Claeri jogged through the sloped woods, some trees level with her and others taller. “I’m worried. She said before sunset. I think it’s already past that.” Claeri began panting, holding Alden against her chest.

“What will she do?” Alden said.

“Punishment. She’s punished me before, it hurts. Sometimes it feels good, but then she goes too hard.” The murmur of conversation steadily slipped into earshot again as they left the pools, the woodlands more leveled beyond the hillside. Unfinished roads popped up, a few stragglers from the camp loitering thereabout. Some of them were drunk, a cackling laughter here, a poorly told joke there. They leaned on trees, a few dozing off in the underbrush.

“Hey, there’s the sweetling!” a giant called, and Alden could see on the way they loitered about with drinks in their hands that they were the no-good bullies of the camp. One of them groped her own breast. “Hold up, we want to talk to you!”

Claeri picked up her pace, a worried look back revealing she had history with them.

“Stupid thing will get it later,” one of them muttered. Fortunately, they didn’t pursue.

Claeri and Alden got closer to camp, massive tents casting their silhouettes against the late evening sky. A herd of greatox marched back into their enclosure. Daytime had settled, the clang of metal was gone and the susurrus of conversation lower and more personal between the occasional giants thereabout. Past the tents and two bunched sections of trees, an exceptionally large tent stood. That had to be Big Bertha’s. Its roof was flat and firmly supported, a few decorative banners hanging off it, their details unclear in the absence of daylight. A dim gloom radiated off its canvas walls from the lighting within.

Claeri entered. The room was lit by one central fire pit, the plate of metal wide enough so the burning logs were far away from falling over the edges. Smaller candles were scattered over the tent, upon tables and shelves and the night stands. While most tents had mattresses and blankets, Big Bertha had a fine bed of her own. Its wood had an oddly intricate pattern of carvings, with an aristocrat’s bombastic show of art, while also having tears and even a missing head upon one of the poles. Stolen, most likely. Plundered might have been a better word, for Big Bertha didn’t feel like the thief scurrying through alleyways and dipping into her hideout the way rats find their way to the hole. A massive metal shield lay sideways against her bed, a large B worked into its anterior design. Beside it were a pair of sturdy gladiator sandals, not something Alden assumed she often took to battle, for no non-magical material would keep any footwear intact when exposed to the pressure of a giant’s weight, especially not Big Bertha.

Big Bertha stood before her bed. From where Alden sat in the cup of Claeri’s hands against her breast, seeing Bertha made Claeri suddenly appear small again. At first sight, Alden thought Bertha was naked, then thought she actually wore something, and finally, upon identifying what it was covering her breast and womanhood and legs, felt he had to redefine what clothes really were in order to consider her dressed.

She wore humans. The men were tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. One man on a nipple each, and the rope spanning her breast to tie their wrists together should have been longer for all parties to be comfortable. Instead, they were too short, perpetually squeezing them into those two firm globes of fat that happily gave way to their enforced advance. In that battle, the tits were easily winning. The two young men wriggled to perhaps get that annoying shoulder into a better position, pull the leg to where they eased a particular ache and allocate the strain to another joint or muscle. Their faces were drained of energy, while Bertha’s tits could take much more. The rope continued around her upper back, locking them onto those nipples. Another young man dangled from her necklace, arms tied to them, pocketed between her breasts. Four others completed what looked like a pair of panties. Two of them had one side of her hips each, tied to one another around her waist. Another round of ropes tied them to the next pair, one of which acted as the delicate flap which was supposed to cover her pussy, and the other was further along the curvature of her bottom, hugged by her ass cheeks. The panties looked skimpy, insufficient from the simple fact that one human was too small for the task of covering her womanhood. Those bulging, pink lips were infringing on his territory little by little, closing around one of his legs while trying to swallow his torso too. Given more time, they’d have him fully swallowed.

Four more were found around her legs. Two for a thigh each, tied together around their voluminous circumference like some poor decorative garland. Although one person wasn’t enough to wrap around her ankle, the anklets were only made of one young man each, their wrists reaching around to their own lower legs. Her feet were flat on the ground, squishing whoever was underneath, and Alden knew they were there. The bindings wrapping around her toes and foot and heading underneath gave it away. He didn’t doubt that the largest pair of feet he’d ever seen would have no trouble housing more than a few humans thereunder.

Two for her breast, four for her panties, four around her thighs, two for her ankles, and at least four more under her feet; she was practically dominating them every passing second without doing anything. Merely existing was enough. The bindings were all purposefully tight too. The panties cut into her, which helped her pussy slowly give way to that one man and swallow him up.

“Dear god,” Alden muttered. He’d never seen anything like it. He truly was far from home.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Claeri said, her sweet voice hopefully an asset as she lowered her head and stepped towards the fire pit. “I lost track of time.”

“That is unusual for you.” Bertha was stone-faced, chin raised high. She pointed beside her. “Come here.”

Claeri got down, holding Alden against her as she crawled towards Bertha.

“I rewarded you with a slave,” Bertha said. “But it seems you’re not ready to have one yet.” Throughout all this, the several young men stretched tight across Bertha’s body were present. They were treated as nothing but accessory, and in accordance with that, said nothing.

Claeri sat back, hugging Alden into her chest. “Please, don’t take him from me. It was only one mistake, there won’t be any more, mistress.”

“Won’t there?” Bertha leaned forward, hands on her hips. “How will you show it?”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Will you?” Bertha stood tall again. One hand on her hip, she snapped her fingers. “Slaves.” All the young men worn across her started licking. The pair on her breasts grabbed nipples with their mouths, the one by her pussy licked the vaginal lips that were slowly engulfing him. Waist, thigh, feet, everyone else kissed whatever expanse of flesh was before them. The symphony of worship didn’t change Bertha’s composure, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “What can you offer me that’s special?”

“I’ll do it better than anyone else,” Claeri said. “They’re nothing, they’re useless.”

Bertha chuckled. She snapped her finger again and everyone stopped. Bertha stepped closer to Claeri, presenting her open palm. “Give him.”

“Wh—” Claeri recoiled at first, correcting herself by coming forward again.

“I’ll return him to you tomorrow. Or is there a complaint I hear? Should it be next week?”

Claeri shook her head, putting Alden onto Bertha’s palm. “Of course not, mistress.”

Bertha’s fingers closed around him. “Good. You sleep on the floor tonight. I’ve been kind to you this night, don’t forget that.”

Claeri nodded, head submissively hanging low. Bertha walked to the bed, her steps surprisingly subtle. They fit the late night atmosphere, the firelight flickering hypnotically within the tent. As she walked, her humungous soles flashed the score of humans tied under them. They were four per foot, completing flesh pads that had the unenviable task of receiving all her unearthly weight. The only upside was the meatiness of her soles, the cushy soles helping to dampen some of the impact.

Bertha crawled onto her bed, half-lying against the back end. Dim but noticeable, one could hear the slight grunt and choked breaths from the poor young men she wore, never prepared for the jerking motions they were cast into as Bertha moved.

Bertha put Alden onto her stomach. Her hand didn’t let him go, applying a passively oppressive force on him, making him sag into her flesh. He saw the scar near her belly button. “Have you spent some time thinking about my offer?”

Alden glanced at Claeri, who sat by the bedside with a gloomy look. “It’s too soon to make a decision, my lady.”

Bertha clicked with her tongue, her face staring at him between those two globes of flesh. “Indecisive.” Her index sat on the back of his head. Together with a playful flex of her abdomen, Bertha tapped him on the head. “But at least you didn’t try to run. Did you have fun with my sweet dog? She’s a charmer, isn’t she? Not the devious, tactical kind of charmer, but an unknowing sweetness drawing you in, without both you and her knowing it.”

“I’d say our conversation was free from all those layers,” Alden said. Though that wasn’t true, but he’d been the conniving one in their interaction.

“Hmm.” She picked him up, measuring him. With a slight tilt of her wrist, she pointed him towards her breast, to the two naked men tied to her areolae. “They can’t do anything. They’re from a human village up further north, who supported a rival clan, and then the kingdom of Gharn. So I went there, taught them a lesson, killed their mages and took their young men. I have leveled villages, brought giants and humans to heel. I have eradicated the names of two clans, united multiple districts. I am bringing this continent together, and then we will take care of Gharn.”

“Your reputation is everywhere,” Alden said, bowing his head as well as he could in her hand. “In Gharn, they speak of you as a big problem. When they saw promise in me, they trained me in the belief that I could be the one bringing peace to these lands. But after… well, since I ‘became’ the Artless, I’ve always tried to keep my head out of it.”

“They won’t just be speaking of it, they’ll witness it.” Bertha’s other hand traveled down between her legs. The man who was tied to her pussy was already half inside, gradually slipping deeper and deeper in. Bertha put her index and middle finger on his back and rubbed up and down, massaging him into her lips. Her eyes remained on Alden. “Imagine if you joined our cause, taking down the country that spat on you, the elite who deemed you worthless. Imagine if you could stare them in the eyes, in the glory of your victory, and let them know what a mistake they made. Your father especially, that pompous Gerard Oakwell. I have wanted to fight him for a long time.”

Alden didn’t want to reject her outright. “It just sounds too good to be true.”

“Not under my command.” Bertha’s mouth opened for a long yawn, her uvula visible. She was left teary-eyed from it, taking her fingers off the one at her pussy. Almost his entire body was submerged now, though Bertha brought him out with a tug at the strings. He was snapped back in place, hitting her pussy with a fleshy slap. Alden was taken there. “Good night, Artless.” She pried her panties away, meaning the man affixed to her lips, and plunged Alden right in. Hot and squishy, there was plenty of room within her vaginal walls. The other young man was put back in place over her pussy, and now being so close, Alden could hear him grumble a low complaint.

He felt a little sorry for Claeri too. She liked him the most yet had spent the entire day watching everyone have their way with him. However, it helped support the argument Alden made for her, that here, they were everyone’s plaything. If they escaped, they would be for themselves. Or that was the dream he was trying to sell her, at least.

The vaginal walls squeezed around him, a sharp poke here-and-there revealing she was poking at her lower abdomen with her fingers. She turned over and lay on her side, Alden’s tunnel shifting with it. With a leg crossed over the other, it became tighter. Tighter, but still spacious enough. Even though he found himself inside a pussy, he could close his eyes and find a restful position. It dawned on him what a tough and long day it had been, this ridiculous chain of events starting by that homestead, fighting with Leila’s little sister, Mimmie. And then Leila. Alden couldn’t get over her striking appearance. Most boys would consider it a success to get a girl like that. Alden had genuinely caught her interest, only to spoil it away to a base lust, lapping away at her toes until he came.

Somewhere along those thoughts, Alden fell asleep. He fell right into a clear dream, where he, the size of a giant, walked upon a set of hilly plains. The sun blared, it was midday. No, Alden wasn’t steering his body, and on the lower end of his peripheral vision he could see the massive pair of breasts protruding from the chest. This wasn’t him. The experience reminded him of the one at the pool with Claeri, where, for a moment, he felt giant. This particular giant also wore a shield on her right hand, one which reminded him too well of the one he’d just seen in Bertha’s tent. There was no mistaking it. This was Bertha, and he couldn’t possibly be dreaming himself into her body.

These were Bertha’s memories.