Hilde

Hilde let herself into the house. Honey colored hair pulled back into a ponytail high on the back of her head, swayed from side to side as she walked. She was attired in a white blouse under an open grey dress jacket and wore a grey skirt with healed black dress shoes. The clothes fit her shapely form perfectly as her feet clicked crossing the hardwood floor. It was difficult to assess her age, mid-twenties to thirties, again with these women he couldn’t tell. The slender framed glasses she wore did nothing to take away from her beautiful face. Her make-up was subdued, a gentle accent to her perfect features. It was her eyes that held Jack, amber colored, like a wolf’s, and just as predatory. She reminded him of some high powered attorney, or corporate ball buster. Turning to the girls seated at the table, she simply said “Clare dear, bring me a tall drinking glass, empty, then the pair of you leaves us.” Angela got up, nodded and disappeared down the hall. Hilde set her purse down on the table, opened it and took out a small metal case. Opening it, she laid it on the table. Looking, Jack saw it was a set of stainless steel manicure tools, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Clare returned with the empty glass and followed Angela.

“Mr. Dalton, my name is Hildegarde, I am the personal assistant of Miss Heller, Clare’s mother, and this is her home you’ve chosen to intrude upon. I have taken the opportunity to do some research on you and I am told by my sources you are a no nonsense kind of man. Practical. Good, that will hasten this process. Let me be blunt. The absolute best possible outcome from our conversation here will see me returning you to the ministrations of the young ladies, and judging from their demeanor and your condition, it has been vigorous. There will be no restoration to your size condition, please do not ask. These,” she said, patting the manicure tools, “are here in the event I require additional means to encourage your participation in our discussion. I am told your threshold for suffering is incredible, but would prefer not to explore your tolerance level. However, should you prove to be rather uncooperative I will not hesitate to de-limb you,” she strummed French cut nails on the tabletop allowing the information to sink in.

Jack knew this was an entirely different animal than Clare or Angela, this was no little girl playing a game, there was no question she was as serious as a heart attack and she was in charge. Jack said nothing, but knew his circumstances had just taken a very nasty turn for the worse.

“I assume from your silence you are cognizant of your situation, but for the sake of clarity, I will explain. Your position is one of obvious vulnerability. The information you possess, while of some interest, ultimately is of lesser value to me as it will only confirm our current intelligence. Your diminished size also renders you powerless,” she said, reaching in and knocking him down with little flick from her right index finger. She put the finger on his chest and pinned him to the table. “Are we clear?” she asked, pressing hard enough to emphasis her authority.

He nodded glumly. She withdrew her finger and he climbed back on his feet.

She smiled, “Excellent. Question number one, was there a specific article or articles you were sent to acquire as part of the contract you accepted?”

“A polished black stone, faceted. The hairbrush from the bathroom in the master bedroom. Any other items gathered were mine,” he provided. His mind raced. No way did he want to have his arms and legs removed.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, evaluating him. “Who hired you?”

“It was an open contract. I accepted it.”

“Who tendered the contract?”

There it was, the question he knew would most probably end his life. Not that he owed any allegiance to the outfit, by his own personal code he was no rat.

“Who?” she asked again, leaning forward, eyes narrowing.

He looked directly into her golden eyes, but used his peripheral vision to locate the edge of the table. He surmised a fall from this height would probably end his life cleaner than what the giant woman had in store.

Hilde looked to the manicure set and selected a set of fingernail clippers and set them on the table and then leveled her gaze on him.

“Who?” she repeated, tone neutral.

He decided. Pivoting on the spot, he bolted backward, away from her toward the far edge of the table, ten paces, twenty, still running. He could hear her behind him, the chair sliding out. At least he would check out on his own terms. Thirty paces, forty and the hand closed around him tightly, lifting him up and off the table. She brought him close to her face, close enough smell her sweet exhale. “I have told you there is no escape, not even a clumsy attempt to fling yourself from the table, which I suppose was your intent.” She moved her hand back a bit and releasing the little and ring finger of her right hand, the one holding him, she exposed his midriff while essentially keeping him secure with her thumb across his chest. With her left hand, she extended her little finger and slipped the nail up his leg and between his anus and scrotum. “It has been said when you geld a stallion, he becomes more docile, amenable to instruction.”

He held still, eyes locked on hers.

“You are defiant, yet surely you must realize the gravity of your situation. Do not let your foolish man pride take you down a path more dangerous than the one you are currently on.” Pausing a moment she removed her finger and set him back on the table. “Another attempt to flee, I will remove your balls. I appreciate your misplaced loyalty to your employer, however, inevitably you will confirm for me who tendered the contract.”

“I could give a shit about protecting the shitheads who hired me, I’m just not a snitch,” he answered.

“While I respect your personal code of ethics, distorted and impractical as it may be, as well as your willingness to endure suffering far beyond anything you could imagine, you will provide me the name,” she countered, no yield in her voice.

“If you’ve got the kind of connections who can tell you who I am, look at Tony’s ID and the crew he runs with for your answers. You seem bright enough to connect the dots,” he said, “You don’t need me to confirm shit.”

She smiled, small even teeth showed between bee stung lips. “Who is Tony?” she asked leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“The dirty piece of crud assigned to watch over me. He was shrunk like me and what’s left of him is slowly digesting in blondie’s stomach.”

“Her name is Angela, and you will refrain from addressing her as anything other unless she permits it,” she instructed. “Understood?”

He nodded in affirmation, “Whatever you say fraulein,” he said with a mock accent.

Taking the drinking glass, she turned it upside down and set it over top of him. He remained passive, arms folded over his chest. She got up and left. He watched her depart, hips swaying gently as she moved. A day earlier he might have taken a run at her, plied the charm and see if he could have gotten her into the sack. Sitting down to wait, funny how fast shit changes he thought.

She returned a short time later, cell phone pressed up against her pretty head. She sat back down on the chair, a quick uh huh and a yes, she set the phone down one the table and removed the glass. “So, that solves that. What was the delivery schedule?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost 11pm, why?” she replied.

“Supposed to make a call about an hour ago to make arrangements for a rendezvous. I have a request.”

“We can discuss your request later, for now I want to know about the rendevous,” she directed.

“Can I have some clothes, you may not have to pluck my stones as they’re already half frozen off,” he said.

Hilde chuckled. “You are most amusing. Perhaps if you are still alive when our discussion has reached its conclusion, we shall see. Is it too late to make the arrangements?”

A glimmer of hope sparked in his mind.

“No, I can use my cell phone, but unless I’m restored…”

Getting up, she went to the kitchen island and brought back two cell phones. He pointed at the one that was his. Hilde hit the power button, a lock appeared on the screen, “Passcode?”

He gave her the number. She punched it in, then opened the contact file.

“Contact name?” she asked without looking up.

“Uncle Mortimer,” he replied. He expected her to hold the phone down next to him

Selecting the right file, she pressed the call button, then leaned back, holding the phone to her own head. “This is Jack,” she started in a perfect imitation of his voice, “the whole thing fucked up, that fucking stiff Tony tripped some type of goddamn silent alarm, no cops, some type of private security, they showed up guns blazing. Tony got clipped but I got the shit,” she finished. Jack’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

“Yup, both of them,” she added, still sounding like him.

“No, give me a couple of hours, I need to shake some of this heat. I’ll call back when I’m ready to make arrangements,” she winked at him, wide smile on her face.

“I don’t fucking care if you don’t like it, you fucked up, this was supposed to be a quick in and out. We will also need to re-negotiate price.”

“Later,” she said and disconnected the call.

“How did you, I mean, what the fuck just happened?” he asked. She ignored the question.

“To whom was I speaking on the other end of the line?” she asked, eyes locked back on Jack.

He hesitated, she loomed over him and raised an eyebrow. “Sounded like Cyrus,” he supplied.

“Good,” she said, backing away.

“What now?” he asked.

“Your role in this affair has come to an end. You are very fortunate the girls have advocated for your continued existence,” she said, collecting the manicure tools and his cell phone and placing them back in her purse.

“What do you mean?”

“Normally, this is where either I slide you down my throat and get a warm little glow as you are broken down or I put you into stasis pending a determination. You are most fortunate the daughter of my mistress has made a petition to hold custody of you for the moment.”

“What?” he asked, a confused look on his face.

“The girls said they weren’t finished with you yet,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Oh. Clothes?” he inquired.

“That will be up to the girls,” she answered, looping the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Turning, she fancied him with a smile, “Our interaction here tonight has come to an end Mr. Dalton, however you and I will interact again, of that I am certain.” She winked, patted her stomach and left.

“Did she leave?” Clare asked, garbed in a house robe as she walked back into the kitchen a very short time later.

“She’s a regular barrel of monkeys that one,” Jack commented dryly. “How about some bloody clothes, I’m freezing my balls off.” She scooped him up and placed him between her symmetrical breasts. He snuggled in, more for the warmth than fear of falling or affection.

“In the morning,” she answered walking to the wall and shutting off the light before heading back to her bedroom. Angela sat on the bed also clothed only in a bathrobe. Clare placed him on the bedside table. Bending further, she scooped up her silken panties off the floor and laid them on the table as well. “You can sleep with these, at least they’re silk,” she informed. He bundled himself up in her skimpy undergarment.

Distracted driving

On the drive down from the Hills in her black Audi R8, Hilde smiled to herself. She found she very much enjoyed her interaction with Jack, his audacity and demeanor. Usually there is a significant amount of whining and pleading prior to the final kiss and swallow, while it was entirely possible he had already gone through those steps with the girls, she approved that he seemed to not resort to begging. He was different, as the girls had said, she would love to feel him, use him, then pull him down her throat, fighting and thrashing as he was moved deeper and toward oblivion. She felt aroused. For half a moment she contemplated returning to the house, but her employer had other tasks for her to prepare. Distracted as she was, she was unaware of her speed. She hadn’t notice the cruiser behind her until it splashed blue and red all over the back end of her car.

Gearing down, she pulled over to the side of the road, the police car in behind her, lights stabbing color against the darkened terrain. She waited as the cop ran her plate. He got out of the vehicle and began to approach, she lowered the window.

Placing his hand on the car above the window, he looked down at her, he was moderately tall, mid-thirties, clean shaven, smug. “License and registration?” he asked, strumming his fingers on the roof of her car.

“Was I speeding?” she asked as she handed him the documentation.

He removed his hand from the roof and looked down at her insurance. “Not just speeding, you were careening quite dangerously down the road, there are at least a dozen different infractions I could cite you with, even impound this sleek little ride,” he replied.

She remained silent.

“Have you had anything to drink this evening ma’am?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, irritated by the delay.

He leaned in toward the window, “I think I smell alcohol. I’m going to need you to step out of the car ma’am,” he said, backing away from the door.

She let out an audible sigh and exited the vehicle to stand before the cop. At an inch over six feet, he was still taller than she. He looked her up and down, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He ran her through the sobriety tests.

“This is not necessary,” she stated, getting angry, now not only by the delay, but especially by the officer’s attitude.

“Face your vehicle and place your hands flat on the hood of your car,” he ordered. The tone rubbed her wrong, but she did as instructed. Stepping in close, he used his foot to part her legs and began to frisk her, touching her in ways beyond the scope of his duties.

“Enough,” she turned and pushed him with her palm. The force surprised him as he staggered back several feet. She shook her head. “You are too bold,” she said firmly.

“You resisting me?” he asked, right hand drifting down to his side where pistol and pepper spray were holstered.

She smiled. “No. I think I could use this at the moment. Officer…”

“Taylor,” he answered, liking her willingness to be more compliant.

“So what shall we do first Officer Taylor? Shall you fuck me over the hood of my car, or maybe I should blow you?” Had he known her, he would have discerned the facetious tone of her comment, but he didn’t know her.

Lick his lips, he stepped forward and grabbed her right breast.

She remained impassive as the cop pawed at her breast. “Done yet?” she asked.

“I’m a long way from being done,” he said.

“No, you are finished, I had hoped for more though,” she said.. Maybe if she hadn’t become so aroused dealing with Jack Dalton she might have been more tolerant of the idiot cop. She closed her hand into a fist then opened it in the direction of the policeman.

A bewildered look suddenly exploded on his face as the world around him seemed to expand and grow.

He seemed to fall within his own clothes as everything around him appeared to dramatically increase in size. Struggling through the field of fabric, he emerged through the collar of his uniform. She towered over him, a smirk on the side of her face. He shrank back from her, reaching out to try and fend off her gigantic hand. She grabbed him by the leg and lifted him skyward, until he was dangling before her face. Cocking her head to the side, “Do you think you still smell alcohol,” she asked sarcastically. His frantic eyes wild with panic. “Why don’t you see for yourself,” she said lifting him over her face and releasing her hold, allowing him to fall into her open mouth. She re-positioned his body, head at her teeth, feet at her throat, holding him firm against the roof of her mouth once he was properly aligned. She let out a small noise of anticipation as she then drew saliva into her mouth, extended her chin and swallowed, tracing a line on the outside of her throat and between her breasts as he descended into her.

Bending down, she gathered her license and registration and the cops uniform. Walking to the cruiser, she opened it and tossed the officer’s clothes inside. A satisfied smile on her face as she felt the warm tingle from deep within. Raising her hand, she proceeded to shrink the cruiser until she could lift it with one hand. Walking back to her car, she placed the model sized car on the passenger seat and set off for home. Pulling out her cell phone, she made two calls.