Vera

By Pixis

Chapter 1

It was the storm that brought the monster.

The hurricane had been one of the worst in Piconorea’s history. Gale force winds buffeted the coastline, uprooted trees, and destroyed homes. Eerie lights filled the sky. Tsunami-like waves crashed against the shore and the port cities were flooded or decimated. Even the inland farming villages were ravaged by untold property damage. But the government feared the worst was yet to come when a fisherman reported the massive creature beached on the far side of the island.

The sea had vomited up many strange wonders in its recent upheaval. Yet this was no squid or shark or even a whale. This beast was the largest ever sighted in Piconorea. It was easily two hundred and fifty feet long and its body’s girth was considerable. But more extraordinary than this was its appearance. For despite these gargantuan dimensions, the monster resembled a human being.

More specifically, it resembled a woman. And not just any woman; when viewed from the tall cliffs overlooking the beach, the creature appeared to be a young maid of surpassing beauty. A veritable forest of curly brown hair lay strewn around the gigantic head. The vast, lovely face was still, its eyes closed in dreaming serenity. The giant woman lay on her back, facing skyward. Staggeringly colossal curves of a perfect hourglass figure formed a living landscape where once only flat shoreline had been. The mountainous bosom was particularly magnificent. On a Piconorean scale, she would have been quite voluptuous indeed. At this titanic size however, her chest dwarfed the rolling hills of the surrounding countryside.

Equally astonishing was the rudimentary clothing the monster wore. Small swatches of a dark, unknown material covered the breasts and nether regions of the giantess, leaving the majority of her flesh exposed. It was hardly more of a garment than a simple loincloth. Still, the very fact that she was preserving her modesty pointed to a human-like intelligence. And this left the Piconoreans ill at ease.

“Codswallop and poppycock!” declared Lord Osric Fallowmark, Commander of the Republican Guard of North Piconorea. “There is no conceivable way this beast is human! Why, I doubt it’s even alive! No living creature could reach such an unimaginable size. Its heart would explode or it would collapse under its own weight!”

The commander’s thick eyebrows and bushy mustache bristled below his horsehair helmet and he folded his arms over his chainmail coat. He would not allow his men to fall back into superstition.

“But my lord,” argued Edwyn Swiftbow, a young, carrot-topped lieutenant of the Guard. He and his allies were clad in similar raiment, though the horsehair adornment on their helmets was not quite as pure white or majestic. “If it’s not a giant of the Old Tales, what is it then?” Swiftbow and the commander were standing in the shadow of the gigantic woman’s thigh, taking shade from the sun as the other soldiers prepared to secure the monster.

“A war machine, Lt. Swiftbow,” the commander said, “a foul trick of the South Piconoreans.” He spat upon the ground in disgust. “This colossus is but a massive automaton in counterfeit human shape.”

“A machine?” Swiftbow repeated. “But it…it looks so real.” He reached out to touch the softness of the fleshy wall towering above him. “If it’s a machine, why would they build it to look like a beautiful woman?”

“A political statement,” replied Fallowmark. “This construct is meant to represent the heathen goddess that the Southrons pray to. No doubt their plan was to unleash it upon the cities of the North and lay waste to the secular society we so cherish. Can you imagine a more fitting instrument of terror? They would laugh as their so-called ‘goddess’ descends on our people with divine wrath. We were lucky the storm damaged their weapon.”

“No, Lieutenant, this thing is no living creature,” the commander continued. “I’d stake my life on it. Now, enough idle chatter! Return to your post and aid your fellow soldiers.”

Swiftbow’s fellows were hard at work attempting to bind the giantess to the spot with ropes and metal stakes. Machine or not, they were taking no chances. The creature’s body was too tall and too wide to fling the ropes across and even an arrow would not carry a line far enough. The soldiers were forced to set up ladders along the length of the enormous woman and climb to the peaks of a curvaceous mountain. They would then drag the lines across her body and descend down the other side where more ladders were waiting. Once they reached the top, however, they found that navigating a gargantuan female form was a perilous prospect.

The body of the giantess was a series of gently sloping hills and deep, treacherous valleys. If the men didn’t keep their footing, they could easily slip off an edge to plummet back to the beach or get lost in a narrow crevasse formed by the shape of her figure. The trench between the slightly parted thighs was one such obstacle and the soldiers carefully leaped across the gap to continue their journey.

One man underestimated the jump and slipped into the tunnel. He clawed desperately at the smooth skin but found no purchase. A fall from the height of the thigh could have meant shattered limbs or a broken neck but one of his compatriots quickly grabbed his hand. The soldier was hoisted back up and both men collapsed on the opposite leg, panting in fear.

“Mind your step, lad,” his savior cautioned. “These are dangerous curves.”

The other men paused at various points around the thigh, rolling their eyes or groaning.

“What?” the man protested. “Someone had to say it!”

Leaping across the thighs proved a hazardous endeavor and the space between the knees and calves was even greater. Rather than risking further jumps, extendable ladders were carried up onto the seemingly endless legs. These were used to form makeshift bridges between each limb. The soldiers crawled across these on hands and knees, gulping at the staggering height and the uneasy quivering of the ladders. But the men successfully made the crossing and pulled the ropes taut across the long, shapely legs.

The soldiers at the creature’s chest, however, faced an altogether different challenge. There was no easy way to cross the hugely imposing hills of her bosom, but the commander had insisted that every portion of the colossus must be bound. Climbing up the tilting slopes was all but impossible and any who tried soon lost balance and tumbled back down again. The movement of the landscape was not helping matters. The ground rose and fell in a steady pattern that the men were convinced was the giantess breathing.

“Wind fills her lungs!” the soldiers muttered. “Fallowmark is mad! This she-beast surely lives!”

Walking around the massive hillocks was right out, for the ground sloped downwards at such an angle that the men would tumble off. This left but one option: to go between. Only a thin black string connected the two patches of fabric covering the giantess’s breasts. The soldiers could slip under this and make their way through the deep valley at the center.

Yet as they entered this chasm, they were filled with trepidation. The curving walls rose like sheer cliffs on either side, lifting higher ever so slightly with each breath she took. The fabric of the tight-fitting garment had pulled the colossal breasts close together, leaving only a narrow tunnel for them to pass through. The soldiers squeezed or sidestepped their way between the huge fleshy barriers on either side. If those walls were to shift or press inward further, the men knew they’d be surely crushed to paste by their mass. They clutched their ropes tightly and hurried towards the other end of the tunnel.

Once they reached daylight, they found that the incline of the hills was more gradual. From this side, they were able to scale to the peaks and crisscross their ropes over the vastness of the woman’s chest. This unfortunately meant leaping over the crevasse they had just wriggled through. Like their comrades on the legs, they had to time their jumps perfectly or that cavern would swallow them up. And from that height, the fleshy valley seemed rather deep indeed. Luckily, the ground was rather buoyant and the men were able to bounce from one side to the other with relative ease. It was like jumping on an oversize trampoline.

“I know lady-parts when I feel them,” one man whispered, bouncing slightly in place as he tested the ground with his boot. “No machine can mimic such a thing!”

Elsewhere about her body, other soldiers set about their work. Those crossing the wide expanse of her belly had a relatively simple task. They had only to step carefully around the navel (which seemed almost as deep as a well) and they would be scot-free. It was only when the immense stomach began to rumble below their feet that the men started to panic. As her belly groaned and gurgled, the soldiers were shaken by the powerful vibrations. Some stumbled and fell. Others quickened their pace, fearing the giantess’s hunger should she suddenly awaken.

“Look at the size of this gut!” one man said, awkwardly climbing back onto his feet. “This monster could devour whole villages!”

“Keep going!” another called. “Else we’ll be the appetizers and our wives, children, and countrymen the main course!”

Lord Fallowmark insisted that each finger and toe of the “automaton” be secured, lest they lash out with destructive force. The fingers were easy enough to bind for they were resting in the sand. There was one tense moment though when a twitch of a muscle caused a man’s lower body to be caught under a massive thumb. It took several minutes for his allies to lift it and pull him free.

“Get it off, get it off!” the poor bastard cried in agony. Once he was freed, the others quickly rushed him to the medic tent.

Securing the toes meant the men had to climb up the sides of the ankles and scale each enormous foot. Like the rest of her, the giantess’s feet were pointing upwards like slender towers. Balancing up there was precarious but the soldiers clung to the joints and carefully threaded the ropes in and out between each toe. They gazed at these huge, meaty digits in awe. A full-grown Piconorean was barely as tall as the woman’s pinky toe.

The giant was clearly ticklish for the toes wriggled and twitched as the men moved about. They held fast, fearing to be thrown clear. One unfortunate became trapped between two toes as they suddenly clenched. He wriggled and shrieked helplessly as they nearly squeezed the life out of him but, blissfully, the huge digits soon released their grip. Painfully, the man was escorted down the slope of her instep and, like his comrade, sent immediately to the medics. The soldier was in agony and several of his ribs had surely been fractured or cracked.

“Her very toes can defeat us!” the militia cried ruefully. “I shudder to think what the rest of her can do. Let’s hope these bonds hold, for all our sakes.” But even as they hammered the stakes into the earth, they doubted it would be enough.

Once the last rope was in place, Lord Fallowmark ascended a ladder and joined his army atop the female mountain. He took point on the peak of one of the mighty breasts, surveying the human landmass that stretched into the distance.

“Well done, men. Fine work. Now, let us find ingress to this device and ferret out the South Piconorean scum piloting it.”

The soldiers blanched and stared in disbelief at their commanding officer. “My lord, are you suggesting we…go inside the giantess?!” Lt. Swiftbow exclaimed. This was especially worrying to him for he stood upon the precipice of the chin, close to the large, plump red lips. Each was nearly as thick as his torso. They were parted slightly, allowing hot breaths to waft up from the dark abyss beyond.

“Of course, my lad,” said Fallowmark. “But we must stop calling it a ‘giantess.’ This is no supernatural ogre of children’s stories. It is a weapon of war and should be dealt with as such.”

“But sir—” Swiftbow continued. He had been one of the few brave (or foolish) enough to question Fallowmark’s orders in the past and it had often worked to his detriment. Still, he could not let this insanity stand.

“You have something to say, Swiftbow?”

“Sir, the boys have felt the creature breathing.”

“The workings of the motors,” Fallowmark insisted.

“The outer shell is soft like human flesh!” added Swiftbow.

“A rubber and metallic alloy, no doubt.”

“My Lord Fallowmark…I can feel the heat of the monster’s breath where I stand!”

“Merely the fumes from an internal bellows, I assure you,” the commander said. “But since you are already conveniently positioned, perhaps you would care to descend into the machine and confirm this.”

Edwyn Swiftbow turned as white as a sheet. “Sir, I really don’t think—”

“You’re not paid to think, Swiftbow,” Fallowmark shot back, peering disdainfully at him. “You follow my commands. I am the Chancellor’s Right Hand. To disobey me is treason. Now which is it to be, lad? Enter the machine or swing from the gallows.”

A short time later, several men had climbed up to the giant woman’s face and fastened a length of extra rope around Swiftbow’s waist. They armed him with a torch and a blunderbuss. If he encountered the South Piconoreans Fallowmark believed lurked within, Swiftbow would be ready.

At least in theory. He struggled mightily but the other soldiers fairly tossed him through the crimson gates of the giantess’s lips. They would not be sport for the hangman this day. Holding the other end of the rope, the men began to lower the lieutenant deeper into the massive mouth.

Swiftbow looked around him fearfully, holding up the burning torch to illuminate the area. He felt as though he were spelunking in a large and oppressively humid cave. On each side of him were rows of huge white molars that could rend his body to ribbons. Each tooth was nearly half as tall as he was. At his back was the slippery wet wall of a giant tongue. Below him, the black, cavernous gullet yawned, its slick uvula dancing in the torchlight.

“Fallowmark would stake his life on this beast being mechanical,” he thought to himself. “Yet it’s my life he risks, the blackguard.”

“She’s not a machine!” Swiftbow hollered up to his fellows. “She’s real! Pull me back out!”

“Sorry, mate,” a recruit called down to him. “Better you than me.”

A glob of spittle dripped from the ceiling and onto Swiftbow’s torch, dousing its light. “You can’t do this to me! Hoist the line, damn you!”

By now, Swiftbow was beginning to enter the vast recesses of the throat. The men could barely make out his movements far below. “I’m truly sorry,” one of them called. “Orders are orders. I’ve got a wife and three kids. I can’t be going to the gallows.”

Swiftbow felt his feet touch down on the back of the mammoth gullet. They slipped on the slick saliva coating, causing him to stumble and face-plant onto the flesh of the throat. His hands groped in the darkness as he sought to push himself back onto his feet. This flailing motion caused a ticklish irritation for his enormous hostess. Within moments, a reflexive reaction was triggered and the tremendous walls of muscle began to shift. In one monstrous gulp, the giant woman swallowed Lt. Swiftbow whole and screaming.

The rope was tugged violently from the men’s hands and slipped with Swiftbow into the darkness. They turned in horrified fascination to see the massive throat bulge, marking the passage of their countryman as he vanished into the depths of that colossal body.

“Well,” said Osric Fallowmark from his perch. “That was unfortunate.”

To be continued...