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fairyboyblr-blog · 8 years ago

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Private Dance 1

Hey! Here’s another new story! This time about a giant pleasing a tiny...

Vera stepped through into the VIP room. She was one of the most-requested private dancers for rich clients in the whole club. It wasn’t hard to see why; her Sudanese-dark, bountiful curves glistened in the club lights, wobbling erotically as she walked. Her colossal booty, which bounced and shook with every high-heeled step, had caused passing motorists to veer off the road, and her succulent breasts seemed to have escaped from a man’s wet dream the same way they strained to escape from her barely-there top. Her gold string bikini was practically invisible, the tiny triangles of thin fabric adhered to her oiled skin as if they had been painted on, doing nothing to hide her thick, shaved labia or huge, perky nipples. She wore immaculate dark purple nail polish, gold eyeliner and dark purple lipstick, and had her curly black hair cut short.

Looking around the room, Vera stopped. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside. The room was small, with no windows but luxurious red drapes hanging from the walls. A Victorian couch was set against one wall, with a high-backed antique chair in the middle of the room, facing away from the dancer’s entrance. The only light came from two angled lamps set in the ceiling.

“Hello?” Vera asked tentatively in her husky voice, speaking to the customer’s entrance “Is anyone here?”

“Down here!” squeaked a voice from the chair seat. Stepping around it, Vera’s jaw dropped. Sitting on the edge of the chair, her legs dangling off the seat, was a five-inch tall woman. She was thin, with light brown skin and wavy brown shoulder-length. She wore a pair of red short-shorts and a green singlet. The doll woman smiled up at Vera, waving one tiny hand, her green eyes twinkling.

“Hi, um, you’re Vera right?”

The dancer nodded wordlessly, still awestruck.

“I’m Debbie. Uh, I’d like a dance?” The small woman said, reaching behind herself and pulling out a tightly-rolled wad of bills.

At the mention of business, Vera snapped out of it. Dammit, she was supposed to be a professional. Putting on her “sexy act”, the dancer smiled down at her small client seductively.

“Sure thing hun.” Vera leant forward, placing her hands on the arms of the chair. Debbie’s eyes went wide as Vera loomed over her, leaning back further and further to look at the dancer’s face. The light shining from behind the giantess cast her front into shadow, glinting from the oils on her skin to form a halo-like silhouette. Her dark hair fell around her face, framing her sensual smirk and playful eyes.

Standing like this, the dancer’s tremendous mammaries hung down above Debbie’s small form, each one big enough to smother her with ease, even crush her whole body. Vera’s engorged nipples were the size of her client’s head, and her bikini failed to cover all of her areolae, their darker flesh peeping out around the worthless gold fabric.

Dragging her gaze further down, Debbie’s eyes wandered across the slope of the dancer’s stomach. It was soft, with a slight feminine pooch that fitted the rest of her curvy body. While Vera leant forwards it had small folds, and Debbie fantasised about what it would be like to walk across it barefoot. The small woman let her eyes descend across Vera’s sexy tummy, shining with oil and sweat, before slipping over Vera’s pelvis and coming to rest on the thick, glistening pussy directly over her head.

Vera’s G-string did an even worse job of covering her than her top. At the spot where Vera’s thick thighs met above Debbie, the doll-sized woman could clearly make out the shape of the dancer’s pussy lips and clitoris through the fabric. Past that, the bottom of the thin cloth triangle disappeared between Vera’s gargantuan buttocks, their tremendous size obvious even from Debbie’s position beneath her. The sight of Vera’s undercarriage, with the meat of her thighs, backside and womanhood on display, transfixed Debbie for long seconds.

With a conscious effort, Debbie tore her eyes away from Vera’s ladycave. Her eyes travelled down the dancer’s thick thighs, round and large enough she could have squeezed Debbie’s whole body between them without any of her being visible from the outside. The small woman’s eyes lowered further, leaning forward to look past Vera’s knees to her shapely calves and the dancer’s open-toed platform heels. They showed off all of Vera’s smooth feet, including her purple-painted toenails. Debbie could have stood under their arch without her head touching it, even done her own pole dance around Vera’s stiletto heel. The shoes were clear plastic too – for a moment, Debbie had a vision: Vera strutting onto stage with her held prisoner inside one shoe’s platform, reduced to nothing more than a BDSM fashion accessory, literally trapped under this sensual goddess’ foot…

“Hun? Hey hun!”

Debbie started, looking up at Vera guiltily. “Ah! Yes?”

“I was asking if you liked what you saw, but I guess the answer is yes?”

Debbie glanced back down at the giantess’ chest and hips, then nodded up at Vera vigorously. The dancer giggled, charmed by the doll-sized woman’s earnestness.

“Um, this is my first time doing this, so I’m not sure but…” Debbie says, trailing off and looking down at the roll of notes across her knees “Uh, am I supposed to like, hook these in your thong? Cuz I think that might be a bit difficult at my size.”

“No problem, cutie! Let me help you with that!” Vera turned side on, showing off the silhouette of her shapely butt. Bending at the knees, she crouched down, putting her hip – and the strap of her thong – down at Debbie’s level.

Debbie reached out, trying to grab onto the thin gold strap, but it was out of reach by almost an inch. The small woman leant out, shuffling forward on her backside, grasping for it.

Above her, Vera watched her client curiously. She’d heard there were tiny people like Debbie, but she’d never seen one in person before. The woman looked so small and delicate. Her exaggerated facial expressions and gestures only made her cuter, probably something the tiny woman did instinctively to help communicate with larger people. Watching her small client, Vera felt a strange kind of protectiveness come over her. After tonight, she might need to look into these tiny people more…

As Vera watched, Debbie shuffled even closer to the edge of the seat, wielding the roll of bills by one end. She started clumsily poking at Vera’s hip with it, trying to hook it between the dancer’s oiled skin and her G-string. Vera stifled another giggle. She couldn’t help but find the tiny woman’s helplessness cute.

Down below, Debbie’s wiggling fingers could almost reach Vera’s thong. She was leaning as far out as she dared, sitting on the very edge of the seat. It was so close. She lunged forward just a little bit more – and instantly regretted it as she felt herself overbalance. She squeaked in alarm and slowly toppled forward, arms flailing wildly.

She slipped off the seat. Her life flashed before her eyes.

Then a giant palm slapped the tiny lady into Vera’s hip, pinning her against the side of the dancer’s soft buttock. Debbie was dragged up Vera’s slick booty, sliding along her glistening skin, before Vera could get her fingers around the doll woman properly. The dancer lifted her client up to her face, Vera’s divine body rushing past Debbie a shiny dark blur.

“Oh my gosh- are you okay? You aren’t hurt are you?” Vera asked, opening her hand.

Debbie sat up in Vera’s palm, still clutching the wad of notes. She nodded, wiping her eyes. The combination of sweat and oil that made the dancer’s skin shimmer had been smeared all down her front. She could even taste some of it in her mouth – not that she had a problem with that... “Tha-thank you! But I think maybe I should just give you the money!” Vera said, holding out the roll of cash.

The dancer smiled, relieved her tiny client hadn’t fallen to her death and also charmed by the sight of the adorable woman holding up the wad of money with both hands. Vera took the roll, pinching the other end of the money delicately between her thumb and forefinger “Sure thing cutie. There’ll be plenty of- holyshitarethesehundreds?!”

“I-I didn’t know how much I was supposed to give you!” the small woman called up to Vera’s stunned face “One of the bouncers said if I gave you extra I could get ‘special treatment’! A thousand dollars is enough for a dance with touching right?”

Vera alternated between looking between the cash in one hand and the tiny in the other, doing her best impression of a fish. Then remembered she was supposed to be a professional. “Oh hun,” the dancer said, smiling and tucking the tightly-rolled cash behind her ear. She kissed the tip of her index finger, smearing it with purple lipstick, then reached out and pressed it to Debbie’s lips “It gets you so much more than a ‘dance with touching’.”

To be continued?

So yeah, that’s my third story. This one I wrote for a few reasons: firstly, I wanted to try out writing in past tense rather than present tense. It was much easier, so let me know how it is to read, I might write like this more in the future. Second, I wanted to write something more sexual than I have in the past, which is why the first paragraph is basically literary masturbation. I didn't plan much more than that however - because the sex worker was the big one, I had trouble coming up with ideas for "sexy shit Vera could do to Debbie" beyond basic bitch stuff like "give her a lapdance, sit on her, rub her boobs on her, etc". I figured they wouldn't do stuff with Vera's mouth or feet - because it wouldn't occur to Vera, as someone who didn't know much about tinies or sexy shit you could do with tinies, and because Debbie might find the idea of being eaten and or stepped on upsetting depending on how much of a serious problem it was for her in her ordinary life. There's a reason when I was writing "The Doctor's Office" I had the fairies being the ones pleasing the human. I might do more of this, especially if I get good suggestions for stuff in the comments, but I've had a bunch of ideas for other stories and my writing is about learning and experimenting as much as it is turning out fetish content. So yeah. I appreciate feedback or pointing about typoes.

#sizedifference #giantess #gentle #gentle giantess #g/t #size difference #macrophilia #microphilia #tiny woman #tiny people #boobs #booty #stripper #butt #huge booty #huge boobs #smollfairy #writing practice #lesbian

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fairyboyblr-blog · 8 years ago

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Poll winner: big dragon lady! Nsfw version on Patreon

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fairyboyblr-blog · 8 years ago

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Hey! Got another story, this time its much shorter but its one of my own. This particular story is based off the invention of the vibrator, which was actually invented to treat female hysteria. I know right? Anyway, I figured you could get much the same result using a tiny as you could a vibrator, and here we are. I wanted to try writing something with a distinctive tone and feel - in this case, late nineteenth-century period shit. I also wanted to try a story where what was really going on was left unsaid, but was implied through subtext, and one where I wrote it in a few hours instead of the weeks it normally takes me. I feel like I accomplished all three things quite well. Feedback and criticism are appreciated, as well as pointing out general typoes or awkward wording.

Doctor Baumann's office was small and cramped, but well decorated. Two shelves crammed full of books occupied the eastern and northern walls, interrupted only to make space for the small desk that sits against the eastern wall and the doctor's chair. On the desk is an unlit gas-lamp, and a folder full of hastily-scribbled notes about his current patient's medical history. Above the desk hang a variety of medical certifications from prestigious institutions, including Oxford and Yale, their presence declaring the Doctor to be a highly educated man of science. The western wall is equally busy, mostly hidden behind the large wooden filing cabinet used to store the Doctor's records. Above it, in what little space remains before the low ceiling, are three framed pictures of tasteful landscapes, as well as a potted vine plant. The leafy green vines dangle down over the wooden filing cabinet, as do two other such plants positioned atop the nearby bookshelves. Their presence gives the room a relaxing feel, which is certainly appreciated by the current patient, who is seated in the only other chair in centre of the room. There are two entrances leading in and out of the office. Behind the patient, set into the south wall, is the solid oak door leading out to the waiting room. In the north-west corner of the room is an empty doorframe leading into the doctor's surgery. The Doctor himself is a tall man of great vigor. Although possessed of a slim frame he did not at all appear impaired by his great age, sitting upright with impeccable posture. His sharp green eyes peer across at his patient over small half-moon glasses, examining her intensely. His clothes are clean and orderly and of fine make, and his hair, mustache and sideburns have all been expertly trimmed. With hands clasped in front of him, in a serious, professional tone, the Doctor asks: "So Mrs Penniweg, what seems to be the problem?" "Oh Doctor, it's terrible!" his patient quavers, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a delicate silk kerchief. She is a short woman in her early thirties, bearing a generous build. Her heaving bosom, a-quiver with emotion, is pushed together into two large swells by a whalebone bodice and corset, and her broad hips and behind are so excessive they render a bustle entirely unnecessary. Her red-brown hair is pulled up in ringlets, partially hidden beneath a fashionable lace bonnet. Her pouty lips tremble with distress and her freckled cheeks are stained with tears. "I'm at the end of my rope! I don't know what to do! Please Doctor-" "Calm yourself woman!" The Doctor says, sternly "Be out with what besets you! This is no time to allow your womanly nerves to better you!" His patient starts, whimpering at the Doctor's harsh rebuke "I-I'm sorry Doctor, I don't know what came over me." Mrs Penniweg takes a moment to gather herself, then continues "Lately I've been distraught beyond imagining and I don't know why. Tears will begin to flow freely from me at the most inopportune times for reasons I know not! At dinner parties, in the street, while meeting with friends - at any time. What's more, I find it is a struggle to rise in the morning, and I am having increasing difficult managing the important tasks in my day to day life! Please doctor, I need your assistance!" The Doctor scoffs "Important tasks? What task could you have that ways so heavily on your mind?" Mrs Penniweg swallows, and begins to speak "Well, I am the mother of three children, aged three, four and five respectively. The youngest never seems to stop screaming, and the two elder ones endlessly assail me with questions and dramas. They always seem to want something or to be arguing about something and demand my attention constantly, from the moment I arise in the morning to the moment they go to bed at night. And they refuse to go to bed! Every night seems to be a neverending battle to force them into slumber, and as I guide one back to bed, the two others will escape, or start an argument, or begin an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. At the same time, I am called upon to manage the affairs of our property - our family house is four-hundred years old and three stories tall, and it exists in a constant state of disintegration! The roof is falling in, the plaster has mold, the rats have built a functioning society in our walls, the carpet is so stained I have no idea what its original colour was, termites have built a second society in the supports and are devouring the ancestral library - And my husband! He is no help! He clings to his money like a drowning man to a life raft! He won't pay for any of the house repairs unless it is preceded by weeks of nagging and a three-hour shouting match. He refuses to help me care for our children. I almost never see him anymore - he works from eight in the morning until ten at night six days a week and often finds an excuse to stay there overnight or on Sundays as well! He hasn't so much as hugged me in years! And he will not hire a maid to help me but he has a secretary who attends to him all week! On top of this, my father recently passed and my mother has fallen-" "Silence, woman! Cease your prattling!" the Doctor interrupts, raising one hand. Mrs Penniweg catches herself, cutting off her frantic diatribe and sucking in a breath she did not know she needed. "I can clearly diagnose the problem, I need no more information." "Oh! Then what is it Doctor? What is it that ails me?" "It is clearly, a case of hysterics." The Doctor nods, sagely "Your fragile womanly mind has become disordered by all the tasks it is required to track and organise, and inflamed by out-of-control female emotions. A classic case of hysterics." "Oh my!" gasps Mrs Penniweg "But Doctor, what are we to do?" "Normally, in this situation I would proscribe regular imbibements of cocaine or meth amphetamines." the Doctor says, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "But for such an extreme case, I fear the most radical of treatments are necessary!" The Doctor abruptly shoots upright, and strides stiffly into his surgery. Mrs Penniweg hears the sound of quiet muttering, and the Doctor returns holding a large glass jar in one hand. He sets it down upon the desk and removes the lid. Mrs Penniweg stares in shock as three tiny figures flutter out. Each of the figures is a beautiful, delicate woman, shrunk to only five inches tall. All are nude, without a shred of clothing to cover their slender bodies. They are tanned as spaniards, one with long dark hair that hangs down to her lower back and the other two with hay-coloured locks cut to differing shortnesses. Their limbs are long and delicate, finely crafted as if by a watchmaker. Two have swirling black tattoos across their torsoes and thighs while the other is unadorned. Their faces are almost alien, with sharp cheekbones, pretty mouths and alien eyes - too large for their faces and oval-shaped, and entirely black like those of a shark. But their most striking feature is the wings protruding from their backs, as if stolen from butterflies. One pair white and black, one yellow and black with a horizontal stripe of blue and the last almost entirely black with a thick stripe of green. "Fairies!" Mrs Penniweg gasps in shock, as the three women float into the air. She watches in awe as they flit over to her, one alighting on her knee, one landing on her shoulder and the last perching upon Mrs Penniweg's kerchief-clutching fingers, directly in front of her face. "Yes," nods the Doctor, "Fairies. They are part of a radical new gynecological treatment for hysteria." Mrs Penniweg's head snaps up, momentarily broken out of her state of transfixed wonder. "Gynecological?!" "Gynecological." The Doctor continues, launching into yet another lecture "You see my dear, cutting edge science has determined that the cause of hysteria is a jumbling of the primary nerves within the feminine mind, a tangle of mental processes causing great distress and befuddlement. Within women, these nerves are known to run from the female brain down through the bosom and womb, and lastly into the vagina. Therefore, by tugging on and manipulating one end of these nerves, it is possible to untangle the knot causing the hysteria and return the mind to ordinary function. Fairies, with their small and delicate hands, are uniquely equipped to stimulate these nerves." "St-stimulate?!" Mrs Penniweg asked, blushing bright pink and returning her gaze to the fairy in front of her. The small woman leans forwards, placing one hand on Mrs Penniweg's thumb. Her long dark hair slips forward over her shoulders as she does so, framing her face like a dark waterfall. With her free hand, she kisses the tips of her fingers, then reaches out and touches them to Mrs Penniweg's lip. "L-like an orgasm?" the flustered woman stutters. The Doctor snorted derisively "An orgasm? Of course not madam. After a thorough review, the scientific community has determined that the female orgasm does not exist." Down on her knee, the short-haired blonde fairy waves her arms to capture Penniweg's attention. The doll-sized woman points to herself, then at Mrs Penniweg's hips, then pantomimes her eyes rolling back into her head and seemingly having a seizure. Mrs Penniweg's eyes grow to the size of saucers. "As I said before, it is a manipulation of the nerves." the Doctor continues to lecture, not noticing that Mrs Penniweg is hardly listening anymore. "It was first discovered by a colleague from mine, whose wife suffered terribly from hysteria. He was at his wits end, desperately searching to find some cure for her feminine irrationality. Then suddenly one day, she was miraculously cured, her erratic emotions departing as if never there. He could not understand it, and initially put it down to simple good fortune on his part, until one day he heard screaming coming from his garden and rushed to investigate. He discovered his wife, her gown askew, being given a thorough exam by half-a-dozen fairies. He wrote a paper on this ground-breaking discovery and it spread like wildfire. A great many of my fellow scientists report that after they recommended the treatment to their wives, they were similarly relieved of their irrationalities and rendered calmer and more sedate." Mrs Penniweg started as she felt something caress the nape of her neck. The curvaceous woman could not see, but could definitely feel the long-haired blonde fairy slip close to her neck and press herself into the woman's skin. On her fingers, the dark haired fairy straightens, locking eyes with the giantess. The small woman runs her hands down her neck, over her small, pert breasts, down past her tattoed stomach to rest on her pelvis near the tiny, dark bush covering her womanhood. Mrs Penniweg gulps, surprised to find her mouth suddenly very dry. She licks her lips, still transfixed by the dark-haired fairy, and the small woman seems to giggle in response. "Now, you sound like quite a severe case of hysteria, so I am going to recommend that you take these fairies home with you. They do not require much care, they can look after themselves and mostly subsist on berries and dewdrops. They will need to give you an exam two, possibly three times a day in order to ensure an effective treatment." "TH-TH-THREE????" Mrs Penniweg squawks, beet-red. On her knee, the short-haired fairy saunters forward along her thigh, so her own vast bosom obscures her view of the tiny miscreant. She feels the pattering of tiny feet across her bare flesh as the long-haired blonde climbs off her shoulder and onto the swell of her bosom, stepping into her line of sight and blowing a kiss up to the giant redhead. As Mrs Penniweg responds by forming her mouth into a perfect "o", the dark haired fairy giggles again, cocking her hips and winking seductively. "Yes madam, a vigorous treatment schedule is required to combat such a serious disease. You are in capable hands too - these particular fairies are highly skilled and very experienced, having helped a great many of my colleagues treat their wives' hysteria. I have no doubt their nimble fingers will prove highly efficacious in undoing your troublesome befuddlement. Well Madam, the hour draws late and I have other patients waiting my attention. I shan't keep you. Good day!"

#giantess #macrophilia #microphilia #sizedifference #g/t #nsfw #fairy #fairies #smollfairy #fairy boy #period #F/f #boobs #booty

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fairyboyblr-blog · 8 years ago

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Queen of the Ring

Hey here's one of my first completed short stories, about @thaddeusmcboosh 's character Lilith! It's an AU story based on this pic http://thaddeusmcboosh.tumblr.com/post/164915079495/commission-for-doodlewill-wrestler-lilith-going, where Lilith is a giant wrestler instead of a human-sized vampire who interacts with tinies, based on this pic: It was harder than I was expecting, I kept screwing up the third person present tense and having to go back and change it. Feedback and advice (or just pointing out typoes ) are appreciated!

The crowd cheers. The stands are packed. Ten thousand people crammed into an open-air stadium, standing room only. Carlton Stadium hasn’t seen a crowd like this in decades, normally it only hosts the occasional baseball game. There are so many people some are even seated on the field – special spots that not only cost an arm and leg, but also require the occupants to sign a waiver stating that if they actually lose an arm and a leg they won’t sue the stadium owners, the wrestling company or the talent. It’s a necessity for special shows like this, where “audience participation” is a very real hazard. There hasn’t been a serious accident yet, but the possibility of multi-million dollar lawsuits means no one wants to take that chance.

Roving spotlights and the constant flickering of flashing camera phones illuminate the seven people in the ring, six wrestlers and one referee. The nine eccentrically-dressed athletes lounge around one side of the ring, men and women trying to look cool or intimidating or unconcerned. A mixed-gender match is allowed, as being a man is no great advantage against their opponent. Most of them are first timers, eager up-and-comers from the minor leagues who hope such a widely televised match will be their ticket to stardom. Back when they were volunteering for the match, the company explained to them that they were in no way expected to win – it’s practically impossible. But almost all of them expect to get noticed or boost their merchandise sales, thanks to the nationwide audience they’ll be losing in front of. They are going to be disappointed. There is a reason so few wrestlers volunteer for a rematch.

The one exception to this stands atop the turnbuckles in one corner, showing off her tanned athletic body with heroic poses while working to hype up the crowd. Jezzi Belle, a young woman wearing a blue punk outfit. This will be her sixth match against their adversary, making her a “veteran” of this kind of competition. Balancing precariously on the top rope, the young 20-something strikes pose after pose and blows kisses to the crowd. Marketing advertises her as a “rival” to their foe, a scrappy underdog who refuses to say die even in the face of utterly insurmountable odds. Her outfit reflects this – torn tights and denim shorts, a blue sleeveless top and big black boots, completing the look with a spiky blue undercut, extravagant makeup and a dozen tattoos. The splitting image of a bombastic, rebellious punk. However, an enormous factor in her merchandising sales is her cult following among LGBTI audience members, who recognise the real reason the young bisexual woman keeps coming back for more.

In the other corner of the ring, trying his damnedest to hype up the crowd and steal Jezzi’s thunder, is the most prominent of the newbie jobbers: Max Explosion. At 6’8”, Max is built like the fullback he used to be and dressed like the mutant offspring of Slash, Rob Zombie and the entirety of KISS. Widely considered to be a rising star and quite possibly the next big heel, Max surprised everybody when he challenged the company’s invincible champion to a match, all but guaranteeing an ignominious beat-down and a shameful loss. For weeks Max has been boasting about “doing what no other man could” and “putting that fat bitch in her place”, and tonight is supposedly the night he is going to prove all the naysayers wrong.

The other four wrestlers mill around between these two, some trying to pose while others simply stand there, looking awkward. Sharing a combined wrestling experience of just nine matches, none of them have ever been on television before. None of them have wrestled for the company before either – they’re the smallest of small fries, scooped up en masse by company agents looking for some jobbers to feed to their big hungry monster. Dressed up in bright spandex and given ridiculous and forgettable names like “Road Dogg” or “X-Pac”, these guys are here for one reason: to get squashed by the champ and collect a pay check, and everyone in the stadium knows it.

Most of the jobbers are shooting nervous glances towards a gap in the stands. There was a reason the company chose this stadium, out of all potential rings in America, to host such an illustrious and one-sided competition. It’s open at one corner. The designers had intended this to allow parade floats to enter during half-time, but they made it wider than normal for some archaic architectural reason. As a result, it was one of the few stadiums in America capable of accommodating the champ without her needing to Kool Aid Man her way in through the spectator stands kaiju-style. Everyone in the company agreed this was a definite advantage and reached out to the stadium owners, who jumped at the chance to use their field for something that would actually sell tickets.

Currently, the gap is done up in spotlights and decorations, ready for when the talent shows up. Right now, though, all the lights are out, with the other spotlights keeping the focus on the jobbers in the ring as they fidget anxiously.

They have good reason to be worried. It’s one thing to watch this sort of thing on television, but actually being in the ring is an entirely different story. The producers explained the situation in great detail beforehand and warned them about how terrifying the champ would be. If the wrestlers didn’t heed them, the draconian waivers they had been required to sign had hammered it in – she’s dangerous. She’ll try to avoid harming you, but she’s the champ for a reason. She could easily kill you by accident, without even noticing, and there wouldn’t be a body to bury. Just an oily smear to be hosed out of the ring.

Standing in a 20 foot by 20 foot ring set in a 400 foot wide open-air stadium is really driving this home, making the jobbers acutely aware of just how much open space their opponent requires to move about. Some begin to regret the decisions that led them here. Others comfort themselves with false hopes: dreams of expanded revenue streams and food that isn’t instant ramen.

And then

thoom

The crowd loses its mind, their cheers turning into a roar. They’re reacting to sound of distant thunder approaching, getting louder with each passing second. They know what’s coming. Ten thousand pairs of eyes, the entire stadium, turn as one to the giant-sized entrance. The lights around it blaze into life, roaming over one another.

Thoom

THOOM

The nervous jobbers in the ring fidget, turning to face the entrance. Some eye the stands, considering abandoning the match and fleeing. Jezzi doesn’t share their trepidation. The blue punk leaps down from the top-rope into the centre of the ring, bouncing from foot to foot, her face split into a wide, eager grin. A moment later, Max joins her, casting away his black leather trench-coat and stovepipe hat and tying his shaggy mane of black hair into a pony tail. He stands stock still with fists clenched, glowering at the entrance, his black-and-white bodypaint exaggerating his grimace.

THOOM

The crowd’s roar rises to a crescendo. The earth shakes with each boom. In the ring, jobbers feel it.

THOOM

And she steps into the lights, posing with one hand on her cocked hips and the other running through her hair. The invincible wrestler. The 150’ woman. Lilith.

She stands head and shoulders above the stands, with pale skin and near-white platinum blonde hair worn in a pixie undercut. If she wasn’t scaled up to an impossible degree, her figure would be considered squat and chubby. Skintight light purple leggings cling to her thick thighs and steatopygian rear like a second skin, custom-made from rubber instead of cloth so they would survive the immense friction between her thighs. Her head-sized breasts overflow her too-small pink bra, exposed by a loose, midriff-baring neon green singlet. Her feet are clad in a pair of thick-soled lace-up knee-high white leather boots with blue laces. She rounds out this 80s wrestling ensemble with a streak of blue hair dye along one side of her head, bright red nail-polish, neon pink eye shadow, cyan blue lipstick and half-a-dozen gaudy piercings that would be considered highly unsafe in a normal wrestling match. She surveys the stadium, a cocky grin quirking her plump lips.

“Awww, did all you guys come out to see little old me?”

The entire crowd of ten thousand people cheers.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you,” the giantess says. Her light hazel eyes come to rest on the comparatively tiny ring, and the frightened jobbers waiting within. “But you shouldn’t have bothered. This is going to be a short match.”

Lilith steps towards the ring. The entire stadium trembles with the impact, causing the ring (and the jobbers inside) to visibly bounce. She takes another step, slowly raising one boot into the air and bringing it down with a heavy stomp. Most of the jobbers lose their balance and fall to their knees, the ref leaning against the ropes in one corner of the ring. Slowly, Lilith saunters towards them, swaying her gargantuan hips with every step. The jobbers instinctively huddle together, leaning on one another for support. Jezzi stands defiantly apart from the rest, hands on her hips and chest thrust out, bouncing along with the ring. By now she knows how to ride the waves Lilith’s presence generates. Max stands rigid like a statue, managing to stay upright but finding it hard to keep up his glower as he is forced to tilt his head further and further back to meet the monster’s gaze.

As Lilith strides forwards, the entrance lights follow her passage. They illuminate her from behind and transform her into a looming, darkened silhouette in the eyes of the jobbers. Light glints off her yellowy eyes as she stares down at them hungrily.

Stepping up to the ring, Lilith’s two final footfalls send everyone inside sprawling. Even Jezzi can’t handle the twin impacts and tumbles forward onto her hands and knees. After a moment of inadvertently prostrating themselves before her, the jobbers gingerly pick themselves up to face Lilith. She looms over them, easily the size of a building and far more solid. The top of her boot rises to 20ft above the wrestlers’ heads. Her feet alone are so huge she could fill the ring entirely simply by stepping into it – which would flatten everyone inside to a thin paste.

Looking down at the thumb-sized men and women before her, Lilith smirks, and slowly begins to lean forward, bending at the waist. One of the jobbers can’t handle it and lets out a shriek, unsettled by the sight of something the size of several blue whales moving so easily. All the wrestlers besides Jezzi and Max huddle together fearfully as the giantess continues to bow, even the referee looks up at her with fear writ across his face. Her pudgy, bare belly forms a ceiling above them while her titanic breasts struggle to escape their pink prison and hang free. With one arm, Lilith reaches up and pushes them out of the way so she can see the fearful little wrestlers, grinning the way a cat might grin at a group of cornered mice. She’s so huge they have to turn away from her thick legs to look up at her face as it hangs past the opposite side of the ring. The crowd quietens down, waiting with baited breath for what was coming next.

Jezzi slips through her huddled fellows, walks out in front of them and raises a mic to her mouth.

“WELL IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU SHOW UP!”

The crowd cheers its approval as Jezzi gestures at them with a sweeping hand wave “KEEPIN’ ALL THESE PEOPLE WAITING! WHAT A PRIMA DONNA!” Pointing up at Lilith, she smiles roguishly. “YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED! SO UNPROFESSIONAL! AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE TOP OF THE CARD? DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT WRESTLING? ABOUT THE FANS?”

“Ah Jezzi.” Lilith’s voice booms, smirking down at the woman beneath her “I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve lost to me. What is this, the fifth? If you’re really that much of a masochist, maybe after the match I’ll keep you as my personal stress ball.” She raises one huge hand and mimes repeatedly squeezing something in her palm, the crowd reacting with gasps and ‘ooh’s.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN SCARE ME THAT EASY? I’M JEZZI BELLE BABY!” The punk declares, posing heroically “YOU KNOW THE BIGGER THEY ARE THE HARDER THEY FALL! AND YOU ARE GONNA FALL HARD LILITH! I’M GONNA BRING YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU KISS THIS RING! EVERYONE SAYS YOU’RE THE INVINCIBLE CHAMPION BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU AIN’T SHIT!”

The crowd roars, eating it up. Lilith merely tsk-tsks “You still haven’t learnt your lesson? You’re a slow learner Jezzi Belle. But don’t worry. Ms. Lilith will teach you.”

“HA! AS IF YOU COULD-OOF!” Jezzi gasps and falls as Max Explosion barges forward, snatches the mic from her and roughly shoves her to the ground.

“ENOUGH OF THAT WEIRD LESBIAN SHIT!” Max bellows into the mic, simultaneously kicking Jezzi in the stomach. The smile drops from Lilith’s face as the crowd erupts into a cacophony of boos and jeers “YEAH YEAH, NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU PEONS THINK! THE REAL STAR IS ON THE MIC NOW!” Max turns to Lilith and jabs one white-painted finger up at her “LISTEN UP YOU LITERALLY GIGANTIC BITCH! MY NAME IS MAX EXPLOSION! AND I’M HERE TO KICK YOUR FAT ASS ALL OVER THIS RING! BY THE TIME I’M THROUGH WITH YOU YOU’LL WISH YOU’D PUT DOWN THE FRIED CHICKEN AND ACTUALLY LEARNED HOW TO WRESTLE!”

The crowd goes dead silent. For a long moment, Lilith doesn’t say anything, simply staring at Max. “What.”

“YEAH YOU HEARD ME. THAT SWEET BODY’S GONNA BE BUSTED AND BRUISED BY THE TIME MAX EXPLOSION IS THROUGH WITH IT! NO WOMAN CAN HANDLE CAN HANDLE WHAT I BRING! YEAH!” Max shouts, grabbing his crotch obscenely with his free hand.

Slowly, Lilith straightens up, eyes narrowing at the very small man in front of her.

“I’M GONNA SPANK THAT ASS SO HARD YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SIT FOR A WEEK! GONNA LEAVE YOU BREATHLESS AND BEGGING FOR MERCY BITCH!”

Wordlessly, the giantess leans sideways, raising her right boot up to meet her hand. Without looking away from Max, she begins to loosen her bootlaces.

“YOU THINK YOUR TOUGH? YOU AIN’T READY FOR WHAT I BRING! NOBODY IS!” Behind him, some of Max’s braver teammates begin hissing at the loudmouthed wrestler to shut the fuck up what are you crazy. Jezzi looks up, sees Lilith’s movements, and scrambles away from Max. “I’M GOING TO DO WHAT NO ONE THOUGHT POSSIBLE AND LAY YOU OUT FLAT. I’M GONNA PIN YOUR FAT TITS TO THE RING FOR ONE TWO THREE VICTORY!”

Lilith finishes unlacing her boot. Shaking her foot slightly, she slides the boot off, letting it fall to the ground with a tremendous CRASH. She lowers her foot down on top of it, flexing giant toes with red-painted nails.

“Y-YOU AIN’T SCARY BITCH!” Max shouts, his voice breaking “I’M A THOUSAND-“

“You. Whatever your name is. Fax Sunlotion.” Lilith says, still glaring down at him and resting her hands on her hips. “Do you know why, in wrestling, they call a short, extremely one-sided match a ‘squash’?” Lilith pauses, letting her words sink in as they echo around the stadium. Then, slowly, she lifts her foot up again, over the ring. “They named it after me.”

Lilith drops her foot. The crowd and the jobbers scream, but her foot doesn’t fall on the wrestlers. Instead the ball of her foot crashes down on her side of the ring, the incredible, unstoppable force popping ropes from posts and crushing the ring flat against the ground. The jobbers' side of the ring shoots up with equal force, catapulting the hapless wrestlers into the air in a spray of flailing spandex. Most fly out of the ring, one unfortunate soul landing on Lilith’s boot. Jezzi slides forwards, landing next to the ball of Lilith’s foot at the edge of the ring. Max loses his balance and tumbles forward – right under Lilith’s raised, waiting toes.

Lilith lowers her pedicured digits down onto Max, effortlessly pinning him to the canvas. The bulky painted man struggles beneath them, cursing up a storm as he fights to escape, but to no avail. In response to Max’s kicking and swearing Lilith smiles, squeezing her breasts against her torso with both hands so she see the underfoot wrestler past them.

“Well?” Lilith asks, wiggling her toes and toying with Max “What happened? All that talk about kicking my ‘fat ass’ and you can’t even handle my toes? You’re lucky I’m so forgiving, or I’d pin you with it instead.” With one hand, the giantess reaches behind her and slaps her prodigious behind, setting tonnes of fat jiggling. At the same time she curls her toes around Max’s small form and starts to squeeze. A strained cry of pain is muffled by the underneath of Lilith’s big toe. “Then we’d really see who ends up laid out… FLAT.”

Outside the ring, the dazed ref picks himself up off the floor. Shaking his head, he looks around and sees Max trapped. Dashing over to the ring, he slides in under the ropes and picks himself up in a crouch. He scrambles over next to Max and starts a pin count, slapping his arm against the canvas.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

Lilith’s toes suddenly release Max. She chuckles as the ref looks up at her in confusion. “Oh right, the ref. I forgot about you for a second there. Hang on,” Lilith’s giant foot slides forward, rolling Max underneath it and catching the ref between her toes. He struggles helplessly as she lifts him up out of the ring, then angles her foot down, hovering over her boot. The ref has a moment to realise what’s coming and cry for help before the giantess slides her foot back into its home and bends over to lace it up again. Her toes release the ref near the front of her boot, then trap him again, pressing him down into the sweaty insole. He inhales to yell for help but gags as he sucks in Lilith’s stench.

Straightening up, Lilith lifts her boot up and gives it a little shake. Inside, the ref yelps and struggles, trying to fight his way out and failing utterly, totally at the mercy of the giantess’s toes. He shouts about disqualifications but no-one can hear him.

“There we go. Now the match can go on properly.” Lilith grabs her breasts again, peering around at the wrestlers scattered around her feet. Her eyes alight on Max again and her Cheshire grin returns. “Now, where were we?”

She reaches down, plucking Max from the ring and lifting him up. Max gasps as he rockets 150’ into the air, Lilith’s massive body flying past him. She brings him to a stop in front of her face but far enough out that he hangs over open air instead of her generous bosom. Dangling from Lilith’s fingers, Max looks down and realises just how high up he is. Crying out, he tries to wrap his arms around Lilith’s thick digits. She chuckles darkly and starts to slowly wiggle them, forcing Max to fight desperately to hold on as he is pushed and scraped off his old handholds.

Lilith smirks at his struggles. “Aww, what’s wrong? You aren’t scared are you? A little drop like that? I’m this high up all the time.” She carefully continues wiggling her fingers, not hard enough to actually shake him off but gradually pushing him further and further down their length. Max becomes more frantic as he is forced to adjust his grip faster and faster to stop himself from falling. Eventually she pushes him to the brink, hanging from the end of her downward-pointing middle finger with his face pressed against her red nail, helpless.

“OKAY. SO I KNOW SOME THINGS WERE SAID,” starts Max “THAT MIGHT HAVE UPSET YOU. I DIDN’T REALISE HOW THIN-SKINNED YOU WERE. THAT WAS MY BAD.” Lilith arches one eyebrow at this. “IF YOU LET ME GO, WE CAN WORK SOMETHING OUT, I’LL EVEN LET YOU OFF EASY. I’LL THROW THE MATCH. KINDA. WE CAN DRAW. WHADDAYA SAY- WAITNOSTOPIMSORRY-

The giantess begins to curl her middle finger back in, while slowly extending her ring finger. Her enormous fingertip braces against Max’s face and chest as he babbles fearfully and, with ease, shoves him off. For a second he scrabbles to grab onto something, but it’s too late. Howling in terror, he tumbles head-over heels towards the ground – and straight into Lilith’s palm as she brings it up, catching him just below her chest.

She brings him up to her face again. Max is shaking, staring at her with real fear. For a moment, Lilith feels a pang of regret, wondering if she went too far. Then she remembers him calling her a bitch and what he did to Jezzi – her FAVORITE plaything – and the pang is replaced with a merciless desire to break him. “Hmmm, no, I think I’ll just squash you easily and win myself thanks. Although tell you what – as a consolation prize, YOU can be my stress ball.” She closes her fingers into a fist around him, hiding Max from outside view. Lilith squeezes him several times, not hard enough to do any real damage. Unless you count a few broken ribs as real damage. Then yes, it hurts him.

Trapped in the claustrophobic, crushing embrace of her fingers, the pain is agonising. For a few terrifying seconds the big man believes she might actually crush him, reducing his body to a gory pulp. He squeals like a pig being chased by hunting dogs.

Hearing this, Lilith opens her hand again, revealing a cringing Max clutching his chest. Now for the pin. But where could she put him? She wasn’t sticking him anywhere sexy. The last thing she wanted was for him to enjoy himself. But at the same time she’d just used her boot on the ref, she couldn’t do that again. She thought for a moment.

Max huddled on her palm on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Lilith watched him for a moment, then an idea came to her.

“You’re a disgusting little man, so I’ll put you in a disgusting place.” Lilith says, raising her other arm over her head and moving the hand with Max in it around to her armpit. Max quails as the smell of her reaches him but he’s too injured to protest and too high up to run for it. Using her fingers, Lilith pulls open the strap of her bra in the centre of her armpit and slips Max inside. She positions him so his body below the shoulders is pinned to her by her bra, leaving his face and head above it. She chuckles and carefully lowers her arm back down, muffling his weak cries for help with the sweaty skin on the inside of her arm. “Right where you deserve.”

The crowd cheers wildly. Lilith takes a moment to feel Max’s position. He wasn’t going anywhere, but if she wasn’t cautious he was going to get squashed, or suffocate. She’d need to find an excuse to raise her arm every thirty seconds to a minute, and to raise it immediately if she squeezed him even a little, as the slightest compression would force all the air out of his lungs. She wanted him humiliated, not dead.

With the only wrestler stupid enough to run his mouth dealt with, Lilith looks around for the others, squishing her breasts with both hands again (hello air for Max). Most of the jobbers were scattered around the stadium now. They weren’t running – just standing there, stuck, unable to do anything while she dealt with Max. Fighting her was clearly impossible, but if they left early they wouldn’t get paid. They had no idea what to do. So they stood there, frozen, like deer in a truck's headlights.

The only exceptions were the two on her feet. While the giantess had been playing with Max, Jezzi had started hauling herself up Lilith’s boot laces as quickly as she could, trying to reach the purple tights above. Where she would go after she got to them was anyone’s guess. The tights looked too smooth to climb by hand and dropping into Lilith's boot would just get her trapped like the ref. There was another passenger lying across the giantess' other boot, a short woman in a green Luchador costume. She’d been flung there when Lilith had flattened the ring and was likely too scared to get off. Lilith smiles to herself. The green woman was going to regret that.

Looking around, Lilith spots two other jobbers standing together, both men. One is dressed in a red-and-silver speedo and mask, while the other wears a much more conservative yellow outfit. They were engaged in a whispered argument near the special audience seats in front of the stands, but froze up when Lilith looked at them. Smirking, Lilith turned and carefully took a step towards them with the Luchador foot.

The woman in green screams as she hurtles through the air, gripping the top of Lilith’s boot with both arms for dear life. Her entire body shakes with the impact as the giantess’ foot comes down. Lilith carefully positions it so her foot lands heel-first with toes in the air, preventing the unwilling passenger from flying forwards off her boot.

Jezzi freezes as Lilith starts to take a step with her other foot, gripping the giant bootlaces tightly with her arms while hooking her knees around them. She’s been on this ride before, and knows the trick is to hang on until Lilith grabs more prey, then start climbing again while the giantess stops to toy with them. But this didn’t make the impact as Lilith’s foot comes down any less jarring, the sheer force nearly hurling Jezzi from her perch.

The two men, seeing Lilith coming for them, turn and run. Money be damned, nothing is worth this. Behind them they hear the green Luchador start screaming again as Lilith takes a third step. Her foot lands so close behind them it bounces both of them into the air, but they keep running, not daring to look back. They reach the audience seats and start to weave through the crowd, as a few drunk punters around them jeer and hurl concessions.

The vast majority of the crowd are too transfixed by Lilith to pay much attention to the fleeing jobbers. She looms over them, a titan, most of her face obscured by the shelf of her colossal breasts. Past them, her hazel eyes glint maliciously in the light. She bends forwards and reaches towards the two jobbers with one hand. The crowd panics and tries to move out of the way, but the giantess moves too quickly. She scoops up both men, closing her fist around them and four frightened audience members. Straightening up, Lilith lifts the squirming mass up to her face.

“Aw, leaving so soon?” the giantess asks sweetly. The people in her hand respond by screaming, babbling incoherently and begging to be put down. Ignoring them, Lilith lowers her hand to just above her cleavage, then opens it, drizzling her six captives across her breasts. Grabbing her boobs with both hands, she pulls them apart, sending the poor souls tumbling deep between them. Then, giggling, she pushes her breasts together, pinning her victims between her gigantic mammaries. Instantly their shouts and cries for mercy are muffled by literal tonnes of breastflesh. Lilith plays with them, squeezing and bouncing her enormous chest as the victims inside are tossed about like rowboats on a storm-tossed sea.

The giantess keeps it up for about a minute. She knows the audience will eat up anything to do with her tits, so she puts on a show for them. The crowd goes nuts, cheering and whooping. Lilith smiles to herself. For years, the thousands of people in this stadium will be thinking about this and touching themselves, fantasising about being engulfed in her tits. Nothing will ever compare to her. This is why she does these matches. Outside the ring, her humongous body is awkward at best and downright dangerous at worst, a frustrating curse she has to live with every moment of every day. But here? She’s the sexiest thing for miles around, a queen, and everyone else is just a plaything to be toyed with for her enjoyment. And they love it.

Remembering her other victims, she squishes her breasts flat again and looks down at the green Luchador clinging to her boot. The green woman shrieks as Lilith’s eyes come to rest on her. She desperately tries to clamber off the boot, but instead is forced to grab on tighter as it rises into the air. Lilith points her toes down and gently shakes her foot. The Luchador tries to hold on but slips and falls, dropping ten feet to land in the shadow of the giant boot. The landing forces the air from her lungs, causing the small woman to gasp and flop about like a fish. While her victim lies stunned for a moment, Lilith straightens her foot out so the bottom hangs over her like a ceiling.

“Hey down there.” The giantess says. The sound of her voice snaps the Luchador out of it, and the woman lets out another shriek of alarm as she notices the gigantic boot hanging over her. She flinches as fist-sized chunks of sod and dirt break off the crud in the treads, raining down around her. “You seem to be pretty fond of my foot, hugging it like that. Why don’t you get better acquainted?”

Lilith lowers her foot down. Her victim screams, holding out her arms as if she could fend off Lilith’s boot with her puny hands. The white tread slows as it descends the last six feet. The green woman tries to push against it but her strength is nothing compared to the immense weight of the boot inexorably pressing down. Lilith stops the descent just before it crushes her unfortunate victim, resting her heel on the turf and leaving just over a foot of space between the rest of her boot and the ground beneath it. The Luchador is completely hidden from sight by her shoe, and if not for her animated screaming it would seem to outside observers that Lilith had flattened the poor woman.

The crowd had grown silent as Lilith’s foot descended, wondering if she would actually do it. A few of them start to shout out now, but Lilith ignores them. Holding her foot so close to the ground without crushing the wrestler underneath it takes a tremendous amount of precision and control. A few inches too high, and the other wrestler would ruin the effect by squirming out and escaping. A few inches too low, and when she lifted her foot away there’d be nothing left but a splattered corpse.

Trapped with a foot heavier than a semi-trailer pressing her head and torso into an unforgiving pitch, the green woman was acutely aware of this fact. While Lilith kept her pinned there, she continued to shriek wordlessly, terrified out of her wits.

“Well? How do you like it down there?” Lilith asks “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” When she only gets more terrified screams as an answer, Lilith smiles. “No? Oh well then.” She lifts her foot away and sets it down to the left of the small woman, exposing her to the spotlights again.

The green woman pants and shakes, lying on the turf just above the impression made by Lilith’s heel. Staring up at the colossus above her, she fears for her life but also feels more relieved to be alive than she’s ever felt before. Unheard by the distant crowds, she chokes out a few sobs.

The sobs quickly return to screams as Lilith bends down towards her, releasing her breasts and reaching out with one arm. “Well then, I suppose we’ll have to find somewhere else to keep you then.”

The Luchador can do nothing but kick as Lilith pinches the woman’s shoulders between her thumb and forefinger and raises her high into the air. She finds herself hanging in front of Lilith’s giant face, hazel eyes larger than her torso watching her intently. She stops screaming, although terror suffuses her. Glancing down past Lilith’s chest to the 150 foot drop beneath her, vertigo strikes and the Luchador has to fight a wave of dizziness and nausea. Dragging her gaze back to the only slightly less horrifying sight of the face in front of her, she can’t help but tremble as a mouth big enough to swallow her whole opens.

“Well, I’d drop you in with the girls,” Lilith says, gesturing at her décolletage. Faintly, the green woman can make out the muffled cries of those trapped within. “But it’s a little crowded in there at the moment. Hmmm.” Lilith pretends to think hard, frowning slightly, but she’s already decided the jobber’s fate. “Oh, I know!”

Lilith lowers her hand down past her breasts towards her hips, the sudden shift disorienting the smaller woman. With her other hand she reaches behind her and tugs the waist of her purple tights away from her, revealing the tops of her gargantuan, fleshy buttocks and a lacy black thong disappearing between them. The Luchador has a moment to shriek before Lilith drops her, sending her plummeting down into darkness. Then the tights snap back, and the woman is pinned, pressed by the tight rubber into the pliant flesh of Lilith’s titanic right buttock.

The green woman struggles. She pushes against Lilith’s cheek but her hands sink in, unable to find solid purchase. Lilith’s tights don’t make it easy either, the taught rubber refusing to give an inch no matter how hard she pushes. The Luchador is completely trapped, fighting to just keep her face away from Lilith’s cheek, nevermind trying to escape her prison. Suddenly, the flesh shakes and she loses her grip. She tries to scream, but her cry is muffled by ten tonnes of booty.

Outside the rubber tights, Lilith giggles and smacks the side of her buttock again, jiggling it and her prisoner. The crowd jeers and wolf-whistles. Lilith sticks her butt out and blows them a kiss (more air for Max). The giantess is having a blast, posing for the crowd and flaunting her body. She’s having the time of her life, unlike her victims, who have been crammed into various sweaty places.

Pausing her posing, Lilith takes a moment to survey the ring. It looked like she’d grabbed everyone. Time to finish up.

Smooshing down her breasts again, she peers past them at Jezzi Belle. The blue punk doesn’t notice her looking down, having passed the top of Lilith’s boots and begun climbing up the inside of her thigh. She’d pulled a pair of ice-picks out of the back of her belt and had been stabbing them into Lilith’s rubbery tights as she went. It was actually quite an impressive display of free-climbing athleticism; she’d made it more than halfway up the giantess's thighs and was heading to the spot where they joined. Lilith resists the urge to roll her eyes. Jezzi had always had a one-track mind.

One edge of her mouth quirking u, the giantess carefully presses her thighs together. Jezzi squeaks as a vice that had crushed monster trucks closes on her, pinning her between two vast rubber-clad surfaces. She puts up a token effort to escape, but knows from experience it’s hopeless. She simply grits her teeth and waits as Lilith reaches down and plucks her out, then lifts Jezzi up to her face. Even after having experienced it a dozen times before, the sudden rise gives Jezzi a rush of adrenaline. She hangs between Lilith’s thumb and forefinger, in front of smile the size of an SUV.

“Mmmm, what was it you said before Jezzi?” Lilith purrs, giving Jezzi’s shoulders a squeeze “The bigger they are, the harder they fall? Well I’m pretty sure if I dropped you from this height, you’d land a lot harder than I would.” The giantess swings Jezzi from side-to-side, threatening to drop her.

“You think this is over?” Jezzi demands, still defiant despite her precarious position “I’ll never give up! I’m gonna take you down no matter what!”

“Mmmm, whatever you say honey. And afterwards we’ll all go skiing in hell.” Lilith smirks. “Oh! Hold that thought Jezzi.” She started. Looking down at her chest, she spies the crimson-clad wrestler clawing his way out of her cleavage, mostly by standing on his fellow prisoners. Lilith lowers Jezzi down to her belly button and presses the smaller woman into her belly button. Then she removes her hand, forcing Jezzi to grab onto her piercing or fall. Placing her hands on her hips, Lilith looks down at the red wrestler, who hauls himself out of her cleavage and up onto the swell of her right breast.

“Aww? Whats the matter little guy? Not a breast man?” Lilith coos. The smaller wrestler cringes looking up at her. He hadn’t really thought of where he would go after escaping his fleshy tomb. A glance around confirms there is no easy way down, he's trapped on top of her breasts.

Then Lilith begins to move. Slowly, she starts to roll her shoulders, causing her breasts to rise and fall. As the jelly beneath him wobbles, the jobber loses his balance and falls to his knees. He scrambles to find something to grab onto, some handhold, but her smooth flesh provides no purchase. Desperate, he staggers to the side of her chest and grabs Lilith’s pink bra strap where it meets the top of her cup, hugging it.

This only makes things worse for the unfortunate jobber. Seeing her victim has a firm grip, Lilith starts shaking her chest side to side. The red jobber cries out as her momentum swings him out over the side of her breast. He presses his face to the dense pink fabric as he holds on for dear life, his legs kicking out in open air as his body repeatedly bounces off the side of Lilith’s boob.

Seeing his terrified struggles, Lilith giggles. She stops shaking her chest, grabbing the small man and raising him to her face. “See? Suddenly being inside my top doesn’t seem so bad, does it shorty?” she teases him.

The wrestler doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes screwed shut and hugging himself. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and see how far away the ground is.

“Aww, well if you’re gonna be like that, I suppose I can move you somewhere safer…” Lilith reaches around behind herself again. Pulling her purple tights away from her backside, she drops him inside. The tights snap shut, pinning the unfortunate wrestler against the opposite cheek to the Luchador. Lilith runs one finger over the tiny purple bulge, pressing his body into her gelatin behind. “There? Is that better?” She coos “I hope so, you’re not coming out for a while!”

With all the other jobbers dealt with, Lilith starts to reach for Jezzi again, when she hears something. The crowd is chanting, their voices growing louder and louder as more people join in.

“Under the ring!! Under the ring!! Under the ring!!”

Lilith smiles. She slowly walks over to the ring, performing her signature, slow, swaying stomps. Her breasts and her booty shake as she does, bouncing her unfortunate passengers around. Inside her shoe the ref has long since given up trying to escape, but every footfall shakes him so hard he hugs her toes for stability, sweaty stench be damned.

Stepping up to the ring, Lilith looms over the smashed ruin, standing with one foot either side of it. “What’s that audience? You want me to stomp what’s left of the ring?” she raises one foot, casting the ring into shadow. “Well, if you insist...”

Slowly she lowers her boot down. Before it even touches the ring, frantic shrieks erupt from underneath it. A jobber in pink spandex with a cat-eared mask squirms out from under it and turns to make a run for it. But she stumbles as Lilith set her foot down, and then is thrown into the air as the giantess suddenly drops to her knees with an earth-shattering BOOM.

Landing on her face, the kitty jobber lies stunned for a moment. Regaining her wits, she rolls over, and immediately regrets her decision to do so. Lilith’s gargantuan thighs are either side of her, the size of buildings, joining at her purple crotch overhead. Above that is her soft belly, with Jezzi helplessly dangling from the giantess’s piercing. Raising her eyes further, the jobber sees the underside of Lilith’s tremendous chest, her breasts spilling out of her pink bra as they are squeezed against her chest by her monstrous red-nailed hands. Each palm is huge, and more than capable of simply swatting the jobber and leave nothing but sticky red goo. And above it all, peeking past her behemoth bosom, are her glinting yellowish eyes. Pinned in place by that gaze, the pink jobber suddenly understands why deer freeze up in the glow of headlights.

“Well, what have we here? Were you trying to hide from me, little one?” Lilith purrs down at her.

The jobber trembles, not daring to respond either way. She just stares up into those hazel eyes. Then Lilith shifts, and the spell is broken. With a scream, the jobber jumps up and frantically sprints away from the giantess. Lilith snorts. “Oh, come on now.” The jobber is fast, but even with her legs pumping as hard as they can she still moves like a snail compared to the giantess above her. Lilith simply reaches out with one arm and scoops her up. She doesn’t even need to lean forward.

Like her compatriots, the pink jobber is raised up to Lilith’s face, dangling from her fingers. She flails and fights, trying desperately to escape the tree-sized digits that hold her in place. Lilith smiles sweetly at her efforts. “Aww, come on now. Don’t be frightened. I promise I don’t bite.” The grin stretches further, into one that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous. “I just swallow.”

With that, Lilith tilts her head back and lifts the jobber over her mouth. Her cyan lips yawn open, revealing rows of perfectly white teeth and a tongue slick with saliva. Her tongue forms a slide down into the darkness at the back of her throat, leading to an unimaginably horrifying fate. Looking down at this, the jobber loses her mind. Screeching madly in fear, she grabs Lilith’s index finger and wrapped her arms and legs around it. She screams and shakes, completely losing her wits out of sheer terror.

Lilith feels a pang of guilt at this. Poor thing. Being eaten alive WAS a horrifying fate. She regrets starting this, she should have used Jezzi. The punk had been on the receiving end of the lollipop treatment and knew Lilith would never really eat her. But it was too late now, and the show had to go on.

She lowers the dangling finger into her mouth, the jobber’s wailing growing louder and more animalistic as she passes Lilith’s lips. The giantess closes her mouth on her finger, pursing her lips and sucking on it. Slowly, she draws it out, without its erstwhile passenger.

Inside her mouth the jobber is plunged into total darkness. Shrieking and begging to be let out, she kicks and squirms on Lilith’s slimy tongue, desperately fighting not to slide down into her throat. The giant tastebuds provide some purchase but the slippery saliva takes far more. Horrified, she feels herself failing, slowly slipping towards the back of Lilith’s mouth.

Suddenly, that same slide comes alive. A muscle heavier than the jobber's entire body shoves her into the inside of Lilith’s cheek. Lilith swirls her victim around, making it appear to the outside world as if she were tasting the jobber. She pretends to moan in pleasure, putting on a show for the cameras.

Luckily for her victim, Lilith is absolutely faking. Even if she did enjoy this kind of thing – she didn’t, there was playful and then there was this – humans don’t taste good. They taste like sweat, cardboard and whatever they're wearing when they go in. Not to mention the jobber is still wearing her shoes in there. The only reason Lilith is putting herself and her poor victim through this ordeal is because it horrifies the audience, solidifies her status as a monster and sells t-shirts.

Sadly, the jobber in her mouth doesn’t know any of this. All she knows is that its pitch black and she’s being tossed around and crushed between two slimy surfaces. She screams, but saliva fills her mouth and chokes her. Oh god, where was she? Had she been swallowed? Was she already in Lilith’s stomach? Was she going to be digested alive?

The jobber howls. Rational thought is banished from her mind, pushed out by an overflowing wave of animal terror. She screams and screams and kicks and screams, flailing around in the wet dark. Unable to see, unable to fight her way free, easily tossed around by Lilith’s powerful tongue. Shrieking and crying, utterly helpless.

Outside the darkness, Lilith decides the cameras have enough footage and spits her hapless victim into her hand. The poor woman is still screaming. She kicks and fights against things that aren’t there, eyes wide with fear as she thrashes.

Lilith winces internally, deciding NOT to do vore next time. She keeps her face straight for the cameras, though, and curls her fingers up so the audience can’t see the state the woman is in. It’s all fun and games until someone actually gets hurt. Or is driven mad from the sheer horror they’re faced with. Feeling bad, Lilith pulls open one cup of her bra and pushes the thrashing woman inside, down over her nipple. She fake moans again as the woman continued to squirm, hoping the poor girl would be able to calm down now that she was no longer being tormented. She decides that later when she pulls her out she’ll apologise profusely and do something nice for her. Maybe give her a lift home?

Putting her guilt out of her mind, Lilith focuses on the only jobber left. She retrieves Jezzi from the tummy fold she’d become trapped in, lifting the punk to her face.

“Looks like you lose again darling. Better luck next time. Maybe you won’t end up trapped in my ass.” Lilith teases. She doesn’t wait to hear Jezzi’s cries of retribution, lowering the woman around to her back and pulling her tights open again. This time though, she pulls her black thong away too. Dropping Jezzi in the centre of her back, the blue punk falls down into her underwear. Lilith holds them open for longer this time, not letting them snap back until Jezzi has slipped all the way down to the bottom her butt. Then she tugs her thong upwards, giving herself a wedgie and pushing Jezzi up between Lilith’s buttocks against… a sensitive area, before letting the tights' waistband snap closed.

Promotional materials call this move “The Ultimate Stinkface” and focus exclusively on the wedgie part of the manoeuvre without mentioning the particulars of where, exactly, the victims ended up. They did this to limbo under any censors who might take issue with such a lewd finisher, but the audience isn’t stupid, especially not Lilith’s cult LGBTI following. They know exactly what's going on. After all, Jezzi’s best-selling piece of merch is a 3-inch tall doll of herself, with “realistic struggling” (read: vibrating) action.

With all of her “opponents” defeated and reduced to struggling bulges inside her outfit, Lilith strikes a pose. She puts one hand on her hips and the other in the air, smiling as an announcer names her the victor over a loudspeaker. After a few seconds she changes poses, poking her butt out and twerking, shaking the two unfortunates trapped against her cheeks and smooshing Jezzi between her buttocks before changing to yet another pose.

As she flaunts herself, she has to work hard to keep a straight face. Unlike her fellow jobbers, Jezzi’s struggles are less random and frantic and more… strategic and stimulating. There's a reason the blue punk keeps coming back to these matches, and it isn't because she loves to lose. It's because she loves something else.

There are no spotlights focusing on Jezzi’s particular bulge in the giantess' tights, most simply roaming over Lilith’s victorious form. Despite this, eagle-eyed fans still notice as that bulge crawls further forward, between Lilith’s thighs. Then it wiggles some more, and rapidly shrinks, flattening against Lilith’s undercarriage as if Jezzi had folded in on herself or escaped elsewhere.

Lilith, to her credit, does not go immediately cross-eyed, but still runs through her last few victory poses very quickly and then turns and hurries out of the stadium. Her other trapped victims are thrown around quite vigorously by this, but Lilith doesn’t care. She has to get back to her giant-sized domicile outside of town so she can remove them without undressing in the middle of a city, and she has to do it fast, before Jezzi’s ministrations elicit a reaction far more explicit than merely going cross-eyed.

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