He stood in open air, yet remained trapped in a cage. He was free to venture everywhere, yet he would not even dare to take a step.

Andrew’s ground was a milky pale shade. He struggled to remain upon his feet, for the ground below possessed an almost unnatural smoothness. A bold scent of lavender wafted from below, with the strength to provoke several coughs from him.

The red-headed woman possessed an almost oblivious air about her. Her pale, lilac eyes addressed him not one second. Upon her torso, a white blouse billowed along with her movements, almost possessing an ethereal conscience of its own.

He turned, gazing beyond the landscape of her palm. Surrounding him was a grand atrium, easily the size of several residential blocks. Yet, to his captor, it was a decently sized living room. Several couches lay upon a richly designed carpet. The cushions themselves were of a cream color, and were textured with intricate designs. They were neatly arranged in a perpendicular manner, facing a wall mounted television, flat screen and easily exceeding that of even the grandest IMAX emplacements.

Toes painted blood-red glided from carpet, to wooden floor. The polish that coated the ground reflected light from an overcast sky still streaming in. But the material of the ground was not its most notable feature.

Several men of Andrew’s stature were strewn upon it. None wore clothes of any kind. Most were of emancipated build, although some sported a more muscular physicality. All raced across the floor, arranging themselves in two impeccable lines, flanking the giantess’s path towards another door.

They prostrated upon the ground, burying their heads into their knees, not daring to gaze upon the milky-skinned, crimson titan that stormed past them. Andrew’s eye caught a straggler, a man with a visible limp, race to the far side of the hall.

Possessing the eye of a mortal man, Andrew could not discern the expression upon his face, but it could have been easily imagined. As the titan’s feet drew close to the struggling man, as her shadow grew over his bug-like form, sheer terror was envisioned.

A vast foot soon obstructed his sight line of the man. There was a terrified, visceral screech, the kind that destroyed the throat and shredded the vocal chords.

It then stopped, the only sound remaining a faint crunch that froze all blood within Andrew’s body.

He gazed back to his captor’s face. A small smirk had formed upon her blood-red lips. Dark eyes gazed down at his own stomach, for a vast well had formed within it.

Without a note of hesitation, she ventured through the closed door. Flipping a switch, her bedroom was revealed by incandescent light. The walls were of a light pink color, lined with papers that sported designs of flowers. At the far corner of the room lay her bed. It sported a white frame, while the mattress was lined with bedsheets of the same pink color. Beyond the foot of the bed was a white dresser, topped with an intricate circular mirror. The top of the dresser was lined with several bottles of several shades of red and pink. There was even the occasional movement of a minuscule creature weaving between the containers of makeup.

She came to a stop in front of her desk, which rested right beside her bed. In the same manner as everything else within her room, it was shaded a feminine color. And, much like everything else Andrew had laid eyes upon, it appeared of a fine design. The knobs upon the drawers of this desk were carved with delicate patters. Its material was wood of fine grade, while the paint that coated the surface was impeccable and smooth. What lay upon this desk were several books, all titled with provocative suggestions of female dominance.

In addition, there stood two men at its front. Both were naked, and of a healthy physique. Neither possessed hair, although, as Andrew was lowered towards the surface they stood upon, it was quite clear their lack of follicles was due to persistent grooming.

Andrew’s stomach dropped, as the giantess tilted her hand. He tumbled down the incline. There was no chance to find any form of purchase upon the smooth skin of her palm. Pain greeted his legs as they impacted the stiff ground. His nose caught a whiff of the chemical tinge of paint as he rolled.

Before the two men, he came to a stop. Their approach was swift and wordless. Rough hands took hold of him. One restrained his arms. While he grimaced as Andrew instinctively lashed out, his face otherwise reflected a sort of calm certainty. In contrast, the other man, who was stripping him of his boxers, had his brow fixed in an eternal furrow. His hazel eyes glowered at him most unpleasantly, as if, in some previous instance, he had done him wrong.

As he felt the only article of clothing slip past his thighs, he shouted out, “Hey! What’s going on!”

The man that had restrained his arms responded in a decisive, firm, yet steady voice, “Be still, initiate, lest you rouse the goddess’s wrath.”

“Godde-”

Cold air washed his exposed nethers. Andrew would have shivered, were he not restrained. He glanced upward, at the infinite wall of blouse that stretched into the stratosphere itself. The giantess’s gaze was unreadable, distant. As the captured man contemplated this, his heart only accelerated.

He was then released, as naked as the other two. Andrew did not regard them, still fixated upon the one declared ‘Goddess’.

“You!” he gasped, his eyes widening, “You’re that woman, from all those years ag-”

A fist struck him across his cheek. Andrew was turned aside from the force of the blow. Balance failed, and he was sent sprawling upon the desk.

His teeth clenched, as he quickly sought to regain his footing. Immediately, his eyes focused upon the sullen, hazel-eyed man, the one who had stripped him of his boxers, his decency, and dignity.

Words flew out of his mouth like fists from a prize fighter, “What the heck was tha-”

But his tormentor’s retort was even swifter, as he shot back, “Do not address the goddess so directly runt! If she wishes for your measly opinion, she shall ask for it!”

Fast as a wild cat, he pounced upon Andrew, covering a wide span of space in a fraction of a blink. The young man barely possessed enough time to raise his arms in defense, before he was sundered by blows. He took punches to the head, to the ribs, anywhere his arms were not. There was no opportunity to mount a counter. His opponent’s face had gone red, Andrew’s hopeless state appearing to fuel his apparent anger. Bright spots had formed within his vision, as the world began to tilt of its own accord.

“Phobos.”

A voice, sultry, sweet and velvety descended down upon the puny men like a comet sent from heaven itself. The woman, the giantess, the goddess, she who called herself ‘Artemis’, looked down upon all three as one would glare at crawling ants. The moment her voice rang out, Phobos ceased his assault, and immediately prostrated himself. His anger, his barbarity, his drive to inflict suffering, to dominate, all evaporated. All that was left, was a submissive, passive servant.

“Your devotion is admirable,” the giantess noted, her lips once more curving into a smile, “but I require him to be of use for now.”

Her hand hovered over the desk. One finger extended, a finger more than a match for all three men combined. It loomed in front of Phobos. In his prostrated position, he appeared no larger than her nail.

The nail shot forward, along with her fingertip, and smacked the man back. He flew several yards in the air, before crashing back down on the desk, tumbling and turning before skidding coming to rest.

Her hand advanced in the manner resembling a dark thundercloud. The massive appendage flew over Andrew, and he balked in awe. A finger extended, crashing down upon Phobos. He remained whole and intact, yet the force she utilized was enough to contort his face in pain. Despite his proclaimed loyalty, his arms and legs flailed in a futile flurry.

Witnessing his tormentor’s torture, Andrew muttered, “Some reward for devotion.”

Phobos was released from under her finger. The fleshy pillar, with the girth and length of a Sequoia, ascended, and retracted back over the edge of the desk.

His glare was fierce, vengeful. But, it was not directed at the one who inflicted pain upon him. If this goddess was capable of crushing Andrew’s body, Phobos’s grudge was set to deal with his spirit.

“There is no point in resisting, initiate,” persisted the other man. His face had taken on the slightest hint of concern. Still, he appeared neutral, serene even, as he commanded, “Prostrate yourself before Her.”

Andrew felt his jaw tighten. He looked up at his captor, before returning to the other man. “I shouldn’t,” he explained, “I’ve been kidnapped against my will.”

“Your will is irrelevant,” the man rebuked, the words falling out of his mouth, as if they were embedded within his soul, “as you have found out.”

If eyes alone could plead and beg, Andrew’s own dark irises would have cried out and begged to him. But, the slave’s expression remained unchanged. The suffering of his fellow man moved not an iota within.

“Please, your resistance only hurts us all,” he insisted, “It is no use resisting the divine.”

Dark hair hung over the young man’s head. His breath formed into words for his ears only, “You can say that again.”

God be with me.

Upon the far end of the desk, near the wall, lay Phobos. He lay in a dilapidated heap, indistinguishable form a corpse. While he was of fair complexion, his body had taken on a pale shade. It was to Andrew’s utter bewilderment when the irate man began to stir. Shaking himself into awareness, he immediately gathered himself up, and stood at attention.

Phobos then staggered to where both Andrew and the other man stood. His gait was uneven and jittery, but gradually returned to a normalized pace. He still glowered at the subject of his ire, perhaps that was what animated his will to live after being subject to the overwhelming finger of his goddess.

The two slaves of Artemis stood together, their respective dispositions mixing as fire and ice. Andrew was led on, coerced by gestures and threatening grunts. The trio made their way to the front edge of the desk. Both Phobos and his companion trailed just behind Andrew, acting as escorts to a prisoner.

Upon the corner of the desk lay a lift, similar in construction to the one Andrew utilized to scale Caitlin’s nightstand. He noted that it was of a finer, more sophisticated design. The gears and chains were concealed by a smooth layer of chrome, while the platform was constructed of a pale, polished wood, as opposed to a slap of metal.

He stepped upon the lift, soon followed by his escorts. The crimson goddess had remained seated the entire time, casting a bloody shadow over the entire area. Her red-painted lips formed a sadistic smile, while her piercing lilac gaze remained fixed upon the three. Though, as Andrew dared to gaze back, there was no mistaking her colossal sights had been set exclusively upon him.

The gears of the lift began to turn, their clicks clear and quaint. Slowly they descended, watching the surface of the desk grow further away.

Andrew gazed to each of his shoulders, regarding the men behind each. Words were absent, each resigned to keeping their jaws shut. Inevitably, he was drawn back to Artemis, seated at her desk, watching as she appeared to grow ever taller. Her fiery red hair grew into heaven itself the lower the lift brought him. Yet, her eyes never left him. It was as if she were attempting to use the weight of her glare to enforce a form of dominance upon him. His own eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, while his tired joints had begun to lock up.

Shaking himself out of a trance, he turned back once more, addressing his escorts. “How did you two end up here? Were you both kidnapped?”

In an irate voice, Phobos spat back, “I have always been dedicated to the service of our goddess! Do not question me.”

“What we were is irrelevant.” added the other man, “She is our life now. This is mankind’s destiny.”

“What were you then? Surely you miss your previous life,” pressed Andrew, a sense of desperation straining his voice.

“I have always been a slave,” the man answered, “Everything else, from my occupation, my residence, even my name, were lies. My occupation is to serve the goddess. My residence is her domain. My name is Deimos. This is truth. You shall find your own true calling soon enough.”

The lift slowed to a crawl. It settled upon the carpet threads. A few thick ropes bent in order to compensate. All men disembarked, wading through the threaded floor.

Closer and closer they drew, to the now sky scraping giantess. Andrew had to crane his neck to even glimpse at her face. The only part of her the men had hope of reaching were her feet. Both stood with toes buried in the carpet, while the heels were suspended upon one of the wooden supports of her seat.

The air had become tinged with the slightest hint of lavender, although each step they took intensified the scent. The milky smoothness of her appendages were unforgettable, and Andrew felt his ribcage rattle and his stomach begin to churn.

As their journey across the floor continued, the face of their goddess became obstructed by the edge of the desk and the chair that she sat upon. The only members of hers visible were her silky legs and smooth feet.

Soon, the monolithic peds encompassed all the men could behold of their master. Andrew spotted movement upon the far-side foot. His eyes widened, for at least ten slaves attended to it. In the same manner of Deimos and Phobos, all assembled were naked and shaved of hair. Some flashed the three men hollow glares, but were otherwise occupied with their tasks.

Four were simply traversing the various bumps and valleys of the foot. Their hands dug deep into the pale skin, marking the flesh with divots where they pressed. The remained stood upon her toes, working at the nails. Red dried paint chipped and flaked, revealing the smooth nail below. Occasionally a digit would wiggle, throwing several slaves off balance. Artemis paid them no mind, nor did the slaves protest.

Up against the nearside foot they stopped. The cream-colored skin compressed and stretched with the flexing of digits, revealing several substantial veins that ran underneath the epidermal veil.

Deimos then walked past Andrew. He gestured to the foot, “This is the most common labor that you must perform in order to please our goddess..”

There was a small bump from behind, courtesy of Phobos, causing the young man to stumble. “See that you do it well,” sneered his tormentor, “Inadequacy shall be your end.”

He saw not a hint of regret, nor doubt within their eyes. Thus, Andrew committed himself to the foot of Artemis.

Her artificial scent dominated, stinging his nostrils. It was nearly impossible to maintain a good grip upon her skin, for the various lotions and soaps lubricated the surface. Even if he could, there was something preventing from Andrew committing his full effort into the task before him.

Looking up, Artemis was no longer smirking at him. In fact, her attention had been redirected to something upon her desk. His eyes could not see what exactly it was, but it appeared to have occupied her arms, for both were resting upon the great overshadowing slab.

As he continued to massage her foot, gradually traveling up the length of the appendage towards her toes, the churning within his stomach had intensified. Several instances within a minute, he was tempted to lean over and unleash what little was left within his disturbed guts. The aroma, forged from various product, threatened his mind with dreariness, and only contributed to the sense of queasiness inside.

“Put your body into it, you are, after all her property,” instructed Deimos, “Give yourself to her, your dignity, your lust, your being. It is all we puny things called ‘men’ can offer.”

Already, Andrew’s arms felt 1000 times heavier. He had begun fighting his eyelids to remain opened. His head swung with a teetering motion.

“Goddess have mercy on him, for I cannot,” fumed Phobos ,”He’ll be disposed of by the end of the day.”

He could barely pick up the sound of patters behind him. Sooner than expected, Andrew’s head was grabbed by a rough hand, and forced against the cloyingly sweet skin. A grunt escaped him, and he strained his muscles to free himself. Strong fumes began battering his efforts to remain conscious.

“Lick.”

Andrew shook his head, the only motion he could muster. Doing so only massaged his face even further in Artemis’s lavender embrace. He dreaded that her perfume would leave a permanent stain.

“Fool!”

Two fingers pinched his jaw, forcing it open. His mouth took in the scented flesh. Oils, soaps and chemicals coated his tongue. Andrew’s chest convulsed, attempting to reject the essence of the siren that had captured him. Still, he could not resist the fanatic’s unrelenting force.

As he continued to taste of her flesh against his will, the monolith to which he was enslaved, began to quiver. Up a skyscraper’s length, Artemis’s lilac orbs appeared beyond the edge of the desks silhouette.

Even far below, all could hear her soft giggles.

“Slaves upon my untouched foot,” she proclaimed, forcing all to cease, “I have a task for you. I wish you to clean off my nail polish as the others are. This is to be done in 15 minutes. Fail me, and I shall give you what you deserve.”

Even as Andrew was reclaiming fresh air, breath was still stolen away. “How is this to be done? Are we using any chemicals, any-”

The back of Phobos’ hand silenced his protest. A resentful glare was shot back at the man, as he tended to a new mark that had manifested upon his cheek.

“You are wasting time runt!” the slave scolded.

Deimos was already making his way up the side of her foot, gliding over the skin like a ghostly phantom. He had paused to explain, “If we are to make bricks without straw, we shall strip polish without remover. Let us not tarry.”

Andrew felt his fists clench as he looked over his captor’s toes. While not as bulky and unwieldy as Caitlin’s digits, they still were a good deal larger than a fully grown man. He had to guess that he was barely taller than her big toe, although lengthwise, the appendage utterly outclassed him.

Phobos followed his fellow up the slope of her side, his ascent aggressive and clunky. Andrew too, followed the path he took, still struggling to maintain a grasp upon the smooth flesh. Upon the plain of her ped, he was directed thusly to her second toe.

A thick coating of lustrous red polish concealed the underlying nail. Already, Phobos and Deimos had gone to work. Phobos was wailing away, thrashing at the third toe. His efforts yielded cracked polish, which he then wrenched off. Deimos worked just as quickly, although his movements were more measured and contained. He was able to hoist larger chunks of paint off, a blessing, considering it was the prime toe he had mounted.

Andrew stumbled as he traversed over the connecting joints to make it to the nail. Collapsing on all fours, he began picking at the brightly colored coating. Yet, not even a crack manifested from his efforts.

Muscles strained as he dug his nails into the polish. However, this yielded sore fingers and not an ounce of progress.

A growl exited his mouth as his futile movements continued. Regretful lamentations and lambasting remarks filled his head, each causing a sting in his eyes. If only he could shout at this red-haired devil, rail against the men that enabled her. A fist pounded the nail below, a testament that now, his actions were compelled by pure frustration instead of any genuine effort towards progress.

His teeth sunk into his lips, and he craned his neck to the side. Deimos had uncovered nearly half of her big toe, although little flecks of polish still dotted the revealed area. He was still able to chip away at the polish that remained, and showed no signs of slowing. 

“What’s the technique you’re using? I can’t even crack this thing!” he shouted at him.

A fiery shout blasted him from behind, “You are absolutely useless! At least I won’t have to deal with your blasphe-”

Deimos raised a hand, silencing his peer. “Watch what I do, but learn quickly, for time is not on our side,” he directed.

The man’s movements slowed. Every turning of the joints, and twitch of muscle was made plain to Andrew. Slowly, he began to retrace what had been observed. He mimicked how Deimos repeatedly tapped an area upon the polish, gradually weakening the area until it cracked.

A surprised, yet relieved gasp escaped him as he gawked at the new chasm that had formed below. He hastened his movements, eventually carving out a sizable chunk to then pry from her nail.

In the span of a couple minutes, he had uncovered nearly a fourth of the car-sized toe.

Triumph, however, possessed a short span within this crimson goddess’s lair. “You had an eternity to complete your task, and this is all you could show for it?”

Andrew raised his head to the heavens. No longer did she look amused. Artemis’s lips were pursed, and her lilac eyes narrowed. Her voice had lost all playful undertones, and was now as cold as an arctic storm.

Despite knowing better, he protested, “Now hold o-”

“Tut, tut,” clicked the goddess, “Men, nothing but bundles of failures and excuses.”

With a simple flex of her toes, all three were dislodged. Into the soft carpet, they landed. The impact, however, had left Andrew winded. His attempt to gather himself, resulted in him falling flat upon his back.

He was treated to the view of Artemis’s foot hovering over them like a thundercloud. The ridges of her sole took up his entire field of vision. Directly above, lay an unusual spot, colored a brownish red. His eyes widened, realizing exactly what it was.

Andrew’s arms rose, for all good that would do him. Feeling a rush of air from the descent of her foot, he braced himself for the worst.

Stiff flesh collapsed upon him, pushing aside his feeble limbs. Pressure mounted, although it proved insufficient to even break bone. Still, Andrew was rendered immobile, and his chest was compressed to the point that it was difficult to draw breath. And, what air he could intake was tainted with lavender poison. There was a slight tinge of iron. The stain upon the bottom of her foot had begun to rub off, smearing oxygenated remains upon his body.

Dread crushed at him, in anticipation for when the smother became too much. His bones bent, but only a tad more force would be required for them to break. Organs screamed under mounting force, and in a moment, they would burst and compress. There was no distant light to call his soul to the beyond, only darkness remained.

From beyond the realm of the pressing foot, her voice rang, “I suppose my more loyal slaves ought to finish what you failed. See how much you burden them?”

There was a frantic patter, as the men upon her opposite foot dismounted and raced across the carpet. Despite sweltering under overwhelming pressure, the three men pinned underneath Artemis’s all-encompassing sole noticed little difference as the remaining slaves began to climb upon the oppressing appendage, to scrape away the remaining polish.

Not a word of protest, nor phrase of banter was exchanged between them as they worked. Humble zeal compelled their movements, as their naked, disgraced bodies were thrown into their work, flailing upon nails the color of the blood that raced within them.

In the span of mere minutes, her toes were rendered naked. Not a trace of red paint remained. The nails were as fresh and clear as if not a thistle of the toe brush had been applied.

Lilac eyes gazed down, while lips pouted as she scrutinized her servants work. Huffing dismissively, she then waved her had at them.

“No others are to disturb me.”

All cleared, scattering in an organized mess into the darkness under her bed. Soon, no slaves remained, save for those pinned underneath her foot.

Artemis lifted her offending leg. Light and fresh air tickled the three underneath. Andrew let out several hacks, as his lungs greedily sucked in what it had been denied.

Yet, despite this respite, all three were adhered to the milky sole. A thin sheen of sweat acted as a glue, although additional adherent had fixed Andrew’s form. There would be no escape from her overpowering ped.

The foot was turned over. All were met with her unforgiving gaze. A small smirk formed at the corners of her lips.

“And look what we have here,” she taunted, “Three useless mites stuck to my foot. There really is no more appropriate place for your kind.”

A hand emerged, casting the trio in its shadow. Fingers greater than four men raced across her sticky sole, releasing up her disgraced servants from its moist grasp. They tumbled the length of these digits once it had passed over them, into the flat of her palm.

Once secured, they were lifted up. Her hand settled just beneath her face. Andrew gazed into her eyes, but could not behold his own reflection within them, unlike Caitlin. In fact, despite their exotic color, he could behold nothing within the orbs. It was the void that haunted his innards. A crushing weight had been set upon his shoulders.

Andrew’s balance grew precarious again, but it was not excessive perfume that clouded his senses.

“Wh-why?” he muttered.

Beneath the veil of velvet, ice cold iron emerged from her mouth, “Pardon slave?”

Next to him, Phobos immediately shot a nasty look, “Why you-”

Artemis’s voice thundered, crushing her slave’s protest, and snapping his mouth shut, “I want to hear from him.”

“Why?” Andrew’s voice rang, a miracle, despite the haze in his mind, “What’s all this for?”

He immediately had to bend his knees, for her hand was brought even closer to her face. The giantess’s mouth loomed, close enough to snag and devour all three of them upon her palm. Every syllable of her’s rolled over, and threatened to cause her slaves to collapse and real from force alone, “You took what was mine, and you’re surprised you’re paying the price? I suppose your thimble brain cannot comprehend causality, but that girl, Caitlin…”

Her hand trembled, throwing each men off their feet. Deimos and Phobos were quick to regain their balance. Andrew, however, remained sprawled on her skin, entranced by the flap of lips, and the maw beyond that could have consumed him a dozen times over.

“That’s not for me to discuss.” she finally dismissed, showing no concern as the men strained under excess decibels, “Such matters can only be discussed by equals, and you are under me.”

Andrew opened his mouth to retort, yet the words he had saved up were lost in his throat. Instead, he could only do his best to maintain eye contact with her wilting menace.

“You see,” she continued, “This is her problem. Bugs such as you believe you are deserving of dignity because of her weakness. But, we shall put your so-called dignity to the test.”

Pearly columns of ivory emerged from parted lips. But, her grin neither inspired joy nor hope.

“I’ll give you a choice. Be honored, it’s way more than you deserve.”

“I feel so honored,” Andrew mumbled.

“You best be.” she scowled. Clearing her throat, her ultimatum was laid, “Which one of these men failed you? I shall dispense with them. Choose swiftly.”

A double take was had, as his head swiveled between the two men. Cold, clammy sweat took a hold of his skin, “Wha- what? Just throw their lives away?”

“Perhaps dirt such as yourself easily sympathizes,” Artemis snorted, “But their lives are dust in the wind.”

His own teeth had begun to chatter. He turned back, witnessing that both Phobos and Deimos now stood together, as if they anticipated this judgment. Upon the palm of his captor, Andrew now held the lives of two men in his own hands. He cast a dark glare at Phobos, but he did not return the favor.  The man had taken on the shade of death. Andrew need not raise his voice to ensure his doom, for he was already swimming in it. There was even a slight shiver emanating from Deimos.

Andrew’s heart began to race, resembling the ticks on a clock that reminded him that his own time was rapidly burning out. Twice, he felt Phobos’s name upon his tongue’s tip, but the incriminating declaration was stifled. Still, his eyes never left the man, and even as Phobos reengaged his vengeful glare, having accepted his destiny, his doom remained delayed.

Then, for but a moment, time froze, and his heart stilled. The blood in his veins ceased its sloshing, and a numbing calm took over. His choice had been made.

“I failed myself.” he decided, placing a hand upon his chest. Unlike before, his voice was bold and clear. In fact, Andrew felt as if he could have shattered the feminine colored walls with his speech alone. “I’m the one you want to dispense your justice on.”

Phobos’s eye sockets nearly lost their contents.

Artemis’s voice then cut in like a blade in the night. “Even with such a simple choice at hand, you couldn’t even do that correctly. You men really are useless. I’m not even sure how that brute ever put up with you.”

Andrew’s blood froze once more, but now, it was a creeping affair. His legs began to lose their sense of touch, and he felt as if the limbs would collapse, along with him, into organic ooze.

“Deimos,” the crimson goddess stated, compelling the man to attention. “You were tasked with his initiation. You have failed, and I have no need for you anymore.”

The man called Deimos shook his head. His eyes appeared moist, and for a moment, his mouth quivered. However, he had managed to still himself, but this was but a thin veneer that could easily be pierced by a casual glance.

“Y-your judgment is final, my goddess.” he quivered, “Know that I serv-”

“Your service was but mere entertainment,” Artemis spat back, appearing almost insulted that her devoted slave even attempted to maintain some form of nobility, “Your loyalty, devotion, all worthless as your pathetic life. This was your destiny.”

Without even the squish of her finger, nor the step of her foot, the man Deimos had already been crushed to a pulp. “G-goddess,” he babbled, “I – I – just-”

He was pinched between two of her digits, index and thumb. All that was left visible of his was his flailing limbs, struggling against destiny itself.

Andrew reached out, even though Deimos was far beyond rescue. Despite knowing the man for the span of a few mere hours, he begged “But he’s your mos-”

A rough hand ceased his speech. The rough voice of Phobos snarled into his ear, “Shut your mouth you dog!”

The hand holding Deimos descended, down to her chair. Her legs were splayed out, leaving a large enough area for hundreds of men to mill about between them. Her fingers parted, and he fell the girth of her limbs, landing in a canyon formed by pale thighs and dark blue denim. At this juncture, he was already a puddle of a man, not even attempting to stand.

It was Artemis instead, who had gotten up, leaving Deimos upon a land of soft rolling terrain formed by her immense weight. Her newly freed hand then thumbed at the button to her jean shorts, while also undoing the zipper.

It was a sound Andrew was all too familiar with. He heard the rush of fabric as the shorts raced down her legs. His dread was all but confirmed as the more delicate slide of panties was perceived shortly after.

Leaving her discarded articles upon the ground, Artemis then pulled free the top drawer to her desk. Within the richly upholstered interior lay a great phallic object, the color of hot pink. Fingers wrapped around its girth, as it was lifted from its encasement. She gave it an almost affectionate look, a look that would have been alien to any of the men that slaved under her. 

The toy was hoisted up, allowing both Phobos and Andrew a good view. Neither men could compare to the sheer size of a mere recreational piece, for even its tip exceeded them.

Artemis sank back into the chair, her thighs and exposed crotch thundering upon the cushion, disturbing Deimos’s defeated form.

A deep blush began to form upon the face of the giantess, as she sneered, “You know, you seemed pretty desperate to save the life of a mere speck. It’s entertaining in a way, I suppose. In fact, I do really wish to see how far you are willing to continue this charade.”

One of the fingers upon her hand curled. Instinctively, Andrew dove out the way, for its tip was headed directly for him. Phobos, however, had remained frozen in shock, and thus was pinned underneath its impressive girth.

Meanwhile, she had brought her occupied hand directly over her exposed groin. The area was free of any hair, or any blemish or grime. Red folds of flesh had become swollen and slick. A familiar scent hit Andrew’s nose as he was brought closer. It was clean and strong. Still, despite his experience with a far cruder womanhood, he gagged and coughed upon taking in its overpowering aroma.

Her palm tilted, and Andrew slipped down the incline. He landed upon her waist, right next to the nub of flesh that lay atop her expansive privates. Andrew stared at that bead of flesh, easily bigger than his head, as it glistened and twitched in the open air.

“Caitlin considers you her husband, no?” cooed Artemis, her blush having now rendered her face as red as her hair. “Put that so called ‘experience’ of yours to work, and bring me to orgasm.”

A malicious giggle escaped her lips, before she demanded, “Do so, before this insect is smashed to bits, and I will spare him.”

Upon realization, Andrew raced to the edge, peering down the length of labia. Deimos had regained his footing, but acted as if in a trance. He was waddling his way towards the mouth of the beast. Looming behind him, the false phallus’s head lumbered forth, teasing and compressing the ground Deimos could flee.

Spindly hands clutched his head. Andrew’s brow furrowed, as if his own despairing expression would compel Deimos to at least attempt to escape his fate. But, her most faithful servant soldiered on, until he had climbed up the swollen folds of flesh. Holy terror occupied his gaze, yet not a word of protest or scream of anguish would escape him. To his last breath, his life, and death was all in service for his goddess.

The pink rod rushed forward, and crashed into her lecherous maw, forcing Deimos within. Andrew quickly turned his attention back to her clitoris, and began furiously working upon it. Yet, he was not issuing the sensitive bead a loving massage. Fists of despondent rage beat against it, causing it to quiver and shake. Clear syrupy fluid leaked out of the cavern below, while moans dominated the sky.

Andrew could hear the squelching and churning that occurred within the forbidden cavern. And, he could discern, behind thick walls of flesh, the guttural wails of the man he had failed.

“Ohhh, you might want to hurry, mmmph, he doesn’t have long.” Artemis squealed. The hand that still held a pinned Phobos was now being worked into her breast, with no concern if the man still on it would remain in one piece afterwards. Meanwhile, the phallus’s oscillations increased in frequency.

Andrew held tightly upon the clitoris, as the giantess’s palm smacked against her own crotch. Her hips had begun to buck, threatening his very position upon the pleasurable perch. Flecks of nectar began to fly upon him. Deimos’s wails had long been silenced. Now, all he could hear was the crunching of bone, and the flow of fluid of a different nature.

Still, he worked, throwing his entire body upon the sensitive nub, compensating for the quaking, convulsing flesh he lay upon. Tears streamed down his eyes, mixing with the funky fluid that now coated him. Instinct had taken over, as he smacked and bit the only part of the crimson giantess that could even be affected by his actions.

A high pitched scream shattered his eardrums. The toy was stuffed its deepest yet within her. Slick lubricant flowed around the pink girth, accompanied by the slightest tinge of red.

There was then nothing but the sound of heavy breath. Andrew lay sprawled upon her exposed pubis, his face planted directly upon the tender bead. Artemis meanwhile, had laid back, stewing in newfound warmth. The hand caressing her mammary drew away, revealing Phobos very much alive.

She then drew out her toy. It was coated in a thick layer of syrup. But, there were adjuncts that spoiled its composition. Streaks of red and unidentifiable chunks were strewn in the liquid.

Andrew was able to raise his head to behold what had become of Deimos. Within, he had begun to heave. His mouth sputtered, attempting to cast out what lay within his stomach.

But, he did not get time to lament on his own. Artemis’s hand had released her toy, and had settled upon her crotch. A finger extended, bashing Andrew from his perch. He flew down in a small arc, splashing into the now soaked cushion of her chair. All around him, lay the ground and emulsified remains of the man, rendered in something that didn’t even resemble a carcass. Not even the bones of his body, nor the organs of his innards could be identified. There wasn’t even a splatter to indicate that there was a man who had been demolished, there were just traces of his humors strewn throughout sensuous substance. A man’s entire being had been diluted for a woman’s pleasure.

The same offending finger then set itself upon Andrew, rubbing his entire body within the mixed fluid. He was circled around, a mere pupped for a single digit, soaking in the morbid remains of a man he had doomed.

As Artemis witnessed the sight before her, her chest convulsed with laughter. There was no resistance to her efforts. As she continued to toy with his now limp, exhausted form, she taunted between chuckles, “That’s adorable, you actually thought you were going to save him! Ha! Inadequate, as expected!”

In the mire of sludge, the contents of Andrew’s stomach were ejected. His spirit, his consciousness left him, while his mind faded to black.

…

There was land of green and yellow, neatly arranged in rows and columns. Caitlin surveyed the farmland, granting small smiles to the occasional tractor, or man who had tended the fields. She was received with a great bout of surprise, and even awe. But even as the farmhands beheld her towering form, they still had work to do, and thus, they worked.

Storm clouds still raged overhead, but there was nary a beat of thunder. Her own black tanktop had taken on a significant amount of moisture, and it clung to her torso, showing off the hidden brawn beneath.

Each footfall resembled thunder, however. She was set upon a wide path that cut through the farmlands. In the distance, she could spot residences, although they appeared as skyscrapers would from her vantage. It was clear these houses were built for those far larger than the average man.

Caitlin ceased for but a moment, and gazed at the slip of paper that had set her upon this quest that morning. Her eyebrows arched in determination.

Still, her heart beat with an alarming frequency. The clouds overhead were thick, and it would be long before they cleared.