The built man scrunched his nose at the sight, but appeared content that at the very least, his words were eventually heeded.

By then, Caitlin had walked away a few paces. Of course, a few paces was all that would be required for her to outrun those who had just antagonized her. Andrew had been set on her collar. A few strands of sun-blasted hair tickled and teased him, but the broad muscles beneath provided adequate room to balance.

Slowly, his senses had begun to return. However, even the sun-blasted skin of his wife, along with a thin coating of sweat, delayed his recovery.

Caitlin redid the straps of her top, as she looked out to the lake. Unlike the smaller beach-goers, she would not be able to experience much of a swim, for the deepest part of the lake would only wet her calves.

Luckily for the newlyweds, the rest of the day was uneventful. Both had a chance to escape the grind of sleepless nights and tired days at an office, or sweltering under a blazing sun, caked in dirt and sawdust. Neither were as enthused at the prospect as they should have been, and while their chosen location was not the most glamorous, they made the most of it.

But, as the sun grew orange, and drew close to the horizon, it was time for the them to make it back to their residence. Accommodations for a giantess visitor consisted of a duplex of one-room shacks. These shacks were fitted with a twin-sized bed, at least, in a colossal sense. Wooden night stands flanked either side of the bed. A small closet, fitted with a paneled door, provided room for any packed luggage, although Caitlin often traveled light. The floor was of a cheap wood, as were the walls, providing the aesthetic of a cabin.

The entrance swung open, as Caitlin strode through. Andrew had still been perched on her shoulder, although he had taken the opportunity to rest his head against it. This action resulted in Caitlin becoming most distracted on the way back, forcing her to correct course, lest she allow her eyes to linger upon the minuscule man laying against her.

She eyed the bed, and took in the sight of the evening sunlight streaming through the window across. Upon her freckled cheeks, a small blush had begun to form.

Caitlin approached the edge of the bed. Gingerly, she pinched her husband most delicately from her shoulders, and set him on the pillow. Despite his relatively insignificant weight in comparison to the colossal cushion, Andrew still sunk into its surface, creating a small, folded divot where he sat.

Dark eyes consumed the sight of the towering titan before him. Caitlin’s entire physique glistened in the evening light, both from an expired coating of sun grease, mixed with her usual perspiration. Her smell had always been present, but even now, from where he stood, the intensity of estrogen-laced musk could almost be tasted. It was this reason, why Andrew was glad he was sitting, for he lacked the ability to stand her stench.

It was unknown if his wife could read his expression from her vantage on high. Despite the pungent odor assaulting his nose, Andrew rendered his expression a blank slate. Within his view, he could observe her blush, and felt his heart begin to flutter in anticipation.

A small chuckle escaped the giantess, “Boring day, I’ll say, aside from those wackos. At least they gave me a good excuse to smooch ya!”

Andrew’s lips forced themselves into a smile, as he inhaled another whiff of rank air, “Yeah, nice.”

His demeanor did not go unnoticed.

“Andy, you okay?” Caitlin inquired. She bent down, while narrowing her eyes, as if doing so would allow her to read her husband’s hidden thoughts. Her gray irises wove around in introspection, before she brought a hand to her mouth. Letting out a small exhale, it was not long before a cough exited her gut.

“Hoo boy, that’s nasty, even for me.” she commented, flashing Andrew a mischievous smile.

“You really like to pile it on with that double cheeseburger, don’t you?” he snarked back.

“Andy,” Caitlin scolded in jest, “How could you forget? It wasn’t a double cheeseburger, it was a double-bacon cheeseburger! Do you even know when my birthday is?”

A bout of jovial laughter was shared between the two. As the din of chuckles died down, Caitlin looked away, but for only a moment.

“I’ll hit the showers Andy,” she announced, “Then we’ll resume what I had planned for tonight.”

“Planned?” Andrew responded, yet Caitlin had already begun gathering her toiletries, as well as a change of clothing.

The shower was a most rudimentary structure. There were three tiled walls, and a curtain. Space for changing clothes was limited, and often times, an unfortunate giantess would have her modesty violated. For some others with a different mindset, however, this was to their benefit.

Caitlin’s clothes had taken on some moisture as the shower head spewed and sputtered. Her frothed hands scrubbed her skin most vigorously. Of particular interest were her armpits, in which she spent the most time lathering up with soap. The spontaneous waterflow of the shower provided much difficulty in completely washing off any excess suds. Yet, as Caitlin gave herself a sniff, she could tell that almost every accumulated odor for the day had been washed away.

One, however, remained.

From a vendor, she had purchased a pack of mints, immediately popping one in her mouth once the transaction was finalized. The moment she had returned to her room, the mint had been chewed up, filling her maw with its chilling essence.

Andrew’s eyes followed Caitlin as she entered. She had thrown on a white tank top that appeared to barely contain her athletic form. Knee-length khaki capri’s covered her legs, allowing her bulging calves to remain visible. Auburn hair appeared wet and matted. There was a scent of fresh lavender, something that rejuvenated his tired body.

As she made her way over to the bed, Andrew could not help but ask, “So, what did you have planned for tonight? They have a concert or something going on?”

A smirk crossed her face, “C’mon Andy, we’re on our honeymoon, at the beach, watching the evening sun. There’s only one way this day’s ending.”

Andrew’s porcelain skin had taken on a shade of red, although this was not due to the scorching sun. He was still clad in his swim trunks, although a strange anomaly had made itself visible waist-level, straining the waterproof material.

Upon witnessing his wife throw him a knowing smirk, Andrew’s hands immediately moved to conceal the lecherous gesture.

“I’d still like to know,” he pried, hearing his own heart beat like a drum in a heavy metal romp.

“You must be camping, because that’s a big tent your pitching,” Caitlin observed, her smile growing ever wider, “I think your little buddy there’s using his head more than you are.”

Her arms crossed, gripping the hem of her shirt. It was a mere five minutes the tank top had the pleasure of being worn by Caitlin, before being scrunched up her torso. Andrew became mesmerized by the formation of six square hills that lined his wife’s stomach.

The hem of Caitlin’s tank-top snagged on her chest, inadvertently lifting her mammoth mammaries. Once pulled free, the great hills that were contained within, wove and jiggled.

Andrew’s eyes widened, for he had come to a realization that underneath her tank-top, Caitlin had not bothered to wear any undergarments. Her bare bosoms, each larger than a suburban residence, stared back at him. The engorged glands at both of the mountains’ apex almost resembled a pair of erotic eyes themselves. Red in the face already, he discarded his concern in preserving his own modesty in favor of preserving her’s.

Wet locks waved in the air, as the shirt was pulled over her head. Caitlin threw the cotton article aside without much ceremony. It smacked the opposite wall, before falling in a messy heap.

Andrew would have scolded her to not leave such a mess on the floor, but for some reason, he found himself otherwise occupied.

Methodically, the titaness lumbered even closer to the bed. Her heart thumped with a thunderous cadence as she witnessed her husband’s absolutely smitten expression. He lay in the center of the mattress, having moved off of the pillow once he had felt well enough.

An eyebrow rose as she witnessed Andrew shielding his own eyes. “Whatcha doin’?” she inquired, with a hint of annoyance.

“Sorry!” Andrew apologized, “Force of habit.”

A raucous roar exited Caitlin, “Oh please! I’m your wife! Oogling these tits are your fucking right!” To make a statement, she swung her chest in an oscillating pattering, creating a most titillating sight.

Her approach allowed her thighs to tease the edge of the bed. Sinewy muscle tensed and relaxed, creating an image of living columns supporting a grand temple. And what a temple that lay before him, rising and falling, from the bulging, sculpts of her arms hanging by her side, to the heaving dunes of abs at her core, and of course, the great mounds of flesh, shaking over her chest with a mind of their own.

Caitlin let her body fall forward. Her titanic stature cast a grand shadow over her husband. Andrew instinctively backed away, witnessing this towering, shirtless, juggernaut plummet towards him. Her torso formed a great wall, becoming like the sky as it stretched over the bed. The atmosphere was a rich tanned hue. The clouds were voluptuous and toned, and drawing ever closer.

At the last minute, Caitlin’s arms were brought out. Her palms dug into the mattress, sinking down and forming craters of folded cotton. From the length of her wrists to her arms, they bulged as they supported her incomprehensible weight. Andrew lay between her two paws, as he felt the terrain below dip to accommodate the titan. Massive fingers splayed out, forming an incomplete entrapment which vaguely assumed the shape of a triangle.

Andrew could have easily vaulted over her digits to escape, or even sprint through the gaps out of her reach. But, under her imposing gaze, witnessing the vast body that hung above, there would be no escape.

“Dang Cait,” was all he could say, “Seriously …”

A wide grin was plastered on her face. He witnessed the tip of a red tongue emerge from between her lips, coating them in a fresh layer of moisture.

“That being said,” Caitlin purred, “You are mine, Andy. Which means I also have my fucking rights! Show me your stuff!”

Andrew widened his eyes, then shook his head, “Not much to show I’m afraid.”

Still, he complied. He untied the string holding the trunks at his waist. He discerned a low growl as the trunks made it past his knees. A cool breeze tickled him, and he felt the uncomfortable wave of flesh that lay between his legs.

“Andrew, you’re a terrible liar,” Caitlin accused, still keeping her mischievous smile.

“About what?” Andrew asked, although he dared not look her in the eye when he did.

Her elbows bent, lowering her torso. It was a gentle descent, yet still most imposing, for the sky was indeed falling. Andrew still looked away, not in modesty, but in uncertainty. Where would he look? Too many sights, from head to waist, were of interest.

Soon, all he could view was Caitlin’s encompassing expression. And still, she drew ever closer, expanding beyond his line of sight, until all he could discern was her mouth.

Upon impact, Andrew was pressed into the sheets. Again, in the same day, his wife had trapped him in an oppressive kiss that left not one inch of his body untouched by full, wet lips. However, this time, he was not subjected to rank, pungent breath, but instead an intense minty breeze.

Once he had taken in the heat of her exhale, Andrew let out an excited squeal of pure instinct. She did this all for me? Caitlin, you shouldn’t have.

With no other souls to observe her initiation of consummation, Caitlin allowed herself several moans as she continued to feel her husband’s diminutive struggles. Andrew’s motions were notably not as desperate as they were upon the beach. Indeed, from the circular motions of his arms, the swaying of his chest, and the steady rock of his hips, it appeared her husband was attempting to enhance the sensations his lanky physique could offer.

A growl exited Caitlin in response, and her tongue emerged, batting Andrew around, tussling his hair, soaking his chest, and circling his waist. Even from her vantage, she could hear, no, feel, her husband’s breath hasten.

The evening was young, however, and as a result, Caitlin pulled away. Andrew found himself briefly stuck against her monstrous maw, yet gravity proved sufficient to free him from her binding grip. He lay back, aware that the area around him was soaked in his wife’s spit.

The young man considered but for a moment a pause in the action so that he could wash off the offending spittle, before resuming. As he pondered, however, he recognized what a futile gesture that would entail, considering what he would be attempting later.

Caitlin pulled her body across the bed, so that her chest was directly above Andrew. Her neck bent down, taking in the sight of him splayed out as a result of her passion. She sent her chest in a subtle sway, allowing that which hung from it to swing. A discerning eye caught her husband’s head following the movement of her titanic bosoms.

Let’s give you a closer look, shall we?

The titan allowed her torso to fall against the mattress once more. Andrew widened his eyes, for the ceiling above, a mammary that would have been fit for him to sled down in the winter, descended on top of him. Of particular note, her darkened, wrinkled, areola, fell like a streaking meteor. Darkness swallowed him up, before the bounteous mound did.

There was a creak as the mattress took on the weight of Caitlin’s chest. An excited squeal exited her. Andrew’s body was quite enticing when it was mushed against her lips. Against such an erogenous area, however, her husband’s delicate touch sent her heart into overdrive. Earth shattering beats rumbled the bed, and Andrew through her taut, all-encompassing flesh.

Breath was short for him. Now more than ever, high-pressure assaulted him on all sides. Miraculously, the mattress was the softer of the two, giving way as Caitlin’s bosom advanced. Bedsheets tugged at his back, as Caitlin moved her torso, dragging her chest across the surface of the bed. Andrew, a mere insect that barely outclassed her engorged, crimson nub, had no choice but to go along with the ride.

She was not precise in her targeting, however, for the flesh of her nipple lay a few agonizing inches from her husband’s entrapped position. Her elbows still took the brunt of her weight, for she feared her marriage, ‘till death do them part, would end early if she allowed her full, unrestrained mass to fall upon her husband. Despite her restraint, her vocal adorations of passion left her mouth unimpeded.

Caitlin allowed herself respite, although she granted Andrew none. A thin slick of sweat had started to coat her body. Blood and adrenaline rushed through every vessel of her body. Even now, laying still, Andrew’s physique, from his thin arms, to his rich, yet messy hair, to his slim torso and sleek legs, not to mention, a throbbing member that left nothing of his own desire concealed, made a significant impression in her flesh. If she could, Caitlin would hold him there for eternity.

But, such a choice would deny her other desires. It was then, that she rose, utilizing her worked arms to lift her chassis off the bed. Within the impression her mammaries left, however, Andrew could not be located.

He could be felt. Against her bulging skin, he was stuck, this time more securely. The young man pulled his face away from her slick exterior, gazing up the glossy plain of flesh. From his vantage, his wife’s face was concealed. The only thing keeping him company was her gland, pent up with anticipation.

It did not take long for Caitlin to realize where her husband had gone. A mischievous smile took form on her face. With far more measured movements, she swung her legs over the top of the mattress. Her back, meanwhile settled down upon the bed. There was no bedframe, just a finished wooden wall that lay beyond the pillow. The giantess’s head came to rest against it.

A bit dazed from the shifting of his wife’s body, Andrew nevertheless retained a strong grip. Had he been less composed, his mouth would have remained hung open. No matter how many times he had witnessed it, the movement of Caitlin’s titanic joints appeared to be motivated by magnificent miracles. From the tilting of her abdomen, and the sweeping of her legs, Andrew was beginning to understand the sentiment of the cultists they had met earlier that day.

Once the leviathan settled down, Andrew raced up her bosom to its apex. There sat before him the evasive mammary gland, untouched by hands other than Caitlin’s own.

Dang, wait, let’s reassess here. I’m letting my little buddy down there do all the thinking for me.

Andrew paused, allowing the heat of his mind to pass. He granted himself a simple smile, for the scenery before him was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Behind the form of her nipple, lay Caitlin’s face; gray eyes memorizing each one of his moments. It was as if he was peering at Mount Everest from the perch of a lesser mountain.

Her orbs did narrow as she saw him hesitate.

“C’mon Andy, these tits are yours!”

Despite her encouragement, he remained still.

Andrew noticed the flesh of Caitlin’s breast take on a darker hue. Dark eyes widened upon realizing this was the result of it being cast in shadow.

Before he could look to observe what caused the shadow, an unrelenting force smashed him into her breast. Andrew’s face was molested by firm, wrinkled skin, while his body was compelled to sink into tough yet blubbery flesh.

Caitlin’s hand groped her bosom, allowing the pressure from her fingers to dip and dimple her skin. Andrew’s struggles were frantic and spirited, which only encouraged her actions. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her breath became quite audible.

“Oh Andy!”

Her sensitive nubs were the most frequently serviced of her great tracts of land. A feminine squeal would exit her mouth every time an arm, leg, or third leg would acquaint itself with the engorged gland.

Sweat upon her exterior was now becoming something that Andrew could not simply ignore. As his head was kneaded directly into tender flesh, he could both taste and smell the estrogen-laden liquid. Under such great force, with little air, he began to feel woozy once more.

Caitlin must have taken notice, for her hand relented. Andrew was left on the inner slope of her mammary, and thus, he tumbled down, landing upon a firm sternum. As he came to, he took in the grand canyon he found himself in, walled off by udders that appeared to stretch into infinity. To his front, an exasperated, blushing face stared right back at him. Hot, yet pleasant breath assailed him, giving his stomach and sense of balance a reprieve.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “I was really looking forward to this. I didn’t know you would feel this good.”

Andrew wondered if his heart beat’s magnitude could actually exceed that of Caitlin’s, for even though the thunderous organ drummed forcefully under his feet, guarded by thick layers of muscle and bone, his own blood muscle was working much like an overclocked computing processor.

“Y-you don’t have to exaggerate Cait,” Andrew hastily replied, averting his eyes. Everywhere he could look, however, was her in a sense, and thus there would be no relief. Caitlin was his world in the truest sense of the phrase.

“If anything, I’m sellin’ you short.” A snigger escaped her, “You know, despite...”

“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Andrew responded, allowing a humored smile. He turned his gaze southward, down the dunes of abdominals, to the concealed territory that would mark his journey’s end.

It was no mystery to Caitlin where Andrew’s attention had been drawn to. A single finger descended down her cleavage, and poked the infinitesimal mite of a man who stood over her conquered heart. He stumbled from her gesture, despite her efforts at being gentle.

Still, she cooed, “Go on ahead Andy. Let’s start building this family.”

No words were returned to her. She witnessed his bare form begin to take several careful steps, making his way towards the band of her capris. Biting her lips, Caitlin’s hands raced past him, teasing her waistline. Her fingers found the button securing the articles to her, and with desperate bravado, snapped it open. The titaness's pants were then pulled past her generous thighs.

A great forest of dark, curly hairs revealed themselves. Breath failed Andrew for but a second, as he remained transfixed, no longer paying attention to his wistful gait. Of such volume and thickness were the pubes, he could not discern what lay beyond. Of course, despite this, Andrew could venture a most educated guess.

From the shadow of her breasts, he emerged. Caitlin’s stomach proved easier terrain to traverse, for it was of a firmer constitution. Grand dunes of muscle flanked him, as he made his way within the defined valley the muscles provided. They were flat landscapes, their tops not even making it past Andrew’s waist. But, as with everything else Caitlin possessed, they were vast, worthy of being called plateaus.

His nose picked up a rather peculiar scent. It was not that of Caitlin’s own perspiration, but the smell was definitely of her. The temperature had noticeably risen, even though the sun continued to descend, and he was in open air. Each step he took, however, intensified the sensation. The musky odor would not just invade his nostrils, but also his mouth and his eyes. Andrew found himself blinking away tears as he made his way.

Pungent, passionate stench eventually invaded his brain, and balance became precarious. As the forest drew near, Andrew found himself stumbling off course, before correcting himself. Even at her worst, he never imagined a more intense sensation. So heavy, the odor was, the air appeared determine to hinder him, for it was evocative of trying to walk through water.

“Hey Andy, you’re okay right?” he heard his wife call from afar, “I’m gonna be real gentle with you. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I’m fine,” Andrew heaved, “I’m fine…”

At the border of her forest, her musk grew more powerful than ever. An erotic aroma mixed with a bouquet of perspiration, creating a powerful pincer of putrid perfume that Andrew felt would stain all of his being for eternity. It was hard enough to ford through the great tangled prairie grass that guarded her privates, but his senses were on overdrive. His vision blurred, and the hairs appeared more numerous than ever, for he was seeing double.

Andrew let out a hack that strained his throat as he soldiered on. As unpleasant as this was, he was a stubborn man. His gaze was hard, yet sullen, full of dutiful determination. If he had to lie back and think of England, he would do so to fulfill this sacrament he had undertaken.

Alas, the spirit may have been unyielding, but it was limited by the weakness of flesh.

Within his own gut, he erupted. A spew of the day’s meal shot out from his mouth, coating some of the nearby strands. Just when he thought he was done, another bout of barf burned his throat, some landing on his chest. The World tilted and teetered, before going dark.

“Andrew!”

A horrified exhale exited Caitlin, witnessing her husband’s slight form collapse within her pubis. Even from her vantage, she could tell what he had done. The haze of passion immediately subsided, and her great hand was brought forth.

Her fingers prodded through her own forest, bringing Andrew’s body out from it. He was hauntingly still, out cold. The titan’s massive mind raced by the millions, daring not to settle upon the frighting implication.

I’m so disgusting I caused Andrew to puke.

She placed his body upon her pillow. His skin had taken an even paler shade, appearing to cancel out the slight tan he picked up from the beach. A rough, yet careful finger, wicked away some of the chunky regurgitated matter that had coated his torso.

Of all the girls that could have satisfied him, I’m the one he has to put up with.

Caitlin fought away tears that welled up within. But, she could not help but let a few fall as she contemplated the future, a future where her husband dared not even touch her.

…

Awareness returned to him. The sensation of the soft pillow against his back allowed him easy breathing.

Above him, loomed the troubled face of his wife. Immediately, Andrew turned away, hiding his face. A sickening feeling emerged from within, although it was not due to an overwhelming odor.

“Y-you okay?” she queried, feeling her heart freeze as he curled up.

“I – I’m sorry,” Andrew returned somberly, not daring to look the woman he disappointed in the eye.

Caitlin let out a sigh. Some of her hair had hung over her eyes, thus she brushed the offending bangs away. Why is he apologizing? Why is he acting embarrassed? I’m the disgusting pig here!

Andrew's troubled demeanor gradually began to relent. His own mind, upon grasping consciousness, had begun working furiously as a result of the conundrum he had encountered. In that moment, a breakthrough sparked. The energy of innovation rejuvenated his spirits.

“I won’t let you down next time, I promise.”

Andrew had sat up. A determined glint was in his eye. Something had changed. Even in her enormity compared to him, Caitlin could almost observe that his brain had begun working on something.

Still, she shook her head, “It isn’t your fault Andy. If I’d just clean up a bit, you wouldn’t find me so repulsive.”

“Repulsive?” Andrew shouted back, most aghast, “That’s ridiculous! I fainted because I couldn’t take it! But this shouldn’t be a problem. I’m not ruining our consummation just because I can’t handle some odor!”

Caitlin rebuked him, “But it isn’t your-”

“- This is a problem, and it’s solvable.” Andrew interjected. A subtle elation overcame his face.

“You ever visited one of those farm fairs?”

Caitlin furrowed her brow, “I kinda grew up on a farm.”

A finger was placed under his chin, “Huh, well, I grew up in the city. But going to one of those fairs, I nearly threw up as a kid. My parents told me to tough it out. And guess what, by the end of the day, I got used to it.”

His wife allowed herself a small, somber giggle, “Are you saying I smell as bad as cow manure?”

“If you insist,” Andrew jabbed, raising an eyebrow as if fascinated by something, “But you showered, and I still fainted. All we need to do, is a little priming.”

A great hand began to squeeze the pillow he sat on, “What do you mean?”

“If I spend a couple of days consistently smelling up the worst you can give me, I’ll be able to handle anything you throw at me.”

“Are you crazy? You want to throw up again Andy?” she practically shouted. The bed shook from the mere force of her voice and the contractions of a diaphragm fit for a blue whale.

“You don’t need to do this for me. You don’t need to do this to yourself! I hit the jackpot when I married you, so I’ll be the one making good on this and cle-”

Andrew let out a guffaw. It transformed into a knee slapping laugh that sent him lying down on the pillow. His legs kicked out, powered by pure amusement.

Caitlin should have felt insulted. Yet, for some reason, upon witnessing her loved one in so much high spirits after such an experience, she could not help but smile.

“Something funny about this?” she inquired, folding her muscled arms, attempting to look peeved.

“Yeah,” Andrew smirked, “You stole my line you big stinky ogre.”

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?”

 Caitlin’s feet burned, despite her thick skin. The powdery terrain she tread upon had been heated thoroughly by solar power. A forearm swept across her brow, wiping away a thick layer of sweat that was already trickling down.

As she had done this, a cooling breeze rushed through her underarm, ruffling the unshaven hairs. This had also reminded her of a crucial detail. Once the sun had begun its descent, her husband was relocated to her armpit.

There had been several attempts to adhere him to the musky pit, all to no avail since the bushy area made such endeavors difficult. Wiry hairs drove away the masking tape that had once been so effective securing Andrew to her foot. Her husband ended up using the musky threads to hold himsef in place. Hair had been tied around his waist, ankles and wrists.

Of course, all anxieties about falling free were settled once Caitlin had taken to walking. He rarely saw the light of the afternoon sun, for few were the moments his wife actually lifted her arm. Most of the time was spent in the sweltering sauna, trapped against slick sweat, breathing in the putrid aroma of raw feminine musk.

Indeed, his wife’s underarm had granted him a newfound appreciation for the stench of her foot. Andrew found himself desiring the sting of vinegar that wafted between her toes. It turned out to possess a mitigating effect on the sheer intensity of his wife’s odor.

His residence upon her foot also had allowed him the benefit of enjoying the free, cool breeze that wicked away any excess odors. Now, buried within her swampy arm, there was neither escape, nor relief. At times, the volume of sweat that assailed him provoked the sensation of drowning.

Thus, he was granted reprieve once his wife lifted her mighty arm. Andrew allowed his gaze to linger just a tad too long upon the monstrous triceps that loomed above, mesmirized by its defined curves and bulges. Ocean breeze swept away a decent proportion of musk. As he inhaled, his diaphragm became stricken with greed, expanding with great vigor, if only to capture as much untainted oxygen as possible.

A silver eye fell upon him. Caitlin’s gaze was not one to be ignored. Andrew reciprocated, staring straight into gray irises. Her concern was clearly reflected within her gargantuan pools.

With her full attention, he could only give a mischievous smile, and exclaim, “Oh boy, this really is the pits!”

Caitlin’s eyes rolled in their sockets, while a mote of relief passed over her, “Ha ha. You aren’t going to puke, are you?”

“No,” Andrew denied, while doing the best he could to raise his shoulders. “You want me to?”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted.

“Yeah.”

Not another word was said, as Caitlin’s arm was lowered again. Shadow engulfed Andrew’s form, as he witnessed contours of muscle and bone expand and contract while a great wall of flesh closed in. Soon enough, the surface of her arm pressed him into her pit. In the same manner as a squeezed cloth, pungent liquid leaked out, compelled by force alone. The newlywed man was christened in a rancid wash, refreshing the already stale layer that had clung to his skin. Meanwhile, hairs wrapped themselves around his body, slicking him with their oily touch.

The sensation proved a most peculiar one to Caitlin, as she made her way around the beach. Her husband was but a minuscule speck, one that she felt most explicitly as her arms swung from her pace. If anything, Andrew’s presence within her pit had caused it to perspire even more. Thus, she had taken time, every so often, to raise her arm ever slightly to allow some semblance of relief.

As she made her way around the beach, her eyes were drawn to an active scene of three others of her stature gathered around a makeshift volleyball net. The net itself was not particularly taut, for there was a significant dip near the center. Arbitrary lines were drawn into the sand, which proved easily paved over by a misstep from one of the girls.

An appropriately sized volleyball was passed around. Each giantess proved an armature at this act, allowing the ball to strike the sand, or sending it flailing in an uncontrollable direction. One of the girls, a curvaceous young woman with dark, curly hair falling down her shoulders, had accidentally caused the ball to careen straight towards Caitlin.

The newlywed managed to catch the ball midair, before palming it in one hand. As a result, she received a friendly wave from the culprit herself.

“Hey, you!” she shouted, her voice tinged with a clear latin accent, “We’re looking for a fourth, think you can fill in?”

Caitlin eyed the other two, both whom appeared a tad hesitant. She reflected such a sentiment as she replied, “Uh, sure? But I’m …”

One of the other women, sporting a pixie cut of blonde hair, and a comparable physique to Caitlin, gave a friendly smile, as she assured, “Hey, we’re not pros here. We’re just here to have fun.”

The final member of their triumvirate, a pale woman of black hair, and dark, slanted eyes, held up her hand. “Wait girls. Let’s pause for a second here? No offense, but the team that girl’s going on is going to win.”

Caitlin shrugged her relatively massive shoulders, feeling her husband marinate in even more oily perspiration, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I don’t know jack about volleyball.”

Her critic continued, “I’m just saying, you look like you box with Godzilla every day.”

At this, a red tinge flushed Caitlin’s own cheeks, causing her to turn away.

A giggle erupted from the trio’s most voluptuous member, “Oh Kyoko, of course you’d talk about Gojira!”

Kyoko’s pale face turned red in an instant, as she shouted back, “NANI THE FUCK MARIA?”

In all but words, Caitlin was still brought along for a couple of matches. “Matches”, however, was a generous term for the absolute chaos of the scrimmages she partook in. As was advertised, none of the girls were experts in this particular craft. Points were often decided with a single serve, either with the receiving team missing a soft floater, or the server driving the ball directly into the net or out of bounds.

Maria was the girl she had been paired with. It soon became apparent why, for her partner often struggled making her way around the poorly defined court. Caitlin, meanwhile, often was in two places at once, chasing wild balls, and the occasional spikes by the athletic blonde, whom she learned through the course of exchanging trash talk, was named Sera.

As she competed, her athletic endeavors had left her drenched. Streaks of sweat ran down her forehead, and dripped down her chin. Andrew, still adhered to his wife’s armpit, felt the floodgates open. He set aside precious moments when not weathering an odorous assault of streaming perspiration, to contemplate if old Noah, in his day, ever experienced something similar in his ark.

The torrential downpour ran down the forest of Caitlin’s pit much like a waterfall. Droplets of estrogen infused liquid splashed against his pathetic form, drenching his hair, coating his body, and soaking what little articles of clothing he hand. The hairs that secured him had become slick, and Andrew feared that their slippery grip would falter. He often would grow relieved when Caitlin would return her arm to her side, pressing him against the musty flesh, burying him into layers and layers of musky, liquid exertion. Despite her scent, as gag-inducing as it could be, a tinged nose was far better than falling off.

Odor was not the only opponent he had to do battle with. His wife’s Olympian body moved with a velocity he had never experienced before. He was swept along as she ran around, subject to speeds that only a jet could match. There were no benefits of a pressurized cabin and cushioned seating. Indeed, every movement he felt to its fullest; the flesh surrounding him and the pulsing of every muscle fiber in Caitlin’s athletic physique. Even worse, every shift in direction was immediate, with little to no warning to anticipate. Andrew felt himself becoming dazed due to this, though not to his wife’s scent for once.

Upon their latest scrimmage, Maria returned a rather soft serve courtesy of Kyoko. Her satisfied smile faded immediately, as she witnessed Sera rise up to slap the ball back down. Caitlin rushed over to contest, sending powdery particles of sand flying as she made her way.

Air resistance blasted Andrew. His eyes beheld gallons of liquid fly off of his wife to rain down and stain the poor ground below.

Into the air she leapt. Her mighty arms rose, while silver eyes remained glued to the ball, held still by time itself. Sera herself has already risen higher, her icey blue orbs full of unmitigated focus as she brought her palm against the polyester surface.

With a slap that possessed the audacity of a thunderclap, Sera spiked the ball. Its path was straight and clear, sailing past Caitlin’s outstretched arms, causing a small explosion of sand as it impacted the ground inbound.

Caitlin could only grasp her hair in frustration, which caused her arms to rise, and expose her hairy pits. While she did this, Sera’s keen eyes widened, as she observed something swarming in the bushy depths of the other woman’s underarms.

“Uh,” she stuttered nervously, “you got a .. a”

Caitlin’s eyes veered about in confusion, “A what? A –“

As her gaze settled upon her own self, realization came upon her, “Oh right!”

Maria too, huffing with exhaustion, stumbled up the makeshift court. Despite this, she too, kept a keen eye on the newcomer’s underarm, having been attracted by the appearance of a wayward anomaly. As she focused upon the soaked, minuscule form of Andrew, tangled in a forest of thick black hair, she too chimed in, “Who is that? And what did he do to deserve that?”

A mischievous smile then formed on her lips.

Caitlin blushed, still keeping her arms up. She was put on the defensive as she desperately countered, “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

“Wait!” shouted Kyoko, running to the opposite zone of the court. She was notably not breathing as hard as Maria. Also of note, her eyes shined with an almost fanatical excitement while she regarded the larger giantess.

“I’ve heard about guys who love being stuck in a girl’s armpit! He’s probably one of them!”

With an exited squeal, she raised one of her own arms, revealing the muggy skin within, “Mine are a bit cleaner, but he probably wanted the hair.”

From his vantage, Andrew eyed the clean-shaven underarm. The skin on the smaller giantess was indeed smoother, more delicate. Of her smell, he could not perceive, for Caitlin’s overwhelming odor had denied all other aromas entry.

For some reason, his wife’s wiry hairs, which wrapped around and touched every corner of his body, began to feel a bit more comfortable.

As he heard her words, Andrew opened his mouth to object. It was then he realized that not a word could escape, for he had been drinking of the perspiration Caitlin had exerted as she played. Spitting out the foul liquid, the lanky, puny man cleared his throat, hoping his voice could travel through muggy atmosphere and choking threads.

“There’s none of that going on, I’m just … adjusting.”

Realization passed over the three girls. Andrew could detect a mote of disappointment in Kyoko, while her arm somberly lowered back to its side. Meanwhile, Maria’s face drew ever closer to his wife’s armpit. The minuscule man found himself tempted to bury himself even further in his wife’s musty flesh. Her eyes, dark brown in color, had expanded to the size of a home theater screen. Even if her intentions were purely benevolent, mere observation of such a massive thing approaching drove Andrew to give in to base instincts of flight.

“Adjusting to what?” she inquired, before scrunching her nose, “Oh man, guess I answered my own question!”

A silver-tinged glare was shot at her, “In what way, Seniorita?”

Maria immediately backed off, her eyes wide and quivering. Her throat bulged as she gulped down a waddle of spit. Upon observing the more colossal, and frankly, athletic giantess, grow antagonistic, she quickly answered, “I dunno.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Caitlin lightened her expression, even though it had appeared Maria was attempting to avoid any form of eye contact. Her friends, however, had attained a sense of joviality, and of course, took to teasing the voluptuous giantess.

The newlywed titan then decided she had lingered long enough. The sun still bore down on all, giantess and tiny alike. New streams of sweat coursed down her form. Saying her farewells, she departed, heading towards the beach chairs.

As she surveyed the scene around, Caitlin lifted her arm once more. Her muscles burned of fresh activity, but her soreness proved a pleasant sensation. Drops of foul estrogen-spiked water dripped off of her underarm hairs like that of a wet bush in a rainstorm. The air surrounding the area gave off a distorted visage, a mirage formed by immense heat and moisture.

In the middle of it all lay Andrew. His own jet black hair hung over his face in soaked, matted strands, obscuring his eyes. The young man’s head hung low, even as his bushy restraints kept his body propped up in the pit. He proved conscious, and thus, lifted his neck, so that he could meet his wife’s gaze, across the entrancing horizon of moist, shiny flesh.

He sensed something in his immediate vicinity. Caitlin’s hand, hovering like a heavy cargo craft, loomed over him. Already, her pointer and thumb were extended, brushing away invasive hairs with disturbing ease. The threads that were supple enough to secure Andrew within his wife’s pit parted like fragile feathers in the wake of her mighty digit.

Once the tip of her prime finger and thumb had practically engulfed his torso, he found himself being torn away. The hairs wrapped around his own limbs were dislodged from their musty roots, as Andrew was extracted. He coughed upon taking in air that was not clogged with pungent estrogen, so muggy he could have drank it. Goosebumps formed upon his skin upon being exposed to the comparatively cool beach air. Several deep breaths were enjoyed, even as he was jostled by immense momentum.

Caitlin had brought her husband’s form, securely pinched within her fingers, before her face. She easily could pick up the remnants of her odor upon Andrew’s soaked form. Upon making eye contact, a rather dumb, yet joyous smile formed upon his face. With a sigh of relief, she opened her mouth to address him.

“You alright?”

Andrew shook his head rapidly, displacing a significant amount of sweat. “Dang Cait, your armpit’s a stormcloud.”

A soft red blush formed within her cheeks as a result. She snickered, bringing her opposite hand over her mouth.

“I’m gonna assume you’re alright then,” Caitlin confirmed.

Her husband nodded, “Right as rain, thanks to you.”

“Well, now,” she stated, feeling her speech hasten ever so slightly, “I guess we can just hang out until …”

“There’s one more place that I’ll need to go before I can call myself ready.”

An internal bout of frustration soured her mood. Caitlin’s mouth tightened, yet did not slip into a frown, tempting as it may be. Despite Andrew making light of the situation, there was no ambiguity that he was a mess. Even through the pads of her fingers, she could feel the exhaustion that inexorably clung to her husband’s muscles.

Levity, however, remained in Andrew’s general demeanor, “This’ll be the nastiest place I’ve been yet.”

Caitlin’s hand fell from her mouth, only to be placed upon her hip. “Well, what could that be?” she inquired.

Brushing the back of his head, and taking time to avert his eyes, her husband stuttered, “Well, uh, it’s a bit crude, but-“

“But?” she repeated, her eyes flickering upwards.

Caitlin then took time to look back over her shoulder. Her eyes peered down, eyeing where she knew what would be addressed next. As she observed the subject of her observation, she repeated, “Butt.”

A sinister cackle exited Andrew’s gullet. He spread his arms, attempting to add some sort of menace to his minuscule frame. Pinched as he was, restrained by the mere tips of his wife’s fingers, he bellowed with bellicose inflection, “And that was my evil plan all along! I was trying to get into your butt the entire time!”

Laughter busted Caitlin’s gut, rattling Andrew as his beloved’s titanic physique quivered with humor. She had gone red in the face, while eyes lay shut, leaking out a few good-natured tears. Sporadic exhales blew back Andrew’s hair, while his olfactory was treated to the aroma of digested chili that exited her mouth. Once wiped away, the giantess gave her husband a wide grin that appeared to stretch into eternity.

“That’s why good wins all the time,” she declared, making sure Andrew felt every syllable, “because evil is dumb. You could have just asked.”

Andrew shrugged his shoulders best he could, “I’m just saying, if I can survive that dump truck, I can survive anything.”

Caitlin allowed a sigh to exit, before looking behind once more, eyeing her rather auspicious rump. Her tight gray shorts had stretched across the bulbous buttocks, leaving its silhouette plain to see for the casual observer.

“I’m holding off on doing anything active in the meantime,” she stated.

“Appreciate it Cait,” Andrew replied, letting out a sigh of relief.

This time, the giantess rotated her entire torso. Her free hand took hold of the band of her shorts. Andrew was brought over the opening. His breath was stolen away as he regarded the vista below him. Caitlin’s shorts and panties had taken a darker shade due to physical exertion. Neither, however, could compare to the dominating view of twin hills that resided directly underneath, plump and taut. A relatively thin sliver of darkness formed a vast border between. A wad of spittle was swallowed, as he considered how that valley, a vertical smile a mile long, could easily swallow him up.

“Well, good luck back there.”

And thus, began his descent. New fumes became apparent, fumes far more revolting that anything he had smelled upon his wife that day. He gagged as always, yet felt his heartbeat steady. A tingle was felt within, but Andrew knew not what this meant.

Hovering just above the colossal rump, Caitlin’s fingers released him, and he fell. He bounced off one of the cheeks, before tumbling upon a cloth surface. The fabric he found himself on was soaked thoroughly; every movement of his released sweat locked within.

Andrew gazed upward, towards the only source of light. He saw his wife’s thumb, forcing the band of shorts and panties to form a triangular orifice that allowed light and some semblance of fresh air through.

Without much bravado, Caitlin freed her thumb, allowing her underwear to snap back, hugging her waist once more. Andrew had been banished into darkness. The cloth terrain he laid upon carried him forth, until he was pressed against his wife’s imposing buttocks.

In the darkness, he could only feel. The flesh he touched was not smooth, nor tight. As he ran his hands over it, he detected sparse, yet wiry hairs. The skin of the area was rather tender, hot to the touch, much like the side of a heated kettle. It was not only soaked in perspiration, but coated in a significant layer of oil, sticky, yet slick.

Andrew had found himself in the slit, the center of his wife’s rear. The scent he perceived as he hovered above, now dominated all else. Caitlin’s usual mix of pungent, sweaty feminine musk now mixed with a foul, rotten, fermented bouquet of waste her body produced.

It was indeed, the worst thing he had ever smelled in his life. And yet, he detected not a trace of the nausea experienced the night before.

Most certainly, his face scrunched after inhaling such a scent, and indeed, tears of pure disgust wet his eyes. However, despite his precarious situation, a situation entirely of his own making, Andrew’s muscles were relaxed, as if he was at his home.

Caitlin tugged at her waist, and she felt the minuscule grain of Andrew’s body further wedge itself inward. Her flesh stuck to him, allowing her glutes to pull him in for a grotesque hug. As she began making her way to one of the chairs, the sensation of her husband’s form tickled the epicenter of her rear. Slowly, he was sliding towards the point of no return.

One of her hands lazily fell towards the area, and gave it a casual scratch. This did not go unnoticed by Andrew, feeling his position jostled. Meanwhile, sweat and oil caused his body to slip even deeper within the valley of buttocks. He let out a grunt of disgust, this time not inspired by the foul fumes that appeared to occupy every fiber of existence within this humid hovel.

“Caitlin,” he expressed, his voice unable to escape the canopy of underwear, “You shouldn’t be scratching your butt like that, it’s unladylike.”

A hand reached forward, and grasped something. It was by far, coated in a greater layer of sweat and oil than anything that resided under her arm. Various wrinkles provided an interesting contrast to its surface, for every bump and divot was made of smooth, yet tender flesh. The object of flesh he beheld most certainly was the source of all things horrid and filthy.

The thing expanded and contracted as his hands caressed, and scraped. Of note, the glutenous skin that held him in place had begun to loosen ever so slightly.

In the outside world, Caitlin let out a relieved sigh, as the itch bothering her rump appeared to have vanished on its own. As she stood over a chair she had chosen for herself, she commented, “Dang, I guess this didn’t turn out so bad after all.”

Glancing to her behind, she gave the great gluteus maximus a jiggle, sending Andrew tumbling about, finding his face smacking against slimy skin.

“Andy,” she announced, with an almost vain hope that her husband, buried within vast quantities muscle and blubber would hear her voice, “I’m sitting down, brace yourself.”

She bent down, feeling her sweaty glutes peel apart ever so slightly. Within the vile valley, Andrew had begun to tumble. Where, he did not know. Desperate, a hand stretched out, and he managed to snag a loose hair so that he did not move from his position. A disgusting squelching echoed, and in the dim light, the young man saw the wrinkled flesh of his wife’s puckered sphincter begin to tighten and ever so slightly widen. It was a mouth belonging to an alien creature, whose grotesque appetite could only be speculated on, for to know would only upset the contents of her stomach.

As her rump began to sink into the bands of the beach chair, Caitlin’s cheeks began to squeeze together. Andrew found the once vast area he had to maneuver, almost instantaneously vanish. Bulbs of flesh advanced into where there was once empty space. He was squeezed inward, his wife’s cheeks forcing him up against grimy, oily flesh. His face slapped against anal skin, and each inhale drew in its concentrated musk of salt, rot and ferment. Every attempt to remove himself from such a disgusting situation proved hopeless, for the pressure exerted by the surrounding glutes proved insurmountable. He could temporarily push away the tender flesh, but neither cheek would truly yield.

Caitlin settled down, lifting her legs to rest upon the chair. The small nub of her husband had most certainly moved into a most precarious, and sensitive spot. As she focused upon this sensation, a troublesome gurgle erupted from her stomach. To her dismay, she could not settle such a disturbance with a simple belch, what had been trapped was headed the opposite way.

Due to his wife’s motions, Andrew experienced the squelching wrinkles of her sphincter begin to wrap around his head. It was not much of an effort for the horrid hole to do so, Andrew himself was about as large as the area it occupied. A bout of surprise took him, and he let out a frightened shout.

“Oh crap! Caitlin!”

Yet, his screams were muffled, consumed by the tightly sealed cavern that had suddenly decided to take him. Frantic, he attempted to apply his arms, so as to pry the puckered flesh open, but it proved a Herculean task, one that, after a day of sweat and smells, Andrew simply did not possess the strength to overcome.

As Caitlin began to focus upon the strange sensation stirring within her rear, a small, but distinct voice broke her concentration.

“Oh, hello there goddess.”

“Cheese and crackers!” she bellowed, no doubt shattering eardrums of the regular-sized the world around. In shock, her buttocks had clenched, which advanced the anal flesh, as it engulfed the entirety of her husband’s head. His thin legs and lanky arms flailed about in panic, their insignificant strength doing nothing to delay the inevitable.

As Andrew struggled against his rear-sighted fate, Caitlin had begun searching for the source of the voice. There was a certain quality in its timbre that sent shivers up her spine. Her steel colored eyes veered down, then widened as she caught sight of a diminutive shape positioned in between her stocky thighs.

Caitlin peered down, squinting her eyes as she did so. The man that stood in the middle of her massive pillars, uncomfortably close to her crotch, possessed a familiar expression, that of empty obsession, as if absolutely consumed by the sight before him.

“It is a shame that your heavenly ass missed me,” he continued to drone, his lanky arms swinging side to side, as if they were lifeless strings of flesh attached to his torso, “To be but a stain upon your derriere would have been a glorious end.”

There was no mistaking the deep delusion of the one known as “Brando”. At least, it was the name she had recalled being shouted at him, the last time he had committed himself to worship. Caitlin’s eyes had begun veering wildly, praying that the sculpted form of another certain cultist lay nearby.

If her prayers were answered, they did not conform to her desires.

“Uh thanks?” she managed to force out, attempting to placate the man. He was hunched over, with eyes that could have easily bypassed the paltry layer of cloth that loomed to his front.

“You are most gracious,” he droned, not even blinking, “Say, where is your husband? May I witness you making love to him?”

An eyelid upon the giantess had begun to twitch. Another rumble within her belly had rendered an uncomfortable scenario even more so. Her breathing hastened, as words she struggled to form evaporated listlessly into the air.

“That’s … something I’d rather not …”

“-You don’t have to worry about me,” he reassured, assuming a comforting, or at least, what perhaps he thought of comforting, smile upon his face. “In fact, I’d rather you ignore me while you grow intimate with him. To witness such an act of tenderness while being utterly discarded is the greatest humiliation.”

The titaness shifted, in an attempt to alleviate her discomfort. Brando, for his part, remained nonplussed a the massive leviathan of flesh that flexed and rumbled around him.

Caitlin’s readjustment, however, banished her entrapped husband even further into her depths. Into her rectum he slid, his face harshly forced into an adhesive layer of scum that filled his nostrils and mouth with their gut-wrenching aromas. He felt his shoulders squeeze, as they too reached the threshold of his wife’s sphincter. It consumed his body slowly, yet greedily, appearing almost autonomous with its desire to eat up every inch of Andrew’s lithe body.

As Caitlin’s beloved drew closer to being condemned to such a degrading fate, she objected to the fanatic below, “I’m not aiming to humiliate anyone.”

Brando shook his head, his tone taking upon a quality of reverence, “But you oh goddess, humiliate us mere mortals with your presence alone. How can we even compare to you? You can crush us like insects with but a step. Your assets put even the most buxom of us mortals to shame. In your eyes, we are insignificant, meaningless. I want to experience that.”

The object of his zeal averted her eyes. A brief splash of sorrow almost wet the impossibly enormous orbs, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Tears also stung Andrew’s eyes, pouring out from their ducts. Yet, he felt not a gram of sorrow himself. The insignificant crumb of a man could only breathe of the fumes wafting within his wife’s interior. Of such concentration was the atmosphere, he had to will his diaphragm to expand to even take in the muddy air.

There was no light to relieve him, as inch by inch, her oily, wrinkled skin took in even more of his body. His legs flailed about hopelessly, the only part of his free to move. The skinny limbs were the only thing visible outside the anal prison. He was up to his waist in rectal flesh, and could experience every fold, wrinkle and gram of slime, oil and sweat that molested his delicate physique. It was becoming clear to his panicked mind, that, as his reserves were sapped, his constitution tested, and his muscles strained, that each successive struggle of his became increasingly meaningless. There was doubt that there was even hope in the first place.

In order that she not be embarrassed, Caitlin had pinched Brando’s form in between her fingers, setting him upon the armrest of her chair. He shuddered most lecherously in her grip, and his state of undress made his desires stiffly plain. Brando certainly appeared downtrodden that he now was not residing near the most intimate parts of his goddess. Still, his almost delirious speech continued on.

“Don’t be. I have taken pleasure in my meaningless existence. It is a shame men were not empowered as you were. To be but a mite, witnessing a mighty penis fucking a gigantic vagina, while being ignored would have been the highest honor I could have…”

Caitlin shuddered most mightily, fighting back an urge to hurl. “Buddy, uh,” she stammered, “I don’t know how to say this, but just because I’m some 500 foot menace, and you’re six foot whatever, doesn’t make you a mite, alright? I’m just as fragile as you guys.”

Andrew was now up to his waist, literally up Caitlin’s rump. His legs had significantly less room to struggle. He saw shapes and figures form in the barely visible, wet, reddened tunnel. The man considered it was perhaps, best that he could not see, for stains of wasted and disposed fecal matter would have only contributed to the almost impossible task of merely maintaining consciousness, a state that was becoming increasingly fragile.

Brando objected, “But that’s not-“

But he was interrupted, his obsession’s booming voice overpowering his own, “You wanna feel small and puny? Been there, done that, there’s no point in flaunting the face that I can be part of a city skyline.”

As she grew more brazen, more confident and determined, her posture straightened, inadvertently tensing her glutes, allowing the bulbous leviathans to squeeze at Andrew’s dangling legs, grabbing more of the diminutive man, leaving only his ankles free. In the tight hole, hugged on all sides by rectal flesh and coated with slime, her husband was rendered immobile.

“Guys like you can still make a good living,” she reassured, prompting for the first time, an almost human change in Brando’s demeanor, that of curious confusion, “You don’t have to put up with our bullshit, you know.”

There was a thunderous rumble in the distance. Andrew’s ears could pick up sickening squelches as the tight containment surrounding him began to expand. Immense pressure, still assailed him, the atmosphere itself pressing into his body. Inhaling became an experience so ghastly, he would have fainted then and there if not for sheer determination. It was now his single-minded goal, a fierce competition of maintaining some sort of dignity, dignity ruthlessly ripped away from him by the mere involuntary motions of his beloved’s domineering buttocks.

Caitlin certainly felt some sort of expansion in her abdomen. A hand rested upon her stomach, to provide some relieve for the pressure building within. There was a strange feeling, the feeling of an expanding balloon, its opening plugged with some sort of object, preventing any air for being released. Silly me and my chili dogs. I’m probably going to have to cut down on those in the future.

As she held back a ticking time bomb, she still addressed Brando who hung upon her every word with focused intent. Her cadence was notably becoming strained. “Just because us gals can stomp around and shit, doesn’t mean your life amounts to jack. Heck, I’d be a skin and bones corpse if guys like you didn’t build infrastructure, grow a lot of food, and other stuff! Who’s really the powerful one there?”

“But I like feeling small,” her self-proclaimed worshipper moped.

A sigh broke the silence, a silence filled with desperate groans from her stomach, “Well, if you want that, could it at least be with another lady? I’m kinda tied down. And if you do find your dream woman, don’t take shit from her, okay?”

The giantess was tempted to double over from the gaseous pains wracking her gut. Within her anal domain, Andrew had been completely swallowed up. Not a trace of him was left within the interior of her panties. He was languishing, every inhalation equivalent to downing several pounds of pure fecal matter. If I come out of this on the other side, I’m scared of what will be left.

“I see … I see,” Brando contemplated, “It is I that must be … respected.”

A small chuckle shook his body. For the first time, the smile that crossed his face appeared warm, genuine. Caitlin could not help but reciprocate to the tiny, lost soul standing upon the armchair, a mere mite on a piece of furniture.

“When I walked in on my ex-girlfriend, making love with another man on my own bed,” he reminisced, prompting a pang of sympathy from Caitlin, among other things, “only for her to discard my feelings, I thought that was all I deserved. You’ve revealed much godd- I ah…”

Brando thumbed his chin, before staring back, up at the statuesque titan herself.

“What is your name?”

“Just call me Caitlin,” she amicably answered, before pointing a finger comparable to a tree trunk towards him, “Yours?”

She knew of it, but as the man screamed out “Brando!” Caitlin, could not be helped, but be lifted with a sense of affirming bravado.

“I, Brando, shall venture forth!” he declared, stabbing a finger towards the heavens.

Caitlin pumped a fist in the air, though regretted it as that further disturbed her stomach, as well as the mysterious nub that had been caught within. Despite this, she shouted out, “That’s the spirit, go get ‘em!”

The rejuvenated man closed his eyes, yet continued to speak, his voice and inflection notably less droning than before, “I know of this priest in Egypt, who proposed an interesting opportunity. I believe my passport isn’t expired. Who knows, I might be worthy enough to attain Heaven.”

He did not address Caitlin, as he then ran towards the edge of the arm rest, his feet tapping against the plastic terrain in a rhythmic cadence. With no hesitation, he leapt off, causing Caitlin to freeze in fright and despair as the minuscule form of the man hit terminal velocity on his way to the sand below.

His landing, however, was as soft as a feline. He then took off, running with the confidence of a man with The World in his hands.

“How did he not hurt himself,” she wondered aloud.

She would wonder no longer. Caitlin’s gut acted up, sending a pang of pain at an intensity not seen that day. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over, the pressure within her backside at the tipping point. As another agonizing growl erupted from the depths, she could only moan, “Good grief, this is gonna be a big one!”

Fumes built up, squeezing Andrew’s body, forcing his mouth open to swallow its repulsive taint. The tight cavern he resided was now a decent atrium. He was pushed the opposite way, sliding against the slimy cave. Dreaded anticipation filled where foul fumes could not, awaiting the final detonation.

At last, after agonizing buildup, Caitlin’s ravenous rectum erupted.

In the manner of a round fired out of a cannon, Andrew was shot through his wife’s rectum. A loud pop deafened his ears, but only for a moment, as the rumbling echo of the greatest stream of flatulence he ever had the displeasure of listening to thundered through the scrunched sphincter. By pure air pressure, he was sent flying, from between the valley of his wife’s cheeks, before colliding against the back of her panties. The soft, moist fabric did little to quell the shock of the impact. In all, he would not find relief nor purchase.

Andrew was completely immobilized, held in place by hurricane-force winds blasted out of the wrinkly hole. He could not even raise his head, to witness the horrifying sight of his wife’s putrid portal expand and flap as it unleahed armageddon. Accompanying the breaking winds were flecks of liquid that coated every corner of his body in a fecal embrace. Moisture further stained the fabric of panties surrounding his insignificant form.

Relief immediately swept over Caitlin, and she felt herself sink into her chair as she released the consequences of a chili dog lunchtime. Her nose scrunched upon taking in some of the emissions released by her rump, and a small giggle was had, as she mused upon the utter foulness of her own fumes. Straining, she pushed out the last pockets of air that still resided in her generous glutes.

There was a reprieve, but Andrew did not possess the luxury of relief. He had grown dizzy, and he felt his battered body collapse against the canopy of underwear. As his wife shifted position, buttocks of an apocalyptic scale expanded and squeezed, bringing the gateway to oblivion itself ever closer to Andrew’s spent form. He had not the energy to even feebly plead for mercy. All he could do was glance upward in despair as Caitlin’s sphincter puffed and expanded once more.

Concentrated, fecal stained wind, shot through the anal passageway once again. Andrew’s body was flattened once more. Pure air pressure assailed him with the force of a speeding bullet train. Yet a train was confined by tracks. His wife’s foul flatulence was omnipresent. It would stain his very soul with its awful aura.

The giantess face scrunched in concentration, passing the second whirlwind that thundered through her rump. Once all foul atmosphere had been expelled, Caitlin collapsed in her seat, in utter relief.

Andrew’s thoughts were a haze. Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth, his lungs and his brain. As his wife relaxed, the mounds of her rear advanced. He fell unconscious before being swallowed up.

A nagging thought pierced the back of Caitlin’s mind. As she now focused on the strange sensation trapped between her cheeks, dreadful realization soon washed over her.

Caitlin’s tanned skin grew ghostly pale. A hand flew to her mouth as she uttered, “Oh shit!”

…

Andrew had been extracted from the depths of Caitlin’s panties once she had returned to the shack. She could only look in terror as his pathetic stature lay at the center of a grotesque brown stain. He was peeled off from his position, then dabbed with wet tissues, removing most of the fecal gunk that had coated his skin.

Caitlin dared not run him underwater, for fear of the shock it would introduce to him. Instead, he was laid upon a layer of fresh tissue, set upon the soft pillow of her bed. The giantess could not help but pout, gazing at her husband’s lithe form, motionless aside from an almost imperceptible motion of his chest rising and falling.

Her silvery eyes grew watery as she regarded him. Andrew’s eyes were shut. Had she been ignorant of the circumstances that had made it so, she would have enjoyed such a peaceful-looking sight. The titan grew almost lost as she focused upon his young, angled face, appreciating his still thick, flowing black hair splayed against the tissue. Her gaze then veered to his sleek physique, smooth and delicate as porcelain. He was indeed, a priceless man, whose value transcended any quantification.

And, like a bull in a China shop, she had shattered him.

There was a stir. Caitlin caught his eyes fluttering open. Relief washed over her face, in the manner of how the lake washed over the sands of the beach.

Steeling her resolve, assuming she had his attention, Caitlin laid down her declaration, “That’s it, I’m stopping this! We’ll figure out something later, but I’m not having you hurt yourself, just to make me feel bet-“

Her mouth froze, for a smile had been captured upon his face. There was no mischief, nor scheming behind the expression. If anything, his lips stretched far too wide to accommodate it. Andrew’s eyes, while wide opened, and staring straight at Caitlin, now appeared to be gazing at a far away place.

“You’re so beautiful Cait. Holy cow.”

His voice had acquired an airy, ethereal quality. Of note, his inflections were slurred; a stark contrast to his rather precise, dexterous annunciation.

This didn’t matter. Caitlin’s cheeks were now hotter than the sun, and were colored in a shade that put red giants to shame.

“Andrew?” she managed to squeal.

He continued to drone on, in a manner similar to Brando. The man’s words flowed in a trance, and certainly entranced whom he was addressing, “It’s like … even your ugly parts are beautiful. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”

Caitlin shook her head rapidly, stifling a squeal. Her hands desperately covered her face, as if her life depended upon this strange incarnation of Andrew not being able to catch a glimpse of her flustered expression.

“You’re delirious Andy,” she stammered, “Just relax.”

“No!” he shouted, determination steeling his stargazing haze, “I need to tell you, you’re so pretty! And you’re kind, you’re thoughtful, you’re so strong and…”

His head began to hang over. Thick locks of jet-black hair obscured his face. Andrew’s voice had taken upon a note of sour.

“… And I’m some stupid jerk who can’t get over some smell. I married the prettiest girl in the world and I can’t appreciate her because of some smell. I’m such a jerk … such a jer…”

His words trailed off, as did his gaze. Dark eyes rolled back, and he collapsed upon his makeshift bed once again, fully unconscious.

It was fortunate he was so, for tears had begun streaming out of Caitlin’s eyes.

The wait was not long, before Andrew stirred once more. But now, instead of a starry gaze, his eyes were in sharp focus. Despite a fog of grogginess clouding his face, his movements proved sharper, clearer, if not cautious. Surveying his tissue platform, he lost his breath, once his vision beheld his wife, looming over him in all her Olympian glory. Matted hair was strewn across her forehead. Stale sweat dried and crusted upon her face. Neither detracted even an ounce of awe he experienced at such a sight.

“Dang,” he exhaled, before scrunching his nose. He managed to lift an arm that felt as if it weighed 50 times more than it should to his face. With an enthusiastic sniff, he grimaced before noting, “I stink. How long was I out? Don’t tell me the honeymoon’s over.”

“Relax,” Caitlin assured, her booming voice soothing his heart, “Just a couple of hours.”

He looked to the window, observing soft orange sunlight stream through, far unlike the bright off-white glare of the afternoon. His head shook before looking back to his wife. A bout of nausea then took him, while his spindly hands began raking through his hair

“I had some weird visions,” he noted, as the episode began to recede, “I wasn’t saying anything embarrassing while I was unconscious right?”

“Nope!” Caitlin affirmed, rather quickly. Her eyes were notably avoiding Andrew. His brow thus furrowed as a result.

“So it seems,” he commented. Unlike Caitlin, he made sure his glare never left her.

He began to massage his temples, and gazed upward again. From his vantage, his wife’s face was obscured from her rather bounteous protrusions of her chest. Her arms, strewn with tensed muscle, strong enough to move the very Earth from orbit, had been splayed to either side. As his gaze descended, he noted, with a significant amount of disappointment, that Caitlin’s now soaked tank-top had concealed the rigid terrain of her stomach.

Dark eyes narrowed upon taking in her waistline, which lay just above the horizon of their mattress. The gray shorts, struggling to contain the monstrous contents within, contained notable splotches of moisture. His teeth clenched as he glared, not at the article of clothing itself, but what it denied him.

Andrew stood up. His legs quivered as they adjusted to support his weight, but this weakness proved temporary. The mite of a man, at least, in comparison to his immense, beloved colossus of a woman, presented a proud posture. Dangerous daring lurked in his obsidian glare. “Might as well go for a test run.”

Caitlin grew red in the face as she objected, “Andrew, you just got knocked out from me farting on you! I’m not putting you through the wringer again!”

Her husband burst in laughter, almost losing his balance upon the platform of tissue, “That really was a bomb I got caught in! That should mean that I should be able to take whatever comes my way!”

His wife took her massive arms off of the bed, in order that her hands could pull at her hair in distress, “I don’t know if it works that way!”

Silence permeated between the two. Caitlin’s breathing, which could generate a gale on its own, was the only audible event in their shack. She took one of her arms, and ran the back of it across her forehead, slicking it over with cooled, concentrated sweat. A troubled shadow passed over her dour expression.

She looked down at him, a speck in the vast white plain of pillow. For the rest of their lives, she would always be looking down at him.

“Andrew, I don’t make you feel insignificant, do I?”

The question flowed out of her mouth like a river. It was not the product of measured, anticipated contemplation, but that of instinct, of the troubled unconsciousness floating towards the surface.

A quizzical look appeared on her husband’s face, “Why do you ask that?”

“I met that guy from the other day.” Caitlin answered, rubbing her face, “You know, the one that was getting his rocks off of me smooching ya?”

Andrew scrunched his face in recollection, “Can’t reca – Oh wait, that loon! What, was he bothering you?”

“What he was saying was kinda bothering me,” she admitted, “He was talking about how I make him feel like an ant, or something. Is … is that how you feel around me?”

Guilt, guilt was what had consumed her. Caitlin’s thumbs twiddled at her waist. She was still looking down, but her gaze would lay upon anywhere except Andrew. Her lips, lips that had granted him much ecstasy already on their honeymoon, pouted and quivered.

“Cait,” he beckoned, observing his wife’s eyes find him once more, “I don’t know if I’ve said this, but I’ve gone through life living like a fly on a wall. Heck, college, high school, I was kinda ignored, especially by the girls.”

“Oh … I’m sorry” she murmured in sympathy. There was confusion to as where her husband was directing the conversation. Nevertheless, her attention had been captured.

Andrews arm waved away, as if pardoning a sinless crime, “That’s all well and done by now. Heck, I’m kinda glad that happened, because you know who else ignored me? Bullies.”

As he spoke, an uncomfortable knot had formed within her stomach. Still, she persisted in hanging on his ever word, no matter what they recalled.

“…I had mom and dad as well. But there were days where I really was the invisible man. You changed that.”

“Pardon?” Caitlin said, her stomach at once feeling relieved.

“Once I knew you were … let’s just say, taking an interest,” he continued, allowing himself a knowing smirk, “I felt like the King of the world. It’s the opposite of what you were saying. I’ve never felt more important when you’re around.”

Tumult took hold of his wife’s expression. Her cheeks puffed out while her jaw clenched down. Andrew caught the sight of her hands balling into fists. A ruby complexion formed upon her cheeks, as brilliant as the setting sun.

“Gee,” she snorted, “that’s the second most sappy thing you’ve said today.”

An eyebrow rose, “What was the first?”

Caitlin responded with a smile. Her eyes lay half-lidded, stirring something within his very soul. Andrew’s heart, which had comfortably beat at rest, now accelerated. The colossus that towered above only appeared to grow larger. She exerted a mysterious field, made of the same stuff as gravity, drawing him to the source, wherever it lay. Even the stale scent that remained as a result of the labors of the day smelled of something sweet.

Andrew shook his head, now feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. His crusted over khakis had become tight.

“You’d think I’d remember.” he mused, placing his hands over his waist.

His wife’s mouth had parted ever so slightly. Her own arms had now fallen over her stomach, running over defined hills of abdominal sinew. Thumbs caught her waistband, and began slowly drawing the fabric down her legs. Taut, bulging quadriceps proved to provide a decent obstacle to her task, but eventually, she was able to pull her shorts and panties past her rippling thighs.

“Well Andy,” she began, in a voice that hovered between a whisper and a growl, “Whether you meant to or not, you’ve got me revved up. I guess we are gonna see if your little thesis worked.”

Andrew’s eyes nearly shot out of its sockets as they lay upon what had been revealed. His wife’s privates still rested within an impassable forest of thick ,dark curly hair. Behind the wiry threads, lay a red, glistening slit. The fleshy folds that guarded her most precious entrance bulged out, and appeared to retract and separate. No wonder those of vulgar mind would call them lips, for they resembled a monstrous, toothless mouth, wet with hunger.

He traced his gaze up Caitlin’s towering form, memorizing her strong arms, strewn with bulky, toned biceps. He cursed that her sweaty tank top covered up a formidable six pack, as wells as bulbous mammaries and swollen glands.

Breath departed, as he fixed upon his wife’s face. It lay impossibly far above, even though the bed and pillow he stood upon provided significant elevation. Even from just a few hundred feet into the sky, Andrew would not have been surprised if a few clouds would wander in front of the entrancing view. He proved mesmerized by swollen, reddened cheeks. Half-lidded, glowing eyes the color of steel focused upon him, and him alone.

The weight of her gaze alone was enough for his legs to give out and sent him on his rear.

Immediately, concern passed over her face. “Everything smelling alright?”

Andrew had to be snapped out of his trance, “You smell like an offshore fish monger. But that’s not an issue.”

Caitlin leaned forward, and immediately, Andrew felt both the temperature and concentration of the surrounding air rise.

“What is the issue?” she pressed.

“I’ve just,” he began, staring straight into his wife’s passionate glare, “I’ve never seen a look like that. I’m not used to .. to ...”

A spray of spittle was ejected from Caitlin’s mouth, as she chuckled. “Tough luck,” she declared, “Because you’re going to be seeing this for the rest of your life.”

Quicker than lightning, her hands grasped the edge of the pillow, yanking it towards the center of the mattress. Andrew had no chance to regain balance, and found his position moved as his body was tossed by momentum. Even when motion ceased, he remained on his back. Shaking hands then began to undo his shorts.

Caitlin in the meantime, did not remain still. She braced her knees against the bedside, lifting her body up on the bed. Her thighs straddled the pillow, trapping Andrew in a vast canyon with a cotton surface, and fleshy walls. Slowly, but surely, her torso moved along, blocking out his view of the ceiling. His new ceiling was not of crude, lifeless drywood, but pulsing, moist and very much alive.

Its tantalizing scent hit him with the force of a truck. But, not once was he tempted to hurl out the contents of his stomach. If anything, her odor had lured him into a daze. Not once, could he take his eye of the genital sky, a sky that was now falling.

The air had grown syrupy. It’s intensity was certainly as much as it was when he was trapped within her ravenous rear. But, its bouquet was far more complex, sporting aspects both foul and sweet, repulsive and seductive.

Black hairs began to descent upon the pillow case. Their girth was wider than ropes, and they bent as the maw of his wife’s groin drew ever closer. Already he felt soaked, and the smell had completely overridden ever sense and common sense he possessed. His mouth could not help but hang open, dumbfounded at the lewd destiny that awaited him.

Then, the red folds of flesh collapsed upon him. His lanky form was enveloped by slimy, honeyed flesh, tender to the touch. His wife’s most intimate area emitted an intense heat that warmed every cell of his body.

Once Andrew was pressed to her exposed crotch, Caitlin shouted out, “Oh shit!”

Her hips sunk into the pillow, pressing it into the mattress. The flesh of her privates was soft, tender, while the expanse of cotton compensated for her incomprehensible weight. Were he on a solid surface, Andrew certainly would have been annihilated.

Sensitive skin experienced ever facet of her husband’s body. Tears began to form in Caitlin’s eyes, as she uttered ,”Fuck! Andy! Fuck!”

The giantess fell forward, bracing her torso up with her elbows. Her waist, meanwhile rose, its incredible mass ascending in the manner of a vast extraterrestrial mothership. And, much like such an intrusive, exploratory vessel, it had abducted a passenger.

Andrew was stuck within her folds. He had not entered in the vast, flooded cavern that lay at the base of the vertical maw, but he was certainly buried in enough flesh to be concealed from the outside world. He managed to tear his face away from the burning slime to peer down, only to realize he was several stories up.

He, however, would never get a chance to appreciate the gravity of being stuck to a monolithic womanhood, several stories in the air. Something far stronger than gravity forced him back down.

Caitlin slammed her hips into the pillow, grunting as her husband was forced into her lecherous folds again. Her insides were rendering into jelly, while her mind had receded into pure instinct. Her hips rose once more, not to the height they were, before smashing back down, sending another thrill of passion through her body.

In rhythmic cadence, she humped the pillow below. The shack was filled with naught but the steady slap of wet flesh against fabric, and desperate howls and moans that followed. As the night drew on, her tempo steadily increased, her waist almost becoming a blur as it bucked up and down.

All the while, Andrew was simply along for the ride. His body tumbled and flailed about within steamy skin, wiry hairs, and syrupy nectar. He shouted out, both in fear, and in desire. Frail arms clung to Caitlin’s genitals, both for a sense of security, and intimacy.

Finally, the apex had been reached, and Caitlin thrust her hips down one last time, burying Andrew into her. The dark passage way, whose entrance he had become overly familiar with, swallowed him up, and he was lost in a torrential flood, that was just about to be unleashed.

Her head, slick with the sweat of passion, rose up, and Caitlin let out a scream that pierced the night sky.

Lecherous discharge slammed into Andrew, carrying him out of her cavern, and back down into the pillow. His body was still molested by reddened skin, as gallon after gallon slapped and assaulted his body. No great downpour could ever compare, the hot and heavy maw above could have drowned him with its sticky precipitation.

As her hips retreated, Andrew broke through the surface of muck, spitting out what had invaded his mouth. While he attempted to gather his breath, another great torrent fell upon him, burying the newlywed under a new mass of viscous love.

Caitlin, still reeling from her session, allowed herself a look under, admiring the massive, spreading area of moisture that now stained the pillow. A small speck, that of her husband, lay swimming in the middle of all. Heavy panting slowed as a warm glow caressed her innards.

“Fuck.”

Another laugh escaped her, with the audacity of a whisper. Drops of sweat hung off her hair, before splashing upon the bedsheets below.

Realization then crossed her eyes, “Shit, I probably shouldn’t be laying on this soppy cushion tonight.”

The giantess rose. Every muscle of hers felt twice as heavy. Placing her feet on the ground, she picked up her discarded shorts. Her legs carried her away, as she also retrieved other articles of discarded clothing from the ground, including her now crusted morning workout clothes and socks.

Finally, for good measure, she stripped herself of her sweaty tanktop.

Bunching these gathered articles into an incomprehensible ball, she placed it at the head of the bed. Her fingers then descended upon the soaked pillow, extracting her husband from her sloppy discharge. A tired smile was upon his face. Though very much spent, the experience had gone considerably better for him than the previous night.

“Holy … holy cow …” he exclaimed. A cough shook his body, allowing him to empty his mouth of more muck.

As Caitlin, with her free hand, tossed the dirty pillow off the surface of the bed, Andrew began eyeing the pile of clothing she had set as a replacement most critically.

“Cait, I don’t know if that’s much of an improve-”

What words he had left were lost to the wind, as he was swung around, his destination determined by the motion of his wife’s hand. He was dropped into the mass of dirty articles, sinking into fabrics with stale flecks that broke off with even the smallest of movements, and others that leached out musky sweat if he so much stepped on them.

He did not get a chance to raise an object, for he was consumed by another set of lips. Caitiln’s kiss buried him even deeper into her filthy pile, subjecting him to the brunt of her labored aroma. Her head then settled down upon the makeshift pillow.

Resigned, Andrew let in a deep breath, taking in foul and stained air. All of his wife’s scents, from her estrogen tinged sweat, to the vinegar spiked essence of her feet, to the putrid, foul emissions of her rear, and the fishy, pungent, syrupy bouquet of her womanhood, combined and mixed. Caitlin, pure, unadulterated Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth, in his eyes, in his lungs and on his skin. Forever, he would be marked by this behemoth of a woman.

But, his banishment to a disgusting sleeping arrangement did not bother him in the slightest. What disturbed Andrew, that fateful night, was that he was beginning to like it.

….

Caitiln was aroused from her slumber. Heavy eyes glanced at the bedside clock. A small smile crossed her lips, for she had drearily calculated that she possessed a few more minutes of precious time to sleep.

Hope Andy got enough rest, he was coming in late last night.

There was a rumble in her stomach. It was not long before she decided to release whatever lay within. A wet trumpeting of rectum echoed throughout the room. Her white panties, the only article of clothing she wore, took on a small amount of moisture.

“Heh, that’s gonna stain the sheets.”

As her gas passed, she was made aware of a curious sensation beneath her offending rear. Essentially trapped in between her glutes, was a minuscule nub. She was about to pass it off as a figment of morning exhaustion, when realization hit her.

Her hips, twisted, lifting her magnificent rump off of the mattress. A vast crater marked where it had rested. Stuck, in the valley of her tush, buried in white cloth, lay her husband. He was face down, dressed in nothing but dark boxers. The movement proved enough for him, for he was able to peel his head away from the fabric of her panties. His dark, sheepish gaze met a mischievous, sliver glare.

“And just what were you doing down there eh? Whiffing my farts from afar ain’t good enough for you?” Her voice had taken on a playful tone. Caitin’s mouth drew into a smile, as provocative scenarios played within her mind.

Andrew let out a sigh. His body stiffened, as he prepared for what was to come. As he opened his mouth, he sealed his fate.

“All the better to smell you with, my dear.”

From above, the dark, massive shape of Caitlin’s finger careened towards his position with the ferocity of a falling meteor. Resigning himself to his fate, Andrew braced himself for his destiny.

Mechanical clacks echoed through the office as spindly fingers danced across the keyboard. It was a cathartic, if soothing sound, one that brought light to Andrew’s baggy eyes while they remained glued to the LED display. After a moment’s hesitation, he strained his neck, attempting to correct a hump that had formed upon his spine. His back then slumped once more while he resumed working.

Over the walls of his cubicle, he could spot another man briskly walking by. His legs were not visible, and it appeared to him as if he were gliding across the carpeted floor. A square face with a strong jaw, lined with scruffy facial hair betrayed a rather bright, yet intense look. Thick, lustrous hair bounced with each step he took. Clear, hazel eyes were unambiguously focused upon Andrew himself. Nevertheless, the lankier worker did not peel himself away.

Once he reached Andrew’s cubicle, the man slung over a rather thick arm over the flimsy walls. The white sleeves of his button up shirt revealed rippling muscle underneath. A dash of concern furrowed his brow, even as his coworker continued to ignore him. Just barely visible, a name tag fitted precariously upon his generous chest read, “Jacob”.

“Hey Andy!” Jake shouted, despite his proximity, “I thought you’d be home by now.”

“I have a couple of files that need to be processed,” Andrew responded, never once breaking his workflow, “then I’ll be good to go.”

“Really?” his coworker inquired, pulling another juggernaut of an arm over the barrier, causing it to bend, “If I just pulled an all-nighter like you did, I’d be outta here at 3! Say … why don’t I handle those files? You’ve pretty much made your case for a raise last night. Saved my job.”

Andrew paused his typing, allowing his office chair to roll lazily back. Dark eyes veered to address his coworker. His lips curled into a smile, but it was a smile that struggled to stay in form, for his tired muscles strained even with maintaining such an expression.

“I saved nothing,” he conceded, “I just did what was called for. And right now, what’s called for is getting these files done.”

Jake’s massive shoulder’s rose, before sinking down in defeat, “If you insist…”

The massive man slinked away, his footfalls notably carrying extra weight. No visible reaction was betrayed by Andrew. His eyes then slid back to stare at his screen, while twitching fingers settled upon the keyboard. He resumed his task once more.

Keyboard presses filled the air with a snappy crackle. As he worked, Andrew allowed the passage of time to slip by. A wall mounted clock near the entrance to the office space ticked the seconds away.

Movement was caught by his eye again. The man who shuffled towards him was of a stockier physique. Lawrence’s stomach flopped most ungracefully beneath his work shirt, while a grubby hand grasped a napkin that dabbed his luminous forehead. Even from such a distance away, Andrew could tell his manager sported a troubled brow.

Lawrence took in several deep heaves once he had made it to Andrew’s cubicle. Yet, the young office worker did little to acknowledge his superior’s presence, choosing instead to occupy himself with his computer screen. The clack of keystrokes were as frequent and snappy as ever. Not once did his fingers even break rhythm.

“Hey Altera,” he huffed, allowing a hand to rise.

His eyes still glued to his LED display, Andrew responded, “I have some availability if you nee-”

“Nah,” his manager interjected, his vocal tone overcoming exhausted breathlessness, “None of that, I was just saying, you should probably take the rest of the day off.”

Unbeknownst to both, an expired cup of coffee staining a styrofoam container quivered ever so slightly. It rested on Andrew’s desk, just below the monitor, having never been touched for the past two hours.

The office drone managed to finally unbind his head, giving his boss a most discerning glare, “Would it trouble you any if I can just tie up these loose ends? Dot my circles, fill in my squares? I’m not leaving with stuff incomplete.”

A thin hand rushed to his coffee cup, if only to steady the tremors that had dislodged it from its precisely determined position.

,”Look …” Lawrence stuttered, “I appreciate it, but I got a rather … uh … angry phone call.”

An eyebrow rose on the young man’s face, “From who?”

As he had said this, the carpet beneath his feet had begun to shake.

Lawrence had notably begun to perspire. Part of his exposed dome began to acquire luster that could be compared to the finest jewelry. His tone had gradually increased in meekness as he explained, “Someone rather important.”

Andrew removed his hand from the coffee cup, if only to wave away his manager. The styrafoam vessel found itself jostled out from rest shortly after.

“Just smooth it over,” he dismissed, “you’re pretty good at doing that.”

Lawrence’s eyes widened, as he pleaded, “But she’s going to be here any mome-”

“She?” the young office worker blurted out. His brow furrowed, as he glanced at his dancing cup. The tremors he had experienced were not a persistent phenomenon, they arrived and left at a steady interval. It was as if someone was using the Earth as a great drum, tapping out a mighty cadence for a grand, all-encompassing song.

Andrew felt frequent vibrations rush through his very bones, as a most audible thump could be perceived by the office windows. He stood up, turning towards the source of the sound. Over dozens of cubicles, his eyes found the transparent panel that showed the outside world.

However, his view of the town beyond had been obstructed, for in his line of sight was a face. It was that of a young woman. A small smattering of freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Her lips, full, yet sprinkled with cracks, were pursed. Gray eyes filled the room with a serious gaze, a gaze so gargantuan it proved difficult to determine exactly where they looked. To Andrew, however, there was no doubt to where she directed her sight.

A finger, looming and monolithic, took up the adjacent frame of glass. Several workers milling about around the window were taken aback by such a massive digit occupying their vantage. Its girth was easily more than half the height of the employees gawking at it.

The giantess then retracted the offending digit. Still glaring at Andrew’s slumped form, her finger then curled upwards, beckoning him towards the window.

“I suggest you go, if only to keep the building intact,” his boss proposed, dabbing a fresh layer of sweat off his head.

Andrew rolled his eyes, an act that now required sufficient effort to effectively pull off. “What did she threaten to do this time?”

In a panicked stutter, Lawrence babbled, “I couldn’t stop her! She said she was going to tear the building apart, and flick me across town if I didn’t!”

An exhausted sigh exited the office worker, as he chastised, “Call her on it! You gotta push back! She loves trash-talk!”

Lawrence’s usually reddened complexion had taken on a pale palette. He gazed into the silver daggers that loomed outside. His head began bobbing up and down rapidly, as a smile stretched and strained his facial muscles. Trembling lips formed silent words that said ‘he’s coming’.

…

The office man trudged outside, a black bag slung around his shoulders. He had been in a trance throughout his journey, from entering the elevator, to passing through the lobby, to finally making it out the front doors. At times, it felt as if his conscious sense was ready to fly away. Dream and reality proved difficult to separate, and the sluggishness of his limbs did not help matters.

In shadow the sidewalk was cast. The adjacent street had also fallen under this darkness. Craning his neck back, it was not difficult to determine why this was. A corner block away, his wife stood upon a metal platform, elevated at least one story above ground level. Crisscrossing beams appeared to vibrate under each shift Caitlin made, her massive brown boots and treads testing the structural integrity of this particular innovation. Cars and pedestrians passed underneath. Some even bothered to look up, before going about their business.

Even though she towered above the surrounding buildings, Caitlin was squatting. Blue denim stretched over her generous thighs and calves. A heavy brown leather jacket loosely covered her torso, leaving the zipper undone, allowing a clear view of a white tank top which lay underneath.

Andrew made his way to the nearest intersection. High above, cradled in a calloused hand, rested his car. He could barely make out its faded maroon frame, for his wife’s curled digits hindered his sight line.

Once her view settled upon her husband’s slight, slumped form, she bellowed out to him, “I’ve got your car, so all that’s left is you.”

Andrew felt him nodding along, although not in agreement, “You could’ve just called me.”

Caitlin’s brow furrowed, “I did.”

Her husband gasped, “wha-?”

Before he could clarify or justify, the titaness interjected, with a smirk, “And you said ‘come and get me stinky’.”

A man brushed past the spent office worker, giving him a curious look. This did not disturb Andrew, nor his conversation, as he continued shouting at the sky, “Can’t be, I would have thought up a better insult than that.”

“Work’s fried your circuits Andy,” she asserted, wrapping her fingers around his car, “it’s a good thing I got here just in time, otherwise, you’d be a vegetable.”

“’I’m surprised you know what a vegetable is,” her haggard husband huffed.

Caitlin proceeded to store the economy vehicle in her chest pocket. The car was oriented head first, and easily slipped in. A visible lump marked where the automobile had settled, a mere sixth the area of the compartment that held it.

“I do,” she countered, her hands now empty, “they’re disgusting, which is why I don’t want you turning into one.”

A massive appendage descended, like a dark cloud delivering doom. Andrew’s muscles tightened in an instinctual manner, as he was pinched in between two digits, index and thumb. Hoisted off the ground with effortless motion, he was brought over his wife’s chest. While her heavy jacket did well to conceal her form, her tank top, on the other hand, strained to contain its bulging contents.

He eyed the lump that outlined his car, residing in her breast pocket. Caitlin’s hand hovered over the opposite chamber. Andrew gazed into a dark abyss, an abyss he could not see the end of. His baggy eyes refused to blink, lest the abyss blinked back. This abyss drew closer, until he found himself within the lip of the leather compartment.

Once her index and thumb parted, Andrew fell. He bushed against the soft interior, noting how it sloped to compensate for the hill it rested against. As darkness consumed his body, it also consumed his mind, and the instant he came to a stop, his eyes closed, and he was lulled into a slumber.

“Gee, you must’ve been tired…” boomed the voice of his wife from above. Despite the magnitude of volume her vocal chords could generate, Andrew did not stir from the comfort of his makeshift, vertical bed.

With a satisfied sigh, Caitlin stood to her full height, and began stomping her way home.

…

A gentle hand pushed aside the polyester door. The same hand then flicked the lightswitch, bathing the bedroom in warm incandescent light. Caitlin’s steps were soft, if only to minimize the sway of her jacket.

Longingly she peered down her chest, eyeing a small bump within her chest pocket. The compartment that held her husband, however, possessed no such feature. In fact, without prior knowledge, the giantess would have assumed it empty.

Her breath grew still, as her fingers probed, taking hold of the vehicle’s frame. The car’s manufacture ensured it was flexible, allowing some give to compensate for the force Caitlin’s massive digits assailed it with. As she dangled the Civic through the air, its back wheels swayed, while loose items within its interior were tossed and turned.

Slowly, the car was set upon the nightstand, behind the alarm clock. The clock itself dwarfed the car almost tenfold. Were it hollow, clock could have served as a spacious garage to park the Civic within.

Caitlin’s digits drew away, before approaching her other breast pocket.

Her index and middle slid into the leather material. Soft fabric gave way to the twin behemoths encroaching in on her husband’s resting form. From her vantage, powerful eyes proved insufficient to pierce the veil of darkness. But, what eyes could not see, touch could feel. A small spark tingled up her spine as she traced over Andrew’s delicate, diminutive physique. Even at such a small scale, the grime of overnight labor was apparent.

Gently securing her grasp on her husband’s insignificant frame, she drew her hand from her breast pocket. Dangling from her fingers, the top half of his body was completely obscured. Only his waist and legs were visible, utterly outclassed by his wife’s fingertips. They hung limp, for gravity and exhaustion clung to them.

Turning her hand over, the exhausted office worker tumbled down the length of imposing digits, before settling into Caitlin’s palm. For but a moment, his sprawled form lay still, before movement crept into his head.

Andrew’s eyes struggled to peer under heavy lids. He blinked rapidly, taking in the vast plain of calloused flesh that surrounded him. The view beyond his solitary platform had blurred profusely. A hand, with great effort, was brought over his brow. Through some sort of placebo effect, the vista beyond came into focus. His view traced along great rolling hills, before traveling upwards, before settling upon a tanned, freckled face.

“Had a good night’s sleep?”

Caitlin’s voice rumbled with the intensity of thunder. Even though her tone adopted a rather playful expression, its overwhelming magnitude rattled every bone in his body. Awareness quickly washed over him, as he quickly rolled upon his back, staring wide-eyed at the colossal landscape that lay beyond.

“Yeah.”

Spindly arms reached for the sky. Andrew’s face strained as painful relief flooded his muscles. Shaking off another bout of grogginess, the office man lifted himself on his feet. His black dress shoes sunk ever so slightly into the fleshy terrain of Caitlin’s palm.

He attempted to straighten his posture as best he could.  Surveying his surroundings once more, he said to himself, “I think there’s some other stuff I can get do-“

Andrew was on his back once more. Rough, callous skin began to envelop his form. Up above, a single finger pressed down.

Immediately did his limbs begin to flail. Fists flew, rattling against the hard surface of her finger nail. Legs kicked and bucked, attempting to dislodge the mass of flesh that had settled on top. His efforts caused him to sweat profusely, while all joints and muscles alike were alight with flame.

But, for all his action and bravado, her finger moved not a single inch.

As futility began to dampen his motions, a desperate plea was sent towards the heavens. “Cait!”

The giantess’s finger pressed even further down.

“Andy, you’ve been outta the house slaving away at that office for two days,” she reprimanded, her voice weighing on him even more than her index ever could, “You need to sleep.”

Once more, Andrew went still. His arms were splayed out to their side, heavy as lead, and strong as paper. His legs collapsed, bouncing on taut skin. He drew in a deep breath as the massive digit retreated. Even still, there was no attempt to make up lost ground, for the even greater weight of exhaustion had him trapped.

He felt the world itself reorient, as her massive palm had begun to move. The mighty platform he lay on hovered above the bed, directly over an off-white pillow that was due for a date with the washing machine. The man let out a gasp as the ground tilted, and he tumbled down, out of his wife’s hand, before landing into the pillow’s soft, cotton embrace.

A soft exhale exited the giantesses mouth, as she beheld the dark speck stuck against the white plain of her fluffy headrest. Her shoulders sagged, and at once, the heavy embrace of her jacket fell away. It crashed onto the carpet in a brown, leathery heap.

Her fingers then tugged at her waistline, shimmying down her jeans in a methodical manner. Caitlin betrayed a small smile, for she witnessed movement at the edge of her field of vision. Her husband had experienced a small shot of energy once the shapely sinews of her legs were unveiled. Gray cotton panties allowed his imagination to remain active, although granting it little breathing room.

Blue denim bunched at her knees, before her shins were released. Caitlin made sure to discard her black socks as well. Both joined her jacket on the floor, forming a heavy hill of clothing that could have enclosed an entire block of the neighborhood.

Caitlin’s torso gradually rose, her spine set back into alignment. Her thumbs wandered towards the hem of her tank top. With a single motion, she had torn off the scant cloth, leaving her torso bare.  It was whipped through the air, before being stricken to the ground, splashing into the pile of discards.

As enticing as the view beyond the edge of the mattress had become, Andrew found his attention drawn elsewhere. One foot plodded in front of the other. Weariness rendered balance a precarious task. His legs wobbled as he made his way off of the pillow.

Another step, and he lost his footing. Still, he managed to maintain an upright orientation, sliding down a gentle soft slope. Soon enough, he landed upon the mattress. His legs sunk into the bedsheets upon impact.

A grimace crossed his face while he began to make his way. His heading was volatile, for it followed wherever his eyes wandered. The immediate vicinity had been cast in shadow, a shadow which only appeared to grow each second. Still, Andrew pressed on, staggering towards the nightstand, before swinging about, and heading towards the foot of the bed.

Progress was halted, when a flesh colored wall blocked off his path. Several long dark lines marked the face of this massive obstacle, more than quadruple his height. It possessed multiple appendages at the end, which curled towards him, blocking off other vectors of escape. Immediately, the office man turned in the opposite direction.

Another wall of flesh, virtually identical to the one before stopped him in his tracks. Andrews swung to and fro, noting with urgency that the leviathans that had trapped him were advancing upon his position.

A flash of fury illuminated his dark eyes, as he glared at the perpetrator of his troubles. Caitlin’s hands had formed a loose canopy, around and above him, just in case he were to sprout wings and take off flying. Her torso hung over the bed much in the manner of a thundercloud; any sudden movement threatened to provoke a retaliatory strike of lightning.

“Can’t a guy be productive?” Andrew protested, finding rage easily slipping into his voice, “I can’t waste the rest of the day in be –“

His own rant was cut off by a profound yawn that stretched his mouth to the limit. Instinctively, his hands flew to his eyes, wiping away moisture born purely out of suggestion.

A brow rose from up above. Caitlin’s massive face remained unmoved. A booming voice filled to the brim with sarcasm struck.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Her hands encased Andrew. One of her palms then slid across the mattress, forcing the exhausted man to tumble across its surface. Once ensured that he was safely resting upon her hand, her appendages rose, still trapping him in a fleshy cocoon.

Unveiling her encirclement, Andrew’s face squinted upon immediate reintroduction to light. He was not given a chance to act, for Caitlin's fingers had him pinned down again. Inhuman precision guided the intrusive digits, as he was hastily stripped of his office clothes. His white shirt and undershirt were pulled over his head, courtesy of a barreling index finger. Meanwhile, his belt was snapped by a mere nail, while another finger bunched his pants down his legs, then past his feet.

All struggles opposing his wife stripping him down were in vain. Even as cool air rejuvenated his stuffy, tired skin, he still attempted to wrestle with her fingers. In no time at all, however, he was down to just his briefs.

Caitlin set aside her husbands discarded clothes upon the nightstand. There was a slight smirk as she regarded the belt she had snapped. It appeared as two black stringy grains that had been stuck against her palm. I’ll buy him another one, it’s been a little while since I’ve broken his last belt.

Her sight veered back to her hapless husband, wedged within the three lines that ran through the plain of her paw. He attempted not even a wriggle, for to dislodge himself from such a predicament required an immeasurable amount of effort to even attempt. With a slight smirk, her hand cupped, further entrapping her beloved mite as the calloused pads of her hand enclosed around his spindly limbs.

The appendage that held Andrew veered over. Caitlin had turned over her opposite arm, presenting her wrist as parallel to the ground. Soon, her husband-laden hand hovered overhead, presenting a steep drop from one platform to another.

Andrew’s stomach dropped, as the ground beneath had begun to rotate. He had been to exhausted to account for the various instances his wife employed such a method to move him from one surface to the next. Despite this, his sense of vertigo did not leave him. His spent muscles could not fight against gravity, for the steep incline had provided the universal physical force an insurmountable advantage.

He slid down the width of the giantess’s palm, before dropping into a free fall. Lanky limbs flailed helplessly, compelled more by momentum than any conscious motion on his part. Wind resistance brushed matted and greasy hair out of his face, granting him an unimpeded view of the rapidly approaching wrist. Much like every other area of mention upon his wife’s person, it bulged with titanic brawn. In particular, a strong ridge ran from elbow to wrist, outlining several taut muscles.

Just before impact, Caitlin slackened her wrist, softening the definition visible, as well as her husband’s landing. On collision, he sunk into the limb. The entirety of his face immersed itself in tanned, taut skin. Strong fibers of stupendous might flexed and pulsed beneath him, as his frail form settled into the nook of her wrist.

There wasn’t even enough vitality stored within to even crane his neck to observe what would happen next. Andrew, however, would not get a chance. The instant he had landed, the weight of Caitlin’s domineering digit impressed itself upon him.

He was forced around the terrain of her wrist, kneaded into toned sinew. Periodically, he would encounter a soft strand of hair. Pressed from all around, his muscles ached in response. It was a pleasant sensation, and relief began to loosen his own stressed physique.

Caitlin cooed as she witnessed a single finger of hers nearly obscure all of Andrew’s form. Only the back of his head and the length of his legs remained visible. Even upon such a minuscule frame, she could feel his tendons tense and relax as she continued to massage him deep into her tissue. Her hand would periodically rise and fall, contracting and releasing her wrist muscle, further stimulating her husband’s exhausted flesh.

“Relax Andy,” she encouraged, “You’ve been on the grind.”

There was naught but silence. Andrew had been reduced to a creature where touch was his only sense. But, what he could perceive was at a greater spectrum than any he had once been able to throughout his life. He shivered as muscle fibers bulged and retreated. He was brought over humps of stiff, tough brawn and the valleys that lay in between. And yet, the grand landscape that he had become most intimately acquainted with was merely responsible for ensuring that his wife’s hands could rotate and turn.

Andrew forced his mouth shut, for he did not wish to make his desire audible.

The giantess then ceased her motion, before dragging her husband towards her elbow. He sailed over a mound of bulging carpi, before slipping into a great crater made by the joint. At this point, the skin he passed over had transformed from smooth and taut, to flexible and wrinkled. Some areas even clung onto him, before the strength of Caitlin’s digit overcame its grip.

Caitlin’s finger continued its effort, leading his hapless figure up an even grander hill. Its slope was far more pronounced. The flesh that lay beneath proved more tender, and he easily sunk into the mass he had found himself against. Less hair impeded his journey, in fact, where he lay, it was practically nonexistent.

A smirk crossed the titaness’s face as she clenched the fist of her free hand. Her bicep bulged out, vainly showing off every facet and dimension through tanned skin. There was a clear separation between the beefy, toned juggernaut of a muscle, and the triceps that encircled the back half of Caitlin’s arm. Andrew immediately experienced the flesh below harden. As a result, he too, tensed his own body.

With far less bumps and divots in her way, Caitlin was able to cover a wider area, as her finger circled across her vast arm muscle. As before, she oscillated between flexing and relaxing, using both her bicep and finger to squeeze out all stress that had accrued the past two days within Andrew.

“Just let big ol’ Cait take all your worries away.” she uttered, in a tone as warm as a blazing campfire.

Caitlin’s elbow rocked back and forth, pumping her sculpted bicep, subjecting her husband to its full smothering might. From what little she saw of him, hidden behind the tip of her finger, he could have been mistaken for a mountain climber. 

Eventually, her finger tired of slathering him against the expanse of her arm, and traced him along its length. The journey over her skin had evoked an enthusiasm he had considered himself far too dreary to even experience. Even as his face continued to be smeared against fragrant skin, he had to clench his teeth, in an effort to suppress what had awakened.

Her digit compelled him over a smaller, yet steeper hill. Here, the flesh below was as firm as it ever was; more so than on her wrist. Pressured deep into her shoulder, Andrew felt each individual fiber lurking below bend and strum, as if he were playing a harp with countless strings. All composed a monolithic deltoid that could have doubled as a domed establishment. Perhaps a greenhouse, for it houses all sorts of virulent organic material.

When Caitlin’s arm rose up, the surface Andrew had been kneaded into transfigured from firm to rock hard in an instant. Thus, his wife’s massage of him had intensified. Andrew could not help but allow moans to escape his mouth, all to be lost in a great expanse of skin, fat and muscle. A certain pain, emanating from his waist indicated resistance where there had been none earlier, for one member of his had stiffed further than the rest.

The finger holding him down relented, just ever so slightly. This respite allowed Andrew the luxury of yanking his head from its skinful embrace. A strong scent immediately hit his nose. It was an aroma without a clear identity, but one most certainly without a natural origin. It’s origin, thus, could only come from some sort of applied product, either a generic shampoo, or a particularly strong antiperspirant.

She did this for me.

Andrew groaned, trying in vain to pull up his waist from the ground. Scent and touch began to provoke shudders from his overwhelmed body and mind.

She wanted to smell nice so she could help me relax.

A spent constitution stood little chance against the onslaught. Resistance against the inevitable proved most hopeless.

Cait, you’re the most wonderfu-

Andrew let out an anguished squeak. His face was pushed into the face of the massive, rippling shoulder once more. Against immense pressure, his hips managed to gyrate ever so slightly, as all barriers he had established crumpled.

Once the deed had been done, Andrew felt the massive digit retreat. Caitlin’s deltoid lay flat, allowing him to turn over, allowing his back to rest against the hardened muscle.

He was faced with Caitlin’s heavy, steel-colored gaze. Piercing irises drove away all veils and deception, making the bare truth plain, as the stain upon his briefs.

Andrew was pressed into his wife’s flesh once more, all from the booming magnitude of her voice. “Huh, something’s off on here.”

The giantesses tone was rife with mischief. It was accompanied with a knowing smile that could have swallowed him up threefold.

A giggle provoked the ground beneath him to quake, “Oh dang, I’ve never been able to get you to squirt like that! You must’ve been really tired!”

Andrew’s hand flew over his waist, as best they could. His pale face had gone red, as he attempted to avoid staring directly into his wife’s imposing, yet playful glare, “S-sorry.”

“Sorry?” Caitlin repeated, raising an eyebrow, “What for?”

“It’s disrespectful to you,” the office man explained.

Caitlin’s expression did not change. Her finger was upon him again, imposing upon his abdomen. Andrew grunted, raising his arms in feeble resistance. The trunk-like digit advanced down his form, dragging along with it, briefs newly christened with moisture.

What had been revealed only encouraged an even wider smile from the giantess. Upon her cheeks, the smallest hint of red could be detected by an observant eye.

Her head then drew close to her shoulder, taking up his entire viewpoint. Andrew’s sight of the rest of the room was impeded. Without turning his head, there was nowhere he could see without an aspect of Caitlin’s face entering his field of vision.

As she spoke, her breath, fresh and minty, washed over him entirely. Every fiber of his being, both the physical and the immaterial were warmed thoroughly.

“As far as I’m concerned,” she purred in a voice that hung at the intersection of a growl and a whisper, “You can go ahead and paint me a nice shade of white if you want.”

The crimson shade that had invaded Andrew’s face threatened to spread to his neck and chest. He lamented his lack of stamina, for had he possessed such reserves, he would have had his head retreat to the sanctuary of his hands, hidden away from Caitlin’s teasing look.

A hand advance upon his position, and he was plucked off her shoulder. Caitlin turned around as she did this, allowing herself a seat on the mattress. Her legs, stocky and hefty, were hoisted up, before they too rested upon the bedspread. Allowing herself a sigh once her cumbersome mass sank down into the surface below, she proceeded to move Andrew over her stomach.

The office man could not help but hang his mouth in awe at the abdominal terrain below. Six squares of rigid musculature were carved into the ground. Dunes and divots, a favored spot to trek across, were flushed in both light and shadow under the incandescent bedroom lamp.

As great as the view underneath proved, its majesty would only increase as Caitlin’s hand descended. Nearly a story away from this masterfully trimmed wonder of his wife’s body, her fingers released him. He smacked straight against an ab, bouncing off of its massive face, before sliding down a relatively forgiving incline.

He came to rest in vast rut, flanked on both sides by muscles as unyielding as stone.

There was no attempt to gather himself, to get on his feet. He lay there, soaking in the sensation of the pulsing, stiff ground. A quaint, yet deep rumble could be picked up, and he pondered on which unfortunate morsels were being broken apart in the depths of his wife’s gut.

“I wonder what it would sound like when we do get lucky,” Caitlin mentioned. Her voice, still imposing and great, boomed in the distance, dampening its weight.

She continued, “If you could feel the little guy kicking down there.”

Andrew’s head turned to the side, murmuring, “There’s going to be nothing little if it’s a girl.”

Stillness permeated the room. The muscles and tendons within Andrew’s overworked body exuded a sensation of melting, a warm oozing impression that sank into the flesh below. Each passing moment, it seemed he sank even further into the organic washboard. It appeared to stretch into distances which would cover a continent.

But as in all things, stillness would be hindered by discord. Andrew glared down the length of Caitlin’s stomach, past her legs, down to two far-off feet that appeared to just stick up from the surface. With a low grumble, he pressed his arms into the fleshy ground. Despite feeling as if his body weighed several tonnes, he managed to heft his torso up, allowing his legs to provide auxiliary support.

Just as he was about to spring forth, the area around began to flex and contract. On both sides, massive dunes of musculature rose up, squeezing into the rut had had found himself in. In a moment’s notice, both abdominals met in the middle, sandwiching his lithe body. He strained and screamed, fighting against unyielding pressure. His arms battered against brawn with the toughness of titanium. Indeed, desperation made poor compensation for active strength.

The rest of Caitlin’s torso had risen up. Her abs were drawn taut, the lines differentiating them growing more dark and sharp in their definition. She glared down, her gaze flying past her imposing mammaries, down to the diminutive insect below, trapped in between two packs of six. Eyes squinted, as she witnessed him writhing like a madman, fighting in futility against two unmovable objects, two unstoppable forces.

“C’mon Cait!” he protested, his voice taking upon an uncharacteristic whine, “There’s so much stuff I need to do!”

“Like what?” Caitlin shot back, “Watching the paint dry?”

“I haven’t even rubbed your feet yet!”

Andrew’s limbs almost became a blur. Pure, defiant fury raged within, but there was nothing to show for it.

Instead, he continued to be swallowed up by the two crunching abs.

“You know, you’d probably get outta there if you had some rest.” Caitlin mocked from the outside of his muscular prison.

Even at my best, it would be all the same.

Finally, the office man surrendered. He went limp, drawing in heavy breaths. A fresh sheen of sweat coated his skin. Observing another victory, Caitlin relaxed her stomach, loosening her formidable hold upon her husband.

Sprawled and listless, Andrew lay in a helpless heap upon the vast rigid plain of Caitlin’s stomach. He was cast in shadow, for her hand had returned, and it retrieved him from the surface. A dark eye observed Caitlin’s monstrous leg tense and bend, bringing her foot closer. It lay upon its side, drawing him in as much as her hand was currently in the process of doing.

Before her sole, he was brought. A slight tinge of vinegar stung his nose, along with a pleasant hint of a menthol-based body soap. He could only gape at the sight of her padded heel, tracing every line that raced across the rough skin. He memorized every wrinkle and vein that lay under the skin of her arch. And, he captured every subtle wriggle of her toes. The pads of her foot sported reddened flesh and patchy callouses, adding rustic texture to an already exquisite sight.

Andrew could only hope that Caitlin was not paying attention to his own form, for he had gone straight in anticipation.

“Wanted to rub my feet?” she teased, swinging her hand ever so slightly, causing Andrew to buckle to and fro, “Here’s your chance. You know, you’ve really spoiled these puppies ever since we’ve been married. I figure they should return the favor.”

Without another word, Andrew was pressed into his wife’s foot. Her clean vinegary scent invaded his nostrils, while his face and chest were smothered by rough skin. His waist too, was impressed against her sole, provoking several grunts.

Caitlin suppressed a giggle. Despite the toughness of her foot’s exterior, she still felt every contour of her husband, both soft and hard. He was rubbed up and down, left and right, clockwise and counterclockwise. No area of hers missed his delicate touch. And, Caitlin certainly did not miss the one indelicate aspect she had detected.

“Heh, I thought you weren’t a foot guy Andy, or is that a 50 caliber Desert Eagle you’re packing?” she rhetorically remarked.

“Cait … it’s just … it’s just,”

Words struggled to exit his mouth, in part because they were muffled within the vastness of her sole. Volatile sensations sparked throughout his body, rendering him hard of speaking. Again, he clenched his teeth, fighting against the swelling tide growing within.

He was then moved to her toes, pressed under the joints of her big and second toe. Even compared to such digits, he was insignificant. They began to flex and curl, completely enveloping his body. The flesh was warm and inviting, while the scent of vinegar reached the apex of pungency.

Listlessly, did he watch the reddened skin of her toe advance and swallow him up. Darkness would envelop his vision, and for a few seconds, his world would be naught but sensations of enamoring, smothering flesh and intense aromas. For the second time that day, he felt his resistance whittled away.

Her toes then opened fully. After recovering from blinding light, Andrew let out a gasp.

He was staring straight at the heel of the opposite foot. With each passing second, he could make out an increasing count of ridges and dried skin as it drew ever closer.

Soon enough, he was smothered on both sides. To his back,  toasty, soft toes writhed and squiggled. To his front, imposed the skin of a rough, unyielding heel.

It was a war on two fronts he was bound to lose. Again, Andrew squealed in despair, as he lost himself once more.

Every micron of motion he made was enjoyed by the giantess, as she hummed to herself. She had experienced, within the depths of her feet, a frantic writhing, then a sensation of wetness. Caitlin drew her appendages apart. Andrew had been stuck to her toes by a thin sheen of perspiration. As she peered closer, she beheld a faint, pale stain that glistened in the light, plastered against her heel.

A deep red blush made it across her face. A single finger was brought to the marked heel, swiping off the opaque stain. She did not inspect the contents now splattered on her finger, instead choosing to submerge the digit into the deaths of her panties. A revealing squelching of wet tender flesh soon followed.

Andrew set his head back, shaking it. In an attempt at assertion, he remarked, “I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

Caitlin’s massive shoulders lifted and fell, “Might as well try something new.”

Her husband was freed from the slick of her foot. Her legs straightened out, lying her thighs flat and taut upon the mattress.

It was on this gargantuan pillar of muscle, where Andrew was deposited next. Darkened, smooth, shimmering skin extended into infinity. There was not even a quiver once he touched down. As the office man peered ahead, he observed the quaint plateau of his wife’s kneecap. Even further, stood the feet that had serviced him before.

Caitlin’s lips pursed, expressing something resembling disappointment. She brought a finger down upon her occupied thigh, forcefully rotating her husband’s body, until he was facing the opposite direction.

Andrew gulped, once he caught sight of the only article of clothing his wife had bothered to leave on. White cloth concealed and molded over a familiar foe he had too many entanglements with. It appeared for tonight, however, that Caitlin was willing to spare him.

His gaze would not linger for long, for he was massaged into her monstrous quad. Firm muscle, responsible for supporting such a titanic mass, caressed his body with surprisingly soft touch. He inhaled in more fresh, clean scents, arousing his gratefulness once more. Andrew took to murmuring into the planetary pillow of flesh, embracing a refreshing sense of tranquility.

“That’s it Andy,” he heard her purr in the distance, “Just enjoy yourself.”

It was a curious sensation, experiencing her husband practically dissolve against her thigh. Fuck, he’s so puny, he could run himself tired doing laps around it.

Her finger circled round and round. Warmth, exuded from the deepest depths. Andrew’s body was becoming slick with sweat. And while Caitlin herself remained nice and dry, something else within had begun to take on moisture.

She directed her husband down the inner slope of the stocky pillar. Several curves and valleys gave tone and definition to the muscles, now lovingly caressed.

The gap between her thighs began to close. Andrew manage to glace upwards, widening his eyes at the sight of an advancing wall of flesh, imposing and unstoppable. It towered above everything he knew. Cars, houses, even buildings were mere toys in its wake. And, it was headed for him.

Caitlin gave out a squeal, once her husband was trapped between her thighs. Lovingly, she rubbed them together, savoring the sensations of that insignificant nub rolling and writhing within. Andrew was no longer visible, completely swallowed up by smooth, toned flesh.

Within the intersection of the canyon walls, Andrew was not a man, but an amoeba of sense. He absorbed all that he could; the fragrant flesh with hints of minty menthol, the firm, taut muscles that pulsed all around him. Within this thigh-formed prison, he detected a hint, a mere hint, of a foreign aroma wafting from forbidden corridors.

Upon this fateful day, for a third time, Andrew would lose his way. His hips bucked and squirmed, operating entirely of their own accord.

An entire minute passed, and Andrew lay smothered in the darkness. His consciousness was threatened, and soon would relent. His nose scrunched as a matter of consequence from what had just occurred, he could smell his essence stained against the infinite canopy of his wife’s leg.

Caitlin parted her thighs. Fresh cool air tickled her skin. She stifled a chuckle, for a sharp eye managed to spot yet another white stain dotting her skin.

Gravity pried Andrew loose, and he fell. Down the height of the great thigh he traveled, watching various shapes of bulging sinew rush past. He soon collapsed upon the bedsheets, rendered completely immobile.

The giantess leaned forwards, and swiped off her husband’s latest show of devotion, depositing the milky liquid in the same manner as before. She peered down, admiring her husband’s still silhouette. It was a mere speck, residing in a grand valley formed by her domineering thighs, and a towering, panty-clad groin.

It was clear he had finally allowed rest to take him. His puny chest rose and fell in regular intervals. Andrew’s young, sharp face, once burdened with the stresses and obligations of the day, was now blank and tranquil.

A satisfied sigh was exhaled from her mouth. “Gee, for tiny guy, you sure put a lot on your shoulders,” she commented.

Once more, her index descended upon him. Instead of imposing, or restricting him, she tenderly ran it down what little length of body there was. If it were possible, she could mesmerize herself with the image of her sleeping husband for all eternity.

The first rays of sunshine peaked through the blinders. Its orange glow had roused Andrew, causing his tired, dark eyes to blink rapidly, before finally comprehending his awakened state. His torso rose, causing him to sink into the plush surface of the pillow he rested on.

A loud rumble shook his chest, yet he showed no concern. If he were to gaze to his side, his eyes would be met with the towering heap of his wife. She was upon her stomach, snoring away the morning hours. Lush lips the size of four men were parted, allowing transparent sludge to drip through and pool on her pillow. Thick, matted locks of auburn hair drooped over her forehead and draped over her shut eyes.

To his other side lay her wrist. Natural light highlighted the worked ridges of the limb. Caitlin’s skin gave off a slight sheen, a result of dried sweat and accumulated oils.

Andrew stood tall, bracing himself against warm, rank air that smoldered from her mouth. Even if he were able to disregard such a wretched scent, Caitlin’s entire body exuded a stale, swarthy aura. Though she remained asleep, he could not help but consider himself entirely within her domain.

His gait was measured, as he drew close to her face. Sweat began to coat his own physique, exposed save for a dark pair of briefs. Why he perspired was not due to any sort of anxiety or burden, but rather, the cause lay in the oppressive heat Caitlin’s body radiated. Her muggy exhales did not help matters.

As he drew close to his destination, he found his feet sloshing in liquid. It was slightly viscous, and warm to the touch. It formed a small puddle, trailing towards a maw that could engulf the man’s form four-fold. Within her parted mouth, Andrew could barely perceive the pearly white teeth that lay just beyond.

Drawing close to the vast organic portal, Andrew noted that the atmosphere had grown exponentially more intense. He could have swam through the air. Periodically, he had to stop his gait, if only to endure another rank, wet exhale.

But, for all his trials and tribulations, he had made it to the end. He stood face to face with Caitlin’s upper lip. Andrew’s head did not even reach halfway up its length. His neck then stuck forwards, thrusting his face into tender, moist flesh.

Andrew lay a small, yet intimate peck upon the vast plain of skin that loomed over him.

Unbeknownst to him, his actions provoked the corner of his wife’s lips to curl ever so slightly upwards.

He turned, and began to head up the length of Caitlin’s face, towards her forehead. His steps still sloshed within the phlegmy discharge that continued to leak out, yet his pace was notably quicker than before. There was a focused glare in his eye as he marched, while in his legs lay urgency. However, his determination had distracted him from his surroundings.

A silver eye struggled open, greeted by the view of Andrew’s lithe, pale form making his way up the pillow case. Caitlin’s gargantuan body shifted, disturbing the tectonic stability of the mattress. Despite experiencing such powerful quakes, Andrew’s attention was not drawn.

It was the change in the sound of her breathing that alerted him. Caitlin’s breath had hastened, and lost its slumbering rumble. No longer was the terrain below illuminated with the soft glow of morning, but was cast in an all-encompassing shadow. Andrew was stopped in his tracks. His limbs froze and trembled, while his face took upon a ghostly shade. Slowly, he began to turn round.

Just hovering above him, was Caitlin’s face. Were he to gaze straight up, he would be met with the sight of her lips, parted ever so slightly, allowing warm air to drown his puny physique. Behind him loomed her nose, blasting what was left untouched by her mouth. Eyes of steel gray remained half-lidded, but were trained upon the speck of a man down below.

For but a minute, she remained still, fixated upon her petrified husband. Then, she began to descend.

Not a word escaped Andrew’s mouth, as he witnessed the mighty maw fall towards him, bringing the entire sky along with it. Wet, muggy air filled his every orifice, as he remained glued to the spot. His eyes widened with awe and fear, as his destiny drew close.

In the manner of an approaching avalanche, Andrew was engulfed by Caitlin’s lips. Saliva and flesh squelched, as the wet, heavy mass thrust him into the embrace of the pillow. A low, rumbling moan shook the world around him. Her mouth closed and opened, stretching and tensing the young man’s body.

A deluge of fresh saliva flowed forth, coating Andrew’s body in a layer of rank liquid. He had found himself adhered to Caitlin’s lips, and as she drew her head away, he was lifted up along. His hands shoved against the moist flesh, managing to free the rest of him. He landed with a wet slap against the now moist pillowcase.

Andrew was greeted with the sight of Caitlin’s mouth descending towards him once more. His arms rose in protest, as he shouted out, “h-hey, wha-“

Whatever he had to say, was lost in the smothering embrace of another kiss. Air became a rare luxury, and what he could intake radiated from within Caitlin’s mouth. Every protest he could utter was muffled, as he continued to be oppressed by unrequited, unconditional affection.

Caitlin’s passionate assault relented. Upon observing the warmth of her cheeks, and the intent within her glare, Andrew knew reprieve was only temporary. With her massive orifice hovering nearby, each word she whispered rattled the very terrain her husband lay upon, accompanied by sweltering gales that tossed his dark hair.

“And where do ya think you’re going?”

Her tone was saturated with mischief. Caitlin granted her husband no quarter, for once the last syllable slipped between her lips, she had set her luscious destroyers upon him once more. Slobbering pecks slathered Andrew, again and again, before she drew away.

At this point, Caitlin’s breath had hastened to a feverish pace. Her warmed cheeks were now absolutely flush with red. As her beloved gawked at the sight above, he could only whisper in the depths of his mind, it’s only morning, and already Cait’s this worked up! If this keeps up-.

He finally found several stutters he could utter, if only to delay the inevitable, “I was just- just-“

“-Just c’mere,” his wife cooed, as she resumed her morning make-out.

In-between forceful kisses, Caitlin exhaled in a fluster manner, “Oh fuck, I just wanna do this all day long.”

It was at this moment, at last, Andrew saw opportunity, “But Cait, it’s your birthday.”

His statement produced the desired effect, for Caitlin’s face retreated, granting him a few desperate breaths. Confusion was planted within her eyes. Andrew allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Relief, however, was only fleeting. “So what?” she countered, as desire supplanted any distraction that had lingered, “Can’t imagine a better way to celebrate it.”

From her maw, emerged a red, slimy beast that set itself upon Andrew’s puny form. Every inch of his inch-tall physique was licked. Up and down the tip of Caitlin’s tongue traveled, applying new coats of enzymatic sludge. At this point, he was fit to be a simple morsel, to be consumed without a second thought.

Such thoughts had crossed Caitlin’s infatuation-saturated mind, “Well … maybe one way.”

Her tongue was pulled back in, taking Andrew along with it. He flailed and fought, smashing his fists against the slithering organ. But, for all his strength, he could not defy his destination. Humid atmosphere clung to his skin, as he entered her gaping cavern. A row of imposing ivory hung overhead, teaming with strands of saliva. Light became scarce as he passed under, his wife’s breath overwhelming any sense he possessed.

Darkness overtook him once her lips sealed shut. Torrents of liquid sloshed around batting him within. Caitlin’s tongue directed him around the moist chamber, slapping him against the roof of her mouth, while rough little buds sampled his essence.

A low hum filled the room as the giantess continued to taste her husband’s embattled struggles. Her cheeks puffed out, as she mashed his puny form against their interiors. Bracing her elbows against the mattress, she turned over, coming to rest upon her back.

Meanwhile, her hands had taken ahold of the hem of her shirt. It was hiked up her torso, bunching up against the underside of her bosoms. With a grunt, she managed to free her breasts from their cloth containment, and they flopped lazily as a result.

Her neck bent down, as she brought her mouth over her own chest. Gathering a massive gob of saliva, she ejected its contents.

Andrew was sent flying, trapped within a large wad of phlegm. Even freed from the confines of Catlin’s swampy maw, her musky aroma still permeated every breath. As he attempted to find some sort of bearing, peering down, he saw a flesh-colored hill approach rapidly.

He smacked against the top of her breast, bouncing against the taut mound for good measure. The incline of the mammary, however, did not stop his motion. He tumbled down, picking up speed as the curve steepened. Andrew finally crashed against flat ground, grunting as the stiff plain of his wife’s stomach caught most of his momentum. He lay just underneath the imposing, towering form of her bosom, panting and spent. A trail of spit marked his volatile journey, ending in a still-substantial puddle that he lay in. But, his journey was far from over.

Caitlin’s torso began to lift. As Andrew witnessed the terrain tilt, his hands scrambled, seeking any sort of purchase. But, while the toned ridges of Caitlin’s abdomen provided significant nooks to trap himself in, her taut skin offered little grip. Thus, down his wife’s stomach, he began to slide.

Andrew bounded over massive dunes of muscle. He grunted as he slid past her belly button, despairing as his last hope of stopping his descent was taken away. The shadow of her hand, meanwhile, had passed overhead. It settled upon the band of her pants, lifting up the lustrous, navy nylon. A dark, forbidden forest was revealed, along with a fresh, pungent scent that wafted from her nethers.

Dark eyes widened, as his destination was revealed to him. His hands scrambled hopelessly as his descent hastened. The air had grown muggy once more, but the odor that had stained it was of a different nature. While pungent in its own right, it also stilled the muscles, and sapped the will. His wife’s own desire had been brought forth in grotesque, concrete form.

He crashed into a bushel of thick, hard threads. His momentum was stopped, thanks to his desperate gripping of the wiry hairs. Other follicles had helpfully wrapped around his chest and legs. Andrew gazed up. His form was cast in shadow, for a canopy of white cloth hung overhead. Faint, foul stains were a testament to its longevity of use, serving to trap in the heat that was radiating out from below.

The young man dared not look to what lay behind. There would only be darkness, and a hungry beast awaiting him.

Once the shock of his journey had been shaken off, he braced his feet against the fleshy, moist ground. Vulgar squelches marked his steps as he made his way back into the light.

He could barely behold his wife’s face, beyond her sculpted belly, and mammoth mounds. A mischievous, provocative smile was clearly plastered across it. Andrew grimaced at the sight, and soldiered on. He would not get far.

Blocking off the way were two fingers, index and middle, rapidly approaching his position. Andrew only had the opportunity to let out a squeak of protest, before being smashed by her titanic digits. He was thrust into the thick of her forest, and smothered into slimy skin.

Searing heat dampened his senses, all except one. No matter how hard he fought against her, something harder betrayed his noble intentions. Molten flesh surrounded and engulfed him, compelled by active fingers. He was rubbed across the swollen womanhood. Of its appearance, he could only guess, for the cloth of her panties, and the dark nylon of her shorts allowed no light. In his ears, the squelching of genitals, the flowing of its nectar, the thumping of organs, and distant howls of passion were ever-present.

It was not long before the lecherous lips gave way, and Andrew was forced within. The fluid that had coated him, both his own sweat and his wife’s phlegm were washed away. He was dunked in deluges of syrupy discharge, tasting and swallowing lots.

Outside the prison of loins, Caitlin had arched her back. The haze of morning had been banished, replaced with the sensation of her husband’s struggles within. Her fingers were furious at work, their rapid motion outlined in the confines of her shorts. Dark spots of moisture had begun to appear, spreading rapidly as her passion continued to mount.

Faster and faster her fingers raced, and deeper did they venture. Her mewls had mounted in volume and intensity. Pleasurable sensations inhibited coherent speech as she felt Andrew collide with the end of her cavern. And still, she persisted, her fingers smothering him against her deepest part, as she brought herself to the brink.

Finally, the threshold was crossed. What Andrew experienced was much like a calamitous cave in. Fleshy, swollen walls collapsed on him, burying his frail, pathetic form. An apocalyptic torrent of discharge rushed against him, flooding Caitlin’s cavern, while soaking every part of his with her essence.

Then, like a passing storm, the violence passed. The advancing genital flesh now receded, while pungent nectar carried Andrew’s exhausted form out like a calm river. Caitlin felt her muscles render to mush, as her torso fell back flat into her bed. A new layer of sweat coated her exposed skin, running in rivulets down her forehead, and soaking her bunched tank-top. Her shorts, meanwhile, had taken on a darker shade, absorbing all they could from within. A hand still remained, her fingers still buried deep into her loins. They caressed her husband gently, even as he still rode the current towards the opening.

With a wild, wide smile upon her face, Caitlin exclaimed, “Happy Fucking Birthday to me!”

Her trance was disrupted, when she heard a series of loud, booming raps on her door. The giantess nearly lept out of bed, letting out a sharp yelp.

From beyond the polyester entrance, the playful twang of Jackie exclaimed, “Happy Fucking Birthday indeed! Don’t enjoy yourself too much!”

“Jackie!” Caitlin exclaimed, her eyes nervously, guiltily darting around, “Fuck! Uh … don’t come in I’m getting ready! How did you even get in?”

“You gave me a house key just in case I needed to crash,” her friend exclaimed, “And I ain’t the only one here!”

Once Jackie’s bawdy statements had ended, a quaint wispy squeak followed, “Hi.”

Caitlin grunted, using her unrestrained hand to massage one of her temples, “Well, why are you even-“

“-Thank your hubby for this,” Jackie interjected, causing the silver-eyed titan to gaze down to where Andrew now resided, “We were gonna surprise you when you walked out, but, uh, it sounded like you were otherwise occupied.”

A crimson blush returned to her cheeks, for far different reasons, “How much did you hear?”

Her friend’s snicker soon followed, “Girl, these walls are as thin as paper mache. You should know, you built them.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Caitlin exclaimed, “Just, gimme a minute okay?”

There was a pause, before Jackie added on, “And say hi to Andy for me, wherever he is.”

A gale of laughter soon followed, causing Caitlin’s face to burn hotter than the sun. Grimacing, she looked down the expanse of her body, pulling up the waistline of her shorts and panties. Her crotch now lay coated in the juice of her efforts. Strands of fluid were trapped throughout follicles of pubic hair. As she began to retract her fingers, they too were coated in a shiny layer of moisture.

Resting upon the tips of her digits lay her husband, soaked in a far thicker layer of muck. Ropes of her sensuous syrup fell off as she extracted him from the canopy of her pants. Across her body he flew, retracing the trail he had so unwillingly travelled moments ago.

He was then brought before her face, while still stuck in a delicious deluge. Caitlin then brought her thumb against him, smushing him against her fingers. She then retracted the digit, enjoying the sight of her husband trapped in a strand of her discharge. He was toyed with this way for a few seconds, as her fingers were brought together, before being parted.

Once she stopped, Andrew took advantage, hacking out some of the pungent slime. Taking in the majesty of his wife’s exasperated face, he allowed himself to betray a warm smile.

“Well, surprise, happy birthday.”

“Heh, thanks,” Caitlin exhaled, making sure her husband was caught within the warm gust, “I’ll be honest, I was planning on just … uh … doing that all day.”

It was with great triumph, that she witnessed her husband blushing just the slightest, as he stammered, “That’s … interesting. I thought you were going to wait until tonight to make a pass.”

“Well, you weren’t giving me alotta chances the last week,” she said, her tone growing gruff, and just ever so slightly resentful.

Andrew objected, “Because it was going to be your birthday!”

He was brought even closer, laying mere inches from her mouth. Lips taller than he, parted, then soaked him with every syllable.

“By the way, I’m not finished with you big boy.”

Caitlin finally managed to roll out of bed. Planting her feet upon the carpet, she then set her husband besides them. He began soldiering under her bed, distressing as he stained the carpet with fluid that had still stuck on to him. Fortunately, he would have ample time to wash off every strand in the shower.

But, as for the giantess, a simpler routine would do. She stripped off her sweaty, grimy clothes, and left them in yet another catastrophic pile along the floor. Surveying the mass of discarded articles, she reached for a wrinkled pair of jeans, and a t-shirt whose logo had faded to the point of inconsequentiality.

Andrew emerged from his shower, pristine as always. He had decided upon a pair of pale, khaki pants, and a dark red collared shirt. Meeting up with his titanic wife, they had both decided upon meeting their visitors together.

The polyester door swung open. Caitlin’s from filled in the doorframe, along with her husband. He was barely visible to the naked eye, perched upon her shoulder.

Both were met with the smiling faces of Jackie and Angela. Two others were with them, although they too were hard to see, for they were of Andrew’s stature.

A chorus of voices, both big and small rang out, “Happy Birthday!”

Caitlin nodded in response, stating, “Sorry to keep you waiting, important business.”

Within Jackie’s massive palms, lay a cardboard circle, hosting a chocolate cake. The dessert was piled high, even one appropriated for the consumption of such titanic creatures. Swirls of light brown frosting coated the top and the sides. Buried within its crown stood six candles, all lit. The flames rushed and roared, resembling more of a massive pit fire, than a humble glow. Any significant differences were rendered miniscule due to the size of the girls.

The cake was presented before Caitlin. Her gray eyes were ignited with light as they beheld the confection. She admired the luster exuded from the frosting. A distinct, strong chocolate aroma wafted from the exterior, compelling her mouth to drool.

Her trance was momentarily broken by her friend, “Hey Birthday girl, make your wishes quick, these candles burn a lot quicker than the tiny sizes.”

From her shoulder, Andrew witness Caitlin intake a massive measure of air. Her generous chest puffed out as her lungs were filled to capacity. He tightened his grip upon the threads of her ratty t-shirt, once she unleashed a gale-force exhale. The storm of wind easily extinguished every flame. It even rustled the dreadlocks upon Jackie’s head, prompting her to grimace.

Embers and smoke smoldered from burning stumps, marking Caitlin’s triumph. She punctuated her act with a smile. On the side, Angela rewarded her with a small clap.

It was then, that Caitlin decided to address the two others that had accompanied her peers. They stood upon the counter, dots against its vast surface. Raising her arm, she gave them a small wave.

“Hey guys!” she greeted, “I guess you’ll have to keep Andy company, he’d get bored by all the girl talk.”

Andrew was plucked from her shoulder, before being brought towards the counter. Her hand hovered over its surface, casting a shadow that completely engulfed the other two. He was set down, stumbling as he did so, despite his wife’s caution. The colossal appendage then retreated, before Caitlin herself turned to converse with her friends.

The two approached him. One was of slight build, even shorter and skinner than Andrew. His mousy, boyish face was nearly obscured with curly, brilliant platinum-blonde hair. Peeking out from the bangs were two bright, clear blue eyes. The eyes themselves appeared to dance everywhere, except in direct contact with Andrew’s own.

The other was of stockier build, and easily the tallest of the three. His head was completely bald, although the stumps of his scalp were apparent. Underneath a tight white t-shirt, it was clear his body was well taken care of. A physique, toned and defined, was a testament of that. His own eyes possessed an unnatural focus that lingered upon Andrew for far too long.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it,” Andrew began, dusting off his own collared shirt.

A mischievous smile was flashed to the bald man, “Angie giving you some air out of your golden cage, eh Brando?”

For but a moment, Brando was lost in thought, allowing himself a small smile. He returned to Earth, addressing his inquisitor, “I can leave of my own accord, even though most of the time, I do not wish it. It appears you were able to acquire some quality time earlier this morning. By the sound of your wife’s moans, it must have been a-“

“-Yeah yeah,” Andrew dismissed, far too quickly, “I know, our walls are a bit thin, I get it.”

“You do not have to worry about me requesting to witness you making love to your wife,” Brando continued on, failing to notice the growing discomfort of his two peers, “I have moved on such desires. Angela is wonderfully domineering, and I enjoy being humil-“

“Nice weather we’re having, aren’t we?” Andrew interrupted, forcing a nervous grin, much to the confusion of Brando. He turned to his smaller counterpart, “I .. uh … mean writing going well?”

“Indeed,” the curious man nodded, not missing one beat, “I have finished the rough draft of my third book. I began with a dark and cynical tone, which I intend to alleviate now. I often feel that triumph over such hopeless odds increases elation.”

“As long as it’s believable.”

“Indeed,” Brando nodded. His head then turned sharply, surprising his mousey compatriot, who almost let out a squeak.

“Nathaniel, you have been most wonderfully instructive in critiquing my work,” he stated, “Do you agree with the direction I’ve proposed?”

Silence permeated between the three men. The room was still filled with the din of feminine conversation, but for all intents and purposes, the counter had gone quiet.

The man named Nathaniel continued to avert his eyes. His skinny knees, hidden behind wrinkled, loose denim shorts, trembled. In a voice that was indistinguishable from a whisper, he stuttered, “S-sure.”

“Marvelous,” Brando exclaimed, before adding on, “I also wish to congratulate you on getting your wife pregnant, I myself find such a task to be most arduous.”

Nathan’s pale complexion grew as red as a beet in an instant.

Andrew, on the other hand, grew a shade of ghostly white, “Whoa, wait, what? You got a bun in the oven?”

His dark eyes grew even darker, as he lamented, “Cait and I … well … we’ve been giving as good as we’ve got. Heck, I personally though we’ve been going a bit too fast, it’s kinda hard to stop a rolling stone if you get my meaning.”

An indistinguishable array of noises were ejected from the mousy man’s mouth, “ I … uh … we … uh.”

“We don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Andrew assured, attempting to maintain a comforting posture.

“I am most intrigued,” Brando declared, much to Andrew’s chagrin. He was treated to an icy, glare, but regarded such a gesture as beneath him.

Still, Nathan persisted, his mouth quaking as he explained, “It just … kinda happened .. you know … the usual..”

The man appeared to sink into himself, as the words trailed off. Not a sound exited, even if his audience, in particular, Brando, were held captive.

He was saved when the loud brash voice of Caitlin, with the grace of a rampaging bull, stormed the kitchen, “NO FUCKING WAY!”

“Yep,” bragged Jackie, straightening her posture, “I’m due with my baby’s baby!”

Caitlin felt her lips draw into a pout. Her head bent down, allowing greasy bangs to almost cover her eyes. Jackie immediately abandoned her jovial manner, as she placed a hand upon her friend’s shoulder. Angela, meanwhile, cast aside her eyes, while pulling up her nails to nibble on them.

“Hey, birthday girl, you alright?” Jackie inquired.

“Wha-? No! No problem,” Caitlin dismissed, brushing aside her friend’s arm, before throwing on a cocky grin, “I’ve got a whole day o’ celebrations! Heh…”

Still, lingering disturbances plagued the back of her mind. A hand was brought up, nervously scratching and ruffling her hair.

…

The day soon progressed into noon. Cake was not the only item Jackie and Angela had brought with them. Both had hijacked Caitlin’s refrigerator, storing two massive cuts of belly pork, extracted from a pig of appropriate size. The fatty meat was brought out at an appropriate time.

Outside, was where the party had moved. The meat was thrown upon a charcoal grill, with flames and heat sufficient enough to resemble a small forest fire.  Marinade sizzled as the pork continued to cook, throwing of sweet, savory smoky aromas that wet the mouth and provoked the appetite. Manning the grill was Jackie, keeping a trained eye upon it, lest the bellies char and burn.

Caitlin and Angela were conversing, their feet treading upon the dirt field. The crude terrain made up the entirety of Caitlin’s backyard, a small lot, at least for her. Where her property ended was easily marked by the line of trees which belonged to a rather thick forest. Of course, to people her size, the forest was more comparable to thick bushels to wade through. There was an opening within the border of trees, which led to the path she had taken to work daily.

The gray-eyed woman cast a wistful glare at her friend standing in a plume of smoke. As she did this, she could not help but sigh, “Jackie becoming a momma. Damn. I have to say, she’s probably the best out of us to be one.”

Her gaze veered to Angela, “No offense to you.”

“None taken,” Angela assured, a bright expression upon her face, “I much prefer to take things slowly anyways.”

Her hands upon her hips, Caitlin could not help but counter, “But if ya go too slow, sometimes you come to a stop, and it’s hard to get started again.”

The blonde giantess nodded, “Ohhhh, I see. My little Brando has his work cut out for him then!”

A lecherous expression found her way upon her frail face. Thin, spindly hands rubbed together, as schemes within schemes formed within her mind.

“Sorry I said anything,” Caitlin huffed, rolling her eyes.

Meanwhile, the three men had gathered underneath the shade upon a ledge near the entrance to the backyard. On the wooden surface they sat, playing a game of cards. An array of them lay between the three, while each held an additional two. Occasionally, they would glance at one another. While Andrew and Brando managed to maintain an air of neutrality, Nathan’s expression changed drastically with each card gathered or overturned.

The boyish man placed his cards upon the ground, uttering his resignation, “F-fold.”

Andrew lifted a brow, “You sure? The pot’s not that big.”

“I‘m alright,” Nathan reassured.

“A slow, sensuous approach is often best,” Brando agreed, his eyes glued upon his cards.

“But in poker,” Andrew argued, “you gotta take risks. I’m raising five.”

From a crisply organized stack of chips at his side, Andrew retrieved one, and threw it into the center.

Upon observing this action, Brando gathered all of his, declaring, “All in.”

“Nice show of moderation,” snarked Andrew, eyeing his pile once more.

Brando shrugged in response, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Of course ya do-”

Andrew’s objection was cut-off the moment he realized the presence of another close by. While their area was well shaded, he could not help but perceive their area as being cast in an even greater shadow. As he turned, he was met by a vast wall of cloth, belonging to an even greater t-shirt. As he peered up, his eyes found the beaming face of Jackie.

Upon realizing she was nearby, Nathan gave a small wave, a gesture that elicited a squeal of joy from the giantess.

“‘Scuse me,“ she announced, her voice rattling the playing cards on the ground, “I need to borrow the groom of the lucky lady.”

“I see,” Andrew said, he turned to the other two, “You guys will have to go without me.”

The fire within the grill began to die down, as the meat grew tender and glistening. While Jackie would return to check it occasionally, Andrew had all but disappeared. Caitlin continued to be occupied with conversation, mostly with Angela, but would occasionally exchange barbs with Jackie.

Once at least an hour had passed, Jackie had disappeared within the house, before emerging with a birthday cake, sans the candles. There were still holes within the frosting, indicating where the wax structures had been planted. One of the swirls of frosting on the top had noticeably lost its shape. It was part of a sector that had already been cut through.

Through the din of conversation, both great and small, Jackie’s obnoxious attempt to clear her throat summoned everyone’s consideration.

“May I have y’all’s attention!” she bellowed, her voice ringing across the entire neighborhood, “We’re having dessert first! I’ve got the birthday girl’s slice already cut for her!”

Caitlin gave a hearty fist pump, “Aw yeah! Love this order!”

“It’s about half an hour before our pork bellies are ready for our bellies,” the dark-skinned giantess announced, “I figure some sugar ought to pass the time.”

“Can’t argue with that logic!” Caitlin shouted with glee, as she eagerly approached her confection-bearing friend.

Upon a paper plate, the pre-sliced piece of cake was dished. Caitlin’s eyes widened, admiring four layers of night-shaded cake, divided every so neatly with a slab of light brown frosting. The slice Jackie had reserved for her was thick enough to stand upright. The birthday girl had to fight back a dribble that found its way upon the corner of her mouth.

There was great care in how the cake was handled. Jackie treated the dessert as if it were a fragile chandelier, fearing any decisive movement would shatter its structure. She moved as in slow motion, a nervous expression upon her face. Even as she delivered the confection to Caitlin, she exercised the utmost caution.

“Hey Jackie, it’s cake, not the hope diamond,” Caitlin growled, tapping her foot against the dirt ground.

“Just makin’ sure you’re gettin’ a perfect slice big girl!” Jackie responded.

Into her hands, the plate was delivered. Jackie’s arm had not even fully extended before her offering was swiped clean from her hands. Making sure to grab a disposable fork, Caitlin licked her lips, provoking a concerned glance from her friend.

But, before she could even sink her utensil into the tender confection, the deflated mound of frosting began to move. Slowly, it began to unravel, chunks of buttercream falling apart and scattering upon the surface of the top. A confused look crossed Caitlin’s face, her fork suspended in the air as she remained mesmerized by the strange phenomenon occurring upon her slice of cake.

“The hel-”

From it, emerged a figure in the shape of a man. His form was completely slathered in brown, yet his jet-black hair still remained visible. Even his frosting slathered face betrayed a dark, sharp glare that could have only belonged to one.

In a low voice, as he freed himself from his sweet, creamy prison, he sang, “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Caitlin, Happy Birthday to you! And many mooooree.”

Caitlin had entered a trance as her husband serenaded her. The drool she had held back, finally dribbled down the corner of her mouth. Once he had concluded, she punctuated his song most appropriately, “Fuck, I guess birthday wishes do come true!”

With another lick of her lips, her fork scooped up the mound of frosting Andrew lay within. He was brought to her mouth. The scent of chocolate was immediately blown away by his wife’s rank exhales. As he beheld the hungry look within her eyes, he could only squeak out, “Uhhh ….  Cait?”

A low chuckle rumbled through the monstrous maw before him, “Ya know, even though I like this cake, it’s just a tad too sweet.” Caitlin declared, her mouth drawing ever closer to him, “I figure a little salt will go a long way.”

Letting out a defeated sigh, Andrew contemplated aloud, “I did not think this thro-”

The mound of frosting was brought into her mouth. She closed her lips, but brought the fork out, cleaning it of every ounce of buttercream. Her tongue lapped up the sweet confectionery, while pinning the salty piece of meat that had complemented it against the roof of her mouth. As the sugary substance began to dissolve away, only the bitter, salty bouquet of her husband remained, a taste she was all too familiar with. It was also a taste she far preferred.

Upon witnessing this, Jackie could only object, “Hey girl, leave some room for lunch!”

All gathered eventually enjoyed their own pieces of cake. Both Caitlin and Jackie had to restrain Angela from inflicting a far more riskier maneuver upon Brando.

Pork belly was then consumed, alongside potato salad and cobbed corn. While the other two girls enjoyed a balanced sampling of all dishes, Caitlin notoriously had piled on the belly. She had forgone dainty utensils to enjoy the piece of meat, preferring to tear through using her hands, before washing it down with adjunct-laden beer.

All husbands managed to grab their fair share. Andrew, cleaned and groomed from his earlier stunt, had notably gone vegetable heavy, almost forgoing the pork belly entirely.

Food and idle conversation began to sink, along with the sun. The sky had taken on an evening glow. Both Jackie and Angela had gathered their belongings, and their husbands, and were now on their way upon the trodden path. Farewells were said, the longest being a gigantic bear hug exchanged between Caitlin and Jackie.

Eventually, Caitlin, and Andrew, perched on her shoulder, waved off the departing girls. Both titans towered over the surrounding structures, as they trod upon the path that had taken them there. Their stomps were felt throughout the neighborhood as they made their exit.

As the forms of Jackie and Angela grew distant and faint, Caitlin began making her way back to the house. Her gaze veered to the mite seated on her vast shoulder. Her mouth then opened wide, allowing a heavy yawn to lumber through. Andrew began to sweat, for his surrounding environment had turned into a muggy swamp for the duration.

Upon her mammoth exhale passing, Caitlin admitted, “I may be a taaad tired from that party.”

Andrew twiddled his thumbs, as he provocatively speculated, “I guess the reckoning is postponed.”

Caitlin smirked, “Yeah, till tomorrow morning big boy.”

“Tomorrow’s a wor…” Andrew began to object, then froze mid-sentence, realization crossing his mind.

“Wait,” he retracted, “You took the day off for your birthday, and tomorrow’s Sa-”

His face was darkened with a sullen, despondent look.

“You really are set on this, are you?”

Caitlin had made it back to the entrance of her house, but lingered outside. Andrew was hastily grabbed from her shoulder, and placed upon one of the ledges. As her husband gathered himself, he gulped at the olympian torso that towered over him.  To one side, lay her hand, spread out, and preventing escape. It allowed Caitlin to lean over him, becoming his sky, his only sanctuary.

“Andy,” she growled, her eyes still host to her fearsome hunger, “Have you ever considered that fact that you’re fucking hot?”

Andrew nearly lost his balance, in danger of falling over the edge, “Wait - hold on, don’t just-”

“’What’?” Caitlin asserted, her face looming ever closer, as her voice became more aggressive, “Don’t just ‘what’, tell the truth?”

Her other hand slapped down, causing Andrew to leap. He had to make a conscious effort to maintain his position, for while the ledge he stood on was large, considering his size, there was a danger he could lose his way.

Yet still, he was pounded with his wife’s assertions, “Because you’re the hottest thing on the fucking planet. And I’m going to make full use of that, one way or another.”

Andrew quickly averted his gaze, if only to hide his crimson-tinged face.

“Gee … I can’t …”

He was retrieved from the ledge, before he had a chance to fall off. In front of her eyes, he dangled, taking in the sum of his wife’s passion, so clearly and blatantly stewing within her silvery orbs.

She drew him in for a quick kiss, her last in a day full of them. Even a swift, light peck, managed to coat Andrew’s exterior.

“I’ll let you stew in that for tonight,” she said, before venturing inside.

…

Light was becoming rare. The pathway before Angela and Jackie was illuminated with ground level lights, betraying any unfortunate who would venture upon it.

Jackie had secured Nathan within her pockets, protecting the frail, young man from the billowing night winds. Brando, meanwhile, had found himself abreast of the situation.

Upon the dark giantess’s fingers swung a thin metal chain, looping through a small golden key. The token was playfully spun a few times, before being stored into her jean pocket.

The wind was nearly knocked from Jackie, for she had found herself colliding with someone. It was another of her size, although the construction worker possessed a clear head advantage over the newcomer.

A dark hoodie covered the torso and obscured the face of the giantess. However, despite enduring through such a collision, the woman appeared none to disturbed with it.

Still, Jackie apologized, “Sorry, ‘scuse me, tunnel-vision you know?”

“Darling,” reassured the giantess, her voice kind, yet almost posh, “don’t you worry about a thing. It is hard to see what’s right in front of me at this time of day.”

“Good day madam,” Angela said, as both her and Jackie began to shuffle off.

From the hood of the unknown giantess, a few strands of luscious hair came loose, hanging down in front of her face. As she gazed up, lilac eyes glared at the only comparable structure within the neighborhood.

From a pocket that lay at the front of her hoodie, she produced Jackie’s house key, dangling it by the chain. Lips painted blood-red twisted into a grin.

Murmuring words at a volume, even at her size, she could only hear, she declared, “I hope your friend won’t be missing this. After all, it isn’t nice to misplace what belongs to someone else.”

Once she witnessed the last traces of light within Caitlin’s residence go out, the crimson-headed giantess began her approach.

The giantess was aroused from sleep. She let out a satisfied exhale, as she indulged in the sensation of her torso sinking into the modest comfort of her mattress.

Once the veil of morning left her eyes, a warm blush began to flush her cheeks. A promise, made the day before, her birthday, now occupied her mind. Grunting, her head rotated carefully, lest her cheek fell upon her sleeping husband.

Her eyes gazed upon the area of pillow next to her. A gasp immediately left her mouth.

Andrew was nowhere to be found.

Frantic breath took hold of her, as she scanned down the length of her body. Within the vast valley of cleavage, he was not present. Nor, was he resting upon the chiseled plain of her belly. Caitlin’s hips gyrated ever so slightly, yet the telltale sensation of Andrew’s presence was absent. He was neither plastered against her nethers, nor was he stuck within the depths of her buttocks.

She looked to the nightstand, and surveyed the mattress, yet his miniscule form did not register. A gruff bellow echoed across the room, and elicited no response. Caitlin lent a careful ear against the back wall, but could not detect her husband’s occupying his personal bathroom.

Just as she was about to sit up, her eyes fell upon a curious object, an object she had missed earlier. It was colored nearly the same shade as the bedsheets, lying flat upon the mattress. A sheet of paper rested, it’s mere presence foreboding. To her, it was the size of a small post-it. Elegant cursive black ink was scribbled upon its quaint, yet insulting plain.

“As once, you have taken what was mine, now I have taken what was yours. Come alone if you wish to reclaim it.

- Artemis”

Her hands trembled mightily. Caitlin’s tanned complexion turned a ghastly pale. Frantically, she flipped the small scribe of despair over. Silver eyes turned the shade of steel, while her sullen brow furrowed, memorizing an address scribbled in the same extravagant matter.

Slowly, the hand that held the note began to close around it. A crinkle was heard, as the paper was crushed within her clenched fist.

Caitlin lumbered into the kitchen. A pit formed within her stomach, something that could not be satisfied with food nor drink. Upon the adjacent wall lay a phone, stuck in its holster. A hand reached for it, before hesitating. Murmurs traveled with each breath, as she scrutinized the device.

The sky was overcast. A thick smattering of rain pelted the rooftops of all residences in the neighborhood. From the largest house, emerged Caitlin, dressed in a black tanktop and navy blue jeans. Brown shoes heavily thudded against the ground, disturbing the nearby neighbors.

She glared at the pathway that carved through the surrounding forest. This is my problem, no need to drag anyone else into this.

The rain intensified, yet, upon Caitlin, it felt akin to a heavy mist. Moisture had begun to coagulate upon her exposed skin, while her tank top was beginning to get wet. She stared into the heavens as they continued to cry, wondering if there would ever be a day when the clouds would part.

Her form cast a long shadow over the neighborhood, even though no sun was visible. As she continued to be pelted, her mind was transported. It was as if the waters themselves were a portal in which memories were evoked, crystal clear

…

Asphalt was as black as the night sky, reflectively slick with moisture. A vehicle, shining the way with dull, yellow-tinted lights raced through the water recklessly, parting waves upon waves of precipitation.

Despite the floodgates of heaven bursting wide open, the slick of rain did not add luster to the car’s faded, almost rusted hull. In fact, it appeared the downpour would wash away the vehicle’s frame entirely.

The young man within manned the wheel with an almost unnatural calm. Dark eyes glared at the barely visible road ahead. While the automobile he commandeered was a weathered mess, he himself dressed cleanly. His white work shirt was immaculate and lacking wrinkles. Thick, black hair was slicked back in a long mullet. Nary a strand impeded his young, yet sharply angled face.

Upon reaching an intersection, he took a sharp turn to the left. This maneuver sent a massive wave of water crashing upon the asphalt. The young man felt his car skid, before regaining traction. As his vehicle was thrust upon the new street, he flew by a massive sign. Upon it, in bold font, read “Warning: Giantess Construction Zone”.

Unfortunately, not a letter was regarded by his focused eyes.

 …

While the downpour persisted, it spared nothing within its domain. A vast construction site was soaked by falling waters. Vast plains of dirt and rubble formed a grubby paste that enveloped shoes and hugged tires. Piles of supplies, from steel beams and containers of concrete lay covered in vast tarps. Not even a skeleton of a building was present. Instead, several vast trenches, preludes to foundations, had begun to fill with muddy liquid.

Various vehicles lay unoccupied, large and small. Even the heavy duty tread upon their tires lay caked in a fresh coat of mud. In such conditions, no worker could be seen scuttling about the muck.

At least, no quaint construction worker of average stature was present at the soggy site. Two massive shapes, each large enough to be a match for a decent sized office building, lumbered through. Each step sent tremors through the ground, disturbing rocks and shaking steel.

Both titans wore bright orange vests, indicating their occupation. The reflective material was still obscured by the storm. One was of dark complexion, sporting a jacket underneath her vest, and heavy denim pants. The other was of a lighter tone, although her skin was clearly the beneficiary of plentiful sun. And indeed, much of her skin was visible, for underneath her vest, she wore a simple white tank top. They plodded and plowed in heavy boots with vast treading. Every footfall left its mark, able to lay host to scores of men.

A massive tarp was carried between the two. The dark of the night concealed its blue shade. It was thrown over a dig site that had just begun to flood. Material flapped and flew, as each titan struggled to pin it down.

As they secured the tarp to the ground, one of the titans began to lament. Her voice was colored by a distinctive twang, as she shouted to her partner, “Girl, you should have not volunteered us for this! We could’ve waited for it to dry!”

“They’re doubling our pay for overtime Jackie!” The other replied, her own voice low and gruff, yet still distinctly feminine, “Besides, the sooner we get this done, the better!”

“You can say that again!” Jackie replied.

In the distance, there was the sound of an old motor huffing and puffing. A small stream of water trailed incandescent light. The old vehicle continued to speed down the back road. Its tires ran over asphalt of degrading quality. The young man within began to jitter in his seat as the vehicle’s suspension struggled to compensate for all the dips and bumps it rode over.

Dark eyes peered around in concern and confusion. There was little to recognize in the surrounding forest and the vast swathes of dug up terrain.

Just smoldering beneath all attention, lay the quiet, yet powerful rumbles of the two titans that thundered about nearby.

His dull headlights caught the reflection of a rather large puddle rapidly approaching. His eyes widened, as a foot fell upon the brakes. A loud screech of slipping rubber pierced the night, while the car struggled to slow its velocity. The effort proved futile, and the clunker continued to barrel at a speed that still sent water to the wayside.

Once the vehicle hit the puddle, its tires were decoupled from the underlying asphalt. Spindly hands took control of the steering wheel, but to no avail. Slowly but surely, the automobile had begun to veer in a vector off the road.

Suspect asphalt turned to chunky gravel and thick mud. The young man felt his seat rock with an intensity that nearly sent his head slamming into the hood of his car. He still saw the outside, whether it be the debris-stained ground, or the forest beyond, pass by at an alarming rate.

The car came to a sudden stop. There was a sickening crunch, as the vehicle lurched forward. The man was thrown face first into an airbag, his seat-belt working to restrain his spindly form.

Slowly, he released himself from the puffy safety measure. Beyond the windshield, his eyes strained to pierce the darkness. There were no signs of smoke and fire, while the steady hum of an idle engine quivered the dashboard.

Shaking his head, feeling no worse for wear, he took to action. His hand grasped the transmission, shifting the clunker into reverse. Not a single inch was gained by this maneuver.

He stepped upon the accelerator, hearing the roar and grunt of pistons. Underneath, wheels spun and sputtered, kicking up mud and dirt in the manner of a filthy fountain. Yet, for all the strain he had tasked the engine, all effort netted him no progress.

The man was jostled in his seat once more. It was as if a massive asteroid had struck the earth, for the tremor was far too short and succinct to originate from shifting tectonics. For a second lay stillness, before he was shaken once more by another thunderous thump.

These tremors did not dissipate after time. In fact, their effect, and the deep, booming percussive sound than accompanied, only intensified.

On the driver’s side, he directed his view. Filling in the window was a large shape, in the form of a boot. He had to crane his neck to even perceive the top. He witnessed it lift off from the ground, trailing a stream of mud and water in a catastrophic downpour. It then fell, sending a shockwave that shook his vehicle’s fragile frame.

Turning back, he slammed upon the accelerator once more. The hood of the car grew hot as its engine worked. Mud sprayed out back as tires spun, yet their treads found no purchase.

Another step impacted the ground. He could only behold the foot of the boot, for the ankle of the approaching appendage lay far beyond sight. In desperation, he jammed forth the transmission, but reversing direction did not jostle the automobile loose. Instead, the tires sunk even deeper into the ditch.

As he was rattled by another step, which landed a few yards away, the man sprang into action. His hands released the steering wheel, grabbing for the door handle. The boot nearby no longer appeared as massively upscaled footwear, but as a great dark wall. Even its toe towered above him and his vehicle.

The door didn’t budge. Panic set in, as knuckles grew white, and his brow labored in sweat. A keen eye caught the lock all the way down. In a manner like a striking snake, he struck the driver’s side controls. The lock released, and with it, so did the door. As he fell out, up above, the tread of the offending boot loomed over. If it were possible, it could have been his entire sky.

On all fours he scrambled as the foot continued to fall. By instinct, he dived forwards, sliding upon the muddy ground, taking a face-full of gunk. He prayed that his momentum would have carried him far enough.

The massive monolith fell upon the ground. Mud caked and compressed into the treads. Metal was bent and flattened. Glass shattered and sprayed out, although it was easily contained within the developing footprint. The man saw the still-illuminated headlights of the car immediately blink out, as they were consumed by the falling tread.

He was blown back a couple of feet once the full weight of the boot settled down. There was an unmistakable crunch, as his car was reduced to a flattened plain of scrap metal and upholstery.

Time stopped, nothing but the sight of that gigantic boot in his eyes and on his mind. Slowly, his eyes climbed up, beholding a domineering calf that bulged out in the manner of a small hill. The massive pillar expanded even further into a thigh, powerful enough to hold up the entire sky.

He was a bug, caught in the path of something colossal.

From up above, the voice of the giant boomed like thunder trailing a lightning strike, “Oh shit! I think I stepped on something.”

Her proclamation was responded to by another, whose tone rang with the same gargantuan qualities, “What, a large chunka gravel?”

The massive boot was lifted. It was as if a house had decided to take flight. Plastered underneath its mass were the remains of his car. The vehicle was unrecognizable. It had lost one dimension, and was now a sheet of crinkled metal, adhering to the giant’s boots like a piece of foil.

Turning over the boot, silver eyes had begun to inspect its tread.

“Crap!” she exclaimed “I crushed a car!”

“Shoot,” the other giant responded, her voice tainted with foreboding anticipation, “Was there someone in it?”

The boot rested upon a bended knee, as the giantess began to scrutinize the rather pathetic wreckage. While the faint light of night allowed her to discern the splatter of various chemicals and oils, none of these ran red. Despite the lack of morbid evidence, her breath was still heavy and tight.

Meanwhile, the young man had been shaken back into action. He had hoisted himself upon his feet, although his stance proved rather tenuous. He remained for a moment, fixated upon the massive crater that the boot, and his car once occupied. His eyes then darted around, racing wildly around the construction site, before settling upon the giant’s other foot.

While the grounded boot still loomed large, it appeared an eternity away. Nevertheless, he broke out into a sprint. With reckless abandon, he charged the fantastic foot, fit enough for him to pay a mortgage for. As he approached, the sheer height of it proved enough to tower over him. Even the lining of the boot’s bottom was nearly twice his height.

Still, he had made it to the boot’s domain. With a balled fist, he rapped it against its leathery, stiff material.

To the heavens, his small voice shouted, “Ma’am! Ma’am!”

The colossus grew still. Her head, but a shadow cast against a vast canvas of clouds, shifted. Though his eyes could not see, he knew that she was looking directly at him.

As she peered down, the moment she felt the smallest of smallest taps against her boot, her breath ceased. Her gaze consumed the man, nothing but a miniscule speck, braced against the mighty treads that sunk into mud. An invisible exhale passed through her chest, loosening the muscles, and causing her shoulders to sink.

For a moment, she regarded the flattened wreck stuck against her foot.

“Uh, sir,” she began, “I’m guessing this was your car?”

Even in the pattering of rain, she was able to pick out his voice, quainter than a whisper, lighter than a feather. Yet, there was a recognizable weight to it, a weight only a man could have carried.

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m so sorry!” stormed the voice above, degrading into a stutter, “I wasn’t even … I can-”

“I suppose it isn’t the worst thing.” he sighed, although there was a slight unease within his own tone, “That hunk of metal was going to fall apart every day.”

As he continued to ramble, the man began to regard the mud both of them sunk into, “I’d just wanted to see how far I could take it.”

The gigantic worker swallowed down a lump that had stuck itself in her throat. “D-do you need any help, I could take you home ya know… “ she offered, “if you’re not afraid of heights.”

He gazed up, losing what semblance of breath he possessed, straining to even see where this behemoth ended. Her legs were thicker than sequoias, more comparable to buildings themselves, made of muscle, bone, blood and denim. And, only in darkness, could he catch the outline of a massive, full torso that sported curves of brawn that only belonged to the strongest of athletes.

He realized that his gaping mouth was catching some of the rain that dripped from her towering form. Shaking his head, he inquired, “Don’t you guys have designated pathways or something? I don’t think my apartment’s in that jurisdiction. Don’t bother, I’ll just call a taxi or something.”

“Well, maybe you could crash at my place.” she sheepishly suggested, “You know, not waste any money on some stranger to take ya home?”

For the first time that night, a smirk crossed his face, “And instead, stay at a stranger’s home?”

Like a thunder-strike from the clouds themselves, he heard a gasp, “C’mon, I- uh.”

Spindly hands were placed upon his hips. His shoulders, already weighed down from the wet clothing that clung to his skin in the most irritating manner, sunk in resignation.

“Might as well.”

The other titan flashed her friend a smile that could have illuminated the night sky for but a moment. Silver eyes rolled in their sockets, before she bent down.

Darkness drew ever closer, as the man witnessed this leviathan of a woman bend down to pick him up. Incomprehensible pillars of leg bent at the knee. Nothing else could compare. No machine or animal, both real and imagined, were as immense, yet could move with such monstrous ease. A hand the size of a house hovered directly above him. Each finger was extended, and as they drew ever closer, he began to realize, that each digit easily outclassed him.

In fact, he was confident he could not be compared to a single segment.

The hand turned over, and set itself on the ground. He had to grasp the palm, for simply stepping upon this fleshy platform would not suffice. The hand led to a wrist, then an arm that doubled his height, if not more.

As he walked upon the fleshy platform, his eyes widened at the amount of room he had to maneuver. His feet traced over the uneven terrain, as flesh rolled and sunk into various folds and wrinkles upon her palm. He was stent stumbling towards the center, as her hand curled, and he was hoisted into the heavens.

His gut dropped, while his body was assaulted with a downpour of spraying water and wind. On his back he was forced, not daring to even resist the invisible hand pressing him against the most visible one.

Finally, the hand ceased his ascent. From beyond the perch, he was faced with an immense specter. A face hovered above, cast in darkness. Yet, even in the rain, he could feel the hot, heavy breath of the giantess on his skin. Her gaze weighed down upon him, stilling his limbs and straining his shoulders.

He averted his own eyes, but to his regret, had the displeasure of looking down. Hundreds of feet in the air he was kept. The landscape of pebbles, mud, debris and ditches, was now a simple plain, a distant tapestry.

“Dang, I might wanna revise my statement about heights.” he commented to himself.

This comment, however, did not go unnoticed. “I can set you down if you want!” the titaness offered. He felt the world begin to sink.

“Don’t worry,” he refuted, “I can take it.”

Pillars of shadow rose. Fingers towered as dark spires, curling over in a constricting canopy. The giantess bent at the knee, taking a look at the incriminating wreck still stuck to her boot. With her unoccupied hand, she peeled off what was left of it, along with a great quantity of mud.

In the rain, she began to make her way home. Each footfall sent rumbles, and waves of water into adjacent areas. Soon enough, the colossus disappeared into the night.

Jackie placed her hands upon her hips, giving a most discontented, betrayed look at the unfinished tarp.

…

The young man was brought to an array of duplexes. While they loomed as large as downtown offices, compared to the titan that had him in her grasp, the buildings appeared almost insufficient.

Through a gray door she stomped. The hinges upon the entrance creaked as it was swung open. Massive steps drummed against a hard, hollow floor. A switch was flipped, and a florescent emplacement hanging from the ceiling flickered to life. Sterile white light washed the interior.

Dark eyes blinked, as he peered beyond his encampment upon the giantess’s hand. Were it not for the immense scale, the atrium he had entered would have resembled a dingy, one-room apartment. There was a narrow cot on one side, made of ratty gray material, threaded with something of unknown origin. A pale, paneled floor was quite nearly concealed with an abundance of piled articles. Tank tops, jeans, shorts, and even underwear were strewn across the expanse. All possessed an off-color, and they taunted his nose with a rank, stale scent.

Tearing his eyes away from the mess, he turned to the other side of the room. There lay a simple two-burner stove. It was impossible to know its original color, for the surface was peppered with a technicolor array of stains, wrapping around elements, and dribbling down the front. Several pots and pans were stacked upon it, and in the simple sink that did not even possess the benefit of a cabinet to hide its plumbing.

His gaze veered back to his transport. Her features were illuminated in light, and his breath stilled. She was young, for the skin on her face was unblemished, save for a smattering of freckles. Her hair was dark, matted, and fell over her forehead in thick ropes. Water and something else ran down in rivulets down a fair, yet tanned complexion.

Upon her cheeks, a warm reddening was beginning to manifest. Her eyes of steel had been surveying her modest abode, paying special attention to the floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” she sheepishly apologized, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” the man dismissed, although devoting some of his attention to count exactly how many articles this behemoth left in her wake “I think there’s enough room for both of us.”

She stole another look at the mite stuck in her palm. In light, he had been revealed. His skin was of a pale, delicate sheen, as if it had been crafted by a reputable jeweler, although he had been stained by mud. Luscious, jet-black hair ran tantalizingly over his head. Some locks even flew in his face. His face, though a crumb to her, still captured her vision.

For some reason, getting a good look at him had caused her difficulty of breath, forcing her own heart to hasten its work.

“You’ve been a cool cucumber about this,” she commented, avoiding eye contact. Her other hand unfurled, revealing the muddy slab that contained what was left of his car. “Imagine if you were still in there...”

“No sense in freaking out about this and making a bad situation worse,” dismissed the man, even as he laid a nervous eye upon the annihilated remains.

The giantess lumbered towards a small table, positioned a short distance away from her stove. While to the man, it appeared as a vast surface, for the colossus that carried him, it was barely fit for her to set a dinner plate upon it. It was made from a white material, or at least, it used to be white. Various stains were splashed upon its canvas, resembling a modern masterpiece.

He was set upon the table, tumbling down the folds and curves of her palm. A grunt escaped his mouth, once he collided with the hard surface. Walking proved difficult, for there was a slightly sticky quality to the ground he now found himself on.

Gazing upward, the man nearly fell over, witnessing the titan loom overhead. Her stature was sufficient enough to block out the overhead light. His eyes were level with her waist, and he struggled to tear them away from the darkened, moist denim valley that could have served as an express way tunnel for his now expired vehicle.

With a crack and a splat, said vehicle was plopped ceremoniously behind him. Now, seeing the wreckage under the full unforgiving light, it bore no resemblance to its functioning form. Mud caked and clung to every crevice. There were no signs of foggy headlights or taillights. In some ways, the car’s current state was not far removed in quality than what it was before.

“You wanna chow on anything?” her voice thundered down from above. Distance had added a deep echo to her already powerful timbre, “Food for us gals doesn’t exactly break down the same with you, but it’ll be something in your stomach.”

“I don’t mind going to bed on an empty stomach.” he refused, “Heck, it’s good for you.”

“Suit yourself.”

She had reached a refrigerator near the far side wall. Only one or two paces were required for her to do this. The cooling unit was a simple white box, reaching the height of her knees. Within its fog-smattered interior, the man beheld a cacophony of adjunct-laden beers and tubawares of beans, meats and cheeses of the cheapest variety. All were organized without rhyme or reason. There was a massive temptation on his part, to venture down the height of the table and rearrange the giant woman’s food, yet the logistics of such a labor quieted his ambition.

Gathering her sustenance, she set her supplies down upon the table with a magnificent thud that sent her tiny visitor on his rear.

Piled high upon a plate that possessed a sheen unique to a plastic construction, was a massive dune of a bread bun. Slathered upon it were strips of pork bacon, untouched by heat, as cold as the refrigerator it left. Finishing off the night snack was a tall bottle of mayonnaise.

The titaness set to work, constructing her meal. Soft bread easily yielded to her grip, before a massive slathering of mayonnaise was squirted upon the bottom bun. The uncooked bacon was then laid upon the saucy mess, in the manner of bricks. Layer upon layer piled high, almost resembling a cabin of pork. This tower of fatty protein was then crowned with another generous slathering of sauce, before being topped by the domed half of the bun.

A sandwich, the size of an expensive residence, was then hoisted up by the giantess. The man’s eyes fixated upon the muscles in her wrists that appeared to bulge out as she lifted her hefty meal, bringing it to her mouth. He had to crane his neck to even keep track of the sandwich’s final destination, as it hung directly over him like a meat-laden cloud.

This cloud was heavy with precipitation. As the giantess opened a vast cavern to take a bite, a deluge of mayo fell from the end, landing with a splat the scale of a bomb. White creamy sauce assaulted his form, practically submerging him. Such was the mass that fell upon him, that he was sent sprawling back on the now emulsified-egg surface.

Meanwhile, the gigantic woman continued to inhale her sandwich, never content to even swallow the masticated contents before taking yet another bite. In the span of seconds, she had devoured her entire creation, punctuating her conquest with a hearty burp that shook the earth. As she peered down again, her steel-colored eyes began scanning the quaint surface of her table, having lost track of her miniscule visitor.

“Hey, uh, little guy, I lost ya. Mind jumping and waving a bit?”

In the sea of slop, the man could still hear her voice, and he leapt up and down, sending additional splatters of sauce out. Her large eyes immediately widened upon catching his flailing, coated form moving about in the muck. Embarrassment and concern washed over her face.

“Wha- how …” she stuttered, whirling about, “Oh shit, sorry! Oh shit! Shit!”

The titaness was able to procure a napkin. Her miniscule companion was able to extract himself from the mess. As the great canvas of cheap cloth was thrown down upon him, he was able to appropriate a corner to wick off the majority of the mess. Yet, his clothes remained wet and greasy, while his hair and skin had taken upon an oily sheen. He scrunched his nose, reeling from the new, eggy aroma he had acquired.

A gigantic hand was brought to the back of a mop of auburn hair, nervously rubbing it. “I’d uh, offer you a shower but uh…”

“That’s alright,” the man dismissed, taking a hand to his shirt, and scrunching it. The cloth slithered through his fingers, and left an apparent residue. “I’d just like to go to sleep.”

This evoked a flustered, hurried nod from the giantess, “Okay, I’ll fix something up for ya.”

Her hands shook as she retrieved an old matchbox. The cardboard emplacement was then stuffed to the brim with napkins. Upon the stained table it was dropped. The young man craned his neck, as the massive emplacement was set before him. Even the edges of his makeshift bed were nearly as tall as he was.

And he made eye contact with her once more, something that resembled death smoldered in her gaze. Whether it was for him, or herself, he could not determine.

“This is the best I’ve got, I’m sorry,” she apologized, her voice wavering.

“I’ve slept in way worse than this,” he attempted to reassure, rolling his shoulders, still feeling the slimy essence of the mayonnaise clinging to his clothes.

Her back hunched over, forming a hump that could have been sled down, “I really screwed up your night, didn’t I?”

The man leaned against the matchbox, surprised at its mass. Despite taking on the weight of his body, the cardboard structure budged not one inch.

“I suppose you could put it that way.” he mused, “I don’t think you can do worse than making the new hire stay late because one of your mainstays decided to retire.”

Her posture rose, along with one of her eyebrows, “Shoot, sounds rough. Although not as much as sleeping in some strange gal’s room.”

A smirk crossed his thin, almost gaunt face, “First time for everything eh?”

Laughter, laughter that could have shaken apart the sky wracked her body. The man’s heartbeat hastened as he witnessed warmth and joy creep into her freckled face. He quickly averted his gaze, for he realized his own cheeks had grown hot.

“Hey, so, you know I can give you a lift to your place.” she offered, “And maybe you can give me your number so I can pick you up, if walkin’ with me wasn’t too much trouble.”

There was little to mull over, before he answered, “As you’ve said, beats paying a taxi to ferry me everywhere. Maybe, if it isn’t too much trouble, you can take me to one of the car dealerships in town. I’ve already saved up enough for one anyways and…”

“Let me pay for it!” the titan shouted, her eyes wide, tainted with desperation, “I screwed up your car anyways. Hell, you can let me deal with your insurance guys, it’s the least I deserve.”

“Pay for my car?” he challenged, nearly backing off due to her enthusiasm, “That’s more than enough! I can do this on my own.”

“C’mon! Just let me do this!”

His skin had become soaked with a different sort of substance. Salty perspiration pierced the oily slick of sauce that clung to him. Perhaps the behemoth that loomed over him could not perceive it, but he had gone a ghostly white.

Seconds threatened to turn to minutes, before a nervous query broke the silence, “So, what’s the name of the nice lady who’s going to be helping me out?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Uh, Caitlin.”

“You sure look like a Caitlin,” he remarked.

“Really,” Caitlin responded, flashing a daring grin, “How do you figure that?”

“Intuition,” the man answered, “I’m Andrew by the way.”

“Andrew … rolls off the tongue.”

Andrew suppressed a snicker, “Yeah, I’d have to do that if you try to eat me.”

“I’m not eating anyone big boy!” she bellowed, her smile growing wider by the minute.

“Don’t worry, I was just messing around.” he waved off. A finger was brought to his chin, “‘Big boy’ eh? How appropriate.”

“What, you want me to call ya squirt, or tiny?” Caitlin teased.

Andrew crossed his arms, “As long as I get to call you Goliath, or Bigfoot.”

As laughter shook the giantess once more, the man, Andrew looked back to his sleeping arrangements, then to the muddy wreck that was once his car. Despite losing something so essential, for some reason, he felt he had gained in return, something of greater value.

He regretted surveying the space around him once more, for he bore witness to the stocky titan peeling off her wet tanktop...

…

Downtown had seen its usual clog of personal and traffic. Not a street was free of cars, lined bumper to bumper. Populace filled the sidewalks, trotting under the shadow of great glass skyscrapers, or old brick storefronts.

Some turned their heads, once the sound of stomping, and the percussive thump of vibrations unsettled the ground beneath their feet. Caitlin navigated her designated walkway with a sense of caution. Each step she eyed, while the quivering of the metal platform she stood on would cause her pause. Not a structure exceeded her in the immediate area. Her most formidable challengers were office buildings or apartment complexes that made it up to her chest. She dared not peer through the windows, for it was not in her nature to dwell upon the diabolical minds on the appropriate levels that would take their chances.

The man in her hand had taken to kneeling. Gale-force winds made standing an impossibility. Massive shifts in momentum continuously disturbed the terrain beneath him. His body could not keep up with the cacophony of changing inclines. He was stuck, gazing through the gaps in her fingers, marveling at the scene below. In many ways, it was much like looking through the window of a plane as it climbed higher and higher.

Upon reaching a building that possessed more girth than height, Caitlin felt a tap upon her palm. Andrew gestured to the structure, and she nodded in acknowledgement. Kneeling down, her hand extended beyond the metal platform, over the populated streets. Men and women retreated by instinct once they witnessed the massive appendage settling down, filling and blocking off their paths.

Andrew trotted across her palm, still in awe at the flesh colored ground. His work shoes, polished as best as they could be considering the previous night, sunk into the skin below. On the edge, despite her hand coming in close proximity to the street, the leap down was still of considerable height.

He jumped, landing on his feet upon the sidewalk. His knees had to bend to compensate. Once her passenger was safely evacuated, Caitlin began to rise.

“Hey Andrew,” she bellowed, not caring that her voice caused many on the streets to yield, “Don’t forget to call me once you’re done!”

“Hopefully not too late.” he shouted back.

From up high, she gave him a small wave. She then marched off. Andrew stood, rooted in place. He could still see her torso above the town skyline, even as she grew further away. Even separated by several blocks, the giantess could still be easily picked out.

…

Caitlin had returned to a busy construction site. While she focused upon avoiding the hustling workers crossing her path, she bumped into Jackie.

Her peer reeled from the collision, yet was able to steady herself. A brilliant, toothy grin was stuck upon her face. Even after recovering from Caitlin’s clumsy offense, she let out a hearty giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Caitlin asked, clenching her jaw.

“Dang girl,” Jackie teased, “You are getting places, getting cuties like than in your house, in your bed…”

“Nothing much went on Jackie,” the auburn-haired girl asserted, “We just exchanged numbers…”

The whites of Jackie’s eyes grew three times their original size, while her mouth shrank into a small oval. “Oooooooo, you got his number! Real smooth girl…”

Caitlin’s beefy arms were hitched upon her hips, “Hey, it’s the least I could do, crushing his car. He probably hates me!”

Her coworker shook her head. “I dunno, some guys like a girl that makes an impact when she walks!”

“Yeah, as long as it doesn’t kill their only mode of transportation,” Caitlin grunted, “Seriously Jackie, let it go.”

Jackie remained fixated upon her fellow. Her eyebrows appeared to rise off of her face, on their way into the stratosphere.

“50 bucks.”

Caitlin nearly leapt into the air in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll let this go,” her coworker offered, “If you make a bet with me. 50 bucks says you’re meeting this man at the alter.”

“Easiest money I’ll make in my life,” Caitlin boasted, grasping Jackie’s hand in a show of binding agreement, “Hell, I’ll give ya to my last breath, because there’s no way he has the hots for some clumsy blue-collar gal like me.”

….

Not a soul had said a word about Andrew’s slightly disheveled appearance that morning. In fact, as always, he had enjoyed solitude within his own cubicle as he continued to type up a storm.  There was one, however, who focused upon him. Unlike himself, this man was of stocky build. His lilac, collared shirt did little to conceal a built, athletic physique. In contrast to Andrew’s sharp, angular face, his was squared and defined.

A bright smile lay upon his chiseled face, while brilliant blue eyes were honed in on none other than Andrew. He quickly averted his gaze, once he saw the man approach, settling upon his screen. This effort did not deter his peer from invading his cubicle.

“Hey man,” he greeted, in a deep, yet friendly voice, “Saw your new ride … Crap that came out wrong.”

“I haven’t even chosen my replacement car, Jake” Andrew denied, taking time to read off of his name tag, while still furiously typing away. The words that were generated, however, were beginning to resemble gibberish.

His unintentional tormentor threw out a knowing wink, “I’m talking about that colossal construction chick that swung around here and dropped you off.”

“She’s the one that busted my car.”

Jake’s eyes widened. Regret immediately cast its shadow, and he began to retreat from the enclosed space.

Andrew let out a sigh, finally turning to address him, “It was an accident on her part. Heck, she even offered to pay for a replacement.”

After a moment’s silence, the strongman declared, “Dude, she’s into you.”

“What?” spat back Andrew, “Don’t make me laugh.”

Despite himself, a chuckle did slip between his lips.

“Andy, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Jake began, “but you’ve got that movie star moxie, and the looks to match. You just gotta talk around a bit more, and boom, you’ll be stealing away even my dates!”

A clearly amused Andrew responded, “And you’d be happy with that?”

“Yeah, for my fellow rookie!” Jake cheered, pumping his fist, “We’ve got to look out for each other, especially after than fiasco yesterday.”

“I suppose,” Andrew mused, “but you’re not forcing me into any relationships.”

A glint of inspiration was reflected within his eyes, “Hey, want to win some easy money?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying,” he elaborated, “if you manage to get a ring around those fingers of hers, you owe me 50.”

With little hesitation, Andrew committed, “Well then, I won’t do so at all, and get me some pocket money.”

Spindly fingers were grasped by a strong hand, as the silly little deal was agreed upon.

“I’m telling you,” Jake playfully taunted, “Don’t be so sure about the future.”

“Jake, if there’s one thing that certain, is that where I go, other people look away.” Andrew asserted.

The athletic youngster, already the anointed Alpha dog of the rookie class of office workers, backed out. He stood at the edge of Andrew’s domain, bracing himself upon the cubicle walls with spread arms. As the dark-eyed man began to resume his work, he punctuated their encounter with one last declaration.

“And she’ll be the only one looking for ya.”

Andrew felt his hands freeze upon the keyboard. His eyes glazed over, as he recalled the previous night. To his disappointment, such thoughts could not be simply stowed away.

….

Once the work day drew to a close, Andrew had made his exit. Thankfully, his labor was not demanded for the later hours. Stepping into the bustle of rush hour, he found the streets cast in darkness. His ride was waiting for him.

A burly hand found his shoulder. He reeled from the blow. The assailant turned out to be Jake. He flashed Andrew a wink, before disappearing into the crowd.

Andrew was transported in the same manner as he was that morning, riding upon Caitlin’s palm as she stormed through the town, testing the construction of various metal platforms.

He could not help, but gape at the scenery that passed by. Rooftops of buildings, and bird-eye views of streets were what greeted him beyond the fleshy platform of Caitlin’s hand. There was a slight temptation to approach the edge to take in even more. Yet, a cautious mind squashed any sense of daring.

Courage of a different sort would be needed for a far more ambitious venture.

In the span of mere minutes, they had made it to their destination, a sprawling car dealer. Each vehicle resembled toys from Andrew’s vantage, as he gaze upon lines and lines of them. Caitlin’s approach was not taken for granted. Several employees and potential customers had swiftly retreated to the central structure within the sea of vehicles. Only a smiling, portly man remained, perhaps anticipating giant profits, over giant women.

Even after a grand entrance, vaulting off of a lowered hand, Andrew was received with the salesman’s trademark demeanor. His speech was overtly friendly, his gestures bombastic, as well as his promises. He maintained this demeanor, even as Andrew began to systematically cut through each of his manipulations.

As the sun began to set, Andrew was behind the wheel of a vehicle, a maroon Honda civic. Caitlin scrunched her face upon beholding the car, sizing up the compact automobile with her hand. The Honda Civic he had selected could easily drive upon two of her fingers stuck together.

Once Andrew exited the vehicle, granting a still enthusiastic dealer a hearty handshake, Caitlin could not help but remark, “Really, I mean, I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’ve got some cash to spare, you can get something a bit more extra-”

“I’ve taken advantage of your generosity enough.” Andrew shot back, stealing glances at the salesman for any signs of further duplicity, “Besides, this car matches me, it’s small, economical, and reliable, if I do say so myself.”

Caitlin looked away, gazing at the horizon. For a brief period, she appeared somber, as if mourning the loss of something significant. A grin returned to her face, but deep lines manifested around her mouth.

“Well … I guess ya don’t need me anymore, see ya!” A wave that could have contained an entire rainbow punctuated her farewell.

With nary a thought, she began heading home.

Clear as a crystal, shooting through the din of the day, rang Andrew’s voice. From the ground to 500 feet in the air, it froze her in her tracks.

“Wait! Uh … I …”

Peering over her shoulder, she saw the miniscule man stand at attention, attempting to stretch his body, as if he were trying to reach her through such an effort alone.

“What is it?”

“I know you wrecked my car and all,” Andrew began, words flowing from his mouth like a waterfall, with nothing impeding, nor blocking his desire, “but it actually wasn’t bad getting to know you. My … uh … circle of friends is real small. Heck, it’s more like circle of acquaintances. But, I wouldn’t mind if we got to be friends.”

A lump formed in Caitlin’s throat. The light of the setting sun appeared to glow ever brighter. But, like a flickering flame, such a phenomenon would only be there for a moment, lest she seized it.

“Friends?” she blurted out, feeling her cheeks begin to heat up, “How would we even hang out? You’re like an inch tall to me, no offense.”

Andrew continued to gaze up, his neck beginning to ache. Still, he pressed, “It’s accurate. But, I suppose we could figure it out.”

A hand rubbed the back of her head. An eye gave a quick glance at the fading sun. Letting out a sigh, she relented, “Yeah … I suppose.”

…

From that day onward, both giantess and man would enjoy each other’s company. As Andrew’s living arrangements were insufficient for one of Caitlin’s stature, she would be the one hosting their get-togethers.

Activities among them were limited to watching television together, providing background noise to idle conversation. Despite the mundane activities, both would increasingly look forward to their next meeting. Caitlin often found herself watching the spindly form of Andrew adjust himself upon the arm of her chair more so than whatever they had decided to spin up.

From her choice of cinema, Andrew had quickly concluded that Caitlin very much enjoyed grainy picture quality, excessive gunplay, and oiled, perspiring muscles. Her reactions to the often blatant action on screen rocked the chair, and challenged his balance. Often, he would draw comparisons between her own physique, often straining the stained tank-tops she preferred, and the flashy gentlemen upon the silver screen.

Of course, when such pillars of machismo began macking it up with the bimbo of the day, loud sounds of disgust would exit from her gullet. Such events would provoke laughter and jeers from Andrew, even though he very much sympathized.

Caitlin would have to admit, replacing the muscle head’s face with Andrew’s in her imagination, often made the scene far more bearable.

…

Upon yet another Friday evening of small talk, the latest machismo masterpiece having been enthusiastically consumed. Caitlin had retreated to the kitchen area of her apartment. Setting Andrew upon her small quaint table, she had begun constructing another meaty nighttime snack. Seated next to the crowded stove, was an opened bottle of beer, already halfway empty

The adjunct beverage was then reduced to a quarter, after another greedy swig by Caitlin. Not all of it made it to her mouth, some dribbled from the corners of her lips, before traveling down to her chest.

Each time she turned ‘round, Andrew could not help, but fixate upon the newly acquired stains her shirt had taken, especially the way the moisture navigated about the mighty hills.

Caitlin was made aware of a quaint effort by her small friend to clear his throat. “There’s a restaurant that sprang up that accommodates both you gals and people like me,” he proposed, “Want to see how it goes?”

The giantess still remained focused upon her newest culinary creation, figuring cooked bacon would make a superior end product. Still, she entertained Andrew, “What’s it called?”

“’Upscaled.’” he answered, “Despite the name, the prices are quite reasonable. They specialize in comfort food.”

Caitlin did perk up after hearing Andrew describe the place. She approached the table, towering over it as usual. Even after knowing the gargantuan woman for months, Andrew still felt a need to back away, and his neck still ached from having to crane it all the way back to even make eye-contact with her.

“I could use a place that’s real comfy,” Caitlin said, placing her hands on her hips, “maybe get me some fried chicken.”

The thought provoked her to give her stomach a good rub.

From the depths of his pockets, Andrew produced two slips of paper. “I’ve got two coupons for a nice discount,” he explained.

The giantess pumped her fist as she shouted out, “Sweet! It’s a date!”

Once the words escaped her mouth, the titan’s skin was flushed a sickly pale. Cold sweat, unlike any she had experienced before, ran down her clammy face. Taking in Andrew’s own shocked expression, even though he appeared miles away, did little to quell her worries.

The only item of Andrew’s that moved, were the rapid flap of his eyelids. It was as if he was trying to blink away the haze of a dream. He too had lost color in his skin. Neither his arms, nor his legs could move, without an incredible bout of trembling.

After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, the dead air was lifted, “Ha, yeah, I guess, in a manner of speaking,” Andrew stuttered.

Caitlin’s head bobbed up and down, a bit too fast, “Yeah, we’re just going as friends! I mean, I’d never - you know, not that it wouldn’t be bad, but … but. .. but”

“… It’d be really weird if we were dating. Heck, we couldn’t even be more different! I mean, the differences would make it interesting ….” Andrew completed for her.

He made the mistake of maintaining eye contact with her. At this point, color had returned to her face, in particular, her cheeks. They were bright red, and had spread over such an area, Andrew could have sworn the blush was tainting her eyes.

No matter what efforts he mustered, there was no escaping. His head was held by her silver gaze, an eternity away, yet at the same time, so close he could feel it.

Her eyes grew in size, as did her nose, her mouth, her entire face. There was a slight displacement of air, pinning him down at his spot upon the table. Her lips were agape. Though no gloss had been applied, they appeared lush and full. Caitlin’s blush had not disappeared, and had only intensified in the meantime.

He managed to catch the scent of old onion, and an unfamiliar, swampy odor. The gaping mouth had drawn close, and was washing him with its rank essence. Even only barely open, his entire body could easily fit within and disappear without a trace.

Indeed, the eyes that had hypnotized him were now concealed. He had to peer past the jut of her nose and the slope of her full cheeks to even get a glimpse. In fact, her maw, now shut with pursed lips, was the only thing he could see.

Slick flesh engulfed his entire being. There was no noise, aside from the wet sound of suction. Hot air blasted him from above, a courtesy of her nostrils. The sheer mass that had smacked into him sent his frail form on his rear.

Time ground to a halt, and Andrew remained trapped, a subject of Caitlin’s lips.

Finally, he was released, sprawled upon the table, with a slick layer of spit clinging to his skin, and soaking his clothes. Heavy breath from the maw just above, captured him in a wet, formless blanket, while Caitlin recovered from her actions.

Her head still loomed over him, casting Andrew in its shadow. Finally, he could gaze into her eyes once more.

“You, sure about the not-dating thing?” she pressed, her voice alone enough to smash him to pieces at such close proximity.

“Gee, I …” he sputtered, taking time to wipe off the slime from his face, “how is that even …”

“‘Cause you know,” she continued, a warm smile spreading across her face, ”I’d really love to.”

Andrew shook his head, “But why?”

“Hey,” she snapped, furrowing her brow, “if you don’t wanna make it awkward, we can still be just friends!”

A fist slammed down, as Andrew declared, “No!”

His entire life was before him, his entire future. It was her that was to be in both. Every hesitation he possessed about such a venture that could manifest, had all of the sudden, evaporated away. As he took in her enormity, Andrew through to himself, hopefully, I have enough room for this woman.

“We’re going on a date,” he said, reciprocating Caitlin’s smile.

Caitlin rose up, performing a small hop, whose landing was the epicenter of a small earthquake. “Hell yeah!” she cheered, “Whew! Glad we got that outta the way!”

Immediately, the mood soured.

Jake you scoundrel, this is your fault!

Fuckin’ Jackie! Dammit!

The joyous buds of love were then uprooted by an irreversible curse that would put them in debt for the rest of their lives. Both cried out in lament, their voices folding into one another.

“Shoot! I’m gonna lose 50 dollars!

They gave each other knowing glances, before bursting into a bout of raucous laughter.

…

Darkness dominated him. He was compressed on both sides, what felt to be rough cloth. Swinging momentum and periodic vibrations tossed his insides about. Andrew found no purchase, nor did he possess any sense of orientation. From the moment he had become conscious, this dark pocket was his entire world.

His heartbeat steadied once all motion had ceased. He took in a few greedy breaths. But his respite would not be for long.

A gateway of light had opened above. Blocking out this new opening, were five dark shapes. As quickly as the sky opened, did these invaders descend upon him. They had set themselves upon Andrew, soft to the touch, and scented strongly of lavender. They were fingers, most undoubtedly.

Instincts of flight immediately consumed him, and Andrew attempted to venture further down into his enclose, although he found room to maneuver decrease the deeper he went. A pair of digits soon grasped him. Despite their apparent delicate complexion, both were cold to the touch, and gripped him with the audacity and tenderness of metal.

He was extracted from his fabric cage, a pocket to a pair of short denim shorts which revealed much of their owner’s milky, smooth thighs. Andrew was brought up, past her torso, before settling directly in front of her face. Dark eyes squinted at her lilac gaze, while taking note of crimson lips, formed into a predatory smile.

A giggle erupted from her, haughty and posh, shaking her luscious red locks.

Then, she spoke, “Welcome, putrid slave, to your rightful station. I am Artemis, your goddess. From this day forth, your life belongs to me.”

He stood in open air, yet remained trapped in a cage. He was free to venture everywhere, yet he would not even dare to take a step.

Andrew’s ground was a milky pale shade. He struggled to remain upon his feet, for the ground below possessed an almost unnatural smoothness. A bold scent of lavender wafted from below, with the strength to provoke several coughs from him.

The red-headed woman possessed an almost oblivious air about her. Her pale, lilac eyes addressed him not one second. Upon her torso, a white blouse billowed along with her movements, almost possessing an ethereal conscience of its own.

He turned, gazing beyond the landscape of her palm. Surrounding him was a grand atrium, easily the size of several residential blocks. Yet, to his captor, it was a decently sized living room. Several couches lay upon a richly designed carpet. The cushions themselves were of a cream color, and were textured with intricate designs. They were neatly arranged in a perpendicular manner, facing a wall mounted television, flat screen and easily exceeding that of even the grandest IMAX emplacements.

Toes painted blood-red glided from carpet, to wooden floor. The polish that coated the ground reflected light from an overcast sky still streaming in. But the material of the ground was not its most notable feature.

Several men of Andrew’s stature were strewn upon it. None wore clothes of any kind. Most were of emancipated build, although some sported a more muscular physicality. All raced across the floor, arranging themselves in two impeccable lines, flanking the giantess’s path towards another door.

They prostrated upon the ground, burying their heads into their knees, not daring to gaze upon the milky-skinned, crimson titan that stormed past them. Andrew’s eye caught a straggler, a man with a visible limp, race to the far side of the hall.

Possessing the eye of a mortal man, Andrew could not discern the expression upon his face, but it could have been easily imagined. As the titan’s feet drew close to the struggling man, as her shadow grew over his bug-like form, sheer terror was envisioned.

A vast foot soon obstructed his sight line of the man. There was a terrified, visceral screech, the kind that destroyed the throat and shredded the vocal chords.

It then stopped, the only sound remaining a faint crunch that froze all blood within Andrew’s body.

He gazed back to his captor’s face. A small smirk had formed upon her blood-red lips. Dark eyes gazed down at his own stomach, for a vast well had formed within it.

Without a note of hesitation, she ventured through the closed door. Flipping a switch, her bedroom was revealed by incandescent light. The walls were of a light pink color, lined with papers that sported designs of flowers. At the far corner of the room lay her bed. It sported a white frame, while the mattress was lined with bedsheets of the same pink color. Beyond the foot of the bed was a white dresser, topped with an intricate circular mirror. The top of the dresser was lined with several bottles of several shades of red and pink. There was even the occasional movement of a minuscule creature weaving between the containers of makeup.

She came to a stop in front of her desk, which rested right beside her bed. In the same manner as everything else within her room, it was shaded a feminine color. And, much like everything else Andrew had laid eyes upon, it appeared of a fine design. The knobs upon the drawers of this desk were carved with delicate patters. Its material was wood of fine grade, while the paint that coated the surface was impeccable and smooth. What lay upon this desk were several books, all titled with provocative suggestions of female dominance.

In addition, there stood two men at its front. Both were naked, and of a healthy physique. Neither possessed hair, although, as Andrew was lowered towards the surface they stood upon, it was quite clear their lack of follicles was due to persistent grooming.

Andrew’s stomach dropped, as the giantess tilted her hand. He tumbled down the incline. There was no chance to find any form of purchase upon the smooth skin of her palm. Pain greeted his legs as they impacted the stiff ground. His nose caught a whiff of the chemical tinge of paint as he rolled.

Before the two men, he came to a stop. Their approach was swift and wordless. Rough hands took hold of him. One restrained his arms. While he grimaced as Andrew instinctively lashed out, his face otherwise reflected a sort of calm certainty. In contrast, the other man, who was stripping him of his boxers, had his brow fixed in an eternal furrow. His hazel eyes glowered at him most unpleasantly, as if, in some previous instance, he had done him wrong.

As he felt the only article of clothing slip past his thighs, he shouted out, “Hey! What’s going on!”

The man that had restrained his arms responded in a decisive, firm, yet steady voice, “Be still, initiate, lest you rouse the goddess’s wrath.”

“Godde-”

Cold air washed his exposed nethers. Andrew would have shivered, were he not restrained. He glanced upward, at the infinite wall of blouse that stretched into the stratosphere itself. The giantess’s gaze was unreadable, distant. As the captured man contemplated this, his heart only accelerated.

He was then released, as naked as the other two. Andrew did not regard them, still fixated upon the one declared ‘Goddess’.

“You!” he gasped, his eyes widening, “You’re that woman, from all those years ag-”

A fist struck him across his cheek. Andrew was turned aside from the force of the blow. Balance failed, and he was sent sprawling upon the desk.

His teeth clenched, as he quickly sought to regain his footing. Immediately, his eyes focused upon the sullen, hazel-eyed man, the one who had stripped him of his boxers, his decency, and dignity.

Words flew out of his mouth like fists from a prize fighter, “What the heck was tha-”

But his tormentor’s retort was even swifter, as he shot back, “Do not address the goddess so directly runt! If she wishes for your measly opinion, she shall ask for it!”

Fast as a wild cat, he pounced upon Andrew, covering a wide span of space in a fraction of a blink. The young man barely possessed enough time to raise his arms in defense, before he was sundered by blows. He took punches to the head, to the ribs, anywhere his arms were not. There was no opportunity to mount a counter. His opponent’s face had gone red, Andrew’s hopeless state appearing to fuel his apparent anger. Bright spots had formed within his vision, as the world began to tilt of its own accord.

“Phobos.”

A voice, sultry, sweet and velvety descended down upon the puny men like a comet sent from heaven itself. The woman, the giantess, the goddess, she who called herself ‘Artemis’, looked down upon all three as one would glare at crawling ants. The moment her voice rang out, Phobos ceased his assault, and immediately prostrated himself. His anger, his barbarity, his drive to inflict suffering, to dominate, all evaporated. All that was left, was a submissive, passive servant.

“Your devotion is admirable,” the giantess noted, her lips once more curving into a smile, “but I require him to be of use for now.”

Her hand hovered over the desk. One finger extended, a finger more than a match for all three men combined. It loomed in front of Phobos. In his prostrated position, he appeared no larger than her nail.

The nail shot forward, along with her fingertip, and smacked the man back. He flew several yards in the air, before crashing back down on the desk, tumbling and turning before skidding coming to rest.

Her hand advanced in the manner resembling a dark thundercloud. The massive appendage flew over Andrew, and he balked in awe. A finger extended, crashing down upon Phobos. He remained whole and intact, yet the force she utilized was enough to contort his face in pain. Despite his proclaimed loyalty, his arms and legs flailed in a futile flurry.

Witnessing his tormentor’s torture, Andrew muttered, “Some reward for devotion.”

Phobos was released from under her finger. The fleshy pillar, with the girth and length of a Sequoia, ascended, and retracted back over the edge of the desk.

His glare was fierce, vengeful. But, it was not directed at the one who inflicted pain upon him. If this goddess was capable of crushing Andrew’s body, Phobos’s grudge was set to deal with his spirit.

“There is no point in resisting, initiate,” persisted the other man. His face had taken on the slightest hint of concern. Still, he appeared neutral, serene even, as he commanded, “Prostrate yourself before Her.”

Andrew felt his jaw tighten. He looked up at his captor, before returning to the other man. “I shouldn’t,” he explained, “I’ve been kidnapped against my will.”

“Your will is irrelevant,” the man rebuked, the words falling out of his mouth, as if they were embedded within his soul, “as you have found out.”

If eyes alone could plead and beg, Andrew’s own dark irises would have cried out and begged to him. But, the slave’s expression remained unchanged. The suffering of his fellow man moved not an iota within.

“Please, your resistance only hurts us all,” he insisted, “It is no use resisting the divine.”

Dark hair hung over the young man’s head. His breath formed into words for his ears only, “You can say that again.”

God be with me.

Upon the far end of the desk, near the wall, lay Phobos. He lay in a dilapidated heap, indistinguishable form a corpse. While he was of fair complexion, his body had taken on a pale shade. It was to Andrew’s utter bewilderment when the irate man began to stir. Shaking himself into awareness, he immediately gathered himself up, and stood at attention.

Phobos then staggered to where both Andrew and the other man stood. His gait was uneven and jittery, but gradually returned to a normalized pace. He still glowered at the subject of his ire, perhaps that was what animated his will to live after being subject to the overwhelming finger of his goddess.

The two slaves of Artemis stood together, their respective dispositions mixing as fire and ice. Andrew was led on, coerced by gestures and threatening grunts. The trio made their way to the front edge of the desk. Both Phobos and his companion trailed just behind Andrew, acting as escorts to a prisoner.

Upon the corner of the desk lay a lift, similar in construction to the one Andrew utilized to scale Caitlin’s nightstand. He noted that it was of a finer, more sophisticated design. The gears and chains were concealed by a smooth layer of chrome, while the platform was constructed of a pale, polished wood, as opposed to a slap of metal.

He stepped upon the lift, soon followed by his escorts. The crimson goddess had remained seated the entire time, casting a bloody shadow over the entire area. Her red-painted lips formed a sadistic smile, while her piercing lilac gaze remained fixed upon the three. Though, as Andrew dared to gaze back, there was no mistaking her colossal sights had been set exclusively upon him.

The gears of the lift began to turn, their clicks clear and quaint. Slowly they descended, watching the surface of the desk grow further away.

Andrew gazed to each of his shoulders, regarding the men behind each. Words were absent, each resigned to keeping their jaws shut. Inevitably, he was drawn back to Artemis, seated at her desk, watching as she appeared to grow ever taller. Her fiery red hair grew into heaven itself the lower the lift brought him. Yet, her eyes never left him. It was as if she were attempting to use the weight of her glare to enforce a form of dominance upon him. His own eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, while his tired joints had begun to lock up.

Shaking himself out of a trance, he turned back once more, addressing his escorts. “How did you two end up here? Were you both kidnapped?”

In an irate voice, Phobos spat back, “I have always been dedicated to the service of our goddess! Do not question me.”

“What we were is irrelevant.” added the other man, “She is our life now. This is mankind’s destiny.”

“What were you then? Surely you miss your previous life,” pressed Andrew, a sense of desperation straining his voice.

“I have always been a slave,” the man answered, “Everything else, from my occupation, my residence, even my name, were lies. My occupation is to serve the goddess. My residence is her domain. My name is Deimos. This is truth. You shall find your own true calling soon enough.”

The lift slowed to a crawl. It settled upon the carpet threads. A few thick ropes bent in order to compensate. All men disembarked, wading through the threaded floor.

Closer and closer they drew, to the now sky scraping giantess. Andrew had to crane his neck to even glimpse at her face. The only part of her the men had hope of reaching were her feet. Both stood with toes buried in the carpet, while the heels were suspended upon one of the wooden supports of her seat.

The air had become tinged with the slightest hint of lavender, although each step they took intensified the scent. The milky smoothness of her appendages were unforgettable, and Andrew felt his ribcage rattle and his stomach begin to churn.

As their journey across the floor continued, the face of their goddess became obstructed by the edge of the desk and the chair that she sat upon. The only members of hers visible were her silky legs and smooth feet.

Soon, the monolithic peds encompassed all the men could behold of their master. Andrew spotted movement upon the far-side foot. His eyes widened, for at least ten slaves attended to it. In the same manner of Deimos and Phobos, all assembled were naked and shaved of hair. Some flashed the three men hollow glares, but were otherwise occupied with their tasks.

Four were simply traversing the various bumps and valleys of the foot. Their hands dug deep into the pale skin, marking the flesh with divots where they pressed. The remained stood upon her toes, working at the nails. Red dried paint chipped and flaked, revealing the smooth nail below. Occasionally a digit would wiggle, throwing several slaves off balance. Artemis paid them no mind, nor did the slaves protest.

Up against the nearside foot they stopped. The cream-colored skin compressed and stretched with the flexing of digits, revealing several substantial veins that ran underneath the epidermal veil.

Deimos then walked past Andrew. He gestured to the foot, “This is the most common labor that you must perform in order to please our goddess..”

There was a small bump from behind, courtesy of Phobos, causing the young man to stumble. “See that you do it well,” sneered his tormentor, “Inadequacy shall be your end.”

He saw not a hint of regret, nor doubt within their eyes. Thus, Andrew committed himself to the foot of Artemis.

Her artificial scent dominated, stinging his nostrils. It was nearly impossible to maintain a good grip upon her skin, for the various lotions and soaps lubricated the surface. Even if he could, there was something preventing from Andrew committing his full effort into the task before him.

Looking up, Artemis was no longer smirking at him. In fact, her attention had been redirected to something upon her desk. His eyes could not see what exactly it was, but it appeared to have occupied her arms, for both were resting upon the great overshadowing slab.

As he continued to massage her foot, gradually traveling up the length of the appendage towards her toes, the churning within his stomach had intensified. Several instances within a minute, he was tempted to lean over and unleash what little was left within his disturbed guts. The aroma, forged from various product, threatened his mind with dreariness, and only contributed to the sense of queasiness inside.

“Put your body into it, you are, after all her property,” instructed Deimos, “Give yourself to her, your dignity, your lust, your being. It is all we puny things called ‘men’ can offer.”

Already, Andrew’s arms felt 1000 times heavier. He had begun fighting his eyelids to remain opened. His head swung with a teetering motion.

“Goddess have mercy on him, for I cannot,” fumed Phobos ,”He’ll be disposed of by the end of the day.”

He could barely pick up the sound of patters behind him. Sooner than expected, Andrew’s head was grabbed by a rough hand, and forced against the cloyingly sweet skin. A grunt escaped him, and he strained his muscles to free himself. Strong fumes began battering his efforts to remain conscious.

“Lick.”

Andrew shook his head, the only motion he could muster. Doing so only massaged his face even further in Artemis’s lavender embrace. He dreaded that her perfume would leave a permanent stain.

“Fool!”

Two fingers pinched his jaw, forcing it open. His mouth took in the scented flesh. Oils, soaps and chemicals coated his tongue. Andrew’s chest convulsed, attempting to reject the essence of the siren that had captured him. Still, he could not resist the fanatic’s unrelenting force.

As he continued to taste of her flesh against his will, the monolith to which he was enslaved, began to quiver. Up a skyscraper’s length, Artemis’s lilac orbs appeared beyond the edge of the desks silhouette.

Even far below, all could hear her soft giggles.

“Slaves upon my untouched foot,” she proclaimed, forcing all to cease, “I have a task for you. I wish you to clean off my nail polish as the others are. This is to be done in 15 minutes. Fail me, and I shall give you what you deserve.”

Even as Andrew was reclaiming fresh air, breath was still stolen away. “How is this to be done? Are we using any chemicals, any-”

The back of Phobos’ hand silenced his protest. A resentful glare was shot back at the man, as he tended to a new mark that had manifested upon his cheek.

“You are wasting time runt!” the slave scolded.

Deimos was already making his way up the side of her foot, gliding over the skin like a ghostly phantom. He had paused to explain, “If we are to make bricks without straw, we shall strip polish without remover. Let us not tarry.”

Andrew felt his fists clench as he looked over his captor’s toes. While not as bulky and unwieldy as Caitlin’s digits, they still were a good deal larger than a fully grown man. He had to guess that he was barely taller than her big toe, although lengthwise, the appendage utterly outclassed him.

Phobos followed his fellow up the slope of her side, his ascent aggressive and clunky. Andrew too, followed the path he took, still struggling to maintain a grasp upon the smooth flesh. Upon the plain of her ped, he was directed thusly to her second toe.

A thick coating of lustrous red polish concealed the underlying nail. Already, Phobos and Deimos had gone to work. Phobos was wailing away, thrashing at the third toe. His efforts yielded cracked polish, which he then wrenched off. Deimos worked just as quickly, although his movements were more measured and contained. He was able to hoist larger chunks of paint off, a blessing, considering it was the prime toe he had mounted.

Andrew stumbled as he traversed over the connecting joints to make it to the nail. Collapsing on all fours, he began picking at the brightly colored coating. Yet, not even a crack manifested from his efforts.

Muscles strained as he dug his nails into the polish. However, this yielded sore fingers and not an ounce of progress.

A growl exited his mouth as his futile movements continued. Regretful lamentations and lambasting remarks filled his head, each causing a sting in his eyes. If only he could shout at this red-haired devil, rail against the men that enabled her. A fist pounded the nail below, a testament that now, his actions were compelled by pure frustration instead of any genuine effort towards progress.

His teeth sunk into his lips, and he craned his neck to the side. Deimos had uncovered nearly half of her big toe, although little flecks of polish still dotted the revealed area. He was still able to chip away at the polish that remained, and showed no signs of slowing. 

“What’s the technique you’re using? I can’t even crack this thing!” he shouted at him.

A fiery shout blasted him from behind, “You are absolutely useless! At least I won’t have to deal with your blasphe-”

Deimos raised a hand, silencing his peer. “Watch what I do, but learn quickly, for time is not on our side,” he directed.

The man’s movements slowed. Every turning of the joints, and twitch of muscle was made plain to Andrew. Slowly, he began to retrace what had been observed. He mimicked how Deimos repeatedly tapped an area upon the polish, gradually weakening the area until it cracked.

A surprised, yet relieved gasp escaped him as he gawked at the new chasm that had formed below. He hastened his movements, eventually carving out a sizable chunk to then pry from her nail.

In the span of a couple minutes, he had uncovered nearly a fourth of the car-sized toe.

Triumph, however, possessed a short span within this crimson goddess’s lair. “You had an eternity to complete your task, and this is all you could show for it?”

Andrew raised his head to the heavens. No longer did she look amused. Artemis’s lips were pursed, and her lilac eyes narrowed. Her voice had lost all playful undertones, and was now as cold as an arctic storm.

Despite knowing better, he protested, “Now hold o-”

“Tut, tut,” clicked the goddess, “Men, nothing but bundles of failures and excuses.”

With a simple flex of her toes, all three were dislodged. Into the soft carpet, they landed. The impact, however, had left Andrew winded. His attempt to gather himself, resulted in him falling flat upon his back.

He was treated to the view of Artemis’s foot hovering over them like a thundercloud. The ridges of her sole took up his entire field of vision. Directly above, lay an unusual spot, colored a brownish red. His eyes widened, realizing exactly what it was.

Andrew’s arms rose, for all good that would do him. Feeling a rush of air from the descent of her foot, he braced himself for the worst.

Stiff flesh collapsed upon him, pushing aside his feeble limbs. Pressure mounted, although it proved insufficient to even break bone. Still, Andrew was rendered immobile, and his chest was compressed to the point that it was difficult to draw breath. And, what air he could intake was tainted with lavender poison. There was a slight tinge of iron. The stain upon the bottom of her foot had begun to rub off, smearing oxygenated remains upon his body.

Dread crushed at him, in anticipation for when the smother became too much. His bones bent, but only a tad more force would be required for them to break. Organs screamed under mounting force, and in a moment, they would burst and compress. There was no distant light to call his soul to the beyond, only darkness remained.

From beyond the realm of the pressing foot, her voice rang, “I suppose my more loyal slaves ought to finish what you failed. See how much you burden them?”

There was a frantic patter, as the men upon her opposite foot dismounted and raced across the carpet. Despite sweltering under overwhelming pressure, the three men pinned underneath Artemis’s all-encompassing sole noticed little difference as the remaining slaves began to climb upon the oppressing appendage, to scrape away the remaining polish.

Not a word of protest, nor phrase of banter was exchanged between them as they worked. Humble zeal compelled their movements, as their naked, disgraced bodies were thrown into their work, flailing upon nails the color of the blood that raced within them.

In the span of mere minutes, her toes were rendered naked. Not a trace of red paint remained. The nails were as fresh and clear as if not a thistle of the toe brush had been applied.

Lilac eyes gazed down, while lips pouted as she scrutinized her servants work. Huffing dismissively, she then waved her had at them.

“No others are to disturb me.”

All cleared, scattering in an organized mess into the darkness under her bed. Soon, no slaves remained, save for those pinned underneath her foot.

Artemis lifted her offending leg. Light and fresh air tickled the three underneath. Andrew let out several hacks, as his lungs greedily sucked in what it had been denied.

Yet, despite this respite, all three were adhered to the milky sole. A thin sheen of sweat acted as a glue, although additional adherent had fixed Andrew’s form. There would be no escape from her overpowering ped.

The foot was turned over. All were met with her unforgiving gaze. A small smirk formed at the corners of her lips.

“And look what we have here,” she taunted, “Three useless mites stuck to my foot. There really is no more appropriate place for your kind.”

A hand emerged, casting the trio in its shadow. Fingers greater than four men raced across her sticky sole, releasing up her disgraced servants from its moist grasp. They tumbled the length of these digits once it had passed over them, into the flat of her palm.

Once secured, they were lifted up. Her hand settled just beneath her face. Andrew gazed into her eyes, but could not behold his own reflection within them, unlike Caitlin. In fact, despite their exotic color, he could behold nothing within the orbs. It was the void that haunted his innards. A crushing weight had been set upon his shoulders.

Andrew’s balance grew precarious again, but it was not excessive perfume that clouded his senses.

“Wh-why?” he muttered.

Beneath the veil of velvet, ice cold iron emerged from her mouth, “Pardon slave?”

Next to him, Phobos immediately shot a nasty look, “Why you-”

Artemis’s voice thundered, crushing her slave’s protest, and snapping his mouth shut, “I want to hear from him.”

“Why?” Andrew’s voice rang, a miracle, despite the haze in his mind, “What’s all this for?”

He immediately had to bend his knees, for her hand was brought even closer to her face. The giantess’s mouth loomed, close enough to snag and devour all three of them upon her palm. Every syllable of her’s rolled over, and threatened to cause her slaves to collapse and real from force alone, “You took what was mine, and you’re surprised you’re paying the price? I suppose your thimble brain cannot comprehend causality, but that girl, Caitlin…”

Her hand trembled, throwing each men off their feet. Deimos and Phobos were quick to regain their balance. Andrew, however, remained sprawled on her skin, entranced by the flap of lips, and the maw beyond that could have consumed him a dozen times over.

“That’s not for me to discuss.” she finally dismissed, showing no concern as the men strained under excess decibels, “Such matters can only be discussed by equals, and you are under me.”

Andrew opened his mouth to retort, yet the words he had saved up were lost in his throat. Instead, he could only do his best to maintain eye contact with her wilting menace.

“You see,” she continued, “This is her problem. Bugs such as you believe you are deserving of dignity because of her weakness. But, we shall put your so-called dignity to the test.”

Pearly columns of ivory emerged from parted lips. But, her grin neither inspired joy nor hope.

“I’ll give you a choice. Be honored, it’s way more than you deserve.”

“I feel so honored,” Andrew mumbled.

“You best be.” she scowled. Clearing her throat, her ultimatum was laid, “Which one of these men failed you? I shall dispense with them. Choose swiftly.”

A double take was had, as his head swiveled between the two men. Cold, clammy sweat took a hold of his skin, “Wha- what? Just throw their lives away?”

“Perhaps dirt such as yourself easily sympathizes,” Artemis snorted, “But their lives are dust in the wind.”

His own teeth had begun to chatter. He turned back, witnessing that both Phobos and Deimos now stood together, as if they anticipated this judgment. Upon the palm of his captor, Andrew now held the lives of two men in his own hands. He cast a dark glare at Phobos, but he did not return the favor.  The man had taken on the shade of death. Andrew need not raise his voice to ensure his doom, for he was already swimming in it. There was even a slight shiver emanating from Deimos.

Andrew’s heart began to race, resembling the ticks on a clock that reminded him that his own time was rapidly burning out. Twice, he felt Phobos’s name upon his tongue’s tip, but the incriminating declaration was stifled. Still, his eyes never left the man, and even as Phobos reengaged his vengeful glare, having accepted his destiny, his doom remained delayed.

Then, for but a moment, time froze, and his heart stilled. The blood in his veins ceased its sloshing, and a numbing calm took over. His choice had been made.

“I failed myself.” he decided, placing a hand upon his chest. Unlike before, his voice was bold and clear. In fact, Andrew felt as if he could have shattered the feminine colored walls with his speech alone. “I’m the one you want to dispense your justice on.”

Phobos’s eye sockets nearly lost their contents.

Artemis’s voice then cut in like a blade in the night. “Even with such a simple choice at hand, you couldn’t even do that correctly. You men really are useless. I’m not even sure how that brute ever put up with you.”

Andrew’s blood froze once more, but now, it was a creeping affair. His legs began to lose their sense of touch, and he felt as if the limbs would collapse, along with him, into organic ooze.

“Deimos,” the crimson goddess stated, compelling the man to attention. “You were tasked with his initiation. You have failed, and I have no need for you anymore.”

The man called Deimos shook his head. His eyes appeared moist, and for a moment, his mouth quivered. However, he had managed to still himself, but this was but a thin veneer that could easily be pierced by a casual glance.

“Y-your judgment is final, my goddess.” he quivered, “Know that I serv-”

“Your service was but mere entertainment,” Artemis spat back, appearing almost insulted that her devoted slave even attempted to maintain some form of nobility, “Your loyalty, devotion, all worthless as your pathetic life. This was your destiny.”

Without even the squish of her finger, nor the step of her foot, the man Deimos had already been crushed to a pulp. “G-goddess,” he babbled, “I – I – just-”

He was pinched between two of her digits, index and thumb. All that was left visible of his was his flailing limbs, struggling against destiny itself.

Andrew reached out, even though Deimos was far beyond rescue. Despite knowing the man for the span of a few mere hours, he begged “But he’s your mos-”

A rough hand ceased his speech. The rough voice of Phobos snarled into his ear, “Shut your mouth you dog!”

The hand holding Deimos descended, down to her chair. Her legs were splayed out, leaving a large enough area for hundreds of men to mill about between them. Her fingers parted, and he fell the girth of her limbs, landing in a canyon formed by pale thighs and dark blue denim. At this juncture, he was already a puddle of a man, not even attempting to stand.

It was Artemis instead, who had gotten up, leaving Deimos upon a land of soft rolling terrain formed by her immense weight. Her newly freed hand then thumbed at the button to her jean shorts, while also undoing the zipper.

It was a sound Andrew was all too familiar with. He heard the rush of fabric as the shorts raced down her legs. His dread was all but confirmed as the more delicate slide of panties was perceived shortly after.

Leaving her discarded articles upon the ground, Artemis then pulled free the top drawer to her desk. Within the richly upholstered interior lay a great phallic object, the color of hot pink. Fingers wrapped around its girth, as it was lifted from its encasement. She gave it an almost affectionate look, a look that would have been alien to any of the men that slaved under her. 

The toy was hoisted up, allowing both Phobos and Andrew a good view. Neither men could compare to the sheer size of a mere recreational piece, for even its tip exceeded them.

Artemis sank back into the chair, her thighs and exposed crotch thundering upon the cushion, disturbing Deimos’s defeated form.

A deep blush began to form upon the face of the giantess, as she sneered, “You know, you seemed pretty desperate to save the life of a mere speck. It’s entertaining in a way, I suppose. In fact, I do really wish to see how far you are willing to continue this charade.”

One of the fingers upon her hand curled. Instinctively, Andrew dove out the way, for its tip was headed directly for him. Phobos, however, had remained frozen in shock, and thus was pinned underneath its impressive girth.

Meanwhile, she had brought her occupied hand directly over her exposed groin. The area was free of any hair, or any blemish or grime. Red folds of flesh had become swollen and slick. A familiar scent hit Andrew’s nose as he was brought closer. It was clean and strong. Still, despite his experience with a far cruder womanhood, he gagged and coughed upon taking in its overpowering aroma.

Her palm tilted, and Andrew slipped down the incline. He landed upon her waist, right next to the nub of flesh that lay atop her expansive privates. Andrew stared at that bead of flesh, easily bigger than his head, as it glistened and twitched in the open air.

“Caitlin considers you her husband, no?” cooed Artemis, her blush having now rendered her face as red as her hair. “Put that so called ‘experience’ of yours to work, and bring me to orgasm.”

A malicious giggle escaped her lips, before she demanded, “Do so, before this insect is smashed to bits, and I will spare him.”

Upon realization, Andrew raced to the edge, peering down the length of labia. Deimos had regained his footing, but acted as if in a trance. He was waddling his way towards the mouth of the beast. Looming behind him, the false phallus’s head lumbered forth, teasing and compressing the ground Deimos could flee.

Spindly hands clutched his head. Andrew’s brow furrowed, as if his own despairing expression would compel Deimos to at least attempt to escape his fate. But, her most faithful servant soldiered on, until he had climbed up the swollen folds of flesh. Holy terror occupied his gaze, yet not a word of protest or scream of anguish would escape him. To his last breath, his life, and death was all in service for his goddess.

The pink rod rushed forward, and crashed into her lecherous maw, forcing Deimos within. Andrew quickly turned his attention back to her clitoris, and began furiously working upon it. Yet, he was not issuing the sensitive bead a loving massage. Fists of despondent rage beat against it, causing it to quiver and shake. Clear syrupy fluid leaked out of the cavern below, while moans dominated the sky.

Andrew could hear the squelching and churning that occurred within the forbidden cavern. And, he could discern, behind thick walls of flesh, the guttural wails of the man he had failed.

“Ohhh, you might want to hurry, mmmph, he doesn’t have long.” Artemis squealed. The hand that still held a pinned Phobos was now being worked into her breast, with no concern if the man still on it would remain in one piece afterwards. Meanwhile, the phallus’s oscillations increased in frequency.

Andrew held tightly upon the clitoris, as the giantess’s palm smacked against her own crotch. Her hips had begun to buck, threatening his very position upon the pleasurable perch. Flecks of nectar began to fly upon him. Deimos’s wails had long been silenced. Now, all he could hear was the crunching of bone, and the flow of fluid of a different nature.

Still, he worked, throwing his entire body upon the sensitive nub, compensating for the quaking, convulsing flesh he lay upon. Tears streamed down his eyes, mixing with the funky fluid that now coated him. Instinct had taken over, as he smacked and bit the only part of the crimson giantess that could even be affected by his actions.

A high pitched scream shattered his eardrums. The toy was stuffed its deepest yet within her. Slick lubricant flowed around the pink girth, accompanied by the slightest tinge of red.

There was then nothing but the sound of heavy breath. Andrew lay sprawled upon her exposed pubis, his face planted directly upon the tender bead. Artemis meanwhile, had laid back, stewing in newfound warmth. The hand caressing her mammary drew away, revealing Phobos very much alive.

She then drew out her toy. It was coated in a thick layer of syrup. But, there were adjuncts that spoiled its composition. Streaks of red and unidentifiable chunks were strewn in the liquid.

Andrew was able to raise his head to behold what had become of Deimos. Within, he had begun to heave. His mouth sputtered, attempting to cast out what lay within his stomach.

But, he did not get time to lament on his own. Artemis’s hand had released her toy, and had settled upon her crotch. A finger extended, bashing Andrew from his perch. He flew down in a small arc, splashing into the now soaked cushion of her chair. All around him, lay the ground and emulsified remains of the man, rendered in something that didn’t even resemble a carcass. Not even the bones of his body, nor the organs of his innards could be identified. There wasn’t even a splatter to indicate that there was a man who had been demolished, there were just traces of his humors strewn throughout sensuous substance. A man’s entire being had been diluted for a woman’s pleasure.

The same offending finger then set itself upon Andrew, rubbing his entire body within the mixed fluid. He was circled around, a mere pupped for a single digit, soaking in the morbid remains of a man he had doomed.

As Artemis witnessed the sight before her, her chest convulsed with laughter. There was no resistance to her efforts. As she continued to toy with his now limp, exhausted form, she taunted between chuckles, “That’s adorable, you actually thought you were going to save him! Ha! Inadequate, as expected!”

In the mire of sludge, the contents of Andrew’s stomach were ejected. His spirit, his consciousness left him, while his mind faded to black.

…

There was land of green and yellow, neatly arranged in rows and columns. Caitlin surveyed the farmland, granting small smiles to the occasional tractor, or man who had tended the fields. She was received with a great bout of surprise, and even awe. But even as the farmhands beheld her towering form, they still had work to do, and thus, they worked.

Storm clouds still raged overhead, but there was nary a beat of thunder. Her own black tanktop had taken on a significant amount of moisture, and it clung to her torso, showing off the hidden brawn beneath.

Each footfall resembled thunder, however. She was set upon a wide path that cut through the farmlands. In the distance, she could spot residences, although they appeared as skyscrapers would from her vantage. It was clear these houses were built for those far larger than the average man.

Caitlin ceased for but a moment, and gazed at the slip of paper that had set her upon this quest that morning. Her eyebrows arched in determination.

Still, her heart beat with an alarming frequency. The clouds overhead were thick, and it would be long before they cleared.

His eyes opened, but darkness did not depart. Cool air still ticked every corner of his exposed body. Carpet fibers waist high enveloped the rest, although he could not see, only feel.

To the side, he turned his head. Light greeted his exhausted soul, but it revealed a foreign room that he had become all too familiar with.

Light had also revealed that he was not alone.

Like a thicket of weeds among trimmed grass, there stood men with faces obscured by black. In a circle they stood, allowing no vector to where Andrew could venture without running into one of them. But, despite the inability to even catch the glow of their eyes, he could feel the burn of their glares. Guilt pierced his soul, as well as horror that ate at a psyche that recalled what had put him in the ground.

He wrenched himself up, stumbling about as his floppy legs and stilted arms led him about. Everywhere he turned, they were there, eyes dead with dogma to their crimson deity. Within the crowd, he caught sight of Phobos’s hazel glare. But, he did not detect the usual sense of fury and vengefulness. The slave’s eyes were empty, as cold as a tundra. He was death itself, and was to inflict himself upon Andrew.

“What,” the young man gasped, “what is-“

Of pure fury was Phobos’s voice, “This man killed Deimos!”

Immediately, Andrew felt his face contort into an indignant formation. Anger flew from his throat, as he began to curse, “What are you talking about! I didn’t even touch him! She killed him! She’s the one making your lives miserable!”

“Do you not see!” his accuser shouted back, “His blasphemy, his utter defiance of Her poisoned our existence! Of such sacrilege he performed, that not even Deimos, our most devoted, could be saved!”

The pitch of Andrew’s voice rose till he was screaming, wishing that his mere word would shatter the bed, and subdue every man the surrounded him. “You heard her, she thought he was worthless! She repaid his devotion by discarding him like trash!”

“Because of you!”

A dark blur emerged from the crowd. One of the men had sprang forth, and struck Andrew across the face. He felt the white burn of the blow, as his body spun round, before collapsing upon the carpet.

He heard the storm of feet, and soon, scores of men were upon him. Fists and feet smacked against his face, his chest, his arms and his legs. With each blow, he felt something burst within. Every impact not only broke his body, but also killed the spirit that lay within.

His mouth opened, but blood filled the orifice. He had a mouth, but could not scream. He laid not a hand upon Deimos, but played a hand in his death. He was to surrender to the whims and zealotry of slaves. And, though slaves may they be, he was powerless against their will.

“Cease!”

As bright spots began to manifest in his vision, Phobos’s command rang out, clear as a bell on a dewy morning. Immediately, the actions of the slaves ceased, although the sting of their blows remained. Andrew, beaten and bloodied, through puffed eyes, could still discern hunger within their glares.

“He must pay for his defiance!” pleaded one, desperation clouding his voice, “You have said this!”

Phobos raised a hand, “The goddess demands that he is to be kept relatively functional. He deserves death, but our goddess shall be the dispenser of true justice!”

A wheeze, then a sanguine cough convulsed Andrew’s chest. It was a struggle to even pull his torso upright, so he could glare at the slave superior, and the author of his pain thus far. With a voice muddied by blood, he gasped, “Then what … was all this for?”

“A reminder of your worthlessness,” Phobos huffed, “so that the faithful may enact their vengeance upon you.”

Andrew felt his jaw clench, as he embraced the pain of clenched teeth “Then may God get me the hell out of here, away from this madhouse!”

The laugh of a madman echoed throughout the chamber under the bed. “There is no God, except for her.”

Carpet rumbled. From beyond the bedframe’s canopy, Andrew witnessed two pale, milky feet, stripped of their red paint, draw close.

A velvety voice stilled his heart, “I require the newcomer, bring him to me.”

As the faithful gathered his bruised and bloodied body, Phobos’s glare never left. Even in darkness, Andrew knew he had begun to smile, as the frenzied servant spat out, “May your death be slow, and painful.”

…

A calloused fist stood against the door. The house Caitlin stood before was of a finer construction she had witnessed than any made for those her stature. It stood only one story, for multiple story buildings with a giantess scale in mind was an improbable project, considering the current technology and techniques.

Within her jeans pocket, the other hand emerged. It grasped the slip of paper that initiated her trek across the land. Silver eyes reviewed the address scribbled most eloquently upon it. The tightness within her chest began to relent, but not entirely.

Steeling her gaze, she rapped her knuckles against the entrance. A full, warm sound shook the frame, indicative of the fine wood that it was made from. Seconds passed, yet the door remained still.

An ornate door handle, a gold ellipse with intricate designs, began to turn. Slowly, the pale entrance gave way.

Revealed, standing behind the doorway stood a woman scantily dressed. She was clad in what appeared to be beachwear. A red bikini supported a rather bounteous chest, matched by an equally crimson bottom piece. Of brilliant luster was her hair, curled, flowing and even glowing. Her smile was bright, even coy, although her lilac eyes hosted a dangerous glow.

Caitlin’s eyes widened in recognition. Synapses aligned what had been crooked. Artemis, the woman she had tangled during her honeymoon, was now opposite of her.

“My dear, so glad of you to come by, please, come in!” Her velvety tone was playful, inviting, as a smooth hand beckoned her on.

Caitlin’s boots thudded upon the polished wood. Despite her situation, she took the time to remove her footwear from her tired feet. In the face of such a courteous gesture, her eyes never left Artemis.

Her host then sent a hand up, allowing her fingers to snap. The percussive sound rang throughout the common area. Caitlin’s nose scrunched in confusion, as she began to peer around, searching for nefarious devices that would hinder her so.

When her eyes began to scan the ground, they had caught sight of three men making their way to her. They were all nude, shaved to an unnatural smoothness. All wore hollow expressions upon their faces that morphed into a sort of wonder as they gazed up at Caitlin’s titanic frame, which stretched to far greater heights than that of their master, who only came up to her neck.

The men came to a stop in front of Caitlin’s socked feet. At their full posture, none could even surpass the height of her toes. They stood as one would stand against a great cliff or massive building, utterly eclipsed by its prodigious might.

Her gaze veered back to Artemis. The brows upon the woman were arched in a way, as if she were compelling Caitlin to act.

“What’s,” the gruff woman began, “all this?”

“Getting your feet wet dear,” coolly answered the crimson-haired giantess.

Silver eyes began to narrow.

“Not interested.”

Artemis shut her eyes, and let out an exasperated, theatrical sigh. Pale arms crossed underneath her chest.

“Of course you aren’t,” she lamented.

Her fingers snapped once more. The slaves retreated from Caitlin’s shadow, bringing themselves into Artemis’s domain. Before her bare toes they stood, a hair less pathetic compared to Caitlin’s meaty appendages.

The foot rose as quickly as it fell, engulfing all three. A crunch of bones and smearing of guts was heard as her sole was set upon the ground. A small click was let out of her mouth to signify her disposal of her servants.

As soon as Artemis had crushed the three, Catlin lunged forward. Her nostrils flared, and her jaw clenched. The biceps and deltoids upon her arm grew large and veiny with definition, in preparation to inflict pain.

The red goddess took a quick step back. Despite having drawn the aggression of a larger, stronger foe, she maintained a cocky, confident posture. Her eyes, meanwhile, still emitted a playful glow.

“Dear dear, don’t get so excited over such small bugs,” she teased, causing Caitlin to pause her approach, “You’re making me tense! And I don’t want to clench too hard on what’s in here.”

One of her hands fell to her waist, directed at her crotch. Caitlin’s face grew cold, for she could behold just the quaintest of outlines within the red fabric.

She began to growl, “You fucking…”

Artemis let out a small chuckle, as the offending hand rose, allowing a finger to wag at her adversary.

“Of course,” she continued, “I could just end this little nubs miserable existence right now if you want.”

A fresh coating of perspiration washed over Caitlin’s forehead. She drew herself back, as she pleaded, “You, you don’t need to.”

A cold tremble made its way up her spine. She knew of her own strength in such a region, and with little thought, Artemis could inflict irreparable damage.

“Now that’s better.”

The coy siren turned, swaying her hips as she did so. Like a sprung spring, she leapt down the adjacent hallway, disappearing into her room.

In an instant, the enemy had evaded her. Caitlin shook herself out of her stupor. As she surveyed the ground once more, she caught the sight of more men, legions of them, lined across the floor all gazing at her in religious awe.

She followed the path Artemis had taken. Her approach was cautious, for her feet were placed deliberately to avoid subjecting the slaves to the same fate Artemis had condemned her offerings.

Reaching the entrance to her room, Caitlin saw that the door had been cracked ever so slightly. With a trembling arm, she pushed it aside. An anxious creek emitted from the hinges, as the door gave way. As the plush, feminine room was revealed, her glare was drawn to its center.

Artemis lay upon her bed. Her legs were bent provocatively, while her lips were drawn into a mocking pout. A careless hand brushed through her luscious hair, tussling it and tossing it about, allowing the overhead light to illuminate its luster.

Caitlin made her way forward in a tentative matter. Her eyes remained wary for signs of her husband, for she could not catch even a glimpse of him, not even where the vixen had implied she had held him before. Whether strewn upon the carpet, or trapped upon her red-haired host’s person, Andrew was nowhere to be seen.

The only thing she could hear was her heart furiously thumping within her chest.

A pale hand rose, ceasing Caitlin in her tracks. “Hold on there dear,” commanded Artemis, “I’ve got something in my mouth.”

The intruding giantess’s eyes widened, as Artemis’s tongue dug into her maw. Her lips parted wide, revealing a dangerous array of teeth. Seated upon her tongue was Andrew, soaked and bruised. His head moved in a delirious sway. He was but a pale mite compared to the tip of the red monster he was captive to. A snap of the teeth, or the tilting of her chin would send him to oblivion.

“Now, let’s not go crazy,” Caitlin appealed, although within her enemy’s lilac stare, there was nothing to appeal to.

Andrew was drawn back in, before his captor’s lips were sealed shut. The outline of her tongue pushed against her chin, as she stored her morsel underneath her tongue.

“It is you who are crazy,” Artemis rebuked, hardening her gaze, “I’m here to … reorient your thinking.”

Caitlin felt her jaw tighten as she shot back, “I’ll reorient your organs if you do what I think you’re going to do.”

Artemis let out a giggle, “Do what? Chew? Swallow?”

Hair fell upon her lush pillow, as the crimson-headed goddess tilted her head back. A lump appeared in her throat, before it traveled down her neck, signified by a definitive gulp.

Caitlin lunged forward, letting out a helpless squeal.

Artemis’s lips parted once more, revealing Andrew still present. The lumbering colossus was stopped once more, and a revealing exhale of relief was washed out of her.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll be sporting,” reassured the posh siren, after stowing her prisoner once more under her tongue, “Tell you what, if you can take him from my mouth, you can have him!”

There was pop of bone and joint, for Caitlin had mashed her hands together. “Well don’t mind if I-“

A finger wagged in the air. Artemis shook her head in a dismissive manner. A malicious, scheming smile began to tug upon the corners of her mouth.

“Tsk, tsk,” she clicked, “Do that, and I’ll be enjoying a nice little morsel. No, let’s make this a challenge shall we?”

Caitlin’s eyes began to race. She was two arm’s length away from the bed. But, even should her approach be swift, the scorned woman had enough time to consume her prey. Once Andrew made it past her esophagus, his life was forfeit. Trapped in a muggy chamber with burning liquid and little air, no matter the dire measures Caitlin could take to extract him, the prognosis was morbid.

This, she remained, even as her enemy continued to prattle on.

“I’ll give him back if you can take him from my mouth … with your own.”

By that time, Artemis’s smile had fully formed. Dark dimples carved themselves into her cheeks, while it appeared her eyes had been cast in shadow. It was as if her indulgent veil had slipped for but a second, to reveal the evil that lurked just behind.

Caitlin let out a low growl, “I see where this is going.”

Her legs moved, as she approached the bed. Artemis made no move to escape, nor assumed any posture to swallow what lay in her mouth. The goddess’s gaze met her own eyes, singing with unfiltered desire.

Caitlin hiked up her knees, mounting the mattress. The fabric was of a soft, fine quality, far superior to the slab of blankets she rested on through her days.

Artemis’s voluptuous form was straddled between her legs. Beefy hands fell to both sides of her face. Auburn hair fell down in matted locks, as Caitlin glared down into the siren’s inviting stare. There was movement below, as the red-haired vixen swayed her hips once more.

“Might as well give him up,” Caitlin provoked, “I’ll choke you out like the little hoe you are if you swallow him.”

“Dear, where’s the fun in that?” Artemis responded.

Her tongue dug down once more, and her mouth revealed itself. There Andrew lay, soaked in a fresh layer of saliva. Slowly, he drew his head away from the slimy, textured surface of the muscle, and looked up.

The face of his wife was strewn across the heavens, peering through a dripping wet corridor. In the delirium of heat and humidity, his nose stinging from the atmosphere of a foreign maw, a pleading hand, stretched out, so that he may touch the face of his beloved one last time.

“Cait,” he whimpered, in a voice that barely registered as audible, “I…”

“I’m comin’ to get you,” Caitlin assured.

Artemis’s tongue extended, placing Andrew even with her parted lips. At the same time, the burly titan began lowering her head, while her own mouth began to open.

Her lips wrapped around her adversary’s own.

Andrew was caught between two writhing creatures. Light was snuffed out, as his wife’s own mouth had engulfed his only portal to the outside world. Limbs flailed, but could not direct his own heading. He was tossed into soft, yielding cheeks, batted around stiff formations of ivory, before being pressed into the rough rigid terrain of the maw’s roof.

Squeezing eyes that could not see, he knew the tongue he resided on was too smooth and refined to belong to his prospective savior’s. Occasionally, he would sense a larger, odorous organ bash into the tongue of his captor’s, overpowering it for a brief moment. But, Artemis would nimbly maneuver him out of reach, often teasing oblivion by thrusting him to an area coated with mucus, with a slope that could only lead to his end.

Caitlin’s own maneuvers grew sloppy, as she pressed her lips further into Artemis’s own, eliciting a low moan from the rival giantess. Countless times, Andrew would be pushed just out of reach. There were many times, she feared Artemis would simply decide to end the game, and pull Andrew into her throat, but such a terrible event did not manifest.

Artemis’s hips had begun to gyrate. Her own nethers began to grind against Caitlin’s waist. Pale cheeks became flush with color, as the construction girl continued to roughly invade her mouth with her mighty tongue. Sounds of ecstasy grew more common, as her hands slid over her fellow titan’s back, wrapping around in a tight embrace. There was a shudder, as she traced over worked muscle, and taut skin. Meanwhile, her legs had also begun to embrace Caitlin’s hips, drawing her ever closer.

For her part, Caitlin could only widen her eyes in realization. You horny bitch, you’re getting off to this!

Her hands retreated from the mattress, as a scheme began to take shape. Well don’t mind me!

Upon Artemis’s breasts, they landed. The woman’s mounds were softer than pillows, and Caitlin’s fingers sunk into the red material covering them. An enthusiastic moan followed, as her enemy’s lilac eyes closed.

The tongue of the crimson siren had stilled. Resistance was nonexistent, and Caitlin’s own thrust forward, latching upon its prize. Andrew found himself on a far different surface, one of greater bumps, firmness, and stench. His hands desperately grasped what they could, while his naked waist pressed into the slimy surface. He felt himself assaulted with momentum, as his newfound mount began to move.

Past a barrier of lush lips he was brought, before settling in another great sweltering chamber. The aroma he had detected, one known most intimately by him, now dominated all his being. His tired heart began to still, while active muscles loosened.

Caitlin pulled away, watching a string of saliva connect her mouth with Artemis’s. Her husband tumbled down her tongue, before settling underneath it. Meanwhile, saliva had accrued in large amounts, and she found it necessary to swallow the massive deluge of fluid, lest Andrew drown. Fully upright, with her knees still sinking into the mattress, she stared down, reveling in her victory.

Upon observing the lump travel down her fellow giantess’s thorat, Artemis let out a squeal of delight. “Yes! I knew you couldn’t resist!”

Pale arms took hold of Caitlin’s shoulders. Artemis savored the feeling of worked muscles fibers that resisted her delicate touch. She pulled herself to the brawny titan, and laid a passionate kiss upon her neck. A surprise gasp was heard from above. Her head then sunk down, before burying itself within bounteous bosoms, inhaling scents of sweat and rain.

“Ohhh,” she cooed, Caitlin’s mounds muffling her voice ever so slightly, “I can just imagine him squirming down there, realizing what he actually meant to you.”

“You mean, in here?”

Artemis’s gaze met the rough woman’s face once more. Caitlin’s eyes glowed with dangerous daring, while her lips had slightly parted. The vixen’s face grew gaunt and pale, once she perceived the slight form of her abducted morsel, resting upon her fellow giantess’s tongue.

Her heart raced at a lethal rate. Rapid breathing hindered speech, as she squeaked, “But I thought…”

Caitlin’s mouth sealed shut, her lips forming a protective canopy around her reclaimed husband. As lines of incredulous rage became visible upon Artemis’s face, the triumphant titaness only jeered, “Thought what? That I’d be going ‘oohhh you’re sooo smeeexy’ after that little makeout session? Give me a break!”

“But, he’s so inadequate!” Artemis objected. Her hands retreated from Caitlin’s shoulders to grasp her own mane, “He’s a mite compared to you! He can’t satisfy you, he can’t provide for you, he’s a mere man. You, you are a goddess! You deserve a goddess to fulfill you!”

“He’s my husband,” asserted the larger giantess, “And I ain’t about to break my vows for some cheap thrills.”

Red lips quivered, while pale limbs rattled. Artemis’s jaw clenched, painting her porcelain cheeks a bright crimson. Her lilac orbs burned as they focused upon the exposed neck of her enemy. How prettier it would look with a hand or two grasped tightly around it.

A shadow was cast over Caitlin’s mocking expression. The manner of disease had infected Artemis had appeared to spread to her as well. Her voice was strained with fury as she spat out, “And what are you compared to him anyways? You’re just a cheap whore.”

If the devil himself had visited the Earth, he would have worn Artemis’s twisted face. “YOU DARE-“

Quick and swift, the back hand of Caitlin flew. It struck across the lavender scented skin of her adversary’s cheek. Red hair flew in a chaotic dance, as the siren’s head was forcibly turned to the side, while she fell back. She was sprawled upon the bedspread, her mouth agape, whispering incomprehensible nothings.

Spittle emerged from her mouth. Soon after, the frail, lithe form of Andrew appeared. Grubby fingers enveloped his body, fully freeing him from the oppressive, muggy domain. He was deposited in the sanctuary of her tank top. Dark fabric concealed his frame, pressing him against a prodigious mound.

But, Caitlin appeared to pay no heed to her weakened husband. Her contemptuous stare, the tensed muscles of her body, all were oriented towards her defeated foe.

A hand reached out. Fingers curled around the cream-colored nape. The digits made deep indents into Artemis’s flesh. The woman gagged as a result, but could not inhale to supplant the displaced air.

Artemis flailed her arms, beating them against Caitlin’s unrelenting grip. Her soft hands struck solid muscle. This only provoked the raging behemoth to drive her thumbs even deeper into her trachea. No matter how much the vexing vixen struggled, her attacker yielded not one inch.

“Some goddess you are. Can’t even save your own life,” snarled Caitlin from her perch above

Squeaks and gasps were the only responses Artemis could muster. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, filled not with vindictive mocking, but pure mortal terror. Within the furious monster, she only saw the gates of hell open wide, ready to usher in their newest, permanent resident.

“How many guys have you snuffed out?” continued the she-leviathan, growing ever more furious the more she spoke, “I guess it doesn’t matter, you’re just going to be another body on the pile.”

The surrounding area had become populated. Slaves, mites to both Artemis and Caitlin, had evacuated their sanctuary below the bed, and had migrated out to bear witness to the divine struggle that had taken place. They began to prostrate upon watching the newcomer, in all her brawn and might, subdue their once-invulnerable master. Others, in their nakedness, began debasing themselves, grasping their members as they savored the sight of this mighty goddess taking her rightful place atop their pantheon.

Andrew had managed to wrest himself from the confines of Caitlin’s black tanktop. He was flush with fresh air, but remained in darkness. He was passenger of a monolithic mammary, gazing down on his struggling tormentor, from his perch. His wife’s stocky arms were bulging from effort, veins making themselves known upon inflamed muscle. Artemis’s face, once host to pure arrogance and spite, was now pulled into an expression of pure hopelessness. Its complexion, previously a pale porcelain shade, had turned a ghastly purple, as her mouth gaped for air it would never receive.

He desired to keep his mouth shut, to witness life depart she who had torn him away from hearth and home. But, desire was not something he wished to be slave to.

“Cait!” he shouted, bashing his fists against her reddened skin.

Immediately, his wife’s grip relented. Desperate gasps were taken by Artemis, although her neck still remained in the titaness’s grip. Caitlin peered down her shirt, still possessing the fury that exceeded the sun.

“You better not be defending her,” she spat.

Andrew shook his head, “Her lawyer will be defending her. And from what we’ve seen, that’s legal suicide. But if you kill her, you’ll be playing defense.”

In hot rage, her husband’s cool voice managed to get through. Caitlin’s glare remained upon her husband, while her fingers were at the ready to deliver her retribution. As she made eye-contact with Artemis again, she discovered that the woman, through her desperate gasping, was not making a very good case for her own survival.

She turned to Andrew once more, watching him, bruised, battered and weak, hanging precariously within the realm of consciousness. His glare, small and quaint as it may be, was clear and defined from Caitlin’s enhanced vantage.

A harsh sigh escaped her mouth, “Fuck, frontier justice is really appropriate here.”

“It does have its charm,” Andrew admitted, watching tentatively, the position of Caitlin’s hands.

Her arms retracted, allowing Artemis to sink into the mattress. She let out a couple of relieved gasps, while her face recovered its pale sheen. Lilac eyes were filled with resentment, but her hands remained at their sides.

Caitlin had become aware, that there was an audience. As she took a look around the bed, she saw a wide arc of men, barely visible within the threads of carpet, prostrating, crying, and even pleasuring themselves. Her stomach began to churn most unpleasantly as she observed this.

A man’s voice, that of Phobos, cried out in a reverent tone, “Oh mighty goddess. Our lives are yours! We shall be your slaves, servants, messengers! You deserve the entire world!”

Even with the eyes of a great titan, Caitlin could not observe the tears that rushed down her new worshipper’s face.

“Not fucking this again,” she sighed, placing a hand upon her forehead.

“It’s man’s natural place. Doesn’t it feel right to be where you are supposed to be, above them?”

Caitlin glared down, despising the smug expression that Artemis wore. A bright red tongue, one that previously held captive her husband, rushed across her lips in a luscious, voracious manner.

“Makes me feel sick,” she rebuked, provoking a roll of the eyes from the woman.

“Although,” Caitlin added on, while a smile began to form, “Seeing you rot in a jail cell, or even better, get the chair, will make me feel allll better.”

Bedsheets made crude handcuffs, but that’s what Caitlin had to utilize to secure her quarry. She had to be measured in her movements, for scores of Artemis’s former servants now impeded her movements. Wherever her feet touched the ground, men coagulated. They sang praises and hosannas, and laid kisses, or worse, upon her socked appendages. Even wiggling her feet, while it threw some men off, only encouraged their worship.

Luckily, Caitlin had appropriated a phone for use. She had made a call to Jackie, to assist her in securing the self-proclaimed goddess.

She peered down her black tank top, letting out a small gasp as she lost track of her husband. Opening up the front, she saw he had slid in, taking sanctuary right next to her nipple. The sight provoked a small blush, as well as a sensation of fluttering within her chest. But, even so, upon witnessing his injuries, a pang of something else, disturbed her innards.

As time passed, she kept watch, mainly of Artemis, face down on the bed, with her hands and legs bound by cloth. The antagonistic giantess struggled little in her bonds. Caitlin had to ward away a few stray slaves who schemed to free her. She recognized some of the men where those who had sang her own praises. Indeed, the whims of these subjects were as fickle as the goddess who had ruled over them.

Caitlin let out a sigh of relief, once she heard the creaking of the door. Jackie emerged through the open entrance, a most perturbed look on her face.

“Dang, these guys were throwing themselves at me!” she said, glaring down at the men who had gathered before her shoes.

“Oh mighty goddess, we are your slaves! Your wishes are our command!” screamed a maniac in the crowd, as he attempted to mount the dark boots of the newest goddess to join the pantheon.

“Tell me about it,” Caitlin sympathized, before smirking, “Hey, long time no see.”

A soured expression then grew upon her friend’s face, “She got my key, didn’t she?”

Her dark eyes scanned the room, before falling upon the object of interest. Its golden glare insulted her under the light of the room.

There was nothing said for but a few minutes. Jackie’s head bowed down, as she lamented, “This is all my fault.”

“No,” Caitlin countered, in a harsh tone, “not at-“

“It’s both of yours!” came a shrill shriek from the bed. Artemis had hoisted her head up. Her face danced with fury, and something else that danced with her own perception of reality.

“You and your slave-minded ways,” she continued, “Still bowing to the whims of measly little men!”

“Well … I guess we have a volunteer who can take the blame for this mess,” Caitlin smirked.

Placing their footfalls carefully, both of them hoisted Artemis to her feet. Their procession was followed by a congregation of naked, undignified slaves, all moaning and pining. Caitlin could only give them a sympathizing look, none of which they even knew they needed.

As they made their way to the entrance of the house, she saw the brief flashes of police lights, and the quaint movement of vehicles. Men in dark uniform gazed up in awe at the three giantesses lumbering above them. Their work, however, would prove more colossal, for the crowd of naked men that followed would prove hard to control.

Jackie was left in charge of the dethroned goddess, as Caitlin decided to break off. Her friend gave a kind nod, raising her brow as she perceived a slight bump in the confines of Caitlin’s shirt. As the lone titan began to make her way home, she gazed at the sky.

Dark clouds, no longer giving up their moisture, had begun to crack, allowing a few rays of sun through. A fresh breath, light and airy, exited her mouth.

There was a stirring upon her chest. Caitlin used a finger to nudge her tank top open. Andrew was awake again, but even still, looked as delicate as ever. It was now, that the titan could allow tears to wet her eyes.

“I’m … I’m so sorry … I couldn’t protect you,” she struggled to say.

“It’s over,” Andrew reassured, leaning against the wrinkled reddened skin of her gland.

Caitlin remained focused upon him. Despite the firmness of what he laid upon, she possessed several reservations.

“I wanna get you someplace more secure, it’s gonna be a long way home.”

He did not answer her. Caitlin’s lips quivered, watching him exert much effort to move. Finally, he peered back at her, but utter embarrassment had taken him, embarrassment that threatened to wrench her titanic heart from its chest cavity.

In a timid voice, he said to her, “C-can I ride in the back, th-“

“The what?” Caitlin cooed, her reddened cheeks only growing redder.”

“Underwear … I wanna go in the back.”

A stifled giggle escaped her, “After all that, you wanna go there?”

Seeing him go red, she retracted, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Andrew dismissed, “But that woman, I can still smell her perfume, and … well …”

“I see,” Caitlin smirked. She attempted to suppress a small squee, but failed.

Andrew was extracted from her mound. Dangled in front of her face, Caitlin gave him a small peck that still managed to coat him.

Turning around, her free hand took hold of the band of her jeans and panties. Pulling it back revealed two great hills of buttocks squished together.

Andrew was brought right next to the all-encompassing rear, before Caitlin’s fingers released him. She also let go of the opening to her jeans, allowing the cloth of her panties to bring him into the great vertical chasm that separated the two great moons. Immediately, he perceived the all too familiar scent of rotten waste, exuding from a dark, wrinkled crevice that evaded his vision within the darkness.

There was a blast of putrid air that assailed him. Foul odors invaded every sense he possessed.

A smile crossed his face. As the motions of Caitlin walking squeezed him further against her cheeks, bringing him ever closer to her odorous sphincter, a sense of serenity took him. Until death did him part, if he had to smell the worst his wife had to offer for the rest of his life, it was a destiny in which he would revel.