From the darkness, eyeshine. Nari's pitch blackened world made the pair of eyes seem as large as her own. How? The little monster didn't even rival her pinky length in height. How was it looming over her, the very shadow of death itself? It slithered around her starting at her bare feet, wrapping her strong frame in a shadowy blanket.
When it finally reached her neck she could feel nothing below. The massive strength of a giantess meant nothing; she was unable to struggle, hardly able to breathe. The shining eyes cocked to one side, and then the other.
A barb lined jaw dropped, and a glittering opalescent glow emerged from there too. Instead of the visceral pink interior of every animal she had ever seen, every oral surface behind the strangely artificial jaws glinted and reflected with unearthly yellow and green metallic light. She finally screamed as the shadow's maw enveloped her face with a lunge. It was so hot and wet, slick flesh sliding all around her face. It shouldn't have been her. This wasn't the proper place of a giant. She tried to squirm, tried to jerk away, but the teeth of the bear trap jaws wrapped under her jaw and behind her head. The slimy textured tongue ran thick trails of drool across her face. The gleaming throat began to pulse, and the shadow pulled itself lower on her head. Each swallow sucking Nari deeper until nothing but a tall void could be seen.
The glow of Hattie's pupils began to fade, returning to the mortal black as the shadow collapsed into itself like a pillar of fetid black fog, and the light of the full moon flooded the swamp hollow. All that was left was the corpse of a muscular, sparsely dressed woman face down in the water. Her golden hair undone from its bindings, floating like ethereal tendrils in a corona around her head. Hattie pulled herself up with her silver bell adorned staff, and stalked to her boat, rags swinging from her body with every stride. Keen ears nearly twitched and swiveled as they picked up every sound of the swamp. Baleful coffee black eyes occasionally darting to something interesting, in a perpetual ocular expression combining fear and hatred. The rest of her dark skinned face rested completely relaxed and serene. Her staff jingled as she climbed in the hollow log canoe and she pushed off from the muddy bank. Pushing towards the drowned woman the size of an entire countryside.
Hattie stopped the momentum of her boat with a poke of her staff through the mess of sodden hair. She inhaled the stench of rot and scalp oil deeply, her eyes fluttering as she softly exhaled. Her eyes then crossed and irises flexed as she scanned over the forest of thick, blonde hairs, her aching mind whirling more in the wrong places than the right ones. Eventually she dragged out a knife whose edge had been resharpened so many times the bevel had nearly regressed to the spine. She grabbed hold of the correct strand, the same throbbing chuntering and buzzing informing her of where precisely to incise the hair. She stared at the freed end in her hand longingly... and took a bite.
Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as she chewed. Chewed and chewed, never swallowing. When the chunk had finally lost its scaly texture and became a stringy pulp, she spat it in a wooden bowl. Casting scrimshawed pixie bones into the mash, she finally flooded it with Spanish rum.
Hattie whispered devotions to the saints in Ethiopian, Latin, Hebrew, and any other tongue she could pronounce. Even some not known to mortal ears. A beam of moonlight seemingly brighter than the others focused on the bowl, and the bones began to sink. Her chanting grew in volume. As the mixture started to bubble Hattie struck the bottom of the boat with her staff, the bells ringing out like those hung from a steeple. Small blue hands emerged from beneath the surface of the slop. Flesh knitted itself back together around the bones as they emerged from the bolus. The fingers twitched as they broke through the surface of dark alcohol and finally touched the air. Hattie's chanting grew to a screeching cacophony, even the swamp itself seemingly joining her in a chorus of wild whoops, hoots, and animal screams. The tiny figure previously a handful of bones breached the surface in a shot.
The little creature hung on the edge of the bowl, panting. Her entire blue body was covered in raised scrimshaw scars much like her bones had been. Hattie's many ringed finger descended to stroke the blood red hair of the little creature.
"Whattid mama Hattie tell you, child? Back from the other place to the land of the livin. Just as she promised." Her voice was husky, and ethereal. As if it was coming from everywhere at once.
The pixie flexed her back muscles; no wings. She looked up with building tears at the greasy woman smiling down at her, hair hanging down like thick willow branches.
"Shh, shh... no crying now. They'll be back. Baths in the angel water will grow them. See?"
An almost clawed finger rubbed four small nubs protruding from the pixie's back. She calmed down a little at the sensation of having them rubbed, assuring her that they were indeed still present. Her body totally relaxed at the familiar sensation of Hattie gently pinching her up between two fingers, and set the tiny blue woman on her shoulder. Hattie glared at the dead mountain of flesh and bone in front of her.
"A life for a life... and wickedness sent from the world. We're gonna take you home now, Bluebelle." Hattie reached into her chest pocket, and produced a piece of tough bread, which the pixie greedily grabbed with both hands and began devouring.
Hattie chuckled softly; "Careful, my love. You don't want a tummy ache so soon after comin back, no?"
Swamp Witch
Giantess dies, so beware~
Inspired by the song "Swamp Witch" by Jim Stafford! A classic swamp rock tale for those unaware.
The Pictess
Inspired by ProbablyIX's infamous 2 paragraph piss scene in "Breaking Through" lmao
Rays of sun flitted through the trees, the orchestra to the dance of light across the damp forest floor. Ancient gnarled roots tethered towering trees deep in the soil. Even the dead ones fallen trunks and stumps provided homes for the myriad creatures that lived there; from possums, deer, and serpents, to the humble insects which crept through the rotting logs like the crypts of a basilica devoted to the spirits who protected these woods.
Sounds of life were everywhere, a soft choral of chirping, buzzing, and crunching foliage. The trickling of water dribbling from stony cracks covering a hidden spring formed a small stream of cool, clean water. It smelled sweet, the chilled scent of fresh growth and sour tang of rot from which new life would spring and eventually decay filling the crisp air. With a soft breeze passing through, anything would feel rejuvenated in such environs.
A coyote emerged from a bush, dragging back a freshly killed forest fowl by the neck. Normally he would have dug in where the meal lay, but he had other responsibilities. Passing over the threshold of scent marking his territory, he dropped the bird and began digging holes with his front paws. Content with the pits in the soft, fertile soil, he dismembered the meal in his jaws, placing pieces in different holes and covering them up.
From a hole in a nearby tree, a stubby, fluffy snout poked out and sniffed the air tentatively. Another followed, and another, until four pups cautiously stalked out from the den. The mother coyote came trotting out behind them, and made a beeline through the miniature pack to the returning hunter, nuzzling her snout into his full one. He dropped what he was carrying; a chunk reserved specifically for he and his mate. The pair ate in shifts, watching over the fledgling pups as they learned to dig and forage for their food in the holes their progenitor had dug.
The soft sounds of chewing and puppish whining added to the orchestra of the forest in a subtle, yet undeniably vital way.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The off tempo percussion interrupted the orchestra, and many of its players ground to a halt and silenced their music ministrations. The cracking of not just branches but whole trees grew as the booms approached closer. The source burst through the treeline; a dirty bare foot the length of a sapling, the color of birch.
It crashed through a fallen log as it came down, shaking all the trees nearby and sending shrapnel of rotted wood out in all directions. The long toes flexed and grabbed unconsciously into the soil, digging the tough sole deeper into the soft ground. The giantess it belonged to followed, pushing over an ancient oak as she did, a flock of songbirds taking flight as it thudded heavily against the ground.
Worry was written across the broad features of her face, short finger hair lightly obscuring her golden colored irises. She was searching for something.
Her well toned muscles flexed, and turned a not-quite-large-enough opening in the foliage to be a hollow into a wide, muddy footprint. Her modest breasts bounced as she did, decidedly immodestly left bare to the woods. They were small enough they didn't ache after a full day of physical exertion, why would she cover them? Bone barbels made of human femurs and crudely attached buck skulls pierced through her nipples, only a single part of her ornately decorated body.
Blue tattoos weaved up her left arm like blue swallowwort, depicting many monsters and warriors in a style of spirals and whorls which all connected as if the art was written in cursive. It connected by threads of fruit bearing vines made by art traveling down the center of her back to a scene of giant figures snatching smaller people up from a crude village, the woman as the centerpiece in the process of devouring the struggling contents of one hand. Another blue trail from this vignette snaked down between her muscular buttocks, disappearing between the cheeks and beneath the red knee length skirt.
A sparkle of relief filled her eyes as she spotted the stony clearing from which the spring stream trickled deeper into the foliage. She kicked over a tree as she adjusted her course and hastily lumbered to the clearing.
The coyotes yelped as their safe den was suddenly exposed to the light, the whole tree uprooting around them. Each parent took a pup in their mouth, and took off deeper in the woods, corralling the strongest two pups between them. The father took up the rear, nudging the yelping pups forward when their small muscles began to ache from exertion. They didn't stop until the trees stopped shaking from the giantess's steps.
The woman for her part straddled the cracked stone outcropping with a goofy grin across her pierced lips, matching the eternally smiling stud of a human skull labret. She squatted down on her paws, exposing the filthy remnants of forest defiled by her sweaty heels and hiked up her skirt around her bare belly. The trail between her cheeks was opened like a summer mountain pass in the spring, leading to a tattooed oasis around her butthole. Creatures of all types and small people dancing around it in a paradise spirit world. Yet deeper into the mountains of her crotch there was a ghoulish scene of a fiery hell, stylized people burning and screaming up to their chests in liquid flame. All surrounding a massive vulva with teeth tattooed across its labia, and a single baleful eye on the hood of her clitoris. A smattering of unshaven ginger pubic hair covered the grotesque imagery far too small and intricate to have been placed by the hands of another giant.
Her blue tattooed hand came down whilst the yet unmarked one continued to hoist her skirt, and spread the lips apart. Her urethral opening flexed expectantly, and the giantess's golden eyes went crossed...
ffffWWWWOOOOOOSSHHHH
The sounds of babbling water was replaced with the sounds of rocky yellow rapids; a torrent rushing out of the giant woman's bladder like an acidic thunder storm concentrated into a single beam. The soil directly below her was splashed into a muddy pit almost immediately, the sheer force and volume of piss digging down to depths only reached by the roots of the trees she so easily pushed down. The small channel cut by decades of gently flowing spring water tried its best to handle the flow, but it was no match for the golden tide. The whole clearing quickly became a muddy swamp, then a collection of puddles, then a shallow pond as the already damp soil refused to drink any more of her waste water. The path of the stream became equally flooded, and even beyond the limits of the giantess's view into the dense foliage her presence was felt by the barrel.
"Oooooooohhhhh... yeah..."
The pressure in her lower belly had finally subsided, but she flexed a few more gallon sized droplets out with her strong abs. Content her tank was empty, she shook the loose skin of her vulva from side to side to free any larger drips. As she stood back up, she let her skirt drop down. Her nose wrinkled as an especially sulfuric urine smell hit her nose;
"Eugh... shouldn'ta ate those guards at the last village. Boom powder always makes my piss stink horrible."
With that, she took an easy step over the lake of pee, and returned through her path of split tree trunks, cleared greenery, and deep bare footprints.
The coyotes for their part never returned. There was a new scent marking that area out as giantess country.
Written to the songs "Fawn" and "Russian Dance" by Tom Waits~