Henry had nine props in this fight with him, the humans thrown in to help him even the odds. Most of them were younger men, between twenty and thirty. But as Henry watched Leeman lying in defeat from Ada’s stomp, as he saw one, two, and three props flying through the air after receiving Ada’s kicks, as he saw them scatter before her advance, it became clear they were there for added entertainment. Henry had dared to hope when he saw all the peers with him in the arena, but Leeman had been right.

The props who she threw away rallied towards Henry, and the sixteen-year-old could only shrug. “I don’t know. From a quick glance, I look like the youngest one here. You guys think of something.”

One of the props thankfully stepped up, pointing inwards to the arena. “Look there.” The arena was covered by a field of grass hemmed in by the marble walls, but in the middle was taller vegetation. One prominent tree grew from it especially, more than tripling Ada’s height. “They call that part the Garden of Chance. I’ve heard there’s supplies thereabout. Not sure what it is specifically, but they’ve put stuff there-”

“Trees, objects,” Henry said, “whatever it is, we need anything to help us pull some tricks That’s how me and my friends did it last time. We—”

More and more props gathered around Henry, until nine could be counted. That was all of them excluding Leeman. Ada had ushered them all towards Henry, and before they knew it her shadow was over them, two gargantuan pillars of toned flesh towering over them. Her damaged eyes were fixed on Henry, and he knew her well enough not to be surprised by the moisture having amassed by her pussy, almost enough to drip upon them.

“Make for the tree!” Henry commanded, and all nine of them shone with their base magics and sprinted. Their group of nine couldn’t keep together, the slowest trailing behind and the fastest getting ahead. Two massive soles were after them, thirsting for humans to crush as they shook the earth for their prey. The crowd laughed at the sprint, the pathetic display of the humans’ collective flight enough to provide these upper class giants the midday entertainment they had come for.

Henry and his ragtag company were making progress towards the middle, the Garden of Chance, and Henry himself was near the front of them. Though not all of the nine had it too well, as the two young men in the back continued to lag behind, having to watch those ten toes gaining purchase, and every aspect of her steps, the tremors they produced, the blasts of wind they produced as they slammed into the ground, it all came closer. They nervously peered back as they sprinted, trying to respond with an extra burst of adrenaline-induced speed. But they didn’t have it in them.

Ada’s right sole found the first prop, swallowing him up under the confines of its doughy softness. When it rose, he was nowhere to be found on the grass, plastered to her sole. Her left sole found the next victim, reducing them to the status of rubble, indistinguishable from the grass and lumps of soil and twigs her soles otherwise picked up along the way. Ada’s sprint unhampered, she stampeded after the group of humans counting to seven as she did so with a new pair of sandals.

“It seems our tiny company have made their escape to the Garden of Chance,” the speaker called aloud. “As many do. Will they piece something together, or flee helplesly evermore, as humans are wont to do?”

Henry and his new comrades raced past waist-high bushes and smaller trees. “All of you listen!” Henry shouted back while moving. “We have to make her fall over. Make her trip, then go for her face. That’s the only way.”

“She’s coming through!” someone called. Everyone jumped aside as Ada’s feet plowed through. Bushes and patches of soil propelled through the air. Ada hunched down and reached for a prop who lay awkwardly after jumping aside. The prop used his arms and legs to leap away, but Ada’s hand followed him. Her fingers caught one of his legs, and he kicked and punched and flailed about wildly as she rose with him in hand. A few of them battered at her toes, Ada flinching back and shooing them away with light swings of her feet. With the victim in hand, Ada raised the hem of her short skirt and pointed him right at her swollen, wet pussy.

“We have to get him out!”

“Come on, together!” the props shouted.

“No, back off, to the big tree!” Henry yelled. Indecision rooted them where they stood.

Ada’s fist was encased around the prop’s upper body, helpless as she burrowed his lower legs between her lips. With a thumb over his head, in one swift nudge, Ada slid him inside. The wetness made for a slick and smooth entry, her pussy happily devouring his body. Ada bit her teeth together, closing her eyes. There was a hint of constraint, not being too showy or arrogant with it, uncharacteristic for Ada.

“He’s gone too,” one of the props complained, a frown given to Henry.

“Trust me, get to the tree,” Henry said. “There’s rope coiled around some of the branches, I see it.”

“Bloody hell, are you—”

“Out of the way!” another prop yelled, for Ada was on the move again. One of the props engrossed in their conversation panicked and ran straight into a small tree. The tree bent and threw him back into a daze. Ada grabbed him as well. She raised the back of her skirt, directing the prop behind her, and from the tailbone she guided him downwards feet first, slotting him right in between her butt cheeks. Her plump, voluminous cheeks held him nicely between them, his scalp barely visible at the top. When she let the skirt drop, even his head fell out of view.

“Would you look at that!” the narrator shouted from atop her perch. “Humans are resilient and the brutish giant has no tools to restrain them, so she’s problem-solved it by using her body. Certainly, a method which requires a certain lack of shame, but that wouldn’t impede Ada, the large boor!”

One of the props turned to Henry. “We’ve lost four of them now listening to your strategies.”

“We wouldn’t have lost them if we followed his instructions to begin with,” another prop said, a relief to hear. Henry needed the support.

“Gentlemen, we need to run, now!” Ada was charging at them again. With Leeman still incapacitated from Ada’s first stomp, two others pasted to her soles, one inside her pussy and another entombed between her cheeks, only four props were left by Henry’s side out of the original nine. And as they sprinted through the greenery, he glanced back and noticed Ada’s focused look, how she hadn’t indulged when she put the prop inside her, didn’t taunt them or act like her usual self. Perhaps she’d learned from the mountainside, how her overconfidence and overindulgence had been her undoing against Henry and his friends. Ada wasn’t foolish enough not to learn from something which left her eyes in this state. Although that experience surely played its part, Henry had noticed how Ada shyly peered over her shoulders from how the narrator described her, the quiet withdrawal of someone being bullied. Before other giants, Ada was at the bottom of the hierarchy and did feel shame. She wanted to get this over with, this embarrassing affair where she was a dunce put on for entertainment.

Henry jumped up the branches of the massive tree, scaling it, the props following behind him. Ada’s quaking steps closed in, the poor young men under her feet continuously trampled and pancaked under her meaty soles. The last prop narrowly escaped Ada’s hand as she jumped to reach for him. All five of them got up and gathered on a thick branch.

“Well well, it seems the humans barely got out of her reach, led by our human participant,” the narrator said aloud. “But I do hope he’s well aware that continued hiding will lead to us proclaiming his forfeit, and worse, an unexcited audience, which wouldn’t bode well for his future beyond this match.”

“What’s the plan now?” one of the props asked. All of them wore shabby trousers, one of them with a vest and the other in shirts.

“By the way, why are you naked?”

Henry frowned. “It’s really not the time for that.” He pointed above, one branch sagging and laden from holding a thick coil of rope. “Someone get to that. And over there, there’s a box of something tied to that branch. Get the stuff and throw it on the other side of the tree, opposite of where she’s standing. Hopefully she won’t see us move through all the leaves, especially with her eyes.”

“If our human continues to hide and wait, we will view it as forfeit,” the narrator said. “But our giant is also encouraged to take action. The rewards of this battle is determined by more than mere victory or defeat.” That brought Ada out of her wait, ramming the thick tree with her shoulder, kicking it with her human-clad soles. Ada’s attacks on the tree were impactful but foreseeable, and Henry promptly adapted the habit of warning the others. When Ada leaned back, brought her foot up with a bent knee and was about to extend a kick, Henry called for the group to brace, and they fell down on their spot and hugged their branch. When she showed her shoulder and initiated her charge, Henry again called for the group to brace. Ada responded by tightening the intervals between the attacks, and although they were weaker, they still caused enough rumbling to make them lose their footing upon the branches. Henry’s warnings became so frequent one of them told him to shut up and lend a hand. It became hard to move at all, and they waited her out to tire her.

“The humans choose to play cowardly,” the announcer said, “what does our audience think of that?” There were complaints, faint boos here-and-there. Someone bellowed for them to get off the goddamn tree, another wanted the humans to get it over with, for it was the next battle they bought their tickets for.

The branches were still at last. Ada had to catch her breath.

“Listen,” one of Henry’s companions up in the trees said. “I’ve been a prop here awhile. We’re not winning this battle, just like we never won any before. Best we can do is entertain the crowd, maximize our rewards in the inevitable loss.”

Henry threw a dismissive hand. “Get out of here with that. We’re getting down now anyways, throw the equipment down on the other side.” They gathered what they found, ignoring the additional material even higher up as it was too much for all of them to even use, and traveling further up and away could prompt further anger from the crowd.

“Would you look at that, there’s fireballs in these!” One of the props opened a box, and when he moved it the contents clinked together. The fireballs were translucent, glassy orbs, which absorbed the presence of magic and harnessed it into a force which detonated upon impact.

“Good, get them down.” They hopped down the branches of the tree opposite where Ada stood. They regrouped under a small tree surrounded by smaller bushes. “Alright, we need to make her fall.” Henry selected two of the brawnier types who hadn’t been the fastest when they were running. “You two handle the rope. One of you stay in here, the other…” Henry saw a similar cluster of shrubbery. “The other there. The rest of us will be over there and get her attention. She’ll come at us, and you’ll pull the rope together.”

“She’s far too heavy for us to stop.”

“You don’t need to match her, just give her foot enough of a trip that it gets her off balance.” As Henry went through the plan, one of the props charged a few fireballs, the crystal balls glowing with a certain glimmer within them, as if a storm were contained within and thunder occasionally sparked.

“When she falls, we try and free our boys?” one asked.

“No,” Henry said.

“You must be joking. Rick and Steve are being crushed under her feet every second, Michael is plugged inside her slimy and stinky nethers, and Berren is right next to her bloody arsehole.”

“They may be your friends," Henry said, "but it’s a waste of our efforts to get them out. If we use this opportunity to get them out, then what? She chases us and we flee helplessly like before. An opportunity like this is what we strive for, and it has to be used to attack.”

The same one who’d supported Henry up on the tree grabbed the other prop’s shoulder. “He’s right, brother.”

Ada was moving, they could hear it. The crowd had alerted her of the humans’ descent from the tree. The five of them split up, Henry and two props grabbed two charged fireballs each from the box and made off, away from the massive tree, while one of the brawny young men took the rope and made off to the other clump of shrubbery. There he crouched, pulling in as much rope as he could to his end before the prop on the other end resisted, leaving it taut.

Ada rounded the tree, poor eyes searching. Henry empowered his arm and threw a fireball straight at her. It zipped over her shoulder and hit the tree with an explosive flash. Henry raised his fireball, the two beside him following his lead, helping Ada’s poor eyesight find them. She adjusted her thin brassiere and jogged towards them.

“Don’t be nervous,” Henry told the two next to him, even though his own heart was racing. This was their best chance.