Rean wanted a woman, any woman, and he would ask any god for help getting one. The shepherd boy of eighteen years, medium height with unkempt midnight hair and almond eyes, sighed into his coarse hands as he watched the festival at the base of the mountain, the swirling maypoles and towering bonfires visible even half a mile away as he was, tending his flock.

Tonight, the village celebrated Roth, the god-king of old, yet someone still had to tend to the flock and unfortunately Rean had drawn the short straw.

Now he stood amidst the smelly herd, their bleating baahs too loud to even let him get a decent night’s sleep. Roth, it seemed, favored everyone but him.

Yet there are other gods I could pray too. It was said that, when Roth rode the skies to receive homage from the people his brother, Loketh, also slipped out of the All-father’s mead hall to receive homage and grant boons.

All it took was an offering. A quick glance at the herd of sheep and a plan slowly formed in Rean’s mind.

They won’t miss one…worst case, I say a wolf did it. In truth, his greatest concern lay not in being found out by rest of the village…but in getting the attention of the very deity he sought to petition.

The Elders warned against praying to Loketh, of making offerings to the Trickster god and worst of all, deals. But the night was long and cold, and he was unhappy and miserable and Rean’s misgivings were frozen like the permafrost beneath his booted feet. Another glance down at the revelry sealed his determination: the shepherd boy would make an offering to Hel herself were she to appear.

While the herd gorged itself on a thick patch of dry grass he led one of the rams away and upwind where the smell wouldn’t panic the rest. At Rean’s belt hung a small knife while a set of flint rocks hung in a pouch nearby.

Soon he had what he needed, a makeshift firepit with kindling provided by grass, twigs and some fallen timber. A quick thrust of his knife slit the ram’s throat and warm crimson liquid stained the grassy knoll. Soon as its twitching body came to rest, Rean built a fire and thrust the ram into it, the flames searing the flesh and blackening the wool, consuming the beast.

He hesitated at the next part, the Elder’s warning fresh in his mind, but shook it off—truly, what did he have to lose in trying? “Loketh, I beseech you to send me a woman,” he prayed, “may she be beautiful, fair, and hungering.”

Nothing happened. Rean saw no fair Valkyrie maiden appear, nor did he smell the sweet nectar of a golden nymph, just the ripe, greasy fragrance of fat burning in the fire. He made to stamp out the fire, to smash the embers in frustration and lonely rage, but before he could, the tree line shuddered as if under a heavy wind, the ancient oaks groaning as their trunks strained against impossible force before snapping like the kindling he had made.

Then, just as Rean asked, a woman appeared before him.

***

Kria was horny. Eating a human would bring her to orgasm. She could have gotten herself off by conventional means, of course, but this way was always better, more intense and satisfying. She didn’t know why Freia made her people so, and it was not their way to question such nature, only obey it. Giants roamed and sated their desires, be they for food, treasure or carnal pleasure and that was the way of things.

She was of the mountain, fair skinned with hair the color of snowy peaks with pale skin containing a hint of azure matching her ice-cold eyes. Padding through the dense alpine forest, silent as a ghost thanks to the magic of the Great Mother coursing through her, the oldest and tallest of the oak trees barely reached her hourglass waist, bare like her legs and upper chest but for a light ruff of furs about the end of her breasts and toned thighs. Indeed, it would have been considered risqué for summer wear in human cultures, hugging her lithe form and accentuating her slender curves.

To a giant, clothing was but a decoration; many went without it all together, but Kria enjoyed the smooth skin and fur against her skin, plus the sparse coverings had…other applications, she thought with a rueful smile, coming to edge of the forest and spying a flock of shaggy white woolly sheep grazing in the open field at the tree’s edge. Each sheep would be barely worth the energy gained for the giantess to chew it, but she hunted for pleasure, not food.

The scent of blood hung in the air. Someone had killed. Closer in nature to the earth and its predators than to humans, the wolves and bears of the All-father, the giantess’s excitement—and arousal-grew at the scent of death and fire, a blaze igniting in her loins as she ached for filling satisfaction.

The fire in question lay at her feet—and, she noted in her excitement, so too was a human male of prime age. Mouth watering from carnal hunger she bent at the waist and reached down. Of course, he ran, fleeing in the manner of prey, even trying to hide within the flock of sheep who stampeded in terror.

But Kria had done this before, many times, and it was a simple matter to brush the ewes and rams aside with her fingertips before scooping the thrashing boy up in her fingers with the utmost care taken not to crush her prize, thus ruining it. She lifted him to her face, plucked between a forefinger and a thumb longer than he was tall, pink lips turning up in a lustful smile.

Kria examined her catch more closely. A healthy, energetic specimen, few in years, strong in body, good. Human lives passed in an eyeblink compared to giants and they atrophied barely halfway into their lifespans.

He beat against her fingers, squealed in the human tongue. Curses, prayers, pleas. She heard them, understood the language, but cared not for the protestants of lesser beings. Kria did, however, note her proximity to the village—though she doubted it posed much of a threat, giants did not reach her age of eight hundred years by taking foolish chances.

In the meantime, she would make use of her clothing’s applications.

The hand holding the human swung down to her chest while her free hand parted her breasts and she slipped the squirming male inside, pushing him all the way down to the bottom of her brasserie before she let her bosom settle back into place. With the human boy secure, Freya brushed herself off, straightened her hair and clothing and glided back into the sanctuary of the forest.

***

Like a stone cast into the mire, Rean sank into the soft prison of flesh inside the giant woman’s bra, her skin warm and soft despite having the appearance of fresh frost. Several times he tried to climb back out, but was met with her fingers again and again until he gave up and sank down with a sob.

I asked for this.

Why, oh, why didn’t he listen to the Elders?

Time passed, impossible to tell in the hot darkness, Rean swaying back and forth with her movements. Some time later the swaying stopped, then everything tilted sharply in one direction.

The giantess had laid down.

The wrappings about her breasts were removed and they fell limp to the sides, leaving Rean to slide down from her cleavage and down onto the smooth plain of her abdomen, coming to rest in the woman’s navel. Glad for fresh air, he sucked in cool breaths, staring up over the mountainous bosom at the feminine features peering down at him with casual interest.

She tossed her brassier aside, then curled her palm and fingers around Rean and ushered him up her stomach to her breast, cupping him against the peach colored flesh of her nipple. The hand fell away, leaving him perched atop the areola like a blushing mountaineer.

Then she spoke to him, a single word in a soft alto rather than the reverberating thunder one would expect from a giant.

“Lick.”

Rean stared slack-jawed.

She flicked him. Hard. “Lick.” Her hand drew back threateningly.

Vision clearing from the last blow, fearful of what further punishments might come, Rean bent down, wrapping both hands about the soft flesh and, as requested, began to lick. The skin of the breast prickled beneath his feet and from above him came a rumble of what he hoped to be approval.

A hand darted past him and pushed its way into the waistband of her bottom clothing. The air around him grew heavy with the spicy aroma of her arousal, as she wriggled her way out of her final coverings and slipped them down off around her ankles.

Then she reached for him. “W-wait,” Rean cried, panicked, “I can do better,” it wasn’t his fault he was so inexperienced, being a shepherd boy was just unattractive proposition for most women, he’d only ever managed a fast one with the daughter of a pig keeper.

Up and up Rean arose, over her breasts, past her slender neck and before her face. Hanging before the giantess, her deep cerulean gaze boring into him, he realized she was beautiful. Ethereal, inhuman beauty, akin to what it must have been like to gaze upon the face of a goddess.

Or a titan, from whom the giants were descended.

She licked her lips, then opened her mouth. Beauty didn’t matter anymore.

The horrified realization of his final destination banished all rational thought from Rean’s mind, all thought but a single, final observation as he hung over the moist abyss, currents of stifling air wafting up from below.

Oh, gods, I thought her breath would smell terrible for sure. But it’s not that bad.

Her fingers released.

Rean fell.

***

Her loins an inferno, nethers a moist swamp, the foreplay had gone on long enough. Kria reached down and plucked the human from her heaving breast and lifted him over her mouth, lips forming an O-shape as they parted and her mouth opened wide. Swift and sure, she popped him into her mouth and snapped her mouth shut, sloshing him about her mouth, tasting him.

Salty. They’re always so salty.

A cascade of white fell down her shoulders as she tilted her head back, feeling the boy drop into her throat. She swallowed, a heavy, wet gulp, and the tickling sensation traveled down her throat and into her chest, the thrashing lump struggling in vain to halt its descent. Abruptly, the sensation vanished, Kria’s breasts rising as she took a sharp inhale through her cleared airway.

And waited.

A tingle began, just below her chest at her left ribs. A giant of the frost, immune to all cold, Kria shivered, the tingle racing up her spine. A moan forced its way past her lips as she arched her back and plunged her fingers inside, the deepest yet.

Kria thrust, groaning, wriggling her hips and arching her back, the frantic struggles within more stimulating than anything she managed from outside her body. Kria pushed deeper and deeper, panting, mouth agape, the fire burning brighter as the human’s struggles intensified, no doubt in response to the tremors and shaking of his surrounding.

She came, climaxed in a white-hot flare of passion, waves of pleasure rippling, cresting, fading, her bare breasts rising and falling rapidly as she rubbed herself down into post-orgasmic bliss. He was good one, by the Great Mother.

Blue eyes fluttering shut, the giantess groaned, stretched out catlike and burped softly, covering her mouth despite there being no one around to hear it but her and the occupant of her stomach. She lay back in post-orgasmic bliss and licked her lips, a hand resting over the flat of her belly as the tingling sensation lulled her to sleep.

She awoke the next morning, sunlight spilling into the cave and warming her bare skin. Eyes flickering open, she yawned and wriggled out from under her bedding and back into her coverings. Her stomach rumbled, empty, the human digested and sent on along the path food took.

The stimulation gone, Kria thought nothing more of him, no more than he had thought of the ram he’d killed and burnt, a means an end, nothing more, his purpose ended. Feeling the heat of the sun pervade the cavern, the giantess turned her gaze north.

It’s too warm here.

The snows beckoned, the frozen plains and northern lights Kria belonged to called her home, and home she would go. Until her carnal desire returned, whereupon she would descend the mountains once more and seek another partner for the night.

Such was the way of things.

***

As the carnal spectacle concluded in the mortal realm, Loketh the Trickster god smiled and added another tally to his ledger, the offering received and the prayer answered, albeit not in the manner the petitioner always expected.