Swaying a little, it had taken a few tries for the slightly drunk Zava to finally slide her key into the keyhole and open her apartment. She entered and closed the door behind her, already longing for her bed… almost stumbling, but like on autopilot, the beautiful, coppery skinned brunette crossed her tiny apartment’s living room and went straight for the bed. Dumping her small purse into a nearby chair, she pivoted on her heels and plunked backwards on her bed, springs and frame creaking, lifting a curvaceous leg to undo the straps of her sandals, her fingers dexterously loosening them and then repeated the operation with the other leg. She carelessly kicked the sandals free of her feet and then fell back on the bed, her feet still on the ground. Mechanically, she hitched out her blouse over her head, and then she took off her bra and tossed both to the same chair where her purse was. Then, lifting up her legs in the air, it was her light yellow panties time to go, and were also flung to the chair, but missed, hitting its side and then flopping to the white tiled floor; now clad only on her hitched up skirt, she did not notice… scooting back  and sideways a little on the bed, her legs spread, leaving one foot on the floor, she got busy caressing her sides from her hips up to the underside of her breasts on both sides, sliding her fingers languorously up and down, up and down. By the tenth stroke, she fell asleep, snoring lightly with her hands in her abdomen. She remained in that position, sleeping dreamlessly… for a while.

Suddenly, she woke up groggily, feeling in her head the throbbing, telltale palpitations of an impending hangover. She should not have drunk all those beers. Opening her eyes, he looked up at an unfamiliar and far away white ceiling; the light, with an eerie reddish hue, was too bright, she thought, or this is the worst hangover of my life… I did not drink that much, did I? She also noticed her ass and back felt very cold and uncomfortable, as she lied in what seemed to be a very hard, smooth and cool surface completely unlike her bed; the air, however, was kind of hot and stuffy, like a long-closed room. She tried to get up and disconcertingly, she found that she could not move any of her limbs, at all. Struggling uselessly while she looked franticly around, to her horror she saw that she was lying down in what appeared to be a large glass surface she could not see the ends of. Her arms were restrained at the wrist (and a good part of her forearm) by what she now saw was a generous and wide strip of, very strong, transparent adhesive tape, pinning her to the surface she was laying on. Straining to lift her head, she saw that she was spread eagle with her arms over her head and her legs apart, forming a kind of human “X” shape. Her ankles and part of her calves were also pinned with the same tape; she could see now, even more horrified, that she was stark naked, and she clearly could see her pubic hair patch peeking from between her unclad legs, below her unclad abdomen and her unclad tits, wobbling slightly from her struggles. After a while, she stopped squirming, as it was now clear there was not getting out of this on her own. And, with a deep sense of dread, she thought, whoever has gotten me into this was not going to let me out of this easily, not without having his way with me first. She was utterly helpless. The last memory she had was her getting into her apartment.

Zava spent some time like this, testing her puny strength against her bonds every once in a while, only to find they were just as tight as before; worse, she felt her bladder was about to burst; she really had to take a leak soon... She closed her eyes and tried to reign in her mounting panic. Suddenly, she heard very heavy breathing far above her, and the rustling of clothes. Opening her eyes, she saw amazed that a blond woman was stooping over her! The woman was wearing a white HAZMAT suit furnished with a helmet and a clear visor, like the astronauts she had seen in the movies. But startling as it was, it was even more astonishing that the woman was herself a giant! She had to be at least 100-foot-tall, but Zava only could see from her chest up to her face, and if she strained to look down her body and beyond it, she managed to see the giantess waist.  It was now clear to Zava that she was somehow on top of a giant desk or tabletop. The woman, who had more than a passing resemblance to her former friend Millan, regarded her coolly and fixedly with her gray, flat eyes. She had stern but young features; her hair seemed to be pinned back tightly to her giant head inside the giant helmet. Her hands were not visible, as she seemed to have them to her back while she stooped over the shivering Zava. Suddenly her enormous hands, clad with blue rubbery but close-fitting cloves, appeared. One hand rested on the table, partly supporting the giantess weight as she leaned closer, her face filling now Zava’s whole field of vision. The other hand of the giantess clutched lightly, in her tree trunk-sized fingers, a ten-foot-long white rod, more or less as thick as a broomstick, ending in a small flat knob. The giant woman then spoke questioningly, distressingly loud, in a language Zava could not understand, and the pole moved closer to Zava, who tried, unsuccessfully, of course, to get away from the rod. The colossal being waited, rod poised above Zava, like waiting for an answer. But Zava did not know what they wanted of her.

“I do not understand!” “Who are you?” “Let me go!”, she screamed, horrified as she could hear the panic in her own shrill voice as the full weight of the situation flattened her mind. The rod moved closer, touching Zava’s cheek just above her chin, forcing her head first to one side, and then to the other. Zava screamed, but the giantess did not react.

“What do you want?” She started to squeal, but could not speak further as the giantess inserted, shockingly, the end of the rod into Zava’s mouth, lightly moving it around but keeping into place, forcing Zava to choke on its rubbery tip, but soon it was removed. The giantess moved the pole away and rubbed it into a small glass tube she produced and then set on the table. Then she produced another identical but new rod and proceeded to probe one of Zava’s armpits. The procedure was repeated in her other armpit and then, to her escalating horror, a fourth rod was rubbed rather roughly into her pubic hair. All this was done in a clinical, straightforward manner, like a routine procedure at which the giant female was much used to.  But Zava’s tribulations were not over, for a fifth rod was produced.  But before doing anything else, the giant produced a small tube of some kind of clear gel, and dabbed the tip of the rod on it. And then, confirming Zava’s worst fears,  the woman got her face even closer to Zava’s, and, squinting in concentration, pointed the rod between Zava’s legs. Carefully, the woman rubbed Zava’s vaginal lips, delicately, with the small, now lubricated knob, prompting a shudder. Relentlessly, Zava felt the probe easing her labia apart and penetrating her. Not content with doing this, and as she had done with Zava’s mouth, the giant started rolling the rod around. Then, without taking the rod out, a gloved finger descended on Zava’s midsection and lightly pressed above her pubic hair, while keeping the rod in place; if her bladder felt like a beach ball before, now it felt like it was going to blow up from the mounting pressure of the giant finger, the rod and her rising fear. Zava screamed…

… And woke up anew, in her bed, her room, brightly illuminated by the rising sun peeking through her balcony window.  Shuddering, she realized it was only a dream, although a disquietingly real one. But now she was truly awake, alone as always, and the only thing that had not changed was the feeling that all those beers she had drank a few hour ago wanted out ASAP. She lied there on her back for a few moments, breathing deeply while looking at her familiar ceiling, scratching absently at the side of one of her breasts, itchy from the impression a sheet wrinkle left on it; What a nightmare I had! she thought. Serves me well for drinking so much. She did not feel any symptoms of a hangover, however, and she wanted to sleep some more, but as her bladder did not relent its protests, she reluctantly lifted her head and back from the sheets, swung her legs from the bed and prepared for going to the bathroom to relieve herself, stifling a lingering yawn while she stretched her arms over her face, but before she could push her ass off the bed, the bottom of her stomach fell out and she froze in place, a girlish yelp escaping her lips as she heard a voice  nearby call her name.