You were pretty disoriented, but it was obvious you were trapped against some sort of coarse cloth, squeezed tightly enough sometimes that breathing was a challenge. It felt like a roller coaster, and you had no hope of being able to scream with the fabric being as tight as it was. You heard the mantra: “stand clear of the closing doors, please” over and over, felt the roller coaster get bumpy again, and then it got quiet for a while. You felt the fabric loosen a bit, and then you felt it again, flesh. White hot panic set in again as you realized you were being grabbed again. Some primal instinct to flee, to escape took hold of you and you bucked and flailed to no avail. She had caught hold of you, and you felt a sensation of going up, before going down, and finding yourself dropping without injury into some large, clear glass cell. You felt the cold, smooth surface and realized where you were. You were in a gigantic bedroom, on a desk, inside a cup, and looking down on you like the face of the almighty was her. The girl from the subway platform. Against your better judgment you screamed again.
“Hm, how odd. I can hear you screaming, and you’re quiet, but you’re at your normal pitch. Try saying something,” the girl said to you, her voice booming yet flat and emotionless.
You listen to her request and muster up your courage, but that makes your fear turn to anger. No one kidnaps you! Who does this bitch think she is? “Let me go, you fucking cunt! I’ll tear you to pieces when I’m free and then I’ll sic my lawyer on you when I’m good and done!” You spat on the ground, on the glass “floor.”
She shifted above you, strands of her wavy hair cascading down her shoulder like a great waterfall. “Well, that’s, um, definitely ‘something,’ so fair enough. I did ask you to say something, after all, so I guess that’s on me. But what you’re suggesting is what we’d call a ‘bad incentive structure.’ You see, if you want to be let go, then you’re going to have to behave and promise not to come after me, not punish me for helping you,” Alexa said with a lofty air.
Was she taunting you there? No one taunts you. You were captain of your football team and are the best damn salesman on your entire floor. Women loved you. Well, not Carla. She was a whore and everyone knew it. And not this oversized bitch who reminded you a bit of Carla, nag nag nag. “Fuck off,” you say. Not your best insult, but it’s how you felt, and your therapist was always telling you to be yourself and let your feelings be known. Or something. She was honestly kind of a bitch too. Great tits, though.
“Hm, I don’t think I will. I also don’t think you’re the kind of person to turn the other cheek. So here’s the thing. I’ve been trying to come up with a reason not to kill you, a reason not to just make you, my little problem go away.“
Kill me? The fuck was she thinking? Sure she was big, there was no question of that, but she was a girl. Not like she could hurt me. Right? You gulped hard and jumped a bit as her enormous hand slammed on the table next to you while you were busy mulling that over. Her trunk-like fingers bowed a bit, nails scraping on the wood as they came closer to her wrist. She began slowly tapping her fingers. Each tap made your “floor” shake, but not enough to make you stumble.
“Well? I’m waiting. If you don’t say anything in the next ten seconds, you’re done,” she threatened.
You looked into her dark eyes and felt like a butterfly pinned to a, well, whatever it was that butterflies got pinned to. Fuck. You didn’t see any mercy or pity there in those eyes, just a coldness that grabbed at your heart and made you fall to your knees.
“Please! Please don’t hu-don’t kill me! I dunno why you’ve done this but I–I didn’t do anything to you! We was just talking! I’ve got a life, I’ve got feelings!” You saw no reaction from her other than a barely perceptible shift even at her scale, a slight twitch of the side of her upper lip. “What? What did I say? Oh, God!”
She took in a breath and let it out. You felt the warm, muggy air wash over you a little though you were mostly shielded by your glass prison. She shifted back a little, and now you could only see her face through the glass, distorted slightly. “You brought up that you have a life and feelings. Since when does that matter to you?”
What did she mean? You were confused, and that was plainly evident to her because once you shook your head slightly, she raised her hand off the table and slammed her fist down. This time your world shook enough to topple you from your knees. Splayed on the bottom of the glass, you shakily got to your feet. She remained quiet for a time, moving her head back into direct view, then spoke comparatively softly, like a high whisper.
“The animals you love to eat had lives and feelings, too. I’ll bet you have little bits of them with you still.” You actually had lost the bag you carried with you to the station earlier at some point, but didn’t know where. “You’ve made your body their tomb, and I’ll bet you don’t think about that for a second.”
This again? “Look, it’s food. They’re animals, I’m not. Please, you gotta see you’re crazy, right? We gotta eat. I’m not gonna eat broccoli or whatever, or–or tofu or whatever it is you eat. I gotta have my protein. Please! Let me go, I won’t be a problem for you. Make me normal, this ain’t right. You can’t keep me here!”
She actually looked like she was thinking it over. When you shouted “please” at her, you even saw her look concerned for a second, but when you told her she couldn’t keep you there her expression snapped back to the icy dispassion you’d seen earlier. Then she smiled, straight, white teeth flashing behind smooth lips. “You’re not convincing me, buddy,” she said all sing-song. “You’re barely the size of a piece of tofu, yourself. I can definitely keep you here. Or do whatever I want with you, which really isn’t keeping you. Anyway, I skipped dinner tonight and am pretty hungry, Little Tofu. Why shouldn’t I just eat you?”
Your heart flutters in your chest at this, stomach churning with fear. She continues. “You are an animal after all, despite what you said. And I’m not crazy, just tired of dealing with assholes like you, tired of them–of you–hurting others time after time. An ex of mine used to say that every death the Joker caused, once Batman realized what kind of monster he was and didn’t kill him, was on Batman’s hands. I’m not really into comics myself, but I do want to stop the monsters.”
With that, she nodded her head a little, and grabbed the glass, banging your head into the wall and flinging your body around. You were disoriented and began sliding down the length of the glass, which was now upturned slightly. You clawed at its unyielding surface, not finding any purchase as you slid toward her now waiting hand at the open bottom (top?) of the glass. She grabbed you yet again, but much more gently this time. “What did you call me?” she asked. “Oh, yes. It was ‘sugartits,’ I believe. Well, let’s see yours.”
You felt the pressure around your legs increase as she maneuvered you into the other hand, holding you upside down by them only. Your phone fell out of your pocket, and then you felt like you were being hugged for a moment as her fingers pinched at you, at your shirt and jacket. The shirt tugged against your skin, biting into your armpits and stomach, and then began ripping, tearing painfully a bit at your skin before both it and the jacket slid up and off your body, hitting your chin on the way off, which kicked your head back. It hurt enough that you let out a yelp. She flipped you right-side-up again and switched her grip to clamping your chest between her first finger and thumb. Your legs dangled seemingly 40 feet or so in the air. It was hard to breathe like this and you reflexively batted at her thumb with your one free hand. You heard a giggle rumble above you.
She deposited you on her hand. The small motions of her hand, even as she tried to keep it steady, were enough to prevent you from rising to your feet, and you remained on your ass with your arms pushing your torso up a bit. “I’d suggest you take off your pants on your own if you don’t want your belt to rip your legs off when I pull off those pants,” she cautioned.
You were shocked by all this, by her sudden change. “The fuck are you doing?”
“I’m making you strip, obviously. If you don’t, I’ll smash you to a pulp. You’re going to take a bath.”
You silently do as she asks, first taking off your boots, fumbling with the laces a bit. You loved those boots, but once they were off, she flicked them off her warm palm like they were nothing, a display of raw power that terrified you. The wind from her middle finger as it flicked made a deep whoosh what felt like inches from your body. You flinched and got back to taking off your belt, unbuckling it and then shimmying out of your pants. You felt her hand moisten a little below you, pinpricks of sweat beading up. You were now wearing only your socks and underwear.
“Those too,” she said.
Scared and humiliated, you took off your socks, then paused. She gave you an angry look and raised her other hand above you, flat. It was clearly a threat. Shakily, you removed your underwear as well. You felt a shiver go through you. If it was fear or the chill in the air, you couldn’t say. She bent down, pursed her lips, and blew. The resulting gale scattered the clothes in her hand and flung them off, plunging them into the depths. It was now just you on there, buffeted as well and flipped prone. Her breath had a pleasantly earthy scent, not particularly strong. You were glad to be on your front because even in this insanity you retained your modesty and didn’t want her seeing your private area.
“Gross. You’re pathetic, aren’t you? Well, let’s get you cleaned off,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around you once more. You felt yourself swaying, and with each of her steps you felt a shake and a slight tightening and releasing of her fingers. You tried to wriggle a bit, but as before it did nothing. You saw her fingers raise again, and saw that you were in a bathroom. You heard her turn on a tap and then saw that you were getting close to the shower area. She grabbed something and then you were back in the main area, near the tap. She set down whatever it was that she got, and then brought you close to the rushing stream of water, before jerking you away right before you would have entered. A few small (even to you) droplets hit you, and the wind from the water’s flow evinced that the torrent was extremely hot. She felt it with her fingers, then adjusted the tap, reducing the quantity and temperature of water flowing out.
How odd, you thought. She’s making the water nicer for me. Maybe she’s just trying to scare me. I think she’s realizing that she’s gotta let me go.
She plunged you under the stream of water, moving her fingers all over you. You sputtered and gasped as temperate water got in your nose, your mouth, your eyes. You realized what she picked up from the shower area was when a cold, girly-scented slime covered you. It was her body soap, and she was lathering you up. You could occasionally hear her humming a little to herself, but mostly what you heard was the rushing of water. After what felt like an eternity of being waterboarded, the water stopped, and you saw a towel coming for you. It was the corner of her body towel. It assaulted you, its terry cloth loops grabbing at you somewhat roughly. It smelled a bit musty this close up, like it needed a wash. Finally, you were pretty dry.
“There, looking good. Anyway, like I said, I skipped dinner. Let’s go have something.”
You nodded mutely, but she wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, she closed her hand again, and you found yourself in a bowl in an eat-in kitchen after some time and turbulence. “Say, do you like Japanese food?” she asked.
You took a bit to get your bearings, feeling briefly overjoyed that she was clearly going to let you go. She was buttering you up. You then replied “sure. I’ve spent some time over there on a business trip. Great food. Even had some stuff that you people’d like,” you said, trying to endear yourself to her.
“Mn,” she said. “Looks like you know a lot. Have you heard of ‘odori ebi’?” Seeing you shake your head, she continued. Well, I’m going to make my take on it. No shrimp, obviously, but there will be a shrimp substitute.”
“...Okay, thank you ma’am,” you say. “So, are you going to let me go after dinner? And could I have my clothes back, please?”
“Still deciding, and no. They’re dirty.”
“Well, I think you should let me go. I won’t say anything. I’ll give you a bunch of money. Ten grand. It’s a good offer, Alexa.” He’d heard her name at some point in her pocket when some woman asked for her help taking down something in the station.
“You know my name, my face, where I go…” Alexa spoke quietly, too quietly for you to hear even magnified to her scale, and then trailed off. She went over to a cupboard and produced a bulk bag with some yellow stuff in it. “Do you know what this is?” she asked you.
“I’m sorry, once again I’m at a loss.”
“Oh, it’s delicious. It’s ‘nooch’: nutritional yeast. I put the stuff on everything. Here, try some.”
With that, she pulled out a sizeable pinch of it, and dropped it on you, yellow particles coating you like snow on a lawn gnome. You breathed in a little and coughed.
“Sorry about that,” she said, snorting. “Try it.” You did, licking the back of your hand which had some on it. It wasn’t really to your liking, reminding you a bit of marmite you tried once on a trip to London.
“Mmm,” you lied. “Pretty good stuff. Thanks for that.”
“Not a problem. Here, have some more,” she said with a mischievous lilt, and then poked you with her finger. You fell to the bottom of the bowl, and then she pressed you hard into it, rolling you around. Your shoulders, arms, and hips were bruised and you howled in pain. “Argh! Stop, please stop!” you shouted, and she did eventually, when she plucked you from the bowl, holding you up to her face at about chin level.
“Odori ebi is a delicacy in Japan. Sometimes it’s known as ‘dancing shrimp’.” Realization dawned on you as you remembered a wild dinner you had once while out on the town in Himeshima.
“People take baby shrimp, dunk them in some sauces, and then chew them up alive. Don’t worry. I won’t bite you. I’ll swallow you whole. Of course that will be a lot slower and more painful for you, but I don’t think your blood would taste that great, to be honest. I feel badly, but can’t let you leave here knowing who I am.” She snapped her teeth at him, then. “When you’re sliding down my throat, I want you to think about all the defenseless animals you consigned to death.”
You were openly weeping now, trying with all your might to free yourself from her vice-like grip. You couldn’t form coherent words, but through your tears you saw her mouth opening, but not even that widely. You felt yourself moving upward slightly, but mostly she moved toward you. Thick strands of saliva stretched from her tongue to her teeth and the roof of her mouth. There was an echoey, wet click as she moved the great beast that was her tongue out toward you. It glistened wetly. Some part of your mind thought she looked so hot, like she was about to lick your cock, and in fact she did. Her tongue slid over the front of your body from your ankles to the top of your head. Slimy and strong, it removed some of the yellow powder that was coating you, but some remained since it was now gluelike having been hydrated by her saliva. Eyes closed, you felt the touch everywhere at once, your cock pushed to the side in a not unpleasant way. You wiped your eyes and were able to see her smile.
“Well, this is it. I really am sorry about this. Any last requests or anything? I can’t contact anyone for you, but…”
“Go to Hell!” you shout, recovering some of your fire.
Her lips, lips thicker than your torso pursed, then parted. You gazed down the dark chasm that awaited and let out a small whimper. You didn’t even struggle as her mouth neared again. You were like a mouse, exhausted by your previous efforts to escape the clutches of a much larger cat, motionless in horror, helplessly and inexorably ferried to your doom. “Ahhhh,” you heard her say, her epiglottis dancing above you. Her hot breath caressed your body, almost feeling nice, but you barely noticed it.
Slowly, so slowly, she moved her head down. Less and less light made it to you, and more and more of your world was the dim cavern of her mouth. Teeth, gums, tongue, wet cheeks, hard roof. You felt yourself tilting sideways and then her fingers which had been pinching most of your body loosened their grip and you found yourself falling the infinitesimal distance making contact for the second time in the evening with her tongue. You let out another scream once you felt her tongue twitching below you. You were in a pool of her saliva, sliding a bit, unable to orient yourself properly. It was almost pitch black now as she’d closed her lips, sealing you in. As she slightly changed the configuration of her mouth you felt your ears pop as if you were on an airplane changing its altitude. Your eyes adjusted a little and you could see vague outlines of hulking shapes in the deep, crimson glow. You felt yourself rising, and in moments you were squished between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Her tongue yielded enough to keep this from being too painful, but you breathed in a bit of saliva and reflexively coughed, but weren’t able to draw in any breath. As you flailed, she rubbed you around a little, spinning you slightly with the friction from the hard palate. A moan boomed around you, louder than any concert. She was enjoying your flavor, savoring it. She pulled her tongue away quickly and your ears popped again, but this time your left eardrum burst. It was one of the most painful experiences you’d ever had, and now that there was some air to breathe, you screamed. Disoriented and in pain, you barely registered it as she slid you again. You were between her tongue and her soft palate, and at last she gulped.
Her spit flooded your mouth, forcing itself down your throat as you were pressed down hers. The undulating waves of her strong muscles propelled you downward. You felt very little pressure at all on the swift trip, peristalsis holding you in a relaxed pocket, slippery surfaces pressing above and below, but you were spared their crushing force. After barely any time at all, you found yourself with more space. You did not fall into her stomach juices, instead caught by the slime at the junction between her esophagus and your new home.
You coughed again, trying to clear the saliva out again, and were rewarded with a putrid, caustic breath. She must have swallowed again because enough saliva poured out from above to finally dislodge you, and you plunged into the wetness of her stomach. Your strength was almost gone now, but you desperately fought to get to the surface. Acids and enzymes burned your eyes, the tip of your penis, your anus, your nose, your burst ear. Her gastric juices churned around you from the motion imparted by her stride. You didn’t know this, but she was walking to her bedroom and slipping into her bed.
You were disoriented enough that you spent some time swimming mostly sideways and down a bit, and you contacted the slippery wall of her stomach lining. You lucked out a bit as you kicked off and found yourself on the top of the awful liquid. You weren’t really thinking much, just acting on instinct. Suddenly, you felt the pressure increase again, hurting your ears once more, but not much. You heard something strange as you breached the muck, like air rushing or the sound of a drum. You were able to take in a breath which felt “clearer” in some way before. Less acidic. Were you to pay attention, you would have been able to hear the deep thump-thump thump-thump of your murderer’s heartbeat in your one good ear, to make out the sound of breath rushing and catching occasionally, and occasional, throaty feminine tones. However, you were preoccupied with the effort of maintaining your head above the thick liquid all around. For a time you tried holding onto the stomach wall, but it was too slippery and mobile to help much. It was like treading molasses. Oddly the viscosity didn’t affect your ability to tread much, though it did slow down your kicks and arm swishes, but the thickness meant that each movement you did manage to make pushed you more than mere water would have. That said, occasionally waves would emerge, slapping at your face, burning you, sending you choking.
You were more tired than you’d ever been. You weren’t big on exercise and your body was being tested beyond the limits of what any human had evolved to handle. Wheezing and panting, you found yourself failing once in a while to get your head back in the air. Once in a while became often. The burning sensation you’d felt before in a few choice areas was magnifying, warping into something unbearable. Another minute and you breathed your last breath. Still, you fought for the surface, but you were too weak. Spent. Another minute of agony and you felt your chest spasm, forcing her juices into your lungs. You were beyond agony now, your nervous system shouting at you to fight, to flee, fully coordinated. Every last iota of energy available to you was focused on the singular task of living just one second longer! To escape the predator! To be! But that only lasted a short moment of white-hot terror. Entirely depleted now, you were drifting. Drifting into the nothingness.
Your predator claimed her first kill.
Giantess World
