The sun had barely risen when Roland awoke, his eyes snapping open as if jerked by an invisible cord. Sleep had offered him no escape. Even in dreams, his mind had been haunted by Anna.

His men and the band of Indians were already stirring. Arnaud coordinated the sailors, instructing them to roll up the mats and tents and secure the provisions. Kariwase stood off to the side, observing silently. The Indians had already packed up their pallets, and were lashing the clay vessels to them with leather straps. Roland got to his feet, hastily folding up his mat and tent.

"Ready to proceed, Captain?" Kariwase asked. 

"Yes," Roland replied, tightening the straps on his knapsack. "Let's not delay any longer. Time feels... Different now. More urgent."

They set off, meandering through the trees in a single file line. Occasionally, they crossed shallow creeks where water meandered through deep grooves in the earth which radiated like cracks in glass, likely set on new courses by the tectonic shifts caused by Anna’s steps. Birds fluttered above, their songs sounding almost plaintive, mournful melodies composed for a world that had fundamentally changed.

Kariwase led the way, his eyes scanning the path ahead. The Indian guide would occasionally pause to touch the trunk of a tree or a particularly large fern, as if seeking reassurance.

Roland watched his men closely. These were hardened sailors, men accustomed to the fury of the open sea. Yet now they moved with a sense of wariness, their eyes darting nervously. At one point, Roland tripped over a root, quickly catching himself but not before letting out a soft curse. A few men chuckled, but the laughter died quickly, smothered by the palpable weight of what awaited them at their destination.

They topped a rise, and Roland felt his breath hitch in his throat. At last, they had arrived. Less than a mile ahead of them, one of Anna’s feet stretched lazily across the landscape, sole turned upward, her toes resembling cliffs. Behind it her ankle rose like a monumental ridge, curving gracefully into the sweeping arc of her leg, which seemed to extend into the distance forever. The rest of her body was hidden, obscured from their view by the looming mass of her bare foot.

“We are here.” Kariwase announced. 

The Indian guide turned to his men and began issuing commands in their native tongue. They nodded and broke formation, setting aside the mysterious vessels and spreading out into a semicircle. They moved with practiced purpose, unwrapping parcels made of animal skins which contained large clay jars.

“Grease and gunpowder,” Kariwase explained. “A signal. If she is awake, she will notice.”

Kariwase took one of the jars and knelt, placing it carefully on a flat stone. His fingers worked deftly, unraveling a piece of twine that had been soaked in the same oily substance. He inserted the twine into the jar, fashioning a makeshift wick. Around him, the other Indians were doing the same, spacing the jars at intervals that formed a swirling pattern on the ground, like a geometric constellation. 

Once the flares were all in place, Kariwase walked back to the center of the semicircle. He struck a piece of flint against his dagger, producing a spark that caught the first wick. Almost immediately, it ignited, a sizzling flame devouring the twine as it sped toward the jar. One by one, other men lit their wicks as well.

The jars erupted.

Columns of flame and smoke shot skyward as the air punctuated by a series of thunderous cracks. The spectacle turned the early morning into a storm of fiery brilliance. Roland, squatting at a safe distance, squinted his eyes as his face was lit by a flash blinding light. Then stillness fell across the clearing. Transfixed, Roland watched the wisps of black smoke slowly dissipate in the wind. For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath.

Kariwase broke the silence, his voice a whisper. “Now we wait.”

The men felt it before they heard it. A low rumble emanated from the ground, faint at first, like the growl of distant thunder. Birds shot out of the forest canopy, chattering in terror. The sailors took an instinctive step back, hands dropping to their weapons in a reflexive grasp, as if their muskets would be any match for the titan rising before them.

The massive toes began to twitch. Flexing slowly, they dislodged earth, rocks, and entire trees, sending them tumbling down in an avalanche of soil. The ball of Anna’s foot pivoted, the smooth arch pressing against the ground. The earth yielded like warm wax, deforming under her bare sole as the forest was flattened without mustering a second of resistance. The trembling intensified, now accompanied by a cacophony of subterranean groans as Anna's ankle started to lift. Her colossal calf muscle tensed, the arcs and contours of her leg resembling a mountain range in the process of formation. Now the ball of her foot began its ascent, pulling away from the earth with a lazy sort of majesty. 

As she began to stand, her other foot -- equally titanic -- pressed down, and another section of land was subsumed. It was an act as effortless as it was devastating. The seismic trembling spread outwards from the impact of her foot like ripples on a pond. The ground quaked with such ferocity that trees were uprooted around her, hillsides slid away, and ravines split the earth. Slowly, almost tenderly, Anna began straightening her legs. Her enormous ass rippled as she shifted her weight forward, exerting unimaginable force as her glutes tensed to balance her body. Her breasts, preposterously huge and full, swung heavily as she bent at the waist, slowly settling against her stomach as her torso turned upright. Her massive knees, each one higher than the tallest peaks, locked into place with a resonant boom that reverberated across the horizon. 

The upward movement of her body whipped the air into a gale-force wind, which ripped across the land and swept up anything not anchored to the ground in a whirlwind of dry needles and dirt. Trees swayed dangerously, leaves were ripped from their branches and sent swirling through the air like a storm of locusts. The gusts blew over the men, pulling their clothes and tugging hats from heads. Roland had to plant his feet firmly and lean into the wind to keep from being knocked off balance. He clenched his jaw, fighting the instinct to turn and run.

The men were cast into darkness as Anna's figure finally rose into its full, upright position, eclipsing the sun. Her shadow now stretched for an unfathomable distance, painting the entire landscape in front of her in hues of dusky twilight. 

Roland stood, mouth agape, his gaze lifting higher and higher until his neck could stretch no more. Anna dominated the landscape, an eldritch presence that made nature seem feeble in comparison.

It was difficult to process her all at once. As if painted by the hands of gods, Anna stood there, her curves filling the sky. The edges of her silhouette flickered in the sunlight, a trick of distance and atmosphere, as if reality itself was struggling to contain her. Roland’s mouth went dry as he beheld her bare breasts. Hanging freely on her chest, each planetary tit had settled into a round teardrop shape against her stomach. They took up her entire torso, with considerable portions of their curvature bulging past it on either side. Her nipples were erect in the crisp air, each one longer than a foremast, and a hundred times as thick.

Roland's gaze was naturally drawn to her face, her soft beauty magnified to a terrifying scale. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, shimmering in the dappled sunlight like spun gold. 

Kariwase shouted something to his men above the chaos. They scrambled to set up another ring of mortar jars. One by one, the jars erupted into plumes of flame, sending columns of black smoke into the sky.

Up above, Anna's colossal form momentarily paused, her eyes scanning the landscape below. Her eyes locked onto the origin of the signal. Time seemed to halt as the weight of her gaze bore down on them. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She had seen them. She recognized their existence, minuscule as they were.

A sense of dread settled into the pit of Roland's stomach. They had captured her attention, but to what end? He was gripped by a grim realization that they were vulnerable not just to Anna's actions, but to her mere existence. A single misstep, an absentminded movement, and their lives would be snuffed out in an instant. He thought of how he himself had stepped on anthills without a second thought -- not out of malice but sheer obliviousness. What would differentiate them from ants in Anna’s eyes?

But it was too late for misgivings.

Anna began to move. From their vantage point, Roland could only describe it as a mountain deciding to relocate. Her feet lifted from the earth one after another with ponderous, inexorable grace, only to descend again with a force that defied imagination. Each mighty step flattened trees like blades of grass, and sent shockwaves rolling across the landscape. Roland felt the ground shake beneath his boots, the tremors growing increasingly violent with each mighty step, throwing him and his crew off balance. Around them birds took panicked flight, and animals that they hadn’t even realized were there bolted in terror.

As Anna approached, her scale seemed to shift, becoming more distorted with each step. Soon her shins and feet filled their entire field of view, the curve of her legs becoming their horizon as the rest of her body disappeared from sight. Roland strained his neck as he tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but his eyes could climb no higher than her enormous calves. They were too close to see anything but the immeasurable expanse of her shins and the cataclysm wrought by her gigantic feet. The gale-force winds generated by her motion swept through the forest like a storm front, leaves and debris carried away in swirling vortices. Roland had to shield his eyes from the detritus hurled by the wind -- but he dared not close them.

Anna's next step seemed to hang in the air for an eternity, her foot blotting out the sun. For an excruciating moment the possibility of being squashed like ants beneath her sole was palpable. Then, slowly, almost tenderly, her foot descended to meet the earth, less than a hundred yards away. The force reverberated through the ground, making Roland and his men stagger. Ears ringing, they gazed upwards. 

What they saw defied comprehension.

In front of them was Anna’s foot, a wall of flesh that filled their entire field of vision. It was her big toe that dominated everything else, resting directly in front of them, towering into the sky like a monolith. Its scale was incomprehensible, akin to a mighty fortress, but made of living flesh. The texture of her skin, an expanse of epidermal hills and valleys, had a geography all its own. Faint lines and ridges, barely noticeable details on an ordinary person, were writ large as intricate canyons and ravines. The  sliver of her nail visible to them was a crescent moon of keratin, its surface catching the light in a way that gave it a soft, otherworldly luminescence. 

Roland shuddered. There was something profoundly humbling about standing in the shadow of Anna’s foot. It was surreal to realize that what he was staring at -- a young woman’s toe -- was attached to a whole body, an entire person who could think and feel just as he could.

The horizon of flesh that concealed her upper body began to shift, its massive form lowering gradually. It was as if the sky itself was being pulled down. Then suddenly, looming over the twin curvatures of her colossal breasts, Anna’s face appeared. It emerged gradually, like the sun rising over the horizon of the Earth; first her chin came into view, then her lips, her nose, until finally her eyes broke over the edge. Her expression was one of focused curiosity, her eyes scanning the ground at her feet, seeking out the tiny supplicants who had summoned her. 

Roland watched as her lips parted, her tongue contorting inside the darkness of her mouth like some ancient leviathan. 

“I SEE YOU,” she boomed.

Anna’s voice filled the world. Her words rolled across the landscape like thunder, echoing off the distant mountains and resonating through their bones. The very ground beneath them vibrated, pulsating in rhythm with her words. Each syllable hit Roland and his men like a physical force  that caused them to stagger, clutching their ears in a futile attempt to shield themselves from the onslaught of sound. Roland felt as if his internal organs were quivering, his eardrums near the point of rupture. Anna’s voice spoke not just to them, but through them, in a frequency that resonated the very core of his being.

For an absurd moment, Roland felt as though Anna was addressing him directly, as if she recognized him. Excitement swelled in his chest. But the notion dissipated almost as quickly as it had come. Of course she couldn't recognize him, or anyone else among them. They were specks at her feet, indistinguishable from dirt. She was speaking to them the only way she could: all at once.

As Roland and his crew stood frozen, transfixed by the inconceivable apparition before them, Kariwase and the Indians were a flurry of activity. The men were setting the clay tankards on the ground, packed tightly together in rows, removing the reed corks and tossing them aside. Once the bizarre formation had been constructed, the Indians joined hands and formed a ring around it, chanting a rhythm in their melodic tongue.

“ARE YOU READY?”

The question was rhetorical. There was no conceivable way they could communicate with her, verbally or otherwise. It wasn’t a query: it was a declaration.

Kariwase raised his arms, palms facing skyward, a gesture of surrender and invitation. The Indians’ voices lifted in a crescendo, their voices blending seamlessly in a harmonic drone.

The ground trembled as Anna shifted her weight and leaned forward. Suddenly the world went dark. Roland looked up. One of Anna’s colossal tits had eclipsed the entire sky, stretching in every direction for what seemed like kilometers, blotting out the sun and casting them in shadow. It swung pendulously back and forth, filling the air with an audible sloshing sound, waves of motion rippling across its surface as Anna adjusted her posture. So unbelievably huge, round, and heavy that it was as if the moon was falling down from heaven. Awestruck, Roland watched as her massive hand maneuvered the huge swollen breast, fingers sinking into endless tons of soft flesh. Her massive nipple hung over them, a giant pink nub over a hundred feet long, descending closer and closer to the ground.

She was lowering her breast towards them.

For a terrifying second, Roland thought they would all be crushed beneath the white flesh of her endless tit. The giant breast swung so close that Roland could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Anna’s enormous hand, looking tiny in comparison to her colossal boob, reached towards her nipple and squeezed, rolling the monstrous ruddy pyramid between her finger and thumb. Tiny white dewdrops appeared on its tip, then multiplied, forming rivulets that became rivers, trickling down towards the end of her erect nub. 

Milk.

The droplets coalesced into streams, and then the streams united into a singular, awe-inspiring cascade -- a river of milk that plunged from the heavens, a storm of biblical proportions. The air filled with a gentle roar as the torrential downfall approached. As the milk impacted, the liquid fanned out in a spray of white mist. The empty vessels filled almost instantaneously, the excess pooling and splashing around them, turning the ground into a sodden quagmire. The earth beneath their feet became spongy as the overflow saturated the soil. Every man was drenched in white from head to toe.

Roland could just barely hear Kariwase’s voice through the thunderous downpour. 

“She has blessed us!”

The Indians broke their circle, rushing toward the tankards. Some drank immediately, gulping down the milk as if it were divine nectar. Others sealed their portions with reed corks. Roland’s men stood bewildered and helpless, soaked to their boots.

The torrent slowed to a trickle. Anna gave her teat one last squeeze, gently pulling her mighty nipple to dislodge the remaining droplets. Then she stood upright again, and the giant tit retreated back into the sky. Sunlight flooded the clearing once more.

“I HOPE THAT’S ENOUGH,” Anna rumbled.

Roland wiped milk from his eyes. He was drenched. She had produced more than enough -- ten times more. Her nourishment would last the Indian village for months.

Anna gazed down at them, a bemused smile playing across her lips. Then, without another word, she pivoted, her colossal feet lifting off the ground in a graceful arc that seemed to defy gravity. Her other foot followed suit, swinging into the air with an elegance that belied its tremendous weight. An avalanche of dirt and plant material plummeted from her sole, showering the forest below. The world rumbled once more as her mighty footfalls began again, sending a symphony of tremors reverberating across the valley. As she receded into the distance, Roland’s eyes were drawn to her monumental behind, each perfect crescent wobbling in time with her steps. The curves of enormous breasts were visible peeking out from either side of her torso, swinging pendulously to and fro as she walked. 

Anna walked toward the horizon, her silhouette eventually merging with the sky, until all that remained was the distant rumbling of thunderous footsteps.

And then she was gone.

…

It was midnight. Try as he might, Roland could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face filling the darkness.

Silently, he rose from his bedroll, careful not to disturb any of the men sleeping nearby. Without a sound, he slid on his boots and tucked a flintlock into his belt. With a last glance back at the camp, he turned towards the wilderness and vanished into the treeline.

The full moon was a glowing orb in the sky, its light filtering through the canopy of leaves above, casting an ethereal glow across the forest floor. The silvery beams seemed to light a path for him as he ventured deeper into the woodland. In the silent night, every sound was amplified: the rustle of leaves underfoot, the distant hoot of an owl, the gentle flow of a stream somewhere in the dark. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked. Part of him feared what he would find, but a larger part of him felt drawn, compelled to satisfy the obsession that had consumed him from the moment he’d set foot on these shores.

He pressed on. The forest was thick here. Roland could barely see through the gloom. Suddenly, his pace halted as he almost stumbled into what appeared to be a sheer cliff that had materialized from thin air. He took a step back, eyes squinting in the dark to make sense of the obstacle.

And then it dawned on him. He had arrived.

Roland recognized the vertical expanse which towered over him for what it truly was: the sole of Anna’s foot. The moonlight scattered across the gigantic surface, revealing crevices and textures engraved in her skin which seemed to glow with an ethereal white light. Roland could see every tiny crease etched into the pale expanse, running deeper in places that had wrinkled and stretched, the imprints of a lifetime supporting her immense weight. As his eyes climbed higher, up over the arch of her sole and the massive pads of flesh and tissue comprising the ball of her foot, he glimpsed the five rounded mounds of flesh which served as the base of her toes -- each one obscured by the elevation, but undoubtedly gargantuan. He shivered, recalling the force this very same foot had imparted into the ground as she walked.

A rumble emanated from a distant point, filling the air like a slow roll of thunder. It was Anna, murmuring in her sleep. The sound was a reminder that this monolithic foot was only the extremity of an even more staggering entity.

Roland knew his urges were madness. But he mustered no resistance against them. He had neither the energy nor the will.

Roland spied an opportunity at the intersection where Anna’s heel met the earth. The ground had given way beneath the colossal weight of her heel, creating a mound of dirt that he could use as a makeshift ramp to scale her sole. As he climbed towards the base of her foot his world became a wall of flesh. He could feel waves of heat emanating from her body, saturating the air around him. 

Tentatively, he pressed his hands against her sole. He was met with a surface that was soft yet resilient, its texture slightly tacky and surprisingly pliant, allowing him an excellent grip. His fingertips sank into her skin, finding purchase in the creases and contours.

He began his ascent. Soon his fingers protested with lactic burn, but adrenaline silenced their complaint. Halfway up the slope Anna’s foot was rocked by a minor twitch as she shifted unconsciously in her sleep. The movement sent a shockwave across Roland’s climbing surface. Mustering every ounce of his strength, he gripped even harder to avoid being flung off her body. 

As he scaled the near-vertical terrain of her sole, the textures shifted subtly beneath his hands. Here were deeper grooves where her skin had wrinkled from years of bearing her weight; there were patches of softer, more supple skin. His arms and legs worked in rhythm, muscle memory taking over as he scaled higher and higher.

In time, he reached a particularly challenging section: the arch of her foot. It was an overhanging precipice, a jutting bulge of flesh and muscle that would require him to change his angle of ascent. Straining, Roland pulled himself over the arch, his fingers gripping tightly to keep from falling back down into the abyss.

Once past this obstacle, he found himself within a cavernous space between her big toe and second toe. It was a narrow valley surrounded by two towering walls of flesh. To Roland, the toes loomed like ancient monoliths. The skin here was softer, more cushiony, imbued with a kind of tenderness that contrasted with the harder sole he had just conquered. This intimate enclosure trapped heat, making the air warm and slightly humid.

Navigating through the toe-valley was a surreal experience. With walls of flesh rising hundreds of feet on either side of him, it was easy to forget that these colossal structures were merely a small part of a much greater whole. Eventually, he reached the downward slope leading toward the top of Anna’s foot. The decline was steep, and Roland had to exercise caution with each step to prevent himself from tumbling forward. The angle of the slope and the pull of gravity accelerated his pace involuntarily, and he found himself reaching the flat expanse atop her foot far sooner than he'd expected. Each step on this more level ground was a relief, a small reprieve from the climbing and descending.

Laid out before him was an expanse of flesh that defied imagination. Anna’s calf stretched away from him like a broad plain, like a vast highway twenty-span wide. Far off to his right, he glimpsed her other leg sprawling through the forest.

Taking a deep breath, Roland began his trek. Each step required significant effort. Her skin, supple and elastic, seemed to absorb the force of his steps. The sensation was akin to walking on taut fabric -- firm, yet with a gentle give.

As he passed the halfway point up her calf, he felt a gradual change in the landscape. The skin here was smoother, and the flesh beneath felt more solid. The incline increased subtly, offering a greater challenge. Occasionally, Roland felt a muted rumble reverberate through Anna's calf -- a shiver, perhaps, or a deeper adjustment of her musculature. Each time it happened, he stopped, clutching whatever imperfections he could find in her skin, holding his breath as he waited for the earthquake to subside.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Roland reached the bony hill that was Anna's knee. He could make out the impressions left by the gigantic tendons, ligaments, and bones pressing beneath her skin. Carefully negotiating this uneven terrain, he started his ascent up her thigh. 

If her calf had been a plain, then her thigh was a mountain, sloping upward in a gentle but unrelenting incline. He noticed that the texture of her skin changed here, becoming significantly softer. Unlike the taut firmness of her calf, Anna's thigh felt more like a sea of flesh that yielded generously beneath his weight. The work was grueling, each step draining more of his energy, but Roland pressed on, driven by the reckless determination of a man possessed. 

Even as he climbed, Roland couldn't help but marvel at the scale of Anna's body, at the overwhelming realization that each hill and valley he crossed was but a minuscule part of her. And all the while, subtle hints of movement -- whether from her deep, rhythmic breathing or minute shifts in her muscles -- reminded him that the spongy ground beneath his boots was alive.

After a seemingly endless period of time, Roland reached what he perceived to be the summit of the thigh, the undulating curves of her hip now discernible on the horizon. 

Climbing the final stretch of Anna's hip was like scaling the peak of a massive, flesh-toned hillock, and when Roland finally reached her waist, it was as though he had transitioned from a mountainous region to a sprawling plateau. 

The vista spread out before him took his breath away.

Anna’s magnificent breasts dominated her torso, twin mountains of pale flesh rising thousands of feet into the air. The gargantuan teats were collapsing somewhat under their own unimaginable weight, spreading across her abdomen and creating a dark crease where boob met chest. From his vantage point on her hip Roland could only see the round bottom half of each tit which curved an obscene distance over her stomach. Here the pale white skin, less exposed to sunlight than the top of her cleavage, was crisscrossed with faint rivulets of blue veins. As she breathed the giant breasts seemed to expand even more, wobbling against each other to the rhythm of her exhalations. He tore his eyes away and continued walking. 

Only a few hundred yards beside him was her mighty womanhood, an imposing jungle of dark curls. Roland knew somewhere within that foreboding black triangle of hair was her monstrous pussy, a prize beyond the reach of any man. A thousand men could be set to work pleasuring her mons without eliciting the slightest tickle, only to be swallowed in her cavernous depths. The thought made him shiver.

Each subtle undulation of Anna’s belly and boobs, a result of the inhale-exhale of her lungs, felt like the ground beneath him was part of some unimaginable tide. Each breath she took was a minor seismic event, a rolling expanse of skin lifting and then lowering him by several feet. It required Roland's full concentration to maintain his footing during these slow, rhythmic quakes.

Ahead lay a deep depression that looked like a round abyss. As he approached, Roland realized he was looking at Anna’s bellybutton, a dark chasm that could swallow buildings. The depth was such that he couldn't see the bottom -- and he dared not wander closer for a better look, lest he fall and become trapped in its darkness forever.

Its periphery was vast, and he had to choose his steps carefully, for the skin was more delicate here, more tender. Occasionally, he noticed fine lines radiating outward from the center of her navel: little creases and stretch marks that told the history of a body that had lived, grown, and changed.

Through the soles of his boots, he sensed her body's warmth, an undulating heat that surged and retreated with her breathing. The constant, almost imperceptible quivering of her skin served as a reminder that beneath him were organs operating at a scale he couldn't fathom.

Anna’s colossal breasts dominated his view now. Each tit soared thousands of feet into the sky, two quivering white mountains, her planetary underboob forming an unnaturally curved horizon. The cleavage between them was a cavern to him, allowing his passage with room to spare. A hundred men standing shoulder-to-shoulder could have passed through without touching either side. So round and full were her breasts that the upper parts smushed together, forming a canopy of cleavage above his head and a tunnel of flesh through which he walked. The heat here was almost unbearable, her sweet scent overwhelming, and her skin slightly sticky with perspiration.

It took minutes to cross the expanse of Anna’s cleavage. Finally he emerged on the other side, grateful for fresh air. He was dwarfed by the sheer cliffs of her collarbones rising to either side of him. His eyes naturally followed the upward curve where her pale throat flowed seamlessly into her jawline and chin.

The curve of her jawline was beautifully chiseled. What struck him most were the nuances in her skin -- slightly darker shades underscoring her jaw, lighter tones highlighting the rise of her cheekbones, which were barely visible from his vantage point.

Anna’s hair framed her face like cascading waterfalls of silk, each strand as thick as climbing ropes, pooling around her shoulders and sprawling outwards in a radiant halo. From his perspective at the base of her neck, Roland could only glimpse fragments of her features: the swell of her lower lip, a part of her nose, and the subtle arc of an eyebrow. The texture of her lips was rendered in astonishing detail, with tiny creases and the gentle hue of natural red color making them look so soft, so inviting. A corner of her nose was just visible, flaring slightly in rhythm with her deep, peaceful breaths. Each inhalation and exhalation felt like a gust of wind strong enough to sway trees. Further up were her eyes, tightly closed, bordered by thick lashes. Anna was radiant even in sleep.

Roland turned. The round tops of Anna’s breasts presented a smooth upward slope extending as far as he could see. He made his way to the base of her left tit and began to climb. Her breast flesh was luxuriously soft, his boots sinking into it, making the going quite difficult, as if he were walking over wet sand. He passed a small brownish freckle, a tiny blemish wider in circumference than his outstretched arms. Every breath Anna took caused the ground to wobble ever so slightly, reminding Roland of the unfathomable mass of tit accumulated beneath him. “Mountains” was not a sufficient word to convey the dimensions of Anna’s breasts. Roland may as well have been standing on the surface of another planet. The curvature of her endless boob formed the limits of his horizon in every direction, so big he could neither see its beginning nor its end, nothing but acres upon acres of pale skin. 

It had taken him minutes to cross the length of her cleavage, and now he was trekking over the upper surface of a single boob with no end in sight. If not for the gentle slope telling him which way was up, Roland would have been utterly lost on Anna’s giant tit.

Roland hesitated. There was a shift in the ambient light, a tension. Slowly, he turned his head, feeling as though he was about to confirm a truth he was both desperate and terrified to confront. 

Anna’s eyes, illuminated by the brilliant light of the full moon, were open and pointed directly at him.

Each iris was a colossal disk of color, an oceanic blend of hues that he had never been able to fully appreciate until this moment. The pupils were massive, dark wells that seemed to pull him in with an inescapable gravity. Their edges shimmered as she focused on him, the minuscule intruder trespassing on the expanse of her breast. 

Roland was paralyzed. He could not tell if her expression was one of curiosity, or anger. The weight of her gaze bore down on his body like a physical force. He felt like a speck of dust caught in the beam of a cosmic searchlight.

Anna blinked, an event that unfolded like the slow-motion fall and rise of a theater curtain.

“I KNOW YOU.”

At this intimate distance the words emerged not as mere sound but as a profound bass vibration that resonated through his bones. Her words carried unambiguous authority. For a moment his heart stopped in terror. Then her eyes softened, their enormous expanse shimmering like placid lakes touched by a tender breeze. A smile manifested on the edifice of her colossal face, reshaping her lips and pulling them back in a slow arc. Her entire face seemed to light up, her warm smile a glowing beacon that rivaled the moon.

“ROLAND.”

His skin prickled. A god had spoken his name. Anna’s gaze shot through him like a spotlight, her expectant expression urging him to keep going. 

He obeyed. 

The skin around the border of her pink areola was dotted with slight bumps. Ahead of him, the mighty tower of her nipple rose into the sky. Roland ran towards it, overtaken by desire. In an instant he found himself naked, not even registering how or when he had discarded his clothing. He wanted to please her. He wanted her to feel him. With arms outstretched he threw himself at the base of the nipple, finding purchase on its craggy surface, and began to thrust.

“HMMM, THAT TICKLES A LITTLE,” Anna murmured, her gentle chuckle shaking his world.

Roland felt his body lift into the air as the nipple began to expand. He felt the warm skin against his cheek and palms tighten as blood surged beneath the surface of the nub, making it double in size. Anna gave a gentle moan, and Roland felt himself swing through the air as the exclamation of pleasure caused her whole boob to wobble gently.

A shadow passed over him. Anna’s hand descended from the sky, fingers sinking into the breast next to the one he was precariously mounted on. Beside her giant titty, Anna’s hand looked positively small. She squeezed, white titflesh billowing through her outstretched fingers, and slowly kneaded her massive boob back and forth, and let out another earsplitting moan. Her forefinger and thumb pinched her nipple and pulled, lifting the surface of her teat into the air for a moment, then let it fall. The quaking as her giant breast settled back into place sent shockwaves rippling across her chest, making Roland feel like he was riding a ship amidst a storm.

As Anna’s self-pleasure intensified, he began to worry she would accidentally dislodge him from his perch atop her nipple. Nothing would save him if he were to fall between her twin behemoths. The slightest shift in her posture and those two mountainous tits would smash together like tectonic plates. Tons and tons of soft, yielding tissue closing in on him with inexorable force. The initial touch of the skin between her breasts would be soft, almost a caress, dense flesh conforming to the shape of his minuscule body. That tenderness would be a momentary illusion, however, swiftly replaced by the crushing weight that would bear down on him, compressing him from all sides. It would be a sensation beyond claustrophobia, beyond pressure -- a smothering, inescapable weight compacting him into nothingness between a mile of jiggling cleavage.

Anna moved again, interrupting his thoughts. She brought her forefinger to her mouth and moistened its tip with her tongue. Then, she lowered the finger towards him, closer and closer, until it filled his entire field of view like a descending moon. Before he could fully register what was happening, her fingertip made contact with his body and dabbed him onto its surface the way one might remove a speck of lint. The sensation was both comforting and horrifying: he was stuck to her, his body bound to hers by a dab of warm saliva.

Her hand began to move, lifting him off her nipple and into the air. Roland felt himself being carried skyward, his body stuck to the colossal pad of Anna's forefinger. His stomach churned as he rose higher and higher, moving in an arc through the air that made the world around him blur. He looked down. Below him stretched the distant, massive landscape of Anna's torso. He passed over the giant white plains of her breasts, each one capped with a thick nipple that jutted from its surface like an obelisk atop a mountain. Then her tummy flashed by in a blur. Finally, Anna’s hand began to descend, lowering him toward her legs, directly between her two huge thighs.

Roland felt the sticky connection between them break as she carefully rolled her finger, depositing him atop her mons.

“I WANT YOU, LITTLE ONE, PLEASURE ME,” the giantess commanded.

The reserved young woman he had once known was gone. No more shyness, no more innocent curiosity. She was a goddess now, and her pleasure was paramount. She would take what she wanted.

Anna’s hand lowered towards him, her index and middle fingers pressed tightly together, forming a battering ram which cleaved open her pussy’s outer lips. A wet sloshing filled the air as her gigantic fingers penetrated her womanhood, bulldozing through folds of wet skin dripping with cum. A deafening moan, louder than any that had come before, shook the air.  

Roland held on for dear life. There was nothing he could do. No way he could make himself felt, desperate though he was to fulfill his goddess’ thunderous order. He did not even know if he would survive, marooned as he was in a raging ocean of feminine lust. But he did not care. If he died here, a casualty to her pleasure, it would be the noblest end he could ever ask for.  

He clung to her skin, rubbing his throbbing cock against the hood of her smooth vulva, though he knew it made no impression on her, till he came helplessly, his puny seed spilling over a fraction of her skin. Far in the distance he could hear the splintering of trees and rocks as Anna’s hands rent the earth. Her feet bulldozed through the ground, toes curling in pleasure, her heels uprooting trees and toppling mountains as they flattened everything in their path. The sloshing intensified as Anna plunged her fingers in and out of her pussy, faster and faster, till the sky was torn apart with her loudest moan yet, a reverberating peal of feminine thunder that split his eardrums and echoed for miles around.

“ROLAND!” 

Her climax was a cataclysm. Anna’s love juices cascaded from her pussy in a deluge of pleasure. The forest below evaporated on impact. Trees were ripped from the earth as the flood of her pussy juices unfurled in every direction in an all-consuming tidal wave. The deluge surged through the woodland, churning the ground into a muddy quagmire, tossing boulders around like pebbles, and instantly crushing any living thing unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. She cried out again, her body convulsing in ecstasy, and for a moment Roland was rendered blind and deaf by the shockwaves. 

Then it was over. Roland was pouring sweat, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He barely noticed Anna’s fingertip descend once more, gently plucking him off the surface of her pussy, and depositing him in the cavernous depths of her bosom. There, buried in the soft canyon between her breasts, sleep took him. Anna was the last thing he saw, peeking through her cleavage down at his tiny body curled up against her skin, her face beaming with a tender smile.  He had done well.

He was hers, he was safe, and that was all he knew.