Decades of tradition and thought made a mockery of in a blink of an eye. That is what Jack was witnessing, though he really couldn’t care about such frivolous things. He sat on the bleachers surrounded by a myriad of generals and scientists. They were all overlooking a ruined field, today's appointed testing ground. He looked down at his clipboard, tapped his pen on the stacks of paperwork. Millions of dollars worth of equipment gone, and the establishment just sat and watched. Scanning over their faces, he could see the stoic facade slip every now and then. A wince there, a subtle frown, a little lean over and a hushed whisper into someone's ear. It was plain to see. The chiefs were not happy in the slightest.
He turned his attention out to the field. A few battle tanks were littered about the field still. The survivors of the initial engagement, but sadly not long for this world. Not when Emma got her hands on them, or her feet if she so chose. She was taking her merry time and loving every second of it. Many a fine vehicle were flattened beneath her sole, compacted and flattened into the dirt. Others she picked up, crushed in her hand and then tossed the scrap away like trash. Jack thought that was maybe why these older gentlemen were so annoyed or upset. A woman was desecrating the backbone of their entire careers. She was tearing up what they knew about conventional warfare. One could be mistaken in thinking it was not a woman, however. Seeing a giant emerge from an aircraft hangar and then destroy everything one understood about modern equipment was no doubt a hard fact to swallow, especially after so many years of studying and analysis. They were face to face with a new way to wage war.
That was not his concern here. Doctrinal issues were not his realm. He was keeping a tally of the cost and damages. One stamp was flattening a few million in taxpayer dollars. Someone had to keep oversight of that after all. If she really got a taste of it, then no doubt some contract had to be created and then bid on by numerous producers. Jack assumed they would be too eager to feed that titan of a woman’s appetite. Stating that on a tender might look odd. He jotted down a note that the details had to be classified of course. The industrial complex might be happy filling out orders, but learning they might go out of business because of the newest scientific advancements would cause an uproar. Mass-produced super soldiers would come from a lab, not a factory. Another thing that the generals were having to grapple with.
A final ear-splitting crunch brought him out of his focus. Emma dispatched the last of the tanks and threw the wreckage over her shoulder. One of the commander's eye’s widened in horror. Whatever remained of that tank, it went flying off and disappeared beyond the horizon. A meagre display of strength and an idle afterthought for her, a gut-wrenching notion for everyone else. Having finished with the tests, Emma made her way towards the gathering. The very sight of this woman whose tread shook the earth and left her immense footprints in the soft mud made all but the most steadfast shoot worried glances at each other. She stretched and flexed her muscles, giving the attendees a fine display of her ungodly brawn. From the way the foundations were rocking, Jack assumed she was placing more emphasis on her footfalls, just to really highlight how awesome her earth-shattering gait truly was. The gathering shared whispers of concern. Jack sighed. It was making it harder to write, that was for sure.
She swept her raven black hair as she approached, wiping away sweat from her brow. With just a few great strides, Emma loomed over the nervous crowd. They stared at the fair-skinned titan of a woman. Her emerald green eyes swept across the gathering of the brightest scientific and military minds, a terrible smug grin etched on her face. Jack tutted. Her shadow was making it hard to read his notes. He glanced up to see her striking heart-shaped face, her sharp well-defined features. She was smiling. It looked as though she was smiling at him. He shrugged.
Probably the dopamine from all the exercise, he thought. Jack returned to his work.
Emma scoffed and then saluted. Sunlight and sweat, the mixture of the two gave her hulking defined muscle almost a polished sheen to it. Thighs as thick as battleships, bulging biceps greater than any barracks, taut abs outlined by her tight black singlet. That wasn’t helping the men feel comfortable. Jack scanned the bleachers. Flabby fat men in their ostentatious uniforms or skinny physiques wrapped in white lab coats. He scribbled his analysis. A short bullet point about Emma’s effects on morale detailing how men’s insecurities might be worsened when face to face with a woman who surpassed what was thought physically achievable for any human.
Worst still, she hadn’t earned it. Jack thought that added to her smug grin. Some concoction gifted her such brawn and height. No effort or achievement. All that power in a little needle shot. Judging by her looks, Emma was revelling in it, loving each and every moment she could exhibit her might. Her smile never left her, even as she saluted. After a tense moment and the ruckus caused by her footfall subsided, all the gathered commanders applauded her display. They then congratulated the scientists on their achievements. All the while, the tension was there. It was thick enough one could taste it, thicker than even the pungent musk coming from Emma’s sweat coated body. Fear. The terrible, awful horror of seeing a giant. A weapon of war that defied logic and man’s understanding. The fear was well disguised of course, but still there. These men wouldn’t have reached their station if they were prone to open displays. Cool and calm, trembling on the inside.
One of the scientists thanked Emma for the display and asked her to return to her abode for a debriefing. She stood to attention, her foot slamming into the field and burying deep. The bleacher rocked from side to side, prompting everyone to balance themselves, holding on for dear life as the foundations swayed and groaned from the stress.
“Oops,” she cooed, bowing to them, raising a hand over her mouth in feigned shock. Emma was giving the crowd a generous full display of her outrageous bust, “sorry fellas, guess I don’t know my own strength.”
Everyone except Jack stared at her breasts, entranced by the very view. Her chest looked as if were testing the very fabric of her uniform, pushing and straining against it like they were ready to burst out any second. Jack took note of the possible malfunction waiting to happen, then turned to more important things. He was already estimating costs. Procurement was a messy affair, just as muddy as the field Emma was gleefully stomping around on. The commanders were keen to have more tests most likely. That meant more work for him, not that he minded. Jack looked up at the giant shadowing them. Their eyes met for a moment. He looked her up and down, then wrote something. Emma tittered, saluted a final time and began her march back to the base.
The bleachers continued to bounce as she strode off. It was when he heard the earth-splitting booms of her heavy tread he deigned to look out towards her. A discreet little base. A few barracks her and there. If it wasn't for that impressive hangar requestioned as a makeshift home for a hundred-foot-tall woman, this place would be thoroughly unremarkable. Jack then caught sight of Emma’s broad hips, how her clothing seemingly disappeared between her titanic-toned ass. Further up, the defined traps and lats of her back meant there were almost valleys between them. Every inch of her was packed with unfathomable physical might. Emma glanced over her shoulder. She grinned and picked out her signet from her butt. From then on, Emma exaggerated her walk, swaying her hips as much as she could as though attempting to hypnotise onlookers. Jack made an addendum.
Singlet looks tight around the chest, but also the waist and back, maybe worth scientists reexploring sports bra and spats option?