Giantess World
Story Notes:
Here's part 2 of Angelina's well-endowed milk-soaked adventures in shrinking and seduction.
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Interested in commissioning me for your own custom story? I can write your ultimate macro fantasy, from a wide range of genres and lengths. Read details here: https://www.deviantart.com/thejacksmith/journal/Story-Commissions-Are-Open-Again-698491757
I also have a side-shop for miscellaneous pre-written & discounted goodies, such as flash fiction, unfinished tales, and deleted scenes from series like Time-Out and A Little Blackmail. Check it out here: https://www.deviantart.com/thejacksmith/journal/New-Special-Stories-Shop-802615692
My Patreon for early-access stories and exclusive tales is now online! Hope you'll give it a look: https://www.patreon.com/JacksmithShrinkStories
“What the… what the hell’s going on?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Einstein.”
“Well, there’s no need to be an asshole about it, Bob.”
“Oh, shut it, Monica. You always have to be the scorekeeper.”
“Pardon me, but I don’t think it’s going to help anything if we start shouting at each other, instead of trying to figure out what’s going on!”
“Does it look like there’s a single damn thing we can do here? Just shut the hell up, and let me think.”
The large room, dimly lit with candles dotted in the corners, was so thick with shadow it was impossible for the four individuals present to see much behind the bounds of the expansive mahogany table. In fact, other than one another, there wasn’t much for the quartet to see at all: Arthur, Monica, Bob, and John sat in a circle facing away from one another, each bound by tethers to their respective chairs. Only by craning their necks around could they get a glimpse of one another’s bewildered, somewhat disheveled selves trapped in their seats.
Though, as top-tier board members of one of the most highly lucrative science and technology corporations in the international arena, the four had come to recognize one another’s voices blind, and especially one another’s squawked complaints, a common mode of communication at their meetings. Normally each was the most powerful person in any given room they entered, able to end careers and crush dreams with a wave of the hand, but for the first time in many years now, none of the four had any idea what was going on or why, making them feel bizarrely vulnerable.
“All I’m saying is, it would be nice to keep calm. If your collective testosterone-fueled dick-measuring egos can handle it for two minutes, that is,” Monica snarked. The sole female of the quartet, the deceptively average-looking forty-something had clawed her way to the top with no small amount of vigor and back-stabbing.
“You’re always the first one to bring up our dicks, aren’t you? As if you hold it against us?” John crowed. The youngest of the four, the thirty-three-year-old was as well known for his Ken-doll good looks as he was for asking secretaries to blow him behind the desk. “I, for one, am perfectly fucking calm. Even though I’m tied to a chair in who-the-hell-knows where.”
“Can’t you two just screw and get it over already?” Bob whined. Pot-bellied, and sagging into middle age on a bedding of booze and hookers, he’d long ago lost the energy to hold decorum, either at work or at play. “Or if you can’t shut up, just please put me out of my damn misery? Since it already seems like somebody wants to hold us to ransom…”
“I remember the good old days, when kids like you three had the smarts to keep your traps shut until you had a good idea to share,” Arthur growled. Stately and graying smoothly into elderhood, the seventy-one-year-old had been nursing a continuous migraine since the four all came to power on the board. “Perhaps you’ll give it a try sometime. If you learn to be silent once in a while and let someone else speak up, someone who knows better, all sorts of good things can happen.”
“That’s advice you could all stand to follow. Including you, Arthur,” a mysterious voice crooned from an unknown source, sultry and almost lyrical. A woman’s voice. It warmed the air, or maybe that was just from the space-distorting candlelight fogging the place like a cheapo haunted house. The four turned their heads in all limited directions, watching the shadows and wrestling again with their unbreakable bonds. None could get free.
Suddenly from out of the dark came a face they all knew only too well, albeit on a scale grander and more mythic than any could recall. There before them, just at the edge of the enormous table, holding a full glass of red wine, stood Angelina: an enigmatic, pale, black-haired siren of a woman once married to the owner of the company, Carl, who’d vanished without a trace one year before. While it was the Angelina they all remembered, sipping omnipresent wine and dressed to the nines in a shimmering black silken gown that might’ve looked like a fairy tale witch’s garb, except for the plunging neckline that granted a broad window to her ample cleavage, there was something distinctly different about her. Specifically, the fact that Angelina looked almost ten times bigger than usual: a veritable giant, observing them with a pitiful smile of lightly withheld disgust, as one might regard old dolls in a museum.
“Ang… elina?” Monica gawped in shock.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John barked.
“And what the hell made you into the fifty-foot-fucking-woman?” Bob added.
“What have you done?” Arthur muttered, picking it up fastest. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m glad you asked, Arthur. I’m sure you four all have a lot of questions, and while I’d love to watch you all squirm in your seats for as long as possible while not really answering them… delayed gratification, if you will… I’d rather not dawdle and put off the recreational activities any longer than necessary. So let’s just knock out the stupid questions first, bang-bang-bang,” Angelina replied, setting down her wine glass. A drinking straw resting in the liquid circled the rim.
She braced herself against the table, which the four now realized was just an ordinary dining room table made to look palatial thanks to their comparatively smaller sizes. Her long manicured nails, red as blood, tapped out an unsettling rhythm. Leaning ever closer to the cluster of bound-up chairs containing Barbie-sized board members, Angelina let her milky cleavage spill deeply from the sharp V-cut in her dress, to the point that the four had to wonder what forces beyond gravity even kept those humongous orbs in place.
“I don’t plan on repeating this at all, since it’s only going to get on my nerves, just like you four have cut me down to my last nerve this past year, so pay close attention,” Angelina said. The longer she spoke, the graver her tone became. “One: I’m not a giant. You’re all just very, very small, though of course by comparison to what you may well end up as later tonight, you’re positively gargantuan. Two: I’m the one who shrunk you. Don’t bother asking how. You’ll find out soon enough in a more practical way. Three: With all your repeated attempts to block me from getting what’s mine out of this company, I have to extend my congratulations for the fact that you four have officially caused me nearly as big a pain-in-the-ass as my late husband Carl, though not quite that much. Yet. Four: After tonight, I’m going to get what’s coming to me finally, because when I’m through with you, the four of you will just be the one of you. Yes, as it turns out, thanks to some fine-print research, I really only need one of you alive, functioning, and on my side to take full comprehensive control of the company! And thus, we reach the fifth and final stupid question you all were going to raise in your oh-so-annoying little voices: How, oh how, will I decide which of you three will be put out of your misery, as Bob so ironically hoped for a minute ago, and which one of you lucky little whelps will have the honor of being my puppet on the board, ensuring I get all the funds I require to keep my lifestyle going? The answer, of course, is that we’re going to have a little tournament of questions and answers. And here you all thought this was going to be so serious, didn’t you? Well, it’s not. Maybe you four will even manage to have some fun, since most of what brings you joy in life involves crushing rivals beneath your heels, anyway. In this case, though, you’re playing for keeps. Or at least I am.”
At the conclusion of this perplexing speech, the four shrunken boardsters were left with gaping jaws and bugged eyes. None spoke up.