How long she had been there, she could not tell.
Had she found herself bound up in this massive room mere days ago?
Had it been weeks, even months?
She might have been here forever.
In these moments of reprieve (did they last a minute or an hour?) she felt her breathing. Each gasp was ragged, desperate. Hunger gnawed without mercy. Cold pinpricks of sweat trickled down her face and slithered along the hunched curve of her back, mingling with the blood.
She could tell the two apart. The blood ran hot.
Behind, her hands strained against the bindings. Her wrists entwined and held fast to a harness tight around her body, permitting little movement. The rope was rough and coarse. Chains chafed her legs. Around her neck, cold steel kept her in a relentless grip, allowing her only to stare straight ahead. The collar was connected by two tense cables, one stretching in front of her and one behind. Her eyes traveled once more down the length of the cable before her, locked into a heavy concrete base set into the bare floor.
Did it really tighten when she moved, or was that a claustrophobic illusion?
Always immobile, her legs ached from the ceaseless kneeling. If she could...just...manage...to shift her weight –
The collar wouldn’t have it.
Panic set upon her like a ravenous beast let loose from its pen. Leaning this way and that, just barely moving, and yet that damned collar strangled her. White-hot terror flared; she felt faint. Yet she could not afford to lose consciousness. If she slumped forward, the collar would see to it that she never breathed again.
Stiffening up, the panic was forced back down as the collar permitted air to fill her lungs again. Each inhalation was hungrier, more desperate than before. She kept very still.
It was then that she felt the hand on her back.
“There, there,” oozed the voice. “Don’t you ever learn?”
Somehow he was always able to approach her undetected, but he didn’t hide his movements otherwise. Perhaps he even reveled in her knowing when he was about to approach his...controls, whatever they were. Her body flinched when she heard those patent leather shoes tapping across the concrete somewhere behind her.
It began with no further preamble. Electric spikes coursed through the collar and forced their way through her body. Nerve endings seared. Her scream was ear-splitting, echoes multiplying into a hellish cacophony. As the pain intensified, reaching a crescendo, it happened as it had every time before.
Her body, wracked with excruciating spasms, expanded. Muscles bulged and hardened, skin stretched taut. She was growing. Yet her collar and bindings seemed no more or less tight.
Just as quickly as it began, the pain stopped.
“You look tired, darling,” the voice oozed again.
You miserable fuck, she thought.
“It’s been a while since we made things interesting. I think it’s time we played another game.”
Permitting herself to loosen her rigid posture just slightly, she only rasped in response, refocusing on her breathing. She hated his terrible games.
“We’ll play Twenty Questions. The usual questions are off limits, of course,” the implied threat lacking all subtlety, “but I may even give more detailed answers than the simple “yes” or “no” questions require. I’m feeling generous.”
His footsteps resumed, and though unable to turn her head she caught a rare glimpse of him. Just on the edge of her peripheral vision, there stood the tiny man, small as a mouse, in his white shirt, black trousers, vest, and shoes, with dark hair combed back. She could never quite get a clear look at his face.
“You really are magnificent,” he said, suddenly rapturous. “Every part of you, those voluptuous breasts, disheveled hair, blazing eyes...everything is magnified, infused with...such radiance.”
This was not the first time he’d spoken like this. It made her feel sick.
“Now,” he seemed to collect himself, “let’s begin. Ask your first question.”
“FUCK! Y –!”
It felt like she’d been struck on the back of the head, another of the collar’s wretched tricks. For a moment she was blinded and nauseous. There was a pounding in her temples.
“I repeat,” his voice was steady, unperturbed. “Ask your first question.”
“Did you...bring me here to...kill me?”
“That’s your first no, but I’ll give you that one for free. Next question.”
“Have you always...gotten off...on...hurting people?”
“No, because I don’t get off on hurting people.”
The collar let loose its sting, she felt her skin burning. Even as she grit her teeth and waited out the pain, she wondered. How in the hell did that answer make sense? Was this game just one big mind fuck?
There had to be a way to draw him out further, if he wasn’t just bullshitting her.
“Did we...did we know each other?”
The pain was worse this time, like the electric spikes were digging further in, reaching for her spine. Once more the sound of her scream echoed throughout the room and her body steadily grew, she was getting bigger with each wicked jolt. It was a long moment before the lingering effect of it subsided as she waited, trembling. Her mind flailed, fighting against an undertow of sheer agony; what could she ask next?
“Is this for revenge...?”
Perhaps the question made no sense, considering the previous answer. But her mind was cloudy. Mercifully, pain did not leap upon her this time. Moments passed without a word.
“In a way, yes,” he finally answered, contemplative.
Her mind was racing now, trying to recapture any memory, any phantom face that might hold a clue. Who would hate her so much that they would put her through this torture? Who had she been?
“Did someone hire you to do this to me?”
Convulsing, the fingers of her right hand clenched her left arm, drawing blood. The pain this time was brief, but more intense than before. She hadn’t even managed a scream before the surge stopped. How big was she now? The bricks in the wall were beginning to look like toy blocks.
“I’m doing this for my pleasure alone.”
Rage like she had never known welled up inside her.
“HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?!”
This surge was no less intense than before. In fact, it had continued to get steadily worse. And yet the rage carried her over the maelstrom, a life raft, a precious dose of anesthetic.
“That wasn’t a yes or no question, darling.”
“FUCK! YOU!”
Another jolt, a brief convulsion, but still the anger buoyed her. She felt her body grow bigger, harder. Every muscle was tight.
Jaw set, teeth still clenched, she decided to venture some thinking out loud.
“You don’t want to kill me, you don’t get off on hurting people, we didn’t know each other, this is all for revenge, and yet you’re doing it for your own pleasure. Makes a whole fucking lot of sense. Here’s a question: are you a fucking psychopath?”
A laugh rang out, surprisingly high and brittle like a rattle of fine china.
“I’ll give you that one. I’ve never been formally diagnosed, but I’m certain I fit the criteria. This is a singularly selfish endeavor, and it will result in a lot of death and destruction if it all goes according to plan.”
“You said you weren’t going to kill me.”
“I don’t intend to kill you, no. In fact that would spoil everything. I chose you in part because you struck me as a survivor.”
“Then how is the result supposed to be dea – forget it.”
“You’re finally learning!”
“Fuck off, you little bastard.”
“Hmm.”
He sounded...content?
Sadistic fucker. Rodent. WORM!
Rage began to fill the places in her mind that reason had abandoned.
If she could only stand up, she would turn to him and...
She stared ahead, through the dark veil of her hair and the blur of the tears she couldn’t wipe away. A feeling nagged at her.
This wasn’t all just a big mind fuck meant to drive her insane. Within this game, he was dangling the answer on the periphery of her vision. It lingered just out of sight, as he always did.
Somehow, this did make sense.
“This is for revenge, yet no one hired you to do this. Did someone put you up to it?”
Pain flared and radiated through her spine, setting every limb and extremity on fire. Her body surged again with growth. For the first time, she felt her head brush the ceiling.
The onslaught once again subsided.
“This was entirely my own doing,” he said, and then, barely audible under his breath, added “holy hell. You’re...enormous.”
“No...nobody...” she gasped, the aftershock still lingering, “nobody...put you up to this...all...you...all for...you.”
“All for me.”
“For...revenge...all for you. But we...never met! You...said so!”
Her lungs were still burning.
“Is it...how can it be...is it your re...revenge? F-FUCK!”
The ceiling seemed to descend upon her, threatening to crush her. The pain was beyond all measure. She could barely think.
“Is it MY reven...revenge, you little...fuck?! Is that what you want? Because I WILL have it!”
Fury once again buoyed her against the pain and claustrophobia, and she felt her arms pushing, pushing...strengthening...
Are the ropes...tearing apart?
In the midst of the storm she found one more fleeting moment of lucidity, though it tempered neither her pain nor her anger.
“I don’t know why you’ve done this to me, why you’ve made me into...this! But you are going to regret it. I will NOT be kept here forever! I am going to break free of these fucking ropes, and this fucking collar, and these fucking chains. And then I’m going to take you, and tear you apart...piece by piece. And I’m going to make it last. And then I’m going to take whatever is left, and I’m going to smash you into fucking PASTE!”
As she said it, the ropes binding her wrists did seem to give slightly, and the chains didn’t seem so strong, and for the first time, she felt like she could pry the collar off with her bare hands, if only she could get them free...
What next gave her pause wasn’t the usual electric torture, but the little man’s voice, now so far away, so far below, so...small. He sounded like...was he...?
“Fuck, are you...are you getting off on this?!”
“You weren’t wrong!”
He moaned, ecstatic and sickening.
“In fact, you’re nearly there now! Fight! Fight it! Tell me how you’re going to punish me, torture me, CRUSH ME! Soon I won’t be able to stop you, will I? You’re so...colossal. You’re still growing! The room won’t be able to hold you! Nothing will! Show me how powerful you are, how fucking BIG you are! Destroy me!”
The pain returned and this time showed no sign of stopping. And yet somehow she felt...almost at one with it, as it lit up every nerve ending in her body. The ceiling pressed her head down. Her body shifted, pushing against the metal cables of her collar, breath held. She could visualize putting all her weight to the side and yanking those metal cables out of the concrete floor. The rope was straining. She was sure of it. Her strength was growing with her size. Consciousness was driven back to shadow.
Instinct and rage guided each thought now, working in concert, each with its own singular goal.
No more questions, no more explanations.
Instinct demanded that she break free. Tear this place apart, brick by brick. Smash anything that stood in her way.
Her rage only demanded that she give the little man exactly what he wanted, what he had wanted all along.
Had she found herself bound up in this massive room mere days ago?
Had it been weeks, even months?
She might have been here forever.
In these moments of reprieve (did they last a minute or an hour?) she felt her breathing. Each gasp was ragged, desperate. Hunger gnawed without mercy. Cold pinpricks of sweat trickled down her face and slithered along the hunched curve of her back, mingling with the blood.
She could tell the two apart. The blood ran hot.
Behind, her hands strained against the bindings. Her wrists entwined and held fast to a harness tight around her body, permitting little movement. The rope was rough and coarse. Chains chafed her legs. Around her neck, cold steel kept her in a relentless grip, allowing her only to stare straight ahead. The collar was connected by two tense cables, one stretching in front of her and one behind. Her eyes traveled once more down the length of the cable before her, locked into a heavy concrete base set into the bare floor.
Did it really tighten when she moved, or was that a claustrophobic illusion?
Always immobile, her legs ached from the ceaseless kneeling. If she could...just...manage...to shift her weight –
The collar wouldn’t have it.
Panic set upon her like a ravenous beast let loose from its pen. Leaning this way and that, just barely moving, and yet that damned collar strangled her. White-hot terror flared; she felt faint. Yet she could not afford to lose consciousness. If she slumped forward, the collar would see to it that she never breathed again.
Stiffening up, the panic was forced back down as the collar permitted air to fill her lungs again. Each inhalation was hungrier, more desperate than before. She kept very still.
It was then that she felt the hand on her back.
“There, there,” oozed the voice. “Don’t you ever learn?”
Somehow he was always able to approach her undetected, but he didn’t hide his movements otherwise. Perhaps he even reveled in her knowing when he was about to approach his...controls, whatever they were. Her body flinched when she heard those patent leather shoes tapping across the concrete somewhere behind her.
It began with no further preamble. Electric spikes coursed through the collar and forced their way through her body. Nerve endings seared. Her scream was ear-splitting, echoes multiplying into a hellish cacophony. As the pain intensified, reaching a crescendo, it happened as it had every time before.
Her body, wracked with excruciating spasms, expanded. Muscles bulged and hardened, skin stretched taut. She was growing. Yet her collar and bindings seemed no more or less tight.
Just as quickly as it began, the pain stopped.
“You look tired, darling,” the voice oozed again.
You miserable fuck, she thought.
“It’s been a while since we made things interesting. I think it’s time we played another game.”
Permitting herself to loosen her rigid posture just slightly, she only rasped in response, refocusing on her breathing. She hated his terrible games.
“We’ll play Twenty Questions. The usual questions are off limits, of course,” the implied threat lacking all subtlety, “but I may even give more detailed answers than the simple “yes” or “no” questions require. I’m feeling generous.”
His footsteps resumed, and though unable to turn her head she caught a rare glimpse of him. Just on the edge of her peripheral vision, there stood the tiny man, small as a mouse, in his white shirt, black trousers, vest, and shoes, with dark hair combed back. She could never quite get a clear look at his face.
“You really are magnificent,” he said, suddenly rapturous. “Every part of you, those voluptuous breasts, disheveled hair, blazing eyes...everything is magnified, infused with...such radiance.”
This was not the first time he’d spoken like this. It made her feel sick.
“Now,” he seemed to collect himself, “let’s begin. Ask your first question.”
“FUCK! Y –!”
It felt like she’d been struck on the back of the head, another of the collar’s wretched tricks. For a moment she was blinded and nauseous. There was a pounding in her temples.
“I repeat,” his voice was steady, unperturbed. “Ask your first question.”
“Did you...bring me here to...kill me?”
“That’s your first no, but I’ll give you that one for free. Next question.”
“Have you always...gotten off...on...hurting people?”
“No, because I don’t get off on hurting people.”
The collar let loose its sting, she felt her skin burning. Even as she grit her teeth and waited out the pain, she wondered. How in the hell did that answer make sense? Was this game just one big mind fuck?
There had to be a way to draw him out further, if he wasn’t just bullshitting her.
“Did we...did we know each other?”
The pain was worse this time, like the electric spikes were digging further in, reaching for her spine. Once more the sound of her scream echoed throughout the room and her body steadily grew, she was getting bigger with each wicked jolt. It was a long moment before the lingering effect of it subsided as she waited, trembling. Her mind flailed, fighting against an undertow of sheer agony; what could she ask next?
“Is this for revenge...?”
Perhaps the question made no sense, considering the previous answer. But her mind was cloudy. Mercifully, pain did not leap upon her this time. Moments passed without a word.
“In a way, yes,” he finally answered, contemplative.
Her mind was racing now, trying to recapture any memory, any phantom face that might hold a clue. Who would hate her so much that they would put her through this torture? Who had she been?
“Did someone hire you to do this to me?”
Convulsing, the fingers of her right hand clenched her left arm, drawing blood. The pain this time was brief, but more intense than before. She hadn’t even managed a scream before the surge stopped. How big was she now? The bricks in the wall were beginning to look like toy blocks.
“I’m doing this for my pleasure alone.”
Rage like she had never known welled up inside her.
“HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?!”
This surge was no less intense than before. In fact, it had continued to get steadily worse. And yet the rage carried her over the maelstrom, a life raft, a precious dose of anesthetic.
“That wasn’t a yes or no question, darling.”
“FUCK! YOU!”
Another jolt, a brief convulsion, but still the anger buoyed her. She felt her body grow bigger, harder. Every muscle was tight.
Jaw set, teeth still clenched, she decided to venture some thinking out loud.
“You don’t want to kill me, you don’t get off on hurting people, we didn’t know each other, this is all for revenge, and yet you’re doing it for your own pleasure. Makes a whole fucking lot of sense. Here’s a question: are you a fucking psychopath?”
A laugh rang out, surprisingly high and brittle like a rattle of fine china.
“I’ll give you that one. I’ve never been formally diagnosed, but I’m certain I fit the criteria. This is a singularly selfish endeavor, and it will result in a lot of death and destruction if it all goes according to plan.”
“You said you weren’t going to kill me.”
“I don’t intend to kill you, no. In fact that would spoil everything. I chose you in part because you struck me as a survivor.”
“Then how is the result supposed to be dea – forget it.”
“You’re finally learning!”
“Fuck off, you little bastard.”
“Hmm.”
He sounded...content?
Sadistic fucker. Rodent. WORM!
Rage began to fill the places in her mind that reason had abandoned.
If she could only stand up, she would turn to him and...
She stared ahead, through the dark veil of her hair and the blur of the tears she couldn’t wipe away. A feeling nagged at her.
This wasn’t all just a big mind fuck meant to drive her insane. Within this game, he was dangling the answer on the periphery of her vision. It lingered just out of sight, as he always did.
Somehow, this did make sense.
“This is for revenge, yet no one hired you to do this. Did someone put you up to it?”
Pain flared and radiated through her spine, setting every limb and extremity on fire. Her body surged again with growth. For the first time, she felt her head brush the ceiling.
The onslaught once again subsided.
“This was entirely my own doing,” he said, and then, barely audible under his breath, added “holy hell. You’re...enormous.”
“No...nobody...” she gasped, the aftershock still lingering, “nobody...put you up to this...all...you...all for...you.”
“All for me.”
“For...revenge...all for you. But we...never met! You...said so!”
Her lungs were still burning.
“Is it...how can it be...is it your re...revenge? F-FUCK!”
The ceiling seemed to descend upon her, threatening to crush her. The pain was beyond all measure. She could barely think.
“Is it MY reven...revenge, you little...fuck?! Is that what you want? Because I WILL have it!”
Fury once again buoyed her against the pain and claustrophobia, and she felt her arms pushing, pushing...strengthening...
Are the ropes...tearing apart?
In the midst of the storm she found one more fleeting moment of lucidity, though it tempered neither her pain nor her anger.
“I don’t know why you’ve done this to me, why you’ve made me into...this! But you are going to regret it. I will NOT be kept here forever! I am going to break free of these fucking ropes, and this fucking collar, and these fucking chains. And then I’m going to take you, and tear you apart...piece by piece. And I’m going to make it last. And then I’m going to take whatever is left, and I’m going to smash you into fucking PASTE!”
As she said it, the ropes binding her wrists did seem to give slightly, and the chains didn’t seem so strong, and for the first time, she felt like she could pry the collar off with her bare hands, if only she could get them free...
What next gave her pause wasn’t the usual electric torture, but the little man’s voice, now so far away, so far below, so...small. He sounded like...was he...?
“Fuck, are you...are you getting off on this?!”
“You weren’t wrong!”
He moaned, ecstatic and sickening.
“In fact, you’re nearly there now! Fight! Fight it! Tell me how you’re going to punish me, torture me, CRUSH ME! Soon I won’t be able to stop you, will I? You’re so...colossal. You’re still growing! The room won’t be able to hold you! Nothing will! Show me how powerful you are, how fucking BIG you are! Destroy me!”
The pain returned and this time showed no sign of stopping. And yet somehow she felt...almost at one with it, as it lit up every nerve ending in her body. The ceiling pressed her head down. Her body shifted, pushing against the metal cables of her collar, breath held. She could visualize putting all her weight to the side and yanking those metal cables out of the concrete floor. The rope was straining. She was sure of it. Her strength was growing with her size. Consciousness was driven back to shadow.
Instinct and rage guided each thought now, working in concert, each with its own singular goal.
No more questions, no more explanations.
Instinct demanded that she break free. Tear this place apart, brick by brick. Smash anything that stood in her way.
Her rage only demanded that she give the little man exactly what he wanted, what he had wanted all along.
Buy J. M. Wilde's giantess erotica "Just a Drop" eBook at Smashwords!
Buy J. M. Wilde's giantess erotica "Just a Drop" eBook on Kindle!
Buy J. M. Wilde's giantess erotica "Just a Drop" eBook on Kindle!
Text Copyright 2019
All text and writings are copyright J. M. Wilde unless otherwise noted.
All text and writings are copyright J. M. Wilde unless otherwise noted.