Reinvention
By Nyx
A special thanks to Grildrig, for all his wondrously evil ideas.
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“They say that she is a witch.”
“I have heard that she hath danced with the Black Man himself in the woods.”
“Why do you think that milk hath been spoiling and crops dying? ‘Tis she, the vile woman who surely made a pact with the Devil.”
“Silence! She looks this way!”
The cluster of women immediately stopped talking when they spotted the Reverend and several men leading the young girl away. With a forced air of detachment, they looked at Hannah Baker, whose hooded head was bowed, loose locks of henna hair trailing down the sides of her pale face. She held her delicate hands in front of herself, coarse rope binding them together. As she passed by the onlookers, she turned her head slightly, a small, sly smile creeping across her lily-white face.
“May the Lord have mercy on thy soul, Hannah,” one of the older women, Jane Watkins, called out. The witch stopped abruptly, regarding her with unnerving eyes, eyes so black that it was impossible to distinguish her pupils from her irises. One of the marks of Old Scratch; the other, the colonists believed, was the patch of discolored skin on her shoulder, a maroon patch that resembled a five-armed star with, strangely enough, an eye-shape in its center. Some of the women suggested that Hannah had received the mark when she had first made love with Satan, but that belief clashed strongly with her parents’ testimony, who swore that she had been born with it. Her parents did little else to defend her, however. At her trial, her own mother had announced to those gathered that her daughter had been born under an evil moon.
“Surely, ‘twas a most evil sign,” Elizabeth Baker had said, while her daughter stared at her, her unsettling eyes devoid of any emotion. During the whole trial, Hannah had not said a single word, and was found to be guilty of witchcraft. Now, standing outside the jail, she looked over at Jane, a figure so willowy that she looked as though she could be blown away by a strong breeze, yet somehow so terrifying that even the burliest men secretly feared her.
“And may my Master have mercy on thine, Jane,” was her quiet reply. The other woman immediately recoiled, as if a snake had just lashed out at her. Hannah smirked, her ebon eyes narrowed into slits.
“Thou shall be joining him soon enough,” Jane snarled, disappointed and irritated when the young witch didn’t even flinch. Instead, her eyes rolled upward, toward the thick gray clouds that darkened the sky, then toward the dark forest. Everyone followed her gaze, startled to see the brilliant flash of light that briefly illuminated the trees. The Reverend himself gasped, unconsciously making the sign of the cross as the unearthly light gradually faded.
“Aye, I will be,” Hannah replied smugly.
***
Sergeant Jacob Cassell intently studied his hands.
In the eerie violet light coming from the time portal, the dried blood on them stood out even more, dark spots that stained his skin. How many had he killed? Twenty? Thirty? One of them had been Natalie Everwood, the only person that had ever really mattered to him, and her face stood out in his memory, her dead eyes filled with hatred and sorrow as he stood over her, knife in hand…
He blinked, and her face vanished.
No, he decided, it really didn’t matter. He had managed to steal the military’s top-secret projects, including its time machine. That was all that was important. Jacob was a firm believer in the Machiavellian principle of the ends justifying the means, and all the deaths were worth what he had in mind.
He wanted to rewrite history, to make himself the most feared dictator that the world had ever seen. Stalin, Pol Pot, Sachiko Akura, the bloodthirsty empress of the Omura colony in the twenty-third century…their infamous reigns would be nothing compared with his.
And with the stolen military equipment, he had the ability to do exactly that.
Tearing his eyes away from his bloodstained hands, he gazed at the chronometer strapped to his armored forearm. It read May 2, 1681 on the tinted screen, the sight of the lit numbers making him grin triumphantly. He was now one thousand years in the past, and he had more than enough power to change everything, to make himself the most terrifying being that had ever walked the earth.
It was a pity that the time portal was steadily closing; he was trapped here, forever. But that was fine by him. He would soon be ruling this world, and the thought brought goosebumps to the skin underneath his military armor.
Grinning fiercely, he gazed upward at the dreary, gray clouds and gently patted the compartment on his belt. Inside, several growth hormone tablets bounced around, a sort of ambrosia that promised deity status to whomever took them.
Shivering with delight, he gazed hungrily at the sight of the tiny town in the distance.
***
Seated upon the wooden bench, the last dying rays of daylight streaming down on her long hair, Hannah stared at the floor below her. Crudely etched into the dirt was a pentagram, and its artist feverishly prayed to the dark spirit that it represented. Unfortunately, nothing happened. No cloven-hoofed lord of the underworld appeared, and she was beginning to doubt that he was even listening to her desperate pleas.
That is, until she saw the man through the corner of her eye as he passed by the small window. He was unlike anyone that she had ever seen: tall, clad in midnight-black armor with a greenish tint, and possessing a lean, angular face. There was little hair on his head, his white-gold hair cut so close to his skull that it was just a fuzz. His eyes, almond-shaped and a blue so light that it made his eyes appear almost completely white, briefly locked with her own, and he smiled, his thin lips curling upward in a smile that was far from pleasant. Immediately, she knew who he was (or, at least she believed that she knew.) Running to the window, she called out to him.
“Mephistopheles! Please help me, thy faithful servant! I beseech thee!”
He paused. She had seen enough men who had had lust in their eyes to recognize the desire in his. In almost a haughty manner, he studied her face, then his eyes traveled down to her ample breasts, which her dress only accentuated. To her relief, he headed toward the window. When he spoke, it was difficult to understand because of his odd accent.
“Help you? Why should I do that?”
“Please! I shall dedicate myself to thee forever, Mephistopheles!”
He laughed.
“Mephistopheles? Lady, you got the wrong guy.”
As he began to leave, she frantically reached out.
“No! No, do not leave!” Hannah pleaded, grabbing for him, her fingertips brushing the polished armor of his back. Much to her dismay, he didn’t stop. Not at first, at least. Then, rather unexpectedly, he turned back around.
Chapter 2
The Puritan woman was certainly attractive. Jacob felt himself getting hard just at the sight of her, and he couldn’t help but stop. She was still at the window, begging to take her with him. But this wasn’t what turned him on. No, it was the cold gleam he saw in her eye, a twinkle of cruelty and evil that drew him toward her.
“So,” he said. “You’ll dedicate yourself to me if I help you?”
“Aye!” she fervently nodded her head, her long tresses moving with it. Jacob thought about this, running his tongue over his teeth. On one hand, the thought of having the beautiful girl (who was practically throwing herself against the window) with him was enticing. Yet, did he really want to burden himself with her?
A shout disrupted his thoughts. Startled, he turned toward the source of the noise. A handful of men dressed in ancient garb were sprinting toward the prison and him. No doubt they wanted to see who this strange intruder was, and he had no time or patience for them. Nonchalantly, he reached down for the plasma gun at his side and, aiming at one of the closest men, fired. The man was shoved back several feet upon impact, a gaping hole of charred flesh and bone where his chest had been. His fellows instinctively moved toward their dead comrade, giving Jacob ample time to open the compartment on his belt and retrieve one of the tablets.
It tasted awful, bitter and metallic. He gagged it down, tears forming at the corners of his eyes and blurring his vision. Reaching up with one hand, he wiped them away just in time to see one of the men running toward him, rage etched on his face. Jacob raised the weapon again, only to drop it as he felt the bones in his arm stretch, the joints popping loudly. It didn’t hurt exactly, but he still felt a twinge of fear as his spine extended, his body slowly expanding. The armor was designed to change with the wearer’s height, but it was having trouble keeping up with his sudden growth. As he gained another foot, he felt it shift to accommodate him.
His attacker froze in his tracks, frightened by his growth. Jacob, his body still swelling, snarled and brought his fist down, striking the man and sending him to the ground. Before his enemy could stand back up, he brought his growing foot down on the man’s head. A malevolent grin appeared on his huge face as the Puritan wailed in terror and pain, his arms pushing futilely at his metallic boot. As the man’s friends helplessly looked on, Jacob leaned forward, pressing down hard. His victim’s head squashed like a ripe melon, red gore staining the grass.
Behind him, the witch’s face blanched, and she stepped away from the window. The sight of a man who was eighteen feet tall and steadily growing, was both horrifying and exhilarating to her. Away from the window she retreated, hearing the shrill screams of the men as they were torn limb from limb. Then there was an uneasy silence, broken when two enormous hands smashed through the wooden wall, reaching for her. One of the hands, as wide as her waist, caught the hem of her dress, dragging her toward the wall. Her shrieks accompanied the sound of the rest of the wall crumbling.
“I decided to take you up on that offer,” he announced in an inhumanly deep voice as he effortlessly pulled her from the prison. Still gripping her dress, he reached down with his free hand, fingers the size of tree branches feeling her breasts. She gasped in delight and closed her eyes; when she opened them, her gaze traveled to the compartment on his black belt. Her focus remained on it, even as he dropped down to his knees, now four times her height. His big hands continued to fondle her breasts, his clear eyes shining with lust. Hannah sucked in her breath. Never before had a man aroused her, but now she felt a wet warmth between her legs, the sensations like nothing she had ever experienced. As the armored fingers caressed her stomach and breasts simultaneously, she saw the compartment again.
She had an idea.
Hannah bent her head down, lightly kissing the giant fingers, working her way up toward his arms. Smiling broadly, he pulled her even closer, his own lips brushing the back of her neck, his huge tongue darting out to taste her skin. Closer, she thought. Just a little closer…
Lightning fast, she plunged her hand into the compartment with the expertise of a skilled thief. Through his peripheral vision, he saw her eat something, something small and silver and which suspiciously resembled a hormone tablet. Angrily he pushed her away, watching with irritation as she began to grow as well. Unlike him, her clothing didn’t expand to fit her, and the seams on her dress tore with a loud rip, the coarse fabric falling away in tatters to reveal smooth flesh.
Briefly, Jacob contemplated killing her before she could catch up with him in height. But he decided against it, especially when he saw her nude body. She was truly a masterpiece of nature, lithe and trim. Even the birthmark on her shoulder, as odd as it was, complemented her beauty, rather then subtracted from it. The pinkish-brown areolas of her large breasts were slowly pebbling in the chilly air, the rose nipples hardening, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Besides, there was something about her that reminded him of Natalie. Perhaps it was that haughty gleam in her eye, the way she regarded him not only with admiration and wariness but also with a pride that made his heart skip a beat.
She saw him looking at him and her face flushed, not with embarrassment but with desire.
“What the hell am I going to do with you?” He asked exasperated, not expecting an answer. But she gave one as she stepped toward him, half his height but getting larger by the minute.
“I shall keepeth my promise to thou,” replied the woman. By this time, she came to his chin, and she finally ceased growing.
He just crinkled his upper lip slightly as he circled and inspected her. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“My name is Hannah Baker, Lord Mephistopheles.”
He sighed. “Stop calling me that. I’m not the Devil or whoever the hell you think I am.”
“B-but how did thou performeth such deeds? Art thou a warlock?”
“No, of course not. It’s just some technolo--oh, nevermind. I doubt you’d understand,” Jacob told her, reaching out with one hand to touch her bare shoulder. She did not shy away, but instead ran her hands over his breastplate, the metal cool under her fingertips.
“Didst thou come to rule this world, milord?” The witch softly asked, her hands moving down toward his codpiece. He caught her wrist, so tightly that she flinched. The smile that oozed across his face was cold and almost inhuman.
“Yes,” he whispered back, his eyes burning with arousal. With that, he pulled her hand down toward his groin, pressing it up against the soft material of the codpiece.
Hushed murmurs, of fear and amazement, rose up around them. Hannah looked over at her fellow colonists with contempt and hatred, her peculiar eyes blazing fiercely. They were so small, hardly reaching her knees, and a thought flitted across her mind. A vicious thought, one that even made her hesitate for a second.
But it was only for a moment that she hesitated; the realization that they couldn’t actually do much to her, coupled with the sweet thought of revenge, made her step forward. As the crowd looked on, she strode purposely toward the house of the candlemaker, a man that she particularly loathed. The building was shorter than she, and, as she quickly found, much weaker as well. A few strong kicks knocked down the flimsy walls, causing the structure to collapse in on itself. The cries of protest only served to anger her further.
“Devil’s whore! Thou shalt burn forever in the pits of Hades!” Someone screamed.
It was then that her sinister thought became reality.
The giantess advanced toward them, her body expanding to fit her fury. The crowd of people swiftly realized their mistake, and panic broke out as everyone attempted to flee. She was easily twice her previous size when she caught up to the, who were no bigger than tiny mice to her. With the utmost cruelty, she stomped down, bodies bursting beneath her feet. The mob gradually thinned out as she continued to tread on them, each step horribly deliberate. Those that had the misfortune to fall were either trampled by their terrified comrades, or crushed flat beneath the giantess’ foot. Vermillion blood and mangled scraps of pulpy flesh created bizarre patterns on the dirt road and on her lower legs, but she paid no attention to it, her dark eyes gleaming with evil glee. Three or four people managed to escape her deadly wrath, running in all directions to warn the others of the giant witch.
Hannah silently watched them go, then studied the carnage around her. Such death and destruction…all caused by her! The thought made her lower belly tingle with dark pleasure, the area between her thighs becoming wetter. Her index finger pushed open her swollen vaginal lips, and she gasped as she found the sensitive knob of flesh. There was no longer any need for modesty; no one dared to stay around to frown upon her actions.
She remembered her dark lord, whose gaze nearly burned a hole in her bare back. Gazing over her shoulder, she saw him step over a few buildings and walk toward her, a cruel smile on his handsome face.
Chapter 3
Jacob had observed the whole incident, and found it strangely erotic. The knowledge that he too possessed this much power made him weak in the knees. Not only that, but he still carried the erection from earlier, and it strained against his codpiece.
Remembering what one of the scientists had said about the hormone pills (just before he had blown a hole in the man’s head with his own weapon), Jacob willed himself to grow, delighted when was able to do it with ease. His shadow swallowed up some of the nearby buildings, engulfing them in darkness. Those who hadn’t had the courage to leave their homes fearfully peered out of the windows, a few closing the shutters. He paid them no heed for the moment, stepping over them, his hands behind his back.
“You would have made a fine officer in the
“You’re one of the cruelest people I’ve ever met,” he explained, taking her hands in his own. She bared her teeth ferociously.
“I striveth to be as wicked as thou,” she said eagerly.
You mean, a backstabber like me? He thought to himself, recalling everyone’s shock just before he had murdered them, one after another, until he came to Natalie, whose eyes accused him even after she lie lifeless on the floor…he brushed that thought aside. He didn’t have to worry about remorse, anymore.
Gods didn’t feel such things.
“Like this?” He reached down for his plasma gun, which had also grown with his armor. Grinning madly, he aimed at one of the little houses, and fired. The building literally vanished in a bright blue blaze, some of the sheds around it catching on fire.
“Aye!” The witch’s eyes were wide with approval.
“That’s nothing,” he replied, stomping toward another house. Stooping down, he peeled off the roof with ridiculous ease, and looked around. Everything inside was so unbelievably tiny compared to him, like an old-fashioned dollhouse. There was no movement, so he began to carefully move things aside until he managed to find a family, huddled beneath a table. A father and several small children, he saw, which wasn’t what he was looking for. Disappointed, he slammed his gargantuan fist down on them, so hard that the ground trembled.
Jacob ripped open the next building next to it, and found what he was looking for: a young Puritan woman. This one had lost her cap, her long, wheat-colored hair flowing freely as his armored fingers wrapped around her. She wailed, which he thought was amusing, and beat at his fingers, which he didn’t find so amusing. Holding his prize in one hand, he started to undo the various straps of his codpiece. The woman didn’t even realize his intentions until he lowered her toward his erection.
“Naynaynammmmppphhh!” His victim’s screams were abruptly cut off as he pressed her against his engorged shaft, luxuriating in the jolt of pleasure that her wiggling gave him. Slowly, he moved her up and down, her gray dress reduced to rags within a short span of time. He closed both eyes, enjoying the sensations, and opened them when he heard Hannah approaching. She said nothing, but dropped to her knees, smiling up at him. Gently, she opened his hand, taking the bruised woman from him.
Placing her on his penis and laughing as she teetered, she leaned closer. The little Puritan woman shrieked in horror as Hannah opened her mouth wide, clamping her lips down on both the shaft and the other female. The witch’s sucking, combined with the tiny woman’s frantic struggles, was enough to drive him over the edge. He came, his orgasm more intense than anything he had ever even imagined.
Hannah pulled away with a mouthful of semen and woman, and gleefully swallowed both. Her giant lover was breathing heavily, lost in rapture, but she was still aroused. Her fingers dipped down, lightly caressing her aroused clitoris, but it wasn’t enough. She looked around, her black eyes eventually focusing on the church. Her mouth stretched into a grin as she pranced toward it, growing bigger and bigger.
It was a simple white church with a tall steeple, and behind the windows she could barely make out people inside, who had chosen the building as a refuge from the two giants. Hannah walked right over it, thinking. Beneath her, one of the tiny doors opened, and one or two tried to flee. Bending down, she pinched the first man between her thumb and forefinger. The poor man squealed at the top of his lungs until she crushed him into a gory mess. Then, with a wicked grin, she used the blood to paint a crimson pentagram between her large breasts. The other person she simply ground beneath her thumb before she yanked up a few trees surrounding the church, using them to block the exits. She didn’t want anymore of them trying to escape, after all.
Then she placed one foot on either side of the church, one finger moving rhythmically in and out of her womanhood. When she was wet enough, she crouched down low, the roof of the church scraping against her vaginal lips. A portion of the roof was torn off as she dragged herself toward the steeple. From within the church, she could hear screams of hellish terror. That only excited her further, a drop of thick, clear secretion dribbling from her vagina and splashing onto the wooden benches and people far below. By then, those trapped within the church were in a frenzy, some trying to open the doors, others attempting to flee through the windows, only to be slashed by the sharp shards of broken glass.
As the first moan escaped her lips, she sensed someone near her. It was Jacob, and he crouched low behind her, reaching over the church to wrap his hands around both of her breasts.
“Having a good time, my dear?” He asked, his fingers pressing into her nipples.
“A much better time than they, methinks.” She nodded down toward the people below her, who were gaping up at the giantess and the giant through the hole in the roof. He chuckled, but said nothing more, kissing her back as she ground herself against the building, using it to pleasure herself. The Reverend, who had been among those gawking at the two huge lovers, finally regained control. He grabbed his Bible, holding it up high above his head.
“Be gone, Satan!” He shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the colossal witch’s groan. She rose, only to come back down, this time on the steeple. Most of the structure crumbled as she forced it up into herself, her eyes rolled upwards in ecstasy. The last thing they heard was her shriek of pure pleasure before the giant purposely moved forward, crushing the rest of the church beneath his titanic knees.
Chapter 4
“O, milord, ‘twas like nothing I have e’er felt,” Hannah told him. They were sitting near the rubble that had once been a church, watching the chaos that they had created. Fires had spread to several buildings, lighting up the night sky and illuminating the frightened little people who screamed at the top of their lungs and ran aimlessly about like ants whose hill had been destroyed. Jacob looked over at the witch, the bright orange light from the fire reflected in his eyes.
Cupping her chin in his palms and tilting her head back, he pressed his mouth against hers. As soon as he pulled away, he said, “We’re just beginning. If I want to conquer this world, I have to put the fear of, well, me into them.”
“I shall gladly help ye with that task.”
“Good.” He smiled broadly. “Have any ideas?”
“Some ideas, milord.”
“Such as…?”
She stood up from where she had been lying, brushing some of the dirt and debris from her body.
She did indeed have many ideas, many wicked ones. Hannah hadn’t forgotten the indignities that the town had caused her and her witch sisters, most of whom were dead now because of them. Her mind seethed with a need for vengeance, and now was her chance. What delicious irony, if she could inflict the same sort of punishments on them…
Most of the townspeople had gone into hiding, cowering before the murderous duo. But it didn’t take her long to flush a few out, including, of all people, Jane Watkins. The formerly stern faced matron was screeching for her life as the witch picked up her up.
“Methinks we shall save thee for later, Jane,” Hannah informed her, then threw her to Jacob. The woman let out an earsplitting yelp as she spiraled through the air, only to land in the giant’s outstretched hands. He nonchalantly put her in a compartment in his armor, ignoring her frightened protests.
Then Hannah glared down at the remaining people, most of whom clung to one another as the giantess stared like a judge before a courtroom of guilty criminals. Her unnatural eyes settled on one at a time, then she spoke, not to them but to her huge companion.
“One of their trials to see if a woman is a servant of Old Scratch is by tossing her into a lake or pond,” she said quietly. “If she drowns, then she was not one of Satan’s minions.”
Jacob nodded, trying to follow her.
“’Tis a fitting punishment for them to also face that trial.”
“Yeah, but I don’t see any lakes or ponds nearby.”
“Then we shall improvise, milord,” she purred, grabbing a squat, bearded man by his leg and sitting back down. Leaning back a bit, she opened her legs and spread her labia.
“Now, we shall see if he is a servant of darkness.” With that, she dropped him into her waiting vagina, which glistened wetly with her secretions. The man desperately tried to pull himself out, but she pulled her inner muscles inward, dragging him in. As his head disappeared, she let go of her vaginal lips and crossed her legs again. She could feel him squirming, writhing, within her, and she shivered in delight.
“I’d give him a few minutes,” Jacob commented, but Hannah was too caught up in her victim’s wiggling to pay much attention. She forced herself not to crush him. No, she didn’t want him to die that way; rather, she wanted him to drown, to suffocate deep within her.
Jacob was right. Soon, the squirming slowed down, then stopped.
“It seems that he was not a warlock,” she said, snickering and reaching into herself to withdraw the corpse, which gleamed with her stickiness.
Her lover was watching intensely, impatient to have fun as well.
“What other kinds of torture do they inflict on witches?” He asked.
“Many awful things, milord. For example, they slowly crush the accused with boulders until they confess…”
“That’ll work.” The survivors, three maidens and a gaunt man, darted away when he reached for them. He managed to catch two of the women, one in each gauntleted fist. Kneeling down, he placed each on the ground. When they tried to flee again, he pitilessly snapped their legs, leaving them flopping like dying fish. Once again, he removed his codpiece and carefully cradled his balls with his hand.
Hannah raised her hands to mouth, giggling knowingly.
It took some maneuvering, but he managed to place himself that his testicles were resting on the two crying women, most of the weight supported by his hand. His victims turned florid, their breathing becoming ragged as his allowed more and more weight to gradually drop down onto them. One of the women whose right arms was free was frantically pounding at him, her fingers scarping along his flesh as she futilely fought to escape. Jacob craned his head and looked straight at them both. Then, his eyes glittering with lust and a cruelty that was almost demonic, he let go.
Crunch.
A deep red puddle leaked out from beneath him, soaking into the dirt. The Puritan man that had initially escaped the giant’s clutches was on his knees between the two titans, his eyes locked with those of the dead women’s, his mouth moving slightly in a silent prayer. He yelped when the two of the giantess’ fingers caught hold of his right leg, abruptly lifting him up so that he dangled upside-down above the ground.
“What shall we do with this one?” Hannah asked, holding him close to her eyes so that she could inspect him. A shudder ripped through the man’s body, and he covered his face with both hands, whimpering pitifully.
When he didn’t answer, she said, “What kind of tortures are there where thee come from, milord?”
That conjured up the image of Natalie, who had been a colonel when he had first joined the military, dressed in her storm-gray uniform and holding a pony-whip in her hands as he looked on, strapped to the bed inside her private quarters. That had been torture alright, but more of the sort that he liked. She had been a tough bitch, the only woman that could have made him sit up and beg like a dog. But she had been too loyal to the military, which had cost her her life when she had refused to join him. Guilt rose up, but fainter this time, so faint that he could no longer feel it.
“Torture?” He repeated, remembering
an even earlier memory, of Natalie before she had first led him, an awkward,
over-eager virgin, into her room. She was standing near a large cluster of
reddish rocks, the ocher sky of
“Cut off his limbs, and leave him to die,” she had barked. Now that he thought of it, she would have made an excellent partner. Well, he thought, Hannah would do just fine. Not only was she as nasty, but she was loyal only to him.
He especially liked that part.
Turning to the witch, he repeated the instructions that Natalie had given him so long ago.
Luckily for them, the man didn’t die when she twisted one arm from the socket, then the other. He reached out, grabbed the hapless Puritan’s legs. Bones cracked loudly, muscles tore, blood streamed down over the giant’s fingers as he made his victim legless. Once he had been reduced to a little more than a mangled torso, Hannah tossed the man behind her shoulder, not caring where he landed, and licked Jacob’s bloodstained fingers, then moved onto his lips, his neck, his chest.
He was horribly aroused again, his erect member evidence of that. The remaining woman trembled violently when he yanked the bush she was hiding in from the soil, holding it above her head. She didn’t move, just remained frozen in place as loose dirt from the uprooted bush rained down around her. He considered just using her to pleasure him, but he had a better idea. The woman turned white and nearly passed out when he addressed her in a booming voice.
“You! Are you any good at tying knots?”
***
Jane would have screamed more, had not a thick piece of rope been gagging her. Her body was tied to the underside of the giant’s penis, and she hung there, like a mermaid figurehead on the bow of a ship. Tears of anger and fear blurred her vision as she vainly struggled, the ropes biting painfully deep into her skin. The huge man was on his knees, his breathing fast. Before her was the living cavern that was Hannah’s vagina, the flesh a reddish-purple and practically dripping with clear slime. The knowledge that she was about to become a play toy for two titans was maddening. She redoubled her efforts, which did nothing but make the colossal man moan softly, her struggles obviously pleasing him. He scooted a little closer to Hannah, her vast womanhood looming near.
Jane squeezed her eyes shut, frightened out of her senses.
Then the giant thrust forward, and she wailed helplessly, her frantic cry muffled by the rope in her mouth. It was awful as she imagined, like being heaved into a sweltering prison with slick, pulsating walls. Brutally, she was slammed up against the inside of Hannah, again and again, until most of her body was bruised and her hair was matted with the witch’s juices, her dress soaked with the thick goo. She could hear their groans from far away, and she twisted her entire body, unable to see anything in the darkness.
Then she felt the ropes tighten, constricting, tearing into her skin until they began to draw blood. The two titans were growing again, she realized, and that was her last thought before the massive penis rammed forward particularly hard, her spine snapping when she hit the unyielding wall of vaginal flesh.
Chapter 5
Hannah wrapped her long legs around Jacob, her delighted groans mingling with his. Jane was probably dead by then, but she no longer cared. Her only concern was the man that kissed her breasts as he thrust, harder and harder. The witch's fingernails dug into the armor on his back as she moved with him. He placed his hand upon her eye-shaped birthmark, the one that the townspeople had claimed was proof of her wickedness, the metal on his fingers cold and hard against her bare flesh.
Bigger. She wanted to be bigger. Closing her eyes, her pulse pounding in her ears, she began to grow. He grew with her, his body expanding, smashing the buildings and trees which increasingly seemed to be getting smaller to them. Anyone who was still alive in the town could only stare in horror as the two mountains of bone and blood grew and grew, until their shadows spread over the whole countryside and their bodies flattened everyone and everything.
They came at the same time, the resulting seismic tremors enough to open gaping cracks in the earth for miles.
Hannah whipped her head from side to side, her hair now large enough to simply brush aside forests, her howls echoing for miles. Her sex spasmed so violently that it was almost painful, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. Jacob rammed himself forward, every muscle in his body tightening all at once. Then he relaxed, resting his head between the witch’s breasts. When the waves of ecstasy finally passed, he looked up into her face.
“At this size, I think we’ll be able to take over the world in a few months,” he said.
“More like a fortnight, milord.”
He grinned at her, then crawled
forward to kiss her. This would certainly work out well, he decided, as the
witch's tongue found its way into his mouth. As soon as dawn arrived, they
could begin their conquest. It would be easy to wade across the Atlantic,
decimate
End