A Man of His Time
by NFalc
9
Spies
I emerge from the tunnel into a space between an inner and outer wall of an apartment, or so I have been told. It looks a little like the space between Kyra's walls, but there are slight differences here and there, like how the insulation is pink instead of yellow.
Raymond and Antoine hop out behind me. Earl isn't along for this one. Antoine takes a second to catch his breath, and then gives us our final briefing.
"Okay, so you guys have been wired. Wear your wires at all times; they work even when you're asleep, and many times we've picked up vital conversations when a giant one thought no one else could hear. You also each have three sticky mikes. Place these in strategic locations around the apartment. That way, we'll be able to listen in on places where you aren't."
"Remember, you are just two new arrivals. This woman has so many men that she probably won't notice you, but you have to keep your heads down and your mouths shut. You can't pull any of that individualist heroic crap here, you'll be found out. But, provided you guys roll with the punches, things shouldn't be that hard."
Raymond snickers under his breath.
"I'll choose to ignore that," says Antoine without breaking the flow of his conversation. "Now, extraction. We'll extract you guys in one week's time. By then we'll expect you to have the sticky mikes planted. You meet back here, any hour on D-Day, and there'll be a team waiting to take you back. Remember where you came from, and keep track of the days. It's not that complicated. Any questions?"
Raymond and I raise our hands. Antoine rolls his eyes and points at Raymond.
"How do we keep in contact with you?" asks Raymond.
"You don't," says Antoine shortly. "Unless you talk into a sticky mike, we have no way of what's going on with you. We simply trust that you stay alive. If you don't make it out on extraction day, we assume you've been killed. It's simple as that."
"And what if she happens to have seen one of us before?" I ask.
"Keep a low profile," Antoine replies. "And it's unlikely she'll even see your face." He shoulders his pack.
"So, that's it?" I ask.
"That's it," he confirms. "You're on your own."
With that, climbs back into the tunnel, vanishing into the darkness. Raymond turns to me. "So," he says. "Think we should meet our new mistress?"
We climb out of the wall, and I look around. An ordinary but elegant living room. The furniture is clearly expensive. I guess I really shouldn't be surprised: this is the home of a member of the Establishment, and that means wealth and power.
I look around, trying to see where all the other men might be. Raymond grabs my arm, and uses it to point to an area behind me. There, just a few hundred feet from us, is a massive box missing its front and ceiling. "That must be where she keeps them," Raymond whispers.
We walk towards the box cautiously, making sure there aren't any giants in the area. Lucky for us, the coast stays clear.
The box is even larger up close than it seemed from afar; about two stories high and a good square mile of space within that. "There must be at least three hundred men in there," I say breathlessly.
Raymond nods grimly. "Let's go make friends with the natives," he says.
I climb up over the box's ledge, and quickly dash into the crowd. I have to blend in, look like I always have been here. There are so many of us that I doubt this giant will notice, but if someone tells her I snuck in...
I look around, and see that Raymond has successfully found his way over to the other side of the container without being spotted.
There's a muted buzz of conversation around the area, although most of the men are silent. Probably the training they were given in the Plant system. Those that do talk do so in whispers. There's a sense of danger in the air, and it makes me nervous.
I lean against one of the walls, and try to calm down. I try to tune out my surroundings. I close my eyes, I let the droning conversations melt into the background. I ignore the rumbling beneath my feet... The rumbling...
My eyes snap open. There, moving toward us, are two huge, fair calves, sloping down into amazingly large, smooth bare feet. There's a familiar shade of scarlet on the toenails. The conversations all instantly come to a halt.
The woman stands over us, blocking out the light, and I can't see her face. She bends over, looming over us, beautiful and threatening. Waves of ginger hair fall about us, hanging over some of the men's heads. It feels like her green eyes are locked on me. I feel like I could collapse, the bones inside me crumbling, leaving me in a puddle on the floor. She puts her purse down on the floor besides the box.
"Hello, little darlings," she says, her voice soft and purring, but with a hint of the commanding tone it's capable of hiding just beneath the surface.
Cheryl smiles.
"I hope you've had a nice rest," she says. "That meeting took ages." She yawns as she says the word 'ages', stretching out the 'a' sound. "It was so boring, I'm so glad to be back."
On my right, there's a man who looks to be a few years younger than I am. He sits curled, almost like he wants to fold in on himself and disappear. He mumbles to himself, saying the same thing over and over. It sounds like a prayer.
Cheryl stops crouching over us, and instead shifts into a position where she's half-lying next to us. "You know, boys, my daughter won't be home for another few hours." She says breathily. The intent in her voice is clear.
"Please no, please no pleaseno," murmurs the boy next to me.
"I was thinking that a few of you might like to... entertain me." She grins, showing off massive white teeth that are slick and shiny.
"Like we have any choice," mutters another man who is on my left.
Cheryl's voice becomes commanding, turning into the voice I heard at Kyra's house. "Everyone stand up."
All the men come to a rigid, straight standing position. They all have perfect posture. I struggle to stand up as straight as I can.
Somewhere above, a voice cries out. "It's not our turn!" The man howls. Cheryl looks surprised, and displeased. "The bedroomers are supposed to go today. We went just yesterday. You can't do this! You can't!"
There's a collective gasp from all the men, without anyone intending it. Even I, an outsider, know what he just said was unforgivable. "Who said that?" says Cheryl, her voice cold as steel. "Bring him to the front."
I crane my neck, trying to see what's happening on the second story. There's a lot of commotion, people moving about. Then one man is shoved to the front. He's short, pale, and looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here right now. His cheeks are flushed, and suddenly his eyes blaze with anger.
"Yeah, I said it!" he yells, suddenly finding new confidence. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Poor suicidal bastard," the man to my left mutters. The boy on the right has stopped praying, and now stares ahead with morbid interest.
Cheryl reaches forwards with one tremendous pale hand and plucks the man off the floor, quickly spinning him head over heels until she's holding him upside down by his feet. I hear a cracking sound, and realize she's probably broken his ankles. She brings him close to her face.
"You impudent little jerk," Cheryl says. "You know full well the punishment for questioning me. You have to die. Slowly and painfully."
The short man seems like he's about to say something, then abruptly spits in her face.
Cheryl doesn't even wipe the tiny amount of spit off her face, simply sneers, then opens her mouth terribly wide, tilting it so all of us can see. Then, slowly, she begins to lower the short man in. He doesn't scream, but simply yells, cursing and screaming with anger. Shouting into the abyss of her throat. I wonder why he isn't terrified at the idea of the journey towards her stomach he's about to take. Then I understand. "He wants this," I say under my breath.
Just as the man's feet are about to disappear from view, Cheryl abruptly removes him from her mouth. He stops yelling. "On second thought," Cheryl says with subtle cruelty, "I don't think I'll swallow you."
The man looks panicked. Things are no longer going to plan.
"No," Cheryl sighs. "I think I'll just give you to Toni."
The kid on my right groans. "Poor bastard," repeats the guy on my left. "I don't envy him. That daughter of hers is a nightmare."
Cheryl drops the man, who is now screaming from fright, into her purse. I can still hear him, barely, as though he's coming from a great distance away. Cheryl turns back to us. "Now, which one of you wants to volunteer?" she asks, her voice clearly more hostile than before.
No one raises their hand. Cheryl's piercing green eyes pass over us in turn. She focuses hard on one spot in the group, then says, "You, the one in blue. Step forward." A man in a blue T-shirt steps out of the crowd. She carefully plucks him out of the group, places him in her palm, then continues to search the crowd.
Her eyes come towards my section. I close my eyes, still standing straight. Don't notice me. I'm not here. I'm no one. You don't remember me.
"You!" She says. My blood freezes. I open my eyes. She's looking right at me. Don't move. Maybe it isn't you (Of course it's you. Who else would it be?). "You aren't standing up."
I allow my eyes to shift sideways, to where the boy was sitting. Sure enough, he's still curled up on the ground.
Cheryl leans in closer, until I can feel her hot breath rustling my clothes. She stays there for a moment, looking at the kid next to me, and when she speaks next it's in a different tone. "Don't be scared," Cheryl says, and it's weird, but she sounds honest. "I'm not angry with you. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you..." Her voice, that warm voice that peeked through, is becoming throatier. "I want you. Stand up, little man. You have a job to do."
And crazy as it is, the boy stands up. He holds his head higher. He looks Cheryl in the eyes.
"Yes, you know what you have to do," Cheryl says softly, seductively. "Will you do it for me?"
I want to yell out at him not to, it's not safe, she's fooling you! But after a moment's hesitation he nods, quietly. He's accepted it. She holds out her hand, before us all, and the young man steps forward and sits crosslegged in her palm. The man on my left shakes his head slowly. And I know why the young man goes. He can't resist. I'm not sure I could either.
Cheryl picks one more man, from a group further down. This one goes quietly as well.
Then, with obviously practiced steadiness, she lifts them into the air, coming to a standing position as she does so. With the men in her left hand, she unzips herself with her right. Slips out of the business-like dress, the starched white blouse, pink silk underwear. And, in full view of all of us, that pale hand slips down her curves, between her legs, and Cheryl begins to please herself.
I watch, with a horrible fascination (I can't look away) as she begins to make little noises of arousal. With fluid motions, she begins to sit down on the sofa, right hand still working away, left still creating a level plane for the three men. Then she's lying down, and she's spread her legs, and she moves her left hand slowly down, over herself, to drop them right before her gaping pussy.
"I want you, all three of you, inside of me, now."
Some of the men continue to watch, but I can't stand it. I turn my head, and look away.
After Cheryl is finished with the men, the last of her moans and yells fading, she leaves without another word, leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor. Instantly, the tension in the room dissolves. The men begin talking again, still quietly but much less gloomily. I walk over to the man who was on my left before, but who's now talking with someone else.
"Hey, are the ones she took ever coming back?" I ask.
"Oh, you mean the ones who, uh, entertained her?" He asks.
"Yeah."
"Probably not," the man confirms, and I feel a sinking sensation in my gut. "Usually one or two of 'em die in there. Either they're crushed inside, or they suffocate. The ones that survive, she takes 'em somewhere else. My idea is, they've passed a test, and they become her personal sex toys."
I struggle to hide the horror on my face as I thank the man and turn away, diving into the crowd. I've got to find Raymond. We've got to do our job, and then figure out some way of getting out of here. I won't last the full week. I move through the crowd, and for a second I see a glimpse of a half-familiar face which quickly blends back in with the rest of the people.
Finally, I see Raymond. He's leaning against the wall, talking to a man who's about average height, blond and slim. Raymond waves to me as I approach. I take a place between him and the person he's talking to.
"...horrible, can't believe she does things like that. Oh, Dustin, this is my friend Adam. Adam, meet Dustin." Raymond says.
Dustin holds out his hand for me to shake, and I meet it. His grip is fairly strong, and his eyes meet mine. I look deep into them and see that he seems honest. I can probably interact with him safely, if not fully trust him. "Nice to meet you," he says. "Welcome to the club, we're all in this mess together."
Suddenly, someone taps me on the back. I turn to see a tall, gaunt man with dark hair and gray eyes. "You two. I haven't seen you around here before. She didn't drop you in."
Raymond motions to me, and I nod. Together, we each take one of the tall man's shoulders and pin him to the wall. Raymond covers the man's mouth with his hand. "You don't know anything about it," Raymond says.
The man tries to struggle, but he's thin and lightweight, and seems to lack the muscle to shake us off. He tries to say something, and Raymond moves his hand so he can speak. "Hey, hey, I wasn't trying to be hostile. I just wanted to show you somebody who could help you out, get you the lay of the land..."
Raymond looks at me, doubt in his eyes. I nod, to show him that we should follow. "The information could help us," I whisper.
Raymond flips him around. "Lead the way."
The thin man leads us out of the box and around it, to a small rope ladder leading up to a high desk. He climbs, and we follow him up.
Finally, we reach the top of the desk. Below us, the living room floor is spread out like a bird's eye view of a city. I can see into the box, see all of the inhabitants on the second floor, like looking down into an ant farm or a dollhouse.
"Well, where is this guy?" I ask.
The thin man turns around and smiles.
Suddenly, I feel a great blow to the back of my head, and I see sparks. I look to my right as I hit the ground, and see Raymond falling next to me.
My head hurts like hell. That's the first thing I think as I open my eyes. My hands and feet hurt too. They're bound tightly to one another, with what feels like torn strips of clothing. I tug against them, but they hold fast. I'm lying flat on my stomach. Still on the desk, way up high. Somebody's standing in front of me.
I look up, and curse. "Second familiar face I've seen today," I mutter.
"Nice to see you too, 718," Jude replies.
"You're looking a little worse for the wear, buddy," Raymond says. It's true; Jude's face, once round and fleshy, is looking haggard and sagging. His rictus of a smile has been replaced by a sneer.
"Shut up," Jude says curtly. "You two, you've been causing me a lot of trouble. They sent me after you. I had to follow you. Across the sidewalks. Through those stinking tunnels. I waited for THREE DAYS, without food, near those headquarters of yours. Then I followed you all the way here. Carefully. Without you spotting me.
"But boy, was it worth it. You see, I have so many things I can tell them now. I'll say to them, 'You want to know the location of the Underground Headquarters? I've got it. All you have to do is do me a few favors...'"
"You bastard. You traitor." I spit.
"Mind your manners, 718," Jude says chidingly. "And let me finish. Because before I even get to that, there's the matter of you two. I know exactly what to do with you. You see, Cheryl knows me. We're on close terms. You might call us friends.
"And when she sees me, with you two spies, she'll be overjoyed. She'll want to reward me for what I've done. She'll want me back."
"You're turning us in just so you can do her?!" Raymond shouts, outraged. "That bitch is so oversexed she'd probably screw you as soon as look at you."
"No, no," Jude shakes his head like he would at a child. "I don't just want the sex. I want her to want me. And she will. Oh, she will." Jude turns his back to us, looking out at the living room. "Any minute now, she'll come walking in."
Just as Jude is beginning to turn to face us once more, something comes out of nowhere to his left. Another man collides with Jude, knocking him to the table, surprising him. They scuffle soundlessly, just out of my range of sight.
Then, suddenly, I hear a sickening smack. It sounds like someone's skull hitting the polished wood. I wonder whose it is.
My question's answered when I feel my bonds loosening, then slipping away. I stand up, rubbing my wrists. Then I turn to face the man who saved me.
Dustin rubs his knuckles, two of which are bleeding. "I saw you two slipping away with that guy. His name's Rick. I don't trust him."
"Well, neither do we any longer," says Raymond.
"What are we going to do with the body?" Dustin asks.
Just as he says this, Jude suddenly staggers to his feet. Under my feet, I feel tremors. Cheryl's entering the room once more. "You!" Jude snarls.
Before I know what I'm doing, I lunge at Jude. He doesn't expect this. I make contact, and he slips. He loses his balance. And then, suddenly, he's gone.
I look over the edge, and see him tumbling to the carpet below. He lands without a sound, a puddle of red slowly seeping into the carpet fibers around him.
"Quickly!" Raymond shouts. "Down the ladder, she's coming!"
We race back down, and manage to make it back in time as Cheryl comes around. She doesn't even pause at the box, merely gathers her clothes up and returns to her room. I don't even want to think about what she could be doing there.
That night, I lie awake, my stomach queasy. Thoughts of guilt and disgust run through my head. I don't know how I'll be able to live in this place.
Raymond is lying a few spaces away from me. He turns over, and whispers, "Can't sleep?"
I nod. "I just don't understand it all," I say.
"Understand what?"
"Why do they all act like this? Why do they kill us without a thought? And Cheryl, one minute she's a vengeful bitch, the next she's comforting a man. It doesn't make sense."
"Cheryl is different," Raymond says. "I think deep down she probably has some sense of what is right. But she seems like the kind of girl that was brought up in the Establishment. They view us as property, Adam. They can do what they like with us. And if one of us is disobedient, the rest have to know there will be hell to pay. Otherwise we'd all rebel."
I nod, and lie thinking about this for some time. I still can't sleep. Raymond eventually turns to me again. "I remember you saying at one point that you had some sort of mission," he says. "You never told me what it was."
"Yeah," I say, "I guess I didn't." And then suddenly, without prompting, my history comes pouring out. What I see in my dreams. My search for the woman with the red shoes. And I realize how far I've strayed from my path.
When I finish, Raymond lies silent for a moment. Then he speaks again. "It's what I thought," he says.
"What?" I ask, confused by his tone.
"Your city and my city... They're the same. We were there at the same time."
I gasp. "No way."
"There's more," Raymond continues slowly. "You see, I know you. You remember back when you found me, in the Plant? I recognized you?"
"Yeah."
"I mistook you for your father. I didn't really know it was you. But I know who you are. You're Adam Baker. Mitch Baker's boy."
I lie back, my heart stopping. Yes, that's my last name. I have a name again. It feels like coming back from the dead.
"Adam," Raymond says, his voice filled with seriousness. "The man in your dreams, the one that led you away? The one that saved you? It was me."
Giantess World
