The day before, the air was crisp and cool. The day after next would similarly have a coolness to it. The day nestled between the two would be different, however. It was warm. Electric, even. The energy in the streets was palpable, and it was clear to see why. The traders had been told the Queen was coming to restock her castle with new goods, and they all came out in force to be included.

The Trader’s Net was for the collection of neatly intersecting streets that were lined with stalls and stores, as well as its knack of ensnaring customers. On any given day, it was a lively bustle of activity and commerce. When it was announced the Queen would come to inspect the wares, it was overflowing with life. The normally present stalls were beset by fresh-faced sellers. People who had a secret family recipe, or pride in their stitching, or just anything they could produce for the Queen and her servants showed up – even if they’d never sold anything in their life before. To be chosen by the Queen to supply her castle with their goods was to have their lineage set up for luxury for generations to come.

Everyone pushed and shoved to eagerly hold up the finest example of their goods to the Queen as she walked along the street’s center. Enthusiastic as they were, they knew never to get reckless and risk being stepped on. To die in service to the Queen’s hungers, be it for food or pleasure, was considered a great honor. To die underfoot brought the Queen no enjoyment and brought the victim no honor.

Glowing blue eyes cut through the crowds, hoping the Trader’s Net would ensnare her with something of interest. Suddenly, they came upon an unassuming stall. Rickety and old. It was in desperate need of repair, and it was being manned by a desperate looking man. Standing among the stalls surrounding barrels was a young woman. A beauty that stood out among the desperation and failure of her surroundings. She wasn’t necessarily what the Queen had come down to browse, but she was never one to deny what her body craved.

The sun-kissed woman felt her body jump with each of the Queen’s approaching footfalls. She felt her heart leap, too. She had never seen the Queen so close before. The only other time was during the festival, years ago. But that time she was further away, and the night moon did not cause the imperceptible ice crystals on her blue skin to shimmer as they were now. Her mind couldn’t fathom that the Queen was approaching her specifically; not the lowly peasant girl. It wasn’t until her giant sapphires locked onto her that she believed in what she thought impossible.

Squatting, causing her brown leather, with white fur trim, loin cloth to pile up on the street between her sandaled feet, the Queen looked closer at the bait that had attracted her. She had beautiful skin for whom she figured was a daughter to manual labor. Dark freckles dusted across her nose and shoulders, almost disappearing against the tan of her skin. Chestnut brown haired, tied in a bun, matched the colors of her big, curious, eyes. Such sweetly thin, but cute, lips stretched wide in a big smile, displaying her still-white teeth. The modest expansion against her dress suggest modest, but suitable, breasts. As the wind blew, the sundress pulled against her frame, teasing her alluring frame further.

“What is your name?” The Queen asked. Her voice was intense, though not just in its volume – and even that was modestly held back for the sake of her subjects. There was a clear confidence and command in her tone. Though not a harsh command; more of a loving one. Such as from a firm but fair parent. She knew her presence, as well as her voice, could easily intimidate. So, she made sure the pull her plump, dark blue, lips into a warming smile.

“Emily, my Queen,” Emily replied shakily. The giantess’s tone conveyed she wasn’t in any kind of trouble, so she felt no nervousness for some crime she had unknowingly committed. Nervousness was not gone in its entirety, however. Though the great sapphires that studied her felt oddly warm, from a frost giant especially, the ones of the man at her feet were anything but. The old, well dressed, man’s glare reminded her she should be bowing.

“Emily,” The Queen repeated, seeing how ‘Emily’ felt on her tongue. “A sweet name, for a sweet girl,” regarded the Queen. The blush on her cheeks threatened to hide away those freckles the Queen so enjoyed. “What are in the barrels, Emily?”

“Berry milk!” answered a gruff, enthusiastic, and assuredly not Emily’s voice. The desperate man she had spotted earlier pushed and squeezed he way through the crowd of people to stand by Emily. “It’s berry milk, my Queen.” His thick, hairy, arm swung around Emily to rest its hand on her far shoulder and pull her into his shorter build, standing by her side proudly.

“And what is ‘berry milk,’ Emily?” The Queen inquired further, making it clear she wanted to hear Emily speak, not whomever had just butted in.

“It’s not so much a ‘milk,’ my Queen,” Emily shyly explained. The Queen had dealt with quiet spoken humans for centuries. It wasn’t that she could necessarily read lips, but she knew what muffled sounds referred to which words, along with other context clues to help her. It wasn’t fool proof, but it saved her time in having to constantly remind them to speak up. “It’s more of a cream. It’s made of wild berries and honey. Oh! And cream, of course,” Emily giggled, causing the Queen to smile more warmly.

“My daughter, Emily here,” the man interjected again, proudly squeezing his daughter, “found the berries. She even came up with the recipe. I’m so proud of her!” The clear pride in his daughter caused the Queen to once again forgive his rudeness.

“May I?” The Queen asked, pointing to one of the barrels. There was no reason she had to ask. Whatever she wanted, she could take. She often did, in regards to her subjects themselves. However, she was not beyond basic manners when needed.

“Of course, my Queen! Of course! Take as many as you like!” the father replied.

That’s exactly what she did – though all she wanted was just one barrel. At the moment. Pinched between her finger and thumb, the Queen held it over her mouth. Suddenly, the barrel was crushed under the applied pressure. Like a plump, juicy, grape she had squashed it and forced the insides to pour into her mouth. After painting her tongue white, the thick blue lips closed so she could savor the flavor. And savor she did. Emily and her father didn’t need to hear a word to know she enjoyed it. They knew just based on the moan she let out.

“So, Emily has shown you were these wild berries grow?” the Queen asked before sucking her fingers clean of leftover cream. It was clear the cream was delicious, but there were a few more things she needed to know before deciding if it should stock her castle.

“She has, my Queen, she has!” the father answered. “I pick them with her, in fact, and then I mix the ingredients together.”

“I see,” she regarded, her intentions and thoughts unclear. She went to grab a few more things from the stall. One barrel, two barrel, one Emily. The two containers and the very shocked young woman were plucked from the street and deposited into the Queen’s other hand.

“Daddy!” Emily called out from between the giant blue fingers. Her arms reached out through what amounted to prison bars.

“I’m very proud of you, Emily!” her father yelled back, the confidence clearly wavering in his voice.

Emily’s attention was stolen from her father as she felt her leg being pulled on. The Queen was yanking her back to sit center in her palm. The first sight she saw as she turned were not those caring blue eyes that had caught her minutes ago. What she saw was the Queen’s mouth. Her lips were full and soft, much like her other assets. Smirking lips were parted softly, gradually, in the middle. A wet tongue emerged and curved upward to begin coating her upper lip in saliva. The same was applied to the bottom tier. Emily managed to pull her horrified gaze from the moistening lips and looked up at the Queen’s eyes. She was hoping to see compassion, something to assure her what she thought was going to happen – wasn’t. Instead she just saw hunger. The same hunger she had spotted moments before the Queen approached her stall. She realized only too late what she was hungry for.

Before proceeding, the Queen grabbed at the hem of the loose-fitting sundress and effortlessly pulled it up over Emily’s head. The discarded fabric floated down gently toward her father. She couldn’t help but smirk at the young woman crossing her arm over her chest and squeezing her thighs together to protect her modesty. As if that’s what you should be concerned about right now, she thought. While watching the newly nude woman, the Queen grabbed one of the barrels next to her. Like before, the container was crushed easily between her pinching fingers, letting loose a cascade of sweet white.

Brown eyes went wide at the sight of the blue maw opening wide. She had never seen inside the Queen’s mouth before, of course. She had heard stories about how it was a comforting, soft, sight. Like a warm bed waiting to welcome you after a long day’s work. Yet in that moment, all she could feel was it was the last place she wanted to be. The giantesses tongue twitched and bucked as the cool cream coated it. Emily regarded it the same way she would a giant, living, creature. Unpredictable and immensely dangerous.

Another barrel plucked, pinched between her fingers. Rather than crushing it right away, she just held it. Waiting. Her palm then held only Emily. Her palm then tilted toward the Queen’s open mouth. The edge of her hand was pressed against her chin. Her head tilted back slightly, so give Emily an easier time falling into her mouth. Not that she would appreciate that, the Queen was certain.

She could have found a lot to grab onto as she slid toward the mouth. The Queen’s hands were rich in places to grab, though it would have only delayed things. Emily had poor survival instincts, however, and didn’t think to grab onto anything as she slid. If she had good survival instincts, she would have ran the second the giant woman, whom she knew to eat people, approached her. A harsh lesson to learn, but one learned too late.

Emily at least did not go immediately in. Instead her feet stopped her against the lips. Either foot pressed against either lip. She was halting gravity from doing all the work of sending her to her doom. If that was all that was stopping her from being eaten, she may have lived. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Snaking up from between her lips was the cream-coated tongue. Up between her bare legs it approached, grazing against her smooth thighs. Emily interrupted her pleading and sobbing to squeak in surprise when the tip grazed against her exposed sex. She had never experienced any kind of intimate pleasure before. She was old enough to breed, by the city’s laws, but only just so. The sudden attention given to her lonely pussy caused her knees to go weak, and her stance to break. All too easily she fell into the Queen’s mouth.

The young woman had been told the same stories all children were. The Queen never ate children, but they knew she did eat people, and naturally they questioned it. So, stories were told to them, including Emily, about how wonderful it was inside the Queen’s mouth. It was soft and warm, like a big hug. It was wet, sure, but refreshingly so. It was also dark, there was no denying that, but nothing bad lived in the darkness of the Queen’s mouth, so there was no reason to be afraid. It was described as a place the kids couldn’t wait to be old enough to experience. Emily then knew it was a lie.

It was soft, sure, though not like a bed of pillows. There was a firmness to everything, just a yielding one. It was primarily the tongue that felt the softest, but it was also the tongue she felt most terrified of. It was also warm, but not like a hug. It was an oppressive humidity, making it hard for her to focus on getting out. She had figured the inside of a frost giant’s mouth would be cool, like the weather that day should have been. Like any other mouth, it was warm from the body’s internal temperatures.

There was also little room for her. Enough, much to her dismay, but she didn’t have an inch to herself. As soon as she had hit the creamy tongue, her naked body splashed with spit and cream, the mouth closed. The tongue pressed up against the roof of the mouth, dragging Emily back and forth against its ridges. Truly, it was wet, but not refreshing. Her saliva was not like mountain spring water, it was like her own saliva – thicker than water and certainly warm. The addition of the cream helped cool things a little, but the cream was being quickly sucked off her squirming body.

The darkness, too, was a lie. Not just in the fact that nothing dangerous would happen to you, but in the darkness itself. There was a light. A soft blue glow reaching up from down the ice giantess’s throat. It was much, but it illuminated things a bit for Emily. She wished it hadn’t. Seeing it all, being able to see the hard teeth and the soft tongue made it only too real. If it was pitch black, like it should have been, maybe she could have imagined she was somewhere else. There was no denying where she was.

As if that light glow wasn’t enough, the light of the sun poured in as the lips parted. Emily was hopeful. Perhaps the Queen was just seeing how the cream tasted on her subjects. A test to see if she could get as much use as possible out of her recipe. Once the test was done, the Queen would spit her back out, apologize, and redress her in some finer clothes. It was true, that was the test. Any fantasy beyond that would be shattered, though.

Emily scrambled toward the light, meekly dragging herself along the bumpy tongue. Her hand managed to make it to her teeth; a hard surface she could really pull herself toward. Then she saw the barrel. For a third time the Queen crushed the barrel and let the insides pour into her mouth. Pour onto Emily. Before she had just been slightly coated by it, thanks to the giant tongue. Now she was undeniably soaked in the recipe she had created. The recipe that had doomed her. Before she could collect herself and try to escape again, the lips closed and the tongue pulled her back.

The Queen, unlike Emily, was enjoying herself. Her satisfied moans could be heard all throughout the Trader’s Net. It was like a chime to tell the other sellers that the Queen had chosen a new good for her castle. It gave everyone hope they would be next. It gave Emily’s father no joy. Years ago, during the festival, he had lost his wife to the Queen. Devastated, he put on a brave face for his remaining family and did what any good citizen did – lived in denial. However, back then, he hadn’t actually witnessed his beloved wife get devoured by his beloved Queen. Now he was given a front row seat to seeing his kin stripped of her clothes and dignity and then sucked into the greedy maw of the monster. Just as before, he acted like a good citizen and pure on a brave, though clearly weakened, face. As the Queen smacked her lips, her mouth opening briefly each time, he heard the stop and start of his daughter’s anguished pleas for mercy. Her pleas for him to save her.

His throat had gone dry and the words he wanted to yell were halted. The fear wouldn’t permit him to risk his life for a lost cause. Yet a father’s love was great and could defeat any fear. Before he could yell his displeasure with the events, the Queen swallowed. Swallowed with a deep and trembling moan. The father watched the shape of his daughter slide down the Queen’s slender blue throat. She would give another few tongue-caresses of her lips and suckles of her wet fingers before she spoke.

“Delicious,” she complimented, indifferent to the life she had taken. “Simply delicious. MOS,” The Queen called, referring to the elderly man at her feet, “I want this for the castle. Provide him with two dozen men to expand his production. I will need much of this cream.” Then her eyes swung back toward the trembling man who had fallen to his knees. “Thank you.”

Just as she was about to stand, she heard the rapid clanking of armor. One of her guardsmen had run to her, having had to fight against the throngs of traders and onlookers. “My Queen! We’ve been attacked!” She lifted a curious brow to his claim. Though she had certainly been focused on finding new products for the castle, she knew she would have seen an attack as it occurred on her city.

“Where?” The Queen inquired.

“The fishing village, to the Sun’s Wake!” he panted. His arm carried toward the direction he’d claimed, drawing the Queen’s eyes to the horizon. Not every one of her subjects lived within the city’s walls. Some inhabited small villages scattered outside. They lived dangerous lives, not being within the wall’s protection. However, she had strived to make her presence known to all the creatures who may try and attack her villages.

“Who attacks us?” she wondered aloud, expecting an answer.

“A great beast, my Queen!” His answer was vague and unsatisfactory.

“What kind of beast?” she pressed. If she was going to defend her people, she wanted to know what she was up against. Especially if it a was a ‘great’ anything.

“I…The villagers that fled here…they say it was…” He was clearly searching for the words, trying to make sense of what he had been told. “They say it was…a dragon.” The Queen’s eyes went wide.

“A dragon?” MOS, the stern looking man at her feet interjected. “Madness! Dragons are rarer than a blind moon. They’ve never even been seen in these lands!” He was clearly annoyed at the guard’s apparent mistake, at best, and lie at worst. “My Queen,” he said, turning back toward his beloved giant, blue, ruler. “This man is clearly mistaken. Let me go with the most trusted of your guards and investigate myself. I shall dispel this nonsense.”

“There’s no time,” she sternly put. “If it is as he claims, then I must act now. I trust you can handle things here,” she said, referring to the acquisition of Berry Milk. Before MOS could feebly try to persuade her otherwise, the Queen stood back upright to her towering height and sprinted toward the castle. The sudden and intense footfalls caused many to fall over, though luckily none were trampled.

Throughout the entire exchange, the father hadn’t moved an inch. He stayed knelt, staring off into space. It was a look MOS had seen many times before. They have such a hard time accepting the glory of serving the Queen, he thought. “Sir, be proud,” he said to the father after stepping into his line of sight. “The Queen has deemed both the fruits of your labor and the fruit of your loins to be satisfactory,” he reasoned. “Let your pride swell, as your riches surely will.” MOS helped the broken father to his feet. He didn’t need him to be happily, necessarily, just functional enough to serve the castle further. “Now, tell me. Did Emily have any sisters?”

The Queen arrived swiftly to her castle, knocking over yet more people in the streets and in her halls. She was normally quite careful with her steps, as she knew the quakes they could cause. However, she had no time for such niceties. She needed to prepare. Within her chambers she undressed from her leather and furs. Within her chambers she dressed in her finest armor, as the foe she’d face was greater than most.

A corset, reaching from just above her navel to just above her nipples, made of millennium worm scales. The scales were either black or purple, depending on how the light hit them. More importantly, they were incredibly durable, resisting most attacks. It was only through the Ever-Ice blades of her battle axe that she was able to cut into, and skin, them. A matching skirt and pair of greaves were quickly pulled up as well. Finally, she grabbed that same Ever-Ice battle axe she had used to slay the worms whose hides she wore. Ready for the fight, she sprinted out of the castle and toward Sun’s Wake.

//////////

The people cheered as their valiant, giant, beautiful warrior queen leaped from her castle and skidded down the side of the mountain in her battle regalia. They knew not what monster or army she was going to fight, but they were certain she would return victorious. A fair assumption to make, given her record. As the Queen strode valiantly across the plains toward the fishing village, eager to protect her citizens, one of those citizens was inside her stomach.

While the huge blue globes bounced in the snug confines of her corset, Emily bounced in the snug confines of her stomach. She had been given little time to settle before the Queen took off running. Thankfully, and given her situation any small miracle should be appreciated, the Queen could keep an even, steady, stride. Emily, thus, was not being thrown about the stomach wildly.

The betrayed woman sat at the bottom of the giantess’s stomach. There was not much else beside her in the stomach. Some of the cream that had doomed her, of course. There was also some bits of other foods the Queen had sampled but found wanting. Mostly what occupied the stomach were her acids. Glowing blue acids. It was that pool of surreal digestive fluid that had given the back of Queen’s throat the glow. As it had illuminated the mouth, terrifying Emily, it too illuminated the stomach.

Emily kicked and punched at the wrinkly walls in vain, splashing the juices around and coating herself further. It didn’t matter, she had become drenched as soon as she slid into the gut. She couldn’t believe what a fool she had been. Believing all those years that her Queen was a just and kind woman. Sure, she ate people, but it was a small price to pay for living under her protection. Emily could hardly appreciate the ‘protection’ in her situation. She hadn’t the faculties to consider that dying to the worms of old would be likely be worse than her current fate. However, she could confirm that at least with the worms she wouldn’t have felt betrayed.

The betrayed woman sulked in her confines, already feeling the acids begin warming her skin. She had felt like such a fool for believing for some many years that it would be an honor to die as he was about to. She had heard of friends and friends of friends winding up in the Queen’s belly, and she felt envy. Emily now hated herself for that. She should have grieved. She should have gotten angry. They all should have gotten angry. Instead they let it all happen. Just like all the people at the Trader’s Net, her father included, let it happen.

More than anything, she felt like a fool for believing her mother had died honorably. It had happened that same night she first saw the Queen. She was just a child. Emily had followed her mother into the city to see the festival. Her father was too exhausted to take her, and her mother had to work serving drinks. Emily was unable to find her mother, until the Queen did. With her eyes so transfixed to the wonderous and beautiful woman, Emily caught the sight of the Queen plucking up her mother. And then so much more.

Emily’s mother, Amelia, was a tavern wench. She served drinks while the patrons pinched her ass and threw coins into her abundant cleavage. Amelia hadn’t been happy about it, but she got to keep the coins, at least. During the festival, her job was no different. From table to table she swapped out empty mugs for full ones. From table to table they tried to grope her and pull her into her laps. She was too experienced to fall for their obvious traps, though. She couldn’t possibly have predicted the one to get the biggest pinch in was the Queen.

In the middle of serving a table, two blue fingers pressed against her waist and lifted. Amelia instinctively flailed, which would have only served to make her fall from a dangerous height. The Queen didn’t even regard Amelia with her eyes. They were too focused on the festivities that put a smile on her face. Amelia watched her juicy lips purse and relaxed, over and over. She was sucking on something. And then a swallow. She prayed it wasn’t what she thought it was. Because if it was, she was next.

She was.

Much to her surprise, the Queen grabbed the hem of Amelia’s dress. Then she let go of her waist. Amelia dropped a short distance but was saved by the tightness of her corset. She had dropped enough to let her dress go up over her head, exposing her from the hips down. Amelia could no longer see what was happening, but she could feel it. A pair of giant, warm, lips closed in around her legs and began to suck on her. Hard.

Meanwhile, Emily watched happily. Her mom had been chosen by the Queen! She was so excited. Emily had been old enough to heard enough of the propaganda to truly believe what she witnessed was a good thing. She cheered for her mother from the crowd. The Queen had her dress lifted up over her head and was gently sucking her further and further out of it – fighting against the corset.

Amelia screamed and begged, trying to fight back the intense pressure on her body, and the inevitable end. Eventually, the dress came off, only to be casually tossed aside. Amelia hung part way out of the Queen’s mouth. Her pendulous breasts knocked into the blue lips as she was sucked further in. Her body became warmer and warmer as she was taken from the chill night air and into the warm mouth. Had she the option, she would have happily run naked through the cold streets with everyone watching. Despite her protests, both physical and verbal, Amelia was eventually lost inside the frost giantess’s mouth.

Just like her daughter would be years later, Amelia the barmaid was tossed around the mouth while the Queen sucked what flavor she could off of her. Unlike her daughter, she wouldn’t spend much time in the mouth. Soon after entering, she felt her foot slide into that waiting tunnel past the tongue. Instinctively the Queen began to swallow. Before Amelia was lost forever, the Queen’s lips opened in laughter. Amelia saw the next person to be swallowed. Helplessly she cried out for their aid before she was gulped down like all the ones before and after her.

Also unlike her daughter, she wouldn’t have the stomach to herself. It was crowded with people at various stages of digestion. Even louder than all the sobbing and screaming were the sounds of Queen’s body. The gurgles, thumps, breaths, and moans were the background noise of their demise. As Amelia thought of the family she was going to leave behind, the next victim fell into her lap.

Like her mother before her, Emily would die inside her Queen’s stomach. Splashing around in the stomach acids that promised to eat away at her body, and who knows what else. She couldn’t even die in peace thanks to the Queen’s running. “I hope you trip and fall on a rock, you bitch!” Emily screamed, punching the stomach again.

While Emily digested, the Queen was coming up the fishing village. Its shape was hard to make out, as it seemed to be lying down, but the Queen suspected the villager had been right. They were attacked by a dragon. It would be no small feat for her to conquer a dragon. Dragons were not only strong, but unpredictable. Some were completely bestial, looking as giant lizards with wings. Others had a more humanoid shape. They weren’t as dangerous physically, but they were more unpredictable. Some would be just as brutish as their bestial cousins. Others knew magic. It was that fact that gave the Queen difficulty in her plan.

It doesn’t look bestial, she thought. Humanoid for sure. Damn. The Queen continued her approach as she formulated her plan. Can’t know for sure if it knows magic. Can’t take the risk and assume it doesn’t. I’ll need to be fast, not give it a chance to cast anything. It can probably hear me approaching already. Damn! I wish I had eaten more. I’ll need the energy.

Blue eyes spotted the dragon stirring. It’s waking up! Her speed increased. She couldn’t let it have a moment to react to her approach. Yet already she could see the dragon turn its head in her direction. Any element of surprise was gone. The Queen prepared herself for one-on-one combat with one of the most ancient and dangerous beings in all the spheres.