My Lord is a Sex Worker

Duane Simpson, reporter for LewdBoy
 

~~1~~

In the five years that I have written this column, I have seen some shit. Sometimes literal shit. It all comes with the territory. Following your requests, I’ve investigated every fetish imaginable and every weird sex thing that the internet has thrown at me. But when the LewdBoy asked me to visit Nysa, I thought they were trying to pull one over on me. Yea, sure, I’ll just go run over to my travel agent and get a plane ticket to that weird hermit kingdom run by two prostitutes. Two smoking hot sex workers who devour their serfs alive on camera for money. Yea, I’ll just walk casually into this place and interview Ginger Timinda and Regina Rose. But this was not a joke. I went there, I interviewed both of them, and went on the ride of my life.

For those who have somehow escaped this particular internet rabbithole, let me get you up to speed. Ginger and Regina are two titans that rule over the city of Nysa. They’re both porn stars and they upload regular fetish porn to multiple websites of the gruesome fates of their citizens. Since the Great Shrinking, this sort of fetish has become mainstream. I suspect that many of our giant caretakers do similar things in private but it’s really only the Girls in Nysa that let anyone and everyone watch.

~~2~~

To give you a sense of what I was walking into let me run you through the plot of their best selling video this month “Challenge Game XVI – Can’t Fart Her Way to Victory”. I did not make that title up. The video opens with a normal sized woman wearing a tightly fitting lycra facsimile of a ref’s uniform. The lycra over her shirt is straining to contain a set a massive boobs. She introduces herself only as Apple, and then adds that she’s the apple of both giant’s eye while giving the audience a wink. Apple explains the rules of the game of Challenge. Each giant will take turns giving the other a challenge to complete. Each challenge may only kill half of the remaining contestants each turn. The loser of the game is the giant who can’t complete her challenge, can’t come up with a challenge that is more scandalous than the previous one, or has the last person left when it’s their turn to make up a challenge.

The set-up of the video has both giants naked and facing each other while sitting on their knees. Apple is in a referee box on a table behind them, while twenty or so people are standing nervously between the two giants. Regina opens the game by challenging Ginger to drown as many people in her piss as possible. They start with no chill here apparently.

“Regina is opening with an unusual strategy. Unless Ginger drank a swimming pool before this match or is willing to get really messy right away, she will likely on eliminate only a few contestants. It seems like Regina is taking the guttier angle on this match-up.” Apple says into a radio announcer microphone.

Ginger tells the assembled people to lie down in tight rows under pelvis. Her weight crashes down on them suddenly and I audibly gasp when I see this. From the first shot it looks like she has crushed all of them in a single go. The shot changes perspective and the contestants are still very much alive. A rush of piss erupts over the crowd. Those at the peripheries try to free themselves from Ginger’s weight. One succeeds but most of them are forced down by streams of piss streaming out in a stochastic fashion from the writhing mass on people. Sounds of screaming crescendo then are cut off by the sound of rushing water. Ginger lets up. As she rises, drips of pee fall down onto the crowd below. A few rise but many writhe on the ground as they try to rise. Many are vomiting up piss. All told only four were killed in the deluge.

There’s an odd intermission in the middle of this. A platform is wheeled out from off camera and a group of people clean off Ginger’s snatch. The focus is on the clean-up crew who in teams start with a hose, then sponges, then towels, and then a group that just seemed to kiss her skin as they passed. Another clean-up crew can be seen at the edge of the screen. This crew appears to be removing the dead contestants and cleaning up the survivors. I had to watch this part of the video multiple times to actually see what was happening because the main focus alternates between the clean-up of Ginger’s pelvis and banter between the giants and Apple. The exchange happens with multiple camera angles. This 20 minute porno had to have a production crew rivalling that of a cinema studio. How could dozens of people just go about their normal day as boom mic operators and set dressers, while one of the stars just burst a man open with the violence of her stream of piss?

The audio commentary has totally moved on the from the horror of what has just happened. Instead, the tone is like that of two wrestlers mouthing off at each other. Apple thinks Regina picked the wrong strategy since it only eliminated four contestants, which means the game is wide open for Ginger to remove at least 10 contestants in the next round.

“No, I will take Regina up on this.” Ginger says. “We’re gonna play four or more. Each of my challenges will be too hard to actually get four. It’s a game of precision today, not chaos.”

“Precision? More like a damn tease. If we only do four at time, my pussy is going to be aching forever before I get to cum.” Regina replies making an effusive, pouty face. “You had better fuck me into oblivion after this!”

The next challenge was less gruesome but equally appalling. Regina is dared to convince at least four people to walk voluntarily into Ginger’s mouth. Regina casually sets herself down in front of the group with her mouth open before them. She is casual in her movements but everything feels neatly choreographed from the cute “aww” sound that she makes to lying down in such a way that her bare nipples are still visible to the camera. Ginger for her part lowers herself down so that her lips are just above the crowd. She speaks in a whispered sultry voice that I am sure is being picked up by a boom mic operator.

“Go on, little ones, Ginger is waiting for you. You know how this game works, it’s only going to get more horrible for you. Take the easy way out.”

She licks her lips and continues.

“Look at how beautiful Ginger is. Her vivid green eyes, her beautiful red hair falling down her face. You know how lucky you are that I even let you be in the presence of my wife. Go on make her happy.”

She licks her lips again and now drool is falling out of her lips onto the contestants. One contestant climbs into Ginger’s mouth by hoisting himself up grabbing onto her bottom teeth.

“I’m being still being calm and smooth because we’re on camera. But I’ll let you all in on a little secret. I’m really, really furious that you would all insult my wife like this. That you could look upon her lips and not want to do everything in your power to be touched by them? Are you hoping maybe that you’ll get to touch my lips? If you are, you should know that I plan on tearing you limb from limb because you are too cowardly to submit to my wife.”

Regina is clicking her teeth together behind the contestants at this point until three more finally climb in. Ginger rolls the single person on her tongue over. He shouts in surprise. Regina’s teeth are scrapping against contestants until three finally crack and enter the abyss of Ginger’s mouth. Ginger swallows them each in turn and then shows her empty mouth to the camera. The tone is playful. But I can’t stop staring at her abdomen. There are four people trapped in one of the most horrible fates trapped inside her stomach. One woman able to exert ultimate authority over anyone that she wanted.

“Tie game after round one!” Apple interjects. “Which makes it technically a tie but judging by how wet I am right now, I think Ginger’s dare is slightly in the lead if this game ends in a tie. Regina – you have some ground to make-up.”

“Oh Apple, I know how much you want to be eaten by Ginger. If you ask nicely, I’m sure that she will eat you right before she puts on the strap-on. Wouldn’t that be fun to have your world violently shaken, listening to lovely Ginger fuck me? It would be closest you could get to actually getting to fuck me, Apple.”

Apple smiles awkwardly. She recovers by whipping out a hand fan to play up how turned on she is by the notion.

“Reggie’s just covering for how bad she’s gonna lose. And I’m not eating you, Apple. At least not today. A gal like you pairs with a nice glass of port not with the riff raff in my stomach right now-”

Regina grabs Ginger’s waist. Ginger is taken by surprise and loses her balance. Her ass is now pointed right at the main camera. “Besides, I’m not playing for your approval today Apple. I’m playing for all of the losers who want to be humiliated by Gingey. Imagine seeing a girl this sexy and all you can imagine is being lost inside her asshole.”

With that comment, Regina dared Ginger to fart as many contestants as she could to death. The contestants dutifully lined up rows similar to the first challenge.

“You are all so lucky!” Regina exclaimed as she looked down upon them. Her smile seemed deeply genuine. “It’s only a few lucky people, myself included, who have been farted on by Ginger. It’s the best! There is no better feeling than having a woman so beautiful perched atop of you while you writhe underneath her barely being noticed by her.”

It was so eerie to watch. The angle of the camera switched to viewing upwards towards Ginger as she squatted down. She jiggled her butt cheeks together for effect as she slowly pulled down the underwear she had been wearing for the whole video. There was a brief glimpse of her pussy that transfixed me. So much power in her lust. Everything was quiet during this sequence until her bare asshole unleashed everything onto the crowd. The sound distorted the audio quality from its sheer force. The crowd, which was previously quietly waiting their fate, began to scream. From the low angle, the silhouettes of people trying to get up and then falling over each other to escape was visible.

The chaos is interrupted by the appearance of Regina’s face as she assessed the damages. The view point switches and now we can see a few attempting a carry away the injured. Regina is counting people on the ground. Most appear to be moving.

“Looks like you only got one contestant, Gingey.” Regina licks a finger and presses it against a contestant who is still lying on her back struggling to breath. The woman sticks to Regina’s finger and Regina licks her off her finger. “Well, two if you count this one.”

Apple chimes in to declare Regina the winner. Ginger counters that they are actually tied and Regina needs to win one more challenge. Apple equivocates and seems like she might still side with Regina.

“This ass can obliterate anyone one-on-one. You want to take that chance, Apple?” Ginger pulls one of her cheeks off to the side and hovers her asshole close to Apple. Apple concedes immediately.

“I need to kiss to show that you still know your place.” Apple does not hesitate and almost falls out of her booth to enthusiastically kiss Ginger’s ass.

Ginger challenges Regina to circumcise four contestants. I couldn’t bare to watch this part and skipped over it. The frame that I skipped to was a close-up of Regina’s lips with a thin trail of blood. It looks like she did it the traditional way.

“Well, looks like we still have ten contestants left. Guess we should advertise for a post-show.” Apple says.

“Oh! Are we selling products and services?” Regina cuts in. “I fucking love capitalism. These losers toil day and night, feel absolutely dead when they come home, and then watch us torment others like them just to feel something. Isn’t that wonderful? Well, anyways it’s time to squeeze you for more profits since it’s my birthday next week. I’m raising all our stores prices by 50% tomorrow as an anti-sale. It will remain that high until we pass $10,000 in sales. So whales who are flush with cash but too cowardly to actually volunteer, now is your chance to get our attention.”

While Regina is mocking her audience the remaining contestants are being lowered onto a large iced cake. Regina picks up the finished cake.

“Maybe if we get enough donations in the stream, we can convince Ginger to sit on it before I eat this lovely cake.” She was smiling enthusiastically. Ginger looks sternly at her bratty companion. Regina puts on a pouty face and continues, “Come on! That would be a birthday girl’s best present.”

~~3~~

As a writer from a smutty rag like LewdBoy, I’m often day dreaming about pretty horny things while standing in queues. It was no different as I boarded the bus over to Nysa. But the horny images stuck in my head where my interviewees drowning a crowd of people in piss and casually swallowing others on camera.

It was in this haze that I realized I had messed up something basic. I didn’t get any of my money changed. All I had was dollars. To be honest, I didn’t even bother to look up the currency used in Nysa. Usually this sort of thing is handled by my editor. I couldn’t believe that I was going to a place as a crazy as Nysa without any cash for taxi, food, or potentially bribes if it came to it. I initially thought my editor had screwed me over but the experience checking into my hotel showed me different – Nysa has no currency.

I explained my situation to a friendly clerk at the Durruti Co-op. I asked if he would be able to take dollars or visa.

“What?” The lanky man said. He thought for a moment then continued, “Tipping isn’t customary in Nysa.”

“No, I mean to pay for the room. If it’s a problem could you tell me where to find the nearest currency converter?”

The clerk still seemed confused. He asked to see my passport. He pointed out the sticker from the border agent.

“The visa that you got is a permit to live in Nysa. The fee that you paid went to the local council to cover the costs of setting you up here.”

“Okay but how do I pay for my accommodation?”

“You mean to pay rent?”

“Yes.” I said, a little bit irritated. His English was perfect so I didn’t understand why it was so hard to get my bill.

“Serfdom hasn’t been a thing for ages. When you live somewhere, you become part of the co-operative that operates it. Our co-op requires a year of residence before you become a voting member. Since you’re not staying that long, we won’t make you contribute. No rent without representation and all that.”

“What’s the local currency then? How will I buy food?”

“I’m sorry, buy food? You need food to live, bud, why would you have to pay for something like that? If you’re hungry you can go visit the babas. This city is built like concentric rings that alternate between urban areas and farm/park areas. If you go to the park areas you should be able to find the babas by the scents coming from their carts. Be careful though, most folk here like their food spicy.”

“So I don’t need any money?” I asked at this point absolutely incredulous.

“I don’t see what you’d need any script for. Script is mostly used for transactions between co-operatives, the government, and the Girls. Individuals invest their script either in projects they want to support in their co-ops or councils and most folk allocate some to buying a bigger stake in the lottery.”

“The lottery?” I asked.

“Yea, the first every month is lottery day. It’s a public holiday where the name of the next group of tributes are announced. Everyone over 25 is automatically entered. Your name is in the lottery pool a hundred times and you can buy out up to 99 of your entries to decrease your chances of being a tribute. But seeing as you’re not staying long enough to be a resident, I don’t think it matters to you.”

“Are you in the lottery? Are you scared about what happens if you are picked? I’ve seen some pretty horrible things happen in their videos.”

“Life always has its risk. It’s unlikely that I’ll be picked. Simply isn’t my time yet.”

~~4~~

I wandered through the market in the middle of the day when it was fairly quiet. Most of the stalls had a selection of goods to take home at one end and a person cooking meals at the other. Behind the stalls was a large park. A few older men were playing a game of soccer with kids. I asked around later and was told that the workers in this area are called babas because they are grandparents. Grandparents in Nysian culture look after young children. So one grandparent is working in the stalls while the other is tending to a group of local kids. Due to the age of the workers, the pace of service was incredibly slow. If the stall you wanted was busy, you’d be much better off looking for another stall than wait for the other person’s meal to be finished. This is an effect of age, but also how plain-old chatty babas are. Gossip billows into the air intertwined with smoke from the barbeques.

It was, in other words, a great place to do an interview. I sat down at a stall and talked to man in his seventies. He was still quite spry with a deep tan. He tossed a mixture of vegetables artfully in a wok. He nodded rhythmically to my questions, answered each question with a soft “hmmmm...” before he started talking. The interview was interrupted several times by him yelling back to his wife asking where certain items were. I started by asking him if he has lived here all of his life.

“Hmmm...” He paused for a long moment before, “Well, you see it was actually only 30 years ago that I moved here. It was the fifth year since the invasion of Isan. The people there had a terrible revolution. They murdered their care-takers and we were told by our care-takers that without them – Isan would surely fall into a state of utter anarchy. Our troops were sent in their to police the uncared-for people and arrest evil-doers who caused mischief in the city. After five years, nothing had really been accomplished. We were told that what was needed was a surge to finally win the day.

“But we all could see their stomachs growing more rotund. We knew where all the prisoners from Isan were going. But it wasn’t my problem, well you see, until we got the draft notice for my son.”

This old man must have been from the United Federation. He must have been pretty scared of losing his son to pick a place like this. I asked him if he was afraid of coming here.

“Hmmm...?” This time it sounded like he didn’t understand what I had said. “Well, you see son all of life has risk. You just weigh the pros and cons.”

“But aren’t you worried about ending up in one of their videos?” I asked.

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Y’know, it’ll be an unfortunate day.”

I pressed him on what he thought of their business. He told me that it makes lots of money for the community. I couldn’t believe this.

“Hmmm... what did you think they were doing with the money? What business does a giant woman have with money?”

He explained to me that the sale of their videos goes into general revenue for the Nysian government. It’s a nationalized industry of sorts. The Hollywood grandeur that goes into their production is because it is the production of sovereign state. This made the whole set-up even stranger to me. Here this man had fled the United Federation to avoid his son being drafted into war but entered into a society where any of them could be drafted into a porno and make the ultimate sacrifice to get a giantess off. I tried to get more out of the baba about how this deal made sense to him. It seemed like he didn’t even understand my position. Finally, he said something that stuck with me.

“Hmmm...” He looked pensively into his wok. “Well, you see it was not much better even before the war. I was born right after the Great Shrinking. For my parent’s generation it was a wonderful thing. The world was on the brink of disaster from climate change induced by over consumption. The cities they grew up in became miserably hot. Shrinking more than 99% of the population would put an end to that resource drain and allow everyone to still live with a high quality life. But you see, it didn’t work out that way for my generation. Rents got higher even though there should have been no limit on space for us as tiny people. And as our medical system got better, it got more expensive. The patents on the miniaturized medical equipment raised costs and only the care-takers could ever see the original machines owing to their size. A humiliating death is one thing to bare but a humiliating life is a struggle borne every day. I chose dignity in life and I’ll make peace with death when it comes to it.”

~~5~~

It is hard to do an interview when there is such a substantial imbalance of power. It is a very delicate calculation. Of prime importance is not angering the subject or creating a situation where they become a hostile. Extreme emotion of any kind is not allowed. But on the other hand going kid gloves on them is a sign of disrespect. They know what’s happening, so this will be interpreted either as cowardice on my part or will be seen as trying to gentle parent a tyrannical toddler. It’s a tight rope act. The strategy is to ask what seem like sincere or difficult questions that play right into what they want to talk about. Not really an interviewer, but a professional producer of propaganda. Of course, these are the same kid gloves if you think the subject is a tyrannical toddler but they’ll be so in love with themselves to feel an extreme emotion about it.

I speak from experience. I wrote about General Kos back in my war reporter days and the interview felt similar. The entire time, all that I had in my head was the video that went viral of him bayoneting prisoners. I had no business talking to this man. But I gave him an interview that let him explain – in detail – the race crimes of his enemies. I’m not going to win a Pulitzer for what I wrote about the civil war in Revachol but I am still alive today. Let the fact of my continued survival, alert you to a similar tone in this piece.

We met in the living room of their residence in Nysa. It felt like a normal living room. A bit dated, I guess it’s hard to get furniture that large, but it was exactly what I would have seen circa 2000. Everything was just bigger. I was sitting on their wooden coffee with an office desk and a few chairs arranged on top for me. The vantage point of the two titans was bizarre. I could only fully make out their faces when they were looking directly at me. Otherwise their neck and part of their face disappeared behind the horizon line of their breasts. The other thing that surprised me was their dress. Working for this outfit, I’m use to pretty skimpy outfits. But Ginger and Regina elected to go semi-formal, perhaps because I’m the first journalist to sincerely come knocking. Ginger wore a blue button up shirt with her sleeves artfully rolled into a cuff. She wore a vest that from her pride when I complimented it, suggests that she knit it herself. Regina wore an earth toned button-up shirt that I have only ever seen people wear on camping trips and a small, tight-fitting toque. Her muscles were barely contained through the shirt. I knew that they were a lesbian couple. But I’m so used to it being a porn lesbian couple that I didn’t think about them as an actual lesbian couple. In any other situation, I would have opened with a joke about these two fitting the cottage-core lesbian stereotype perfectly. The first thing I said was a squeaky voice crack that I tried to disguise as a cough.

I tried to gain my composure from two looks of what-an-absolute-idiot and start with a thanks for meeting with me when I heard a crash then the breaking of glass in another room. Ginger got up and walked quickly into their kitchen. I tensed up. I had watched too much giantess themed porn preparing for this interview. I knew what came next and I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to see it live.

Ginger entered the room and the first words out her mouth were “is everyone all right?” She proceeded to lower a few people down to help someone who looked injured while Ginger swept up broken glass. Before returning I heard her joking with the injured person. Ginger said that she had better actually take time off this time and that the next time Ginger saw her she better have a mimosa in her hand or Ginger was going to put her into a giant mimosa. Ginger returned and was quite apologetic.

“Sorry, these things happen.” Ginger said. “It’s an unfortunate thing of mixed size accommodations. We can’t have the safety protections that would be common in other places. We try to make it better over time. Thankfully, just a broken wrist.”

I had to ask. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. I paused for so long that something meaningful had to come out of my mouth. So I didn’t sugar coat it. I asked, “I thought you eat the broken ones.”

“Oh my goddess!” Ginger put her head into her face. “Seriously?”

“Not everything is porn! Nicole is on my staff. We love our household staff!” Regina interjected. “We have hospitals. Do you guys really think we don’t have hospitals here because we eat everyone that gets injured? That’s hilarious. Of course not!”

I interjected with my confusion about the cognitive dissonance.

“What dissonance?” Regina continued. “We have a process for who gets sacrificed. It’s the social contract of Nysa. It’s how all of this works. If it’s not your time, it’s not your time. Nicole is going to get wonderful care from our wonderful nurses and doctors. Now, if she feels a lot of pain and wants to make a voluntary sacrifice, my belly is eager to have her.”

One thing I also should have realized is that these two are politicians. Regina was actually pandering during this interview to the nurses the union. Regina would later show me a political cartoon that depicted her shooting a video and sacrifices being sent to the ‘National Jacuzzi.’ The fact that she showed it to me suggests that it was taken in good humour. I tried to salvage the situation from what was a pretty jarring faux pas. And so dear reader, I present the interview.

Duane: I’ve watched some of your videos and I have to say the content is pretty extreme.

Ginger (interjecting): So you’re a connoisseur?

D: Well, that’s my job. In a lot of porn in this genre it quite often comes back to dominance and submission. The giantess fetish has the most extreme elements of dominance and submission than I have encountered in any genre. So how does this dominance feel to you?

G: Indescribable, honestly. I can totally conquer someone. I can have someone’s will completely ruined by my own. I can control a situation just by being there – just by the threat of my looming figure. I love shooting scenes where someone gets trapped – under me, up my ass, in my stomach – and I can feel their struggles over a longer period of time. It feels so powerful because to me its one of many sensations but to the person who is trapped it is the fight of their life.

Regina: I do actually feel a little bad dominating others. It’s not really who I am. I’m 100% a service sub at heart. What gets me going during a scene is when I’m dominating someone and I see how hot it’s making Ginge. That’s when you see the real climax from me. I also try to make sure that sacrifices get to go out horny, excited, or enthralled. I’m the kind of girl that sucks before I swallow, y’know?

D: That’s an interesting point. Do you ever feel bad about the sacrifice system?

G: No. I built the life that I want to live. I feel fucking ecstatic everyday. I wake up every morning next to an amazing gal, have a lovely staff, and I get to live a life with so much sexual pleasure. What’s there to feel bad about?

D: Really? Thousands of lives and no feelings about the morality of it?

R: Do you ask these questions to your leaders? Did President Clifton feel bad about drone striking wedding parties in Isan? If you asked, I’m sure you’d get a teary eyed speech about the sacrifices and mistakes that happen in the fog of war. But here’s the open secret. People at the top of the pyramid don’t care about people that far below them. Clifton cares about you, like you care about a bug. Ginge and I are honest about how we feel. We don’t hide behind a smokescreen. When we kill, at least we will tell you that it was fun.

D: Okay, let’s roll with this line of thinking. Why are you two porn stars as opposed to queens or more conventional national leaders?

G: Cause it’s fun. We’re literally giants, why should we behave like the old ways and wear purple robes and throw stuffy-ass parties? You just asked me if I felt bad for dominating others. It doesn’t matter if I do it as a sex worker or as a president. It’s the same thing. Unnatural hierarchies are the problem but they’re hard to avoid when size is such a large part of the dynamic.

R: The practical reason is that it makes money. Perverts all other the world want to see how many people can fit into Ginge’s coochie. And that’s the deal. We have our fun but we use these profits to fund our collective industries. We live in a society where workers own the means of production and run them democratically. We have freedoms unimaginable in other places. Yes, there’s a cost of running things this way but that deal is written on welcome sign.

D: Ginger, you have an image of a woman smoking a cigarette wearing a CNT cap tattooed onto your thigh. When I saw that I thought you were going for a rebel woman aesthetic. But your last answer makes you sound like you’re sincerely an anarchist. How do you mesh being an anarchist and also a ruler?

G: Women make their own history, but they do make it as they please but under circumstances given and transmitted from the past. In my head and my ideal way of being, I’m an anarchist. But Regina has fed me enough Marx and discussion of material conditions to make me see the utility of a state. Abandoning a state would be lovely but the hostility of other nations makes that goal difficult to ascertain in practice. If we left today, your home country would have tanks here by next week.

D: So then Regina – is monarchy the best way to usher in the dictatorship of the proletariat?

R: You surprise me, Duane. A few minutes ago, I thought you were going piss yourself the moment we started speaking. And know you feel comfortable enough to call me out. Some monarch I am. I should get my royal gavel and see how you dance when I bang it on the table. But first tell me, are you a liberal?

D: I... I am...? Yea.

R: The gavel thing was a joke – please don’t actually piss yourself. It’s high quality wood that you’re standing on. So you’re in favour of political constitutions, private property, the rule of law, that sort of thing?

D: Yep. The political settlements of the 19th and 20th century created conditions for political freedom. That freedom is why someone like Karl Marx was able to live in England and not a Prussian dungeon.

R: Right, and in your contention then these elements of a liberal democracy justify its existence. Whereas two horny porn stars is a ridiculous framework for a society. Makes as much sense as a watery bint giving King Arthur a sword as a justification to rule. I see your premise but I think they are equally silly. Yours is a system where old powerful men interpret the rules laid out by dead powerful men based on their personal interests in property. It’s elaborate theatre. But in your society all of the giants hold massive political or economic power and give a small amount of administrative control to a clique of professional managers. They do a song and dance for you tiny people every few years but then go back to doing their own thing in boardrooms afterwards. And you know what, that’s just too fucking boring for me.

D: So you’re saying that a monarchy is the better way to go? A system with no fixed rules and no order?

G: No order? Am I the first anarchist that you’ve ever spoken too. We have so much order and procedure. Democracy governs all of our businesses and political institutions. There are elections for some positions and sortition for others to maximize participation.

R: We don’t have the power of monarchs. We have the power of grandmas with wooden spoons. I’ve seen giants conquering cities with force. But that’s not us. If we do that, we lose everything that we built. You actually think we would collapse a few buildings to get our way? No! We negotiate with our political institutions. The workers in our home are part of our cooperative and we make decisions together. Obviously, we have influence because of our position but the truth is that a lot of people like it this way.

G: Geez, I didn’t expect that we’d get grilled so hard from a reporter from LewdBoy.

D: I didn’t expect to have to print a full Marxist syllabus in my article. But in the effort to keep my readership engaged, let’s switch to some reader questions. How do you foresee the longevity of your business as you get older?

R: I actually like the idea of being an old porn star. It feels kinda empowering, y’know? Like women are infantilized when they are young and then thrown away when they become an old hag. But I like the idea of millions of fans being mesmerized by my wrinkly ass. Cause old women are fucking powerful.

G: Reggie is still quite breedable though. So maybe we’ll do it the old fashion way and have successors for our porn business. If one of your readers can afford a dowry for a lady this pulchritudinous, then maybe I could be swayed to give away her hand in marriage.

D: Our female readers want to know which is better – a full-sized cock or multiple tinies?

G: Tinies, especially when they are experienced, are like the best vibrator you could possibly find. They can find and massage areas that I didn’t even know where there. So many little hands everywhere. Can’t beat it.

R: I don’t know. I love being filled with a good cock. If he has his hands wrapped around my neck...

G: What if I put some tinies on the strap for you?

Regina’s response were more lustful sounds than words.

D: You have people who are intimately experienced with you. Are any of them lovers? Is jealousy ever an issue?

G: So we’re poly. I think it’s good to have a wide array of friends and lovers. And like we’re just so damn horny all the time that invariably friends become lowers. But before your fans get too excited remember that being our intimate is leaving the regular world and becoming part of our cult. It’s sex, it’s drugs, it’s working out with Reggie. But it’s also not forever. You only get into this circle by being absolutely devoted. And that means sometimes when you play in Reggie’s mouth, I tell her to go all the way.

~~6~~

The interview was concluded rather abruptly and turned into a practical demonstration. Regina had stood up during Ginger’s response and returned with something – that I quickly realized was someone – in her hands. Out of her hands and onto the table strode an athletic fellow. He had flowly blond hair and a delicately built upper body. My focus went quickly to what he was hiding behind a tight pair of bike shorts, the only thing that he was wearing.

“When I heard Regina moan like that, I was counting down the seconds until I knew she was going to come find me.” He extended his hand out to me and continues, “I’m Raphael. I’m an intimate but more or less a professional sex toy.”

“Ah, that explains your physique.”

“Precisely. I spend more of my days practising acrobatics because a strong and nimble upper body is absolutely necessary to please a goddess of this size.” He smiled disarmingly. “So would you like to take a turn as a sex toy or has the reporter life made you too soft?”

Okay, journalistic ethics 101 is that as a journalist you try to stay separated from your subject or the thing that you are witnessing. When I reported on riots, I tried to keep a clear separation between me, the crowds, and the police – hoping that cops wouldn’t crack my skull as well. Now that I work in a more risque scene, I stay out of things because of the messy legality of sex work in general. But. Where I was this was legal, it was clearly not exploitative and let’s be honest this is the single craziest thing that anyone has ever offered to me. Should I have been terrified and meekly declined? Yes. Was that at all what I was going to do? No.

Raphael had me strip on the table and change into a similar set of bike shorts. The Girls watched me intently during this. I was slow to strip fully naked while changing but reckoned that if Regina was going to show me hers, I could show her mine. When I was ready, Regina picked both of us up as Ginger unbuttoned her pants and slid them off.

“I thought Regina was the horny one?” I asked

“Oh she is, but she always has to go after Ginger. I’ll bet you that Regina probably cums from just watching Ginger.”

Standing on Regina’s mons pubis was a bizarre experience. Her skin was soft under me and it made it hard to walk. As my feet pressed deeper I could feel the fibres of her muscles just below. It was like walking on a tightly wound suspension bridge. Also like a suspension bridge, the level shifted as she took sharp breaths in. The feeling of two tiny people walking along her pelvis seemed to be making her excited already. For the first time, I saw pubic hair that did in fact look like a tangled red bush. Raphael walked calmly onto her clitoris. He gingerly worked his hands under her folds and began to caress his hands in a back-and-out motion. He called for me to follow and I tried on her other side.

“Gentle, bud. We have really nimble fingers relative to her size. If you go softer it feels like sensation but with no source. It winds Ginger up really quickly. When you hear the change in her breath, follow me to the centre and start making rings with your tongue. But don’t smash your face into her clit like a buffoon.”

Raphael was hyper aware of changes in Ginger’s states. Her hips bucked under us and he grabbed my hand and showed me the pressure that I should be using now. As we worked I became drenched in a mixture of my own sweet and the wetness coming from Ginger’s clit. The air was heavy the smell of her sex.

I looked behind me to see where Regina had gone. Regina was set-up at the edge of the couch. Ginger’s foot was in her hands and Regina was kissing up her soles. Her eyes were closed and she was enraptured with her task.

“Are you ready to go in?” Raphael asked and I nodded. “Okay, there’s a couple moves that you can do. The basic move is to just insert yourself in and out slowly. Get down as far as you can while still being able to hoist yourself back up. If you go in be very careful because it’s surprisingly easy to get disoriented. You bring some air in with you but it doesn’t last a long time and you need to know how to get out. I’m gonna say that you should work yourself into it and then submerge yourself. Try to rest your back on the entrance and gently swing your legs out and then flex them back in. Go slow so that if you’re bad at it as, it’s not a major discomfort.”

“What do I do if I get lost?”

“Tell you what, I’ll lie down on the outside and put both of my arms in. I’ll keep my hands around you and if I feel you struggling or panicking then I’ll pull you right out.”

That was probably as much safety as I was going to get. I scooted down and prepared to push in with my feet.

“Hold up! What are you doing? That’s her bladder. Try next door. Oh! And if you panic try not to kick her bladder or I’m going to get a face full of piss.”

I swear it’s really disorienting to see a vagina at this size. I put my feet on the opening to vagina and waited for an approving nod from Raphael. I slowly pressed my feet in and felt Ginger release a deep breath. I sprung into action to. Entering a woman feels just as good feet-first as dick-first it turns out. The warm, smooth embrace was actually incredibly soothing. And as I sunk in the overwhelming smell was like a hypnotic. I know that I was supposed to work up to it but I just kept going.

Inside was dark. It was much hotter. Her juices covered me everywhere and before I knew it was in my mouth and eyes. I extended my legs slowly and brought them back to my body. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, the exertion and heat must have sent my blood pressure through the roof. Then I felt a tug as Raphael pulled me out. He got me out part way and I took in a cool breath. I told him I was fine. I was actually better than fine and demanded to go back in right away.

This went on for a few cycles. I tried to stay for as long as I could each time. There was something that was really peaceful about the rhythmic motions; about being swallowed up and squeezed against. It felt like a trance. My cock was stiffer than it had ever been in my life. No thoughts were in my head. It was a world of a pure sensation.

Raphael pulled me but this time the outside environment was ever hotter and stickier. I felt a warm rush of air against my back. As I wiped my eyes I saw that Regina had joined the party and was eagerly tonguing Ginger’s clit. Raphael gave me a shrug and I slid back in. He let me stay in for longer the next few times. I could hear him and Regina laughing. Regina’s tongue slipped in and ran down the small of my back. She laughed. I couldn’t make out what they were talking about but Regina’s booming voice added to my sensory overload. I was pulled back out. Regina was kissing Raphael. Her lips covered most of his body. He gave me a quick glance and let me in once more.

I had only been down briefly when Raphael’s hands dug into my abdomen. It was so abrupt that I jerked forward with my whole body in shock. He was pulling me out but it also felt like he wasn’t moving his arms. When my eyes adjusted to the outside, I realized that it wasn’t Raphael doing the pulling. His waist was trapped in Regina’s mouth. As I came out her let go of me and more of his body was pulled into Regina’s mouth. The ground moved under me as Ginger sat up.

“Show me.” She said as she grabbed lightly onto Regina’s neck.

Regina dutifully extended her tongue with Raphael on it. As he was pulled back in Ginger kissed Regina. Ginger grabbed me as she straddled over Regina. She put me onto Regina’s pussy then stared at me until I got the message. I went did the in and out motion that Raphael had first showed me. Ginger returned her attention to Regina. She kissed down Regina’s neck then whispered into her ear.

“Swallow him.”

I paused to watch was happening. Regina swallowed Raphael with almost no resistance. I stopped because the moment felt so intense but this only attracted the ire of Ginger, who slid he fingers under me and forced me into Regina.

“Good girl.”

My heart rate must have been over a thousand. I thought in that moment I was going to be pressed into her G-spot until I expired. But Ginger knew what she was doing. She pulled back routinely for air. There was nothing that I could do. I just let this all wash over me.

The Girls regained their composure and cuddled briefly. I was placed back onto the table. Two women came out to greet me. One of them handed me a towel, the other one gave me a mimosa. The woman with the mimosa interrupted the two titans who were in the midst of fixing up their clothes.

“Did I miss it?” She said, a clear tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Nicole!” Ginger said. “I told you to relax!”

“This is how I relax, Gingey-spice. See I’ve got the mimosa and I wanted the show.”

I was shocked to hear this woman speaking with that tone to Ginger, who I had just see eat a guy whole. But Ginger did actually seem to be apologetic.

“Sorry.” Ginger said. “I got carried away. And besides, I thought all of you were going to take the rest of the day off?”

Regina and Ginger returned to a hospitable disposition. They thanked me for coming out and apologized that they had to leave quickly. Ginger told me it was because they had to attend a meeting with representatives for the utilities syndicate. But Nicole had a different a theory that she told me after they had left.

“Regina probably wants to spend a few moments in private with Raphael. It’s the polite way to honour his sacrifice.” She said.

I was shocked that Regina had eaten him so abruptly. I asked Nicole about it.

“He wanted that so badly. When we were told about your visit, Ginger was insistent that we eat someone in front of the reporter. We all thought it would be funny. And Raff was just so eager to volunteer. Once his hand shot up, we knew that’s how it was going down.”

“He volunteered?” I asked. “Why?”

“I think you know why. What did you feel when you were inside them?”

“Bliss, weirdly. My whole body felt like it was overwhelmed with terror. My blood was pulsing, I heard a ringing in my ears, and I was hyper aware of all of my senses. But the intensity felt like it rolled over from the point of terror to bliss. I had no thoughts, I just – was.”

“So, imagine that you have access to the state frequently.” She started. “You get into this excited and meditative experience every few days. It’s addictive. Being so utterly dominated like that brings this serenity for a while and you want it back. It’s like a hack to feeling like you’re in the right place. Some of us pace ourselves with it, find a rhythm that works but some just can’t stop. And Raff, oh man, he couldn’t constrain himself. Every moment he was either exercising to be better at stimulating them, teasing them, smoking weed, or so far up Ginger’s ass that he needed a head lamp.

“He wanted to feel it more and more. And really there’s one ultimate way to feel euphoria that comes from total surrender. It’s to be totally consumed. To be food in the primal state of nature as a prey animal.”

“That sounds like an overdose.” I said.

“It kind of is. But he knew what he wanted.”

“So this was all planned? He didn’t let on that this was going to happen at all.” I said.

“Really? A trooper to the end. I’m impressed in his faithfulness to do exactly as Ginger commanded.” She had a small tear that I couldn’t tell if it was joy or sadness. “I’m going to miss, Raff. But I’ll be happy to tell our children about his heroism.”

~~7~~

To write this article, I travelled to utopia. Like all utopias it is utopia in the eye in the view of some and a horrifying dystopia to others. I didn’t think that I was going to utopia. I thought I was going to a weird sex cult to visit a population enslaved by the sexual whim of their two masters. But when I tried to interview these masters, they only really wanted to talk about Marx and Kropotkin. As titans of their society, it seems like Ginger and Regina provide support to different factions in their socialist utopia leading to stable political equilibrium – and further something amounting to a freedom that I have never experience in my life.

But this is built on a system of human sacrifice that would make the Aztecs blush. What I saw among the inner crew was undoubtedly a cult. Meditative and totally willing to give themselves to their spiritual leaders. Outside of the halls of their palace, a populace lived with indifference and seemed to take the occasional humiliation of seeing their friends tortured and eaten by a horny giantess as the cost of living in a free society. On the outside it seems like an absurd political reality. Blood spilled in pointless ritual. The hallmarks of a mad tyranny with nothing that can constrain them. But all societies have spilled blood pointlessly in imperial wars, great leaps forward, and prison-industrial complexes. Ultimately, governance comes from a monopoly on force. And force has to be used in someway to be understood and respected.

What Nysa has ended up with is a rule by sex workers who legitimately seem to care for their society. The society that has developed there is freer than mine in every sense of the word – no rent, no food inflation, no censorship, and democracy in every institution that I saw. I spent a few minutes with them and felt like I could speak freely. I don’t know why, maybe it was just the absurdity of the power differential that made fear seem irrelevant. And this is paid for with sacrifice. I have been conditioned all my life to believe that sacrifice had to be martial or of righteous martyrs. But it turns out that it just has to be. We could sacrifice our young men in a war of patriotic defense, our enemies on the pyramids of Tenochtitlan or our friends by lottery to be playthings to a giant lesbian couple and achieve the same result. Perhaps it the in-your-face absurdity of way that the monopoly of violence manifests itself that such a free society has come about. If the ultimate political sacrifice in your society is to ride a dildo into the ass of a giant submissive, then maybe its easier to laugh at the absurdity of politics and build what you want.