Rachel wiped the sweat off her forehead as she walked out of the building. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the pig still snoring happily, there were too many like him. Got what they wanted and slept. With one hand she tugged at her stockings, tightening them against her smooth legs. The cool breeze felt good on her damp skin, that's the one thing she loved about Hillsdale; the weather was always pleasant.
It was nearing dusk and the sun hung heavy in the sky, a deep crimson red. Red sky at night shepherd's delight, or so they said. Her slender fingers fished in her cleavage and she pulled out a wad of notes, a few 20 dollar bills and a single hundred dollar bill. Franklin stared wordlessly back at her, judging her for what had just transpired. The woman shrugged this off and hailed a yellow cab.
She was not unattractive, which is just as well, given her line of work. Her hair was shoulder length, a delicious strawberry blonde. Rachel was in her mid thirties, she hid it fairly well but there was the beginnings of crow's feet forming at the corner of her chocolatey brown eyes. Her figure was full, voluptuous; her graceful curves drawing the eye of many a man. Hell, even at her age she got the odd wolf whistle from a construction worker.
She wore the questionable outfit of a red boob tube, a small black skirt and a pair of knee high leather boots, black. Her stockings were a tan brown, simple ones, some of her clientèle preferred more exotic stockings, but this guy just wanted someone to fuck. Rachel was a prostitute, a two-bit whore. She wasn't proud of it, but times were tough, real tough. She had a beautiful baby daughter at home to feed and there was constant bills. City life was expensive, but she was holding her own. This was a temporary thing, she assured herself. Same thing she'd been telling herself 2 years ago.
The taxi ride was fairly uneventful, the driver made some small talk; the usual spiel. Pleasantries and nothing more. She tipped him for his troubles, mainly just satisfied at paying a man for his services for a change. Her heels clacked against the pavement as she neared her apartment building. Rachel fumbled for her keys in the growing darkness, finally her fingertips brush the cool metal in her purse and she lifts her keys out, selecting the front door key she jiggles the lock, it always stuck these days.
Rachel exited the cool dusky breeze and entered the muggy heat of her apartment. Great, she mused, the AC was shot again; another 50 bucks down the drain at least. She saw that her friend had taken Rhaena home with her as something had come up. The woman sighed, she wanted to kiss her daughter's head, it always soothed her, helped her focus on what really mattered to her. There was a metallic click as she flipped on her “Master Coffee.” No brand name appliances for her but damned if she was going without her coffee.
The thick, rich aroma wafted through the tiny apartment, filling the air with it's promises of exotic flavours and smooth textures. Rachel greedily poured the dark brown liquid into her cup. “Shit happens.” the cup proudly stated. Yeah, that was the understatement of the century. She looked forward to the day where she could replace it with a “Life's a Beach” mug. Her eyes scanned the mess of paperwork on the table and she spies the day's paper. Tiff must have left it when she took her daughter.
Instinctively Rachel flipped to the 'Help Wanted' page. Her ruby red fingernail skimmed through the columns until she spotted a rather attractive opening. It was a small ad, and it plainly said:
“WANTED: Female for genetic test. Lucrative opportunity. Must be in good health. For details call Dr. Mog at....”
She quickly jotted down the number and vowed to call this doctor in the morning.
Sleep welcomed Rachel into it's warm, soft embrace. Her head collided with the pillow and she was asleep instantly, drifting off to where her horrible existence didn't matter. Sleep was the great equaliser.
The jarring tinkling of her alarm clock roused her from a rather pleasant dream, the details of which faded away quickly as the real world barged it's way through, thoroughly ruining her enjoyment, as was the norm. She muttered something, unintelligible, she was speaking the tongue of almost everyone who had just woken up. Garbled and under her breath she cursed the clock. She hated getting mad at inanimate objects; there was no real way to let them appreciate your frustration.
Her arm was still heavy from her slumber and she only just managed to maintain enough body control to turn off the clock. Rachel squirmed in her bed, kicking off the duvet and sitting up, stretching her slender arms as she yawned a deep yawn. The sunlight filtered down between her curtains, a shaft of light, golden and magical. Another pleasant summer's day in Hillsdale.
With a sudden dawning Rachel remembers the paper, she reaches for the phone and looks to her small notepad, her shorthand was terrible. Was that a 6 or an 8? She punched in the numbers anyway and hoped for the best. The phone rang once, twice and then a third.
Rachel nearly hung up when she heard the voice on the other end, a thick Scottish accent. She must have got the wrong number after all. “Hello, Hillsdale University, Dr. Mog speaking, what can I do for ya?” came the deep voice. Wait, Dr. Mog? This was the guy.
“Oh uh, I'm calling to ask about that genetic test ad in the paper?” her voice raised in pitch near the end, hoping to hear more.
“Aye, certainly,” came the reply, “We'd like to get started as soon as possible, would you be able to head into the University at some point today? Look for the Templar block. We've had a lack of interest in this test, sadly.”
Rachel smiled, it's not like she did much during the day, her profession was such that she tended to prowl the streets looking for prey, or was she the prey? She never figured that one out.
“Sure, I'll head in as soon as I can.” she said, bright and cheery, optimistic.
“Splendid, I'll see you soon then.” the young man had said before hanging up the receiver.
Rachel choked down a couple of slices of dry toast as she got dressed, holding the bread in her teeth while she pulled on her trainers, they were a pair of well worn running shoes. She didn't have much in the way of clothing. She decided on a pair of jeans that hugged her bottom in just the right way, and a t-shirt, short sleeved and with a white Nike swoosh on it's front. Any doubts she might have had about this idea were abated by the slogan “Just do it.” emblazoned over her chest.
That was all the encouragement she needed as she slammed the door and left for Hillsdale University. It wasn't too far from her home, she lived in a fairly central area and the University was well renowned. She had of course heard of Dr. Tamaka, she was a local celebrity along with her cadre of misfits and freaks. She was damned if she knew what Dr. Tamaka did in her lab though, all she knew was what she'd read in the tabloids.
Her brain kept her occupied as she strode, enjoying the heat and the pleasant gusts of wind that kept her cool. The sky was a brilliant azure blue and the clouds looked as white and fluffy as cotton wool. She saw the red bricks of the university, a contrast to the rest of the buildings around, all shiny and mirrored glass. It was quaint but she knew great things happened inside those walls. Collecting herself she pushed her foot forward and entered the University grounds.
Giantess World
