The Giantess in the InfieldBy williePart I"The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play." That's howErnest L. Thayer wrote it in the Sunday Edition of the San Francisco Examiner inJune of 1888. Of course he was writing about a slugger named Casey, on a strongteam known as the Mudville Nine. I'm writing about a struggling team known asthe Philadelphia Phillies, who for the second year in a row were trying to getthe first overall pick in the draft. Actually I'm not exactly writing about thePhillies. I'm writing about an incident that occurred during a Phillies game.
The Phillies were visiting the Boston Red Sox in an inter-league game. I was intown on business and came across two tickets. I had no choice but to ask my bossto join me at Fenway Park that muggy evening. He and I had spent the last threedays together attending a sales meeting and, believe me, I was getting sick ofhis nerdy ways. Like the famous poem, the score did stand four to two.
Unfortunately for me and my favorite team ever since I can remember, the fourbelonged to Boston.
The score had been four to nothing, thanks mainly to a shortstop named Nomar,until the top of the seventh inning when Scott Rolen, with two out, doubled.
Lieberthal, who had already fanned twice, followed with a deep fly ball thatwould have been an easy out at the Vet where the Phillies played their homegames. The ball had plenty of height and just enough distance to clear the veryshort in distance and very tall in height left field fence known as the greenmonster. The home run brought the Phillies to within two. Unlike the famouspoem, we still had two at bats to go.
It was during the seventh inning stretch that the real action at Fenway began,and not on the field. I had just sang the part about the cracker jack when Inoticed a commotion in the stands in deep center field. I tore my eyes off thefat kid with the Red SOX cap three rows down and one section over who wasdigging up his nose for some buried Cracker Jack treasure, and looked toward thedisturbance.
My boring boss and I were sitting behind the plate so we couldn't quite see whatwas going on at the far end of the stadium. I figured it was a fight between twoobnoxious Bostonians until I saw the growing woman step onto the field. My jawwent from "root root root for the home team" to "what the..." Stepping over thecenter field fence was a woman rapidly growing to the height of the left fieldwall.
The organist made it as far as "at the old ball" before his fingers stoppedworking. The word "game" never got it's chance that night to shine.
My moron of a boss was into the second go around, alone of course, before he sawthe growing woman on the other side of the playing field. By that time, Everettin center field along with his fellow outfielders, was making a run for thedugout. Mass chaos erupted in the outfield bleachers as frightened fansstampeded into the concourse. The growing woman ignored them. She took two giantsteps toward second base and stopped to look around. The Red Sox infield dashedfor their dugout. The umpires didn't know what to do.
The giant woman, who was nude except for a few tattered shreds of clothing,scanned the crowd once and moved toward the second base bag. When she reachedsecond base, she was twice as tall as the green monster and still growing. Twoof the base umpires were off the field, but the blue standing to the right ofsecond, held his ground. He stood motionless, staring at the huge breasts fiftyfeet above him.
"Run for it Eric," yelled the other three umps, but Eric was frozen in histracks. I couldn't tell if it was fear that had his body petrified like millionyear old wood, or if it was lust for the goddess that towered over him, but thesecond base umpire didn't move; at least not until he was forced to move.
The giantess, who had finally stopped growing when she was a whole head tallerthan the stadium, looked down and saw the tiny umpire gawking up at her. Sheshook her head, allowing her thick mantle of hair to flow from side to sidesending a cool breeze throughout the stands that broke through the warm summerair like a Canadian clipper. What the giant woman did next made my boss shriekout load and grab my arm so tightly, he left a five fingered bruise. She liftedher left foot and moved it toward the second base umpire. By the time Ericlooked away from her beautiful gaze and saw what was rapidly approaching, it wastoo late. A giant foot hit him from the side and knocked him flat on his back.
That same foot hovered over his quaking body for a few hour long seconds beforeit descended upon the poor man, removing him from the view of the remaining tenthousand loyal fans.
A collective gasp resounded from the stands as the giantess put half of her fivehundred thousand pound weight onto her left foot. The exposed and flaling lefthand of the umpire under it was instantly stilled. The first base coach, who wasrunning toward second base, like he was attempting a steal, stopped cold. Herealized he wasn't going to be able to help poor Eric after all, so he quicklyturned and sprinted back toward first base and the safety of the dugout beyond.
The giantess in the infield once again looked into the stands. Her search beganin right field near the foul pole and moved methodically toward the infieldseats. She was obviously looking for something, or someone.
She didn't seem at all interested in the fleeing Red Sox fans along the rightfield foul line. She looked briefly into the Red Sox dugout and smirked at itsemptiness. As her gaze moved into our part of the park, my boss stood up to runbut was knocked back into his seat by the fleeing multitude in our own section.
I myself didn't budge. I wanted to see what happened. I'd dreamt of giantessesmy whole life. Now that I finally saw one, I wasn't going to turn my back andrun like a coward. Besides, what were the odds that she'd go after me.
The giantess in the infield glanced over us and continued her sweep toward leftfield. When she hit the bleachers behind third base, her head stopped itsswivel. "It looks like somebody in the section behind third is in trouble," Isaid to my boss who was still sitting beside me.
"I don't think so," he answered shakily. I barely made out what she said.
"What's wrong boss?" I asked him. I always called him boss to his face. Behindhis back, he was known as Skippy. "This is a once in a lifetime event. Enjoyit.""Don't you know who that is?" he screamed. "Don't you recognize her?"I looked away from my boss and up toward the face of the giantess who was stillstanding on the expired second base umpire. I shrieked loudly. She was no longerstaring beyond third base. She was looking back in our direction. In fact, shewas looking directly at my boss and I.
"Who is she?" I asked with a new found concern. My boss never answered.
The giantess took three steps forward until her toes hit the base of thebackstop. I watched in utter amazement as she gazed down upon us. My boss wasshaking with terror. Either he was a coward or he knew something I didn't know.
I was thinking the latter was the case.
A thought jumped into my head as I stared up the firm thighs, past the giantsized womanhood, and over mountain sized breasts. With her face so far up in theair, I couldn't tell for sure if it was us she was looking at. That's when Iheard the quiet.
I instantly knew my previous thought was an erroneous one. The giantess had tobe looking at us. Fenway Park, the ball field that moments ago was filled withscreams of terror, was as quiet as a Catholic Church. I didn't need to pull myeyes away from the Medusa- like stare of the Goddess before us and look around.
I could tell by the quiet that we were the only two people still sitting in ourpart of the stadium.
The giantess then began to bend over and move her right hand toward us. I wanteddesperately to flee, but couldn't. I wasn't even able to move. It was like hergaze had turned my body to stone. I figured Skippy was in the same predicament.
As she bent over further and her red clawed fingers approached, I wondered whichone of us she was after. Skippy had said he recognized her, so maybe her beefwas with him. I tried to take some comfort with that train of thought as thegiant hand quickly approached, but deep down I knew I should recognize the giantface looming down on us. I just didn't know. What I did know was that my earlierfascination had turned to pure terror.
As the hand of the giantess drew near, my eyes broke free of the trance her eyesheld them with. I found I still couldn't move a muscle as I focused in on theapproaching giant hand. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to begrabbed by the hand; its fingers wrapped around my helpless body; my life at thewill of its owner's mercy. I sat there in a hard plastic seat petrified withfear wondering if I was the target of the beautiful giant female hand about toreach me.
The hand turned into a fist and stopped five feet from us. I gulped loudly. Iwas hit by a fowl smelling stench. At first I thought it came from the hand.
Then I realized it was the smell of piss. The coward next to me just wethimself. I wanted to say something to him but my mouth muscles were frozen also.
I stared at the large knuckles before for us a few seconds until one of themmoved. The knuckle of the forefinger moved upward slightly and the rest of thefinger unfolded in a flash. Its long red nail flew upward and came to rest mereinches from my boss's nose where it stayed for about five seconds. I guess itwas five seconds. Time at that moment in my life was hard to calculate.
I was about to let out a sigh of relief, thinking my boss was the one thegiantess wanted, when the giant finger moved. All at once I was looking up theshiny red polish. It seemed the giantess had changed her mind. Her thickfingernail was now tickling the tip of my nose. I felt my bladder begin to give,but despite my fear, I made my prostate stand up and be a man. The three beers Idrank during the game were not going to run down my leg.
I was preparing myself for the worst, being snatched out of my seat by an angrygiantess and swallowed whole where I'd spend days being slowly and painfullydigested, when the giant finger moved away. Once again it was addressing myboss.
The giantess had made her decision. Her hand lunged forward and swallowed Skippywhole. The fingers of the giant hand wrapped around his body entombingeverything but the top half of his head. The smooth white hand lifted him out ofhis seat. I'll never forget the look on his face as he moved away from me. Itwas the look of a man who was meeting not his maker, but the devil himself. Itwas the look of a man truly afraid to die.
Once the giantess had her victim, she stepped over me. Climbing up the rows ofseats behind me, she headed for the outer confines of Fenway Park. I foundmyself able to move again as I followed her ascent up and over the stadium. Istood and watched. Before she disappeared from view, she looked over hershoulder. I was the target of her gaze for sure this time. She gave me a sternlook that froze me in my stance. Although I had no idea who this beautiful giantwoman was and what she wanted from us, I knew I wasn't safe.
I grew lightheaded. My legs wanted to buckle but my mind knew my knees had tostay locked. I felt tired; like I had fallen asleep and was having a bad dream.
For a second I succumbed to the need of sleep. Still on my feet I dozed briefly,but my pounding heart immediately woke me. I tried to gain my senses, but eachtime I tried, my senses hid. I was in a living dream I couldn't awake from. ThenI heard sound.
"at the old ball game." The music ended. A swarm of chatter replaced it. Realitycame rushing back at me at warp speed. I remembered seeing a sped up view ofnighttime traffic at the Franklin institute in Philly once, with thousands ofheadlights whipping across the screen at the blink of an eye. It felt like I wasthe destination of all those speeding lights. Somehow they all hit me at onceand I was thrown into my seat. I opened my eyes and saw I was surrounded bypeople.
I looked around and saw normal surroundings for a ball game. The stands werefull of people. The hot dog vender was making a pass. The fat kid was stillpicking his nose. I looked out into the field. The Red Sox were taking theirpositions. And yes, good old second base umpire, Eric Greg, was alive and wellin all his immense form behind the bag. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Whatthe heck happened, I wondered.
My eyes remained closed for a good thirty seconds while I tried to figure it allout. I came to the conclusion that maybe I had just one beer too many. Iconvinced myself that the sausage sandwich I had eaten for dinner didn't help. Ireplayed what I could remember of the sequence in my mind. When I got to thepart where my boss was abducted, my eyes shot open and my head snapped towardthe seat next door.
I expected to see my overbearing boss chomping away on his popcorn and wipingthe left over butter onto his pant leg. What I saw was a seat occupied by a fewlone kernels. On the floor below his empty seat was the half full popcorn box.
Next to it was a puddle of what looked like beer. To say the least, I wasconcerned.
One thing was true about Skippy. He would not drop a box of anything he waseating until the last of it was through his disgusting pallet. To drop a wholehalf a carton of corn on the floor was unheard of. I looked from the yellowstained cardboard to the puddle. The floor outside the puddle was dry. Therewere no smaller puddles or droplets. It wasn't a puddle of beer. Had he droppedhis beer, the dirty floor beneath Skippy's seat would not have one single roundperfectly formed puddle. Down deep, where it always counts the most, I knew thepuddle I was looking at was a puddle of piss.
I wanted to leave Fenway Park immediately, but I was too scared to move. I hadvisions of an encore performance by Skippy's friend. I sat through a long bottomof the seventh, where the Phillies brutal relief pitching got pounded. With oneout in the top of the eighth, I decided I couldn't take it any more. I wassweating like a pig and my heart was pounding so hard, it was giving me aheadache. I stood up to leave, but the blood inside me didn't. I felt instantlylight-headed and fell back into my seat. I needed another minute.
I watched the Phillie centerfielder, Jerry Glanville, fly out to shallow right.
As he turned toward the visitor's dugout, I regained my footing and turnedtoward the aisle. As Glanville crossed the third base line, I squeezed past theknees of the fan holding the aisle seat. As Glanville stepped into the dugoutand Marlon Anderson stepped up to the plate, I turned away from the playingfield and headed toward the concourse and the end of my first bad baseballexperience ever.
Although we had all our expenses paid, including the fare for the game, Skippyhad refused to pay for parking. The tight-ass parked on a side street manyblocks away from the park. As I walked toward his car, I cursed Skippy for hisstupidity. I longed for the comfort of the rented Ford.
It seemed I spent more time looking over my shoulder during my trek for the carthan I spent looking ahead. The standing hairs on the back of my neck wereseeing something my eyes weren't aware of. As I approached the intersectionwhere I was to make a left, I realized I hadn't seen a single person since Ileft Fenway. That seemed not only extremely odd, but very eerie, like I hadmoved into the giantess's time frame again.
When I reached the stop sign and made a ninety degree turn, my fast paced walkturned into an all out run. I saw our cheap rental ahead. I reached into mypocket to fetch the car keys, but my pocket was empty. I tapped my other pocketwith my free hand. Again, no keys, just some spare change.
"Shit," I screamed. Skippy had driven. He had the keys. Now what was I supposedto do?I reached the car and pounded on the window glass until my hands hurt. My armswere getting tired and my hands were beginning to turn red, but I couldn't seemto regain my composure. That is until I heard a slight clank on the blacktopbehind me.
I froze. After a long deep breath I looked over my shoulder. On the road at myheels were the keys to the car. I wanted to pounce on them and get the hell outof Boston, but I knew they weren't a gift from God. The giantess was lurkingabout, toying with me like a giant female cat.
After another deep breath, I slowly bent my knees and reached for the keys. Iknew that if I made any sudden movements, I'd be pounced upon. At that moment intime I wished I was Stretch Armstrong, able to rubber band my arm three feetlonger and grab the stupid keys. No matter how much I wished, my right arm justwasn't growing any.
It took about thirty grueling seconds of bending and stretching before myfingers felt the hard coldness of metal. I grabbed the keys and quickly stoodup. My slow stealth approach was over. Adrenaline was now running the show.
I turned and found the square key. The round key was always reserved for thetrunk. Why? Who cared. As I stuck the square key into the lock, I saw a shadowmove across the same glass I had minutes ago been pounding on. My hand turned tothe left. Nothing. It twisted to the right. Click. I saw the shadow move acrossthe glass again.
"Shit," I said with nary a voice. As my right hand pulled the key out of thedoor, my left hand lifted the lever. The door opened. I dove inside. I wasalmost home. Then I felt something grab a hold of my feet. I screamed andgrabbed onto the edge of the seat, but my forward momentum reversed.
As my grip on the soft cotton failed, I grabbed for the steering wheel, but theentity that had me by the ankles was much too big and strong. As quickly as Ihad entered the safety of Skippy's rental, I was pulled into the harsh warmworld of the evil giantess.
I was quickly wrapped up in warm fingers and lifted at stomach emptying speedway up into the summer sky. When the motion stopped and I was able to calm myquaking gut, I slowly opened my eyes. What I saw made me gasp. I was face toface with the giantess.
Part IIThe giantess had her arm fully extended, so I was being given a full view of mytormenters face; and what a face it was. She looked much prettier now than shehad looked during the seventh inning stretch. She still looked equally as mad.
Her dark brown eyes seemed to shoot out sparks of orange fire. Her roundnostrils flared slightly, and the ends of her sensuous lips curled into a snarl.
She was deadly but beautiful. Then she spoke.
"You don't know who I am do you?" came the deep dark but soft voice. I didn'tanswer right away so she gave me a little squeeze. I looked away from her faceand down at her fingers that could at any moment squeeze the life out of myhelpless body. Her nails, painted the same dark color as her lips were longenough to enter one side of my body and exit the other.
I guess I took too long to answer because her thumb, which was already restingagainst my head, got impatient and forced my face into the side of herforefinger. She held me in this position into my lungs were about to panic.
"Answer me you little shit before I rip your head off with my thumb alone," thegiantess said as she relaxed her powerful digit. "Do you know who I am?"I took one deep breath and yelled "NO MAAM." The giantess chuckled. Themomentary smoothening of her face didn't make me feel any better. "I used towork for the same company you work for," she said moving me slightly closer toher face. "In fact we had the same boss.""Skippy?" I asked out loud not expecting to be heard. "Yes Skippy," she answeredbringing me even closer to her face. "That asshole fired me."Now I knew what she had against Skippy. But what did I do to warrant her wrath?I almost asked her, but she was continuously bringing me closer to her face.
Actually she was moving me closer to her mouth. I was afraid she was going toeat me.
"You see," the giantess continued. I could now feel her breath on my face. Itwas more humid than the evening. "I even had the same position as you."This time I did say something. "Oh shit.""Skippy fired me so he could hire you." The giantess went on. She was holding meso close to her seductive mouth that if I was able to move my arms, I'd reachher fat lower lip. "Now it's my time for revenge."I screamed. I'd have screamed longer if the fat slippery serpent of a tonguethat had been darting to and fro beyond the pearly whites before me hadn't shotout and enveloped my face. Then, the lips that I'd been gawking at, closedaround my neck allowing the tongue of the giantess to have its way with my face.
My face was being so abused by the wet but rough aggressor that I didn't evenfeel my clothes being ripped from my body by the long fat spears the giantesscalled her fingernails.
The whole time my face was in the giantess's mouth, I thought I was going to beeaten. I figured her tongue was doing the foreplay to my death. I wasn't yetprepared to die and didn't want to spend my last hours dissolving inside theacidic pit of a crazy giant woman. I also didn't want to be ground to pulp bytwo foot wide bicuspids. I was trying to say a Hail Mary when the facial abuseended.
The giantess, no longer in the infield, pulled me out of her mouth and onceagain held me before her face. This time her lower three fingers were open; herthumb and forefinger holding me from falling to my death. That's when I noticedI was naked. She bathed me with a cool blow from her lips that, despite theheat, sent a cold shiver down my spine. She then spoke.
"It took me months to find another job. I ran out of money, and lost myapartment. I had to move back home with my parents. Do you have any idea howhorrible that can be?" She had her hand clenched into a fist again with just myhead sticking out. The more she spoke, the tighter her grasp went, making itdifficult for me to breathe.
The giantess continued on her tirade. "I had to finally settle on a job in thiscrappy town. I hate it here. The weather sucks. The people are nasty. I want tomove as far away from this place as possible. I want to move to California; toSan Diego."The giantess took a breath and evidently noticed my beet red face that was aboutto pop off my body. She loosened up her fist. "I don't want you dead yet," shesaid meanly. "I've been here for two years waiting patiently for my chance. Imade friends with people at all the hotels. I gave them both your names. I askedthem all to call me if either one of you checked in. I got lucky. Both of youchecked in at the same time."The giantess uncurled her long fingers again, exposing my body from the chestdown. Again she moved me close to her mouth and her tongue came out to meet me;this time slowly. She licked me up and down a couple of times before sucking me,feet first into her mouth up to her palm. Only my face and the part of my chestthat wasn't underneath her forefinger was safe from the probing tongue. Thegiantess's palm was against her mouth and I was looking up her cavernousnostrils.
The giantess sucked on me for several minutes. Her relentless tongueconcentrated on my manhood. It felt unbelievably good; so good that I wasapproaching something I desperately did not want to do. Unfortunately I had nocontrol of the situation. I exploded inside the mouth that was stimulating me. Iclosed my eyes and just let it go. What choice did I have. From the moansvibrating my very soul, I knew my tormentor was enjoying herself too.
After I was finished emptying my tiny supply of soon to be disappointed spermcells into the giantess's mouth, I opened my eyes. Her hand was no longer nearher mouth. I was at the mercy of her lips alone. As I came down from my orgasmand stared into the oval openings above, I wondered what was next. I found outquickly.
The giantess spit me out. I freefell screaming for only a few seconds before Ilanded on her soft palm. Again she lifted her hand up to her face. This time sheheld her palm open. I sat, straddling her lifeline, too exhausted to move.
"How did you think you got the tickets to the game?" the giantess asked. "Thatbusboy who offered them to you was one of my people. I love baseball. Whatbetter place than a ball field to initiate my revenge." She smiled. "I know it'snot your fault. You didn't know I'd get fired so you could get hired. That wasthe assholes doing. That's why at this very moment he is surviving right wherehe belongs."My legs began to move despite themselves. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, asicker feeling than I already had. The sickness went all the way to my bowels.
Did she do what I was thinking she did?"I can tell by your response that you got the picture," the giantess said. Againshe closed her fist with only my head sticking out. "Your boss is now thoroughlyentrenched in his own kind. I shoved him so far up my ass I won't be seeing himfloating around my toilet bowl for days." With the news of my boss's imminentdemise, I fainted.
I came to after the giantess blew on my face again. She still held me eightstories high above the streets of Boston. "Don't worry," she whispered. Icouldn't take anymore but I was forced to endure. "I have a much better place inmind for you. Once you are secured in place, I'll shrink back to my normal sizeand you and your shit eating boss will shrink along with me. I will keep youboth untill I tire of you."The giantess then laughed out loud and brought her hand up to her lips again.
This time she gave my face a sensuous kiss that lasted almost forever. She thenbegan lowering me down her body. Over her chin and down her hard Adams Apple Iwent. The trek between her soft breasts would have been enjoyable underdifferent circumstances. Her belly was firm but the skin was baby soft. Then Ihit the rough terrain of shaved pubic hair; nubs that almost scraped the skinoff my chest.
Once I recovered from the burning of the skin on my torso, my other four senseskicked back in. My nose was center of the sense that was accosted next. Thestrong aroma of the giantess's womanhood attacked the sensitive receptors in mynose and ignited a fresh stirring in my own groin. How could a smell be so foulyet so fragrant; so powerful yet so soothing? My manhood, though spent, reactedinstantly. I knew by the burning in my balls.
I didn't linger long before my face was pressed into the giantess's throbbingpussy lips. She was definitely ready for me. She didn't mess around withforeplay. She shoved me head first into her warm moist vagina. And I thought thesummer air was humid. Once my head was in, the hand of the giantess didn't haveto do anything else. Her pussy wanted me so badly, it sucked me all the way in.
I felt its peristaltic contractions work me in deeper and deeper until the topof my head hit her cervix. I felt her cervix give as her vaginal walls continuedthere oscillations. Although half in shock, I was aware of the fact that I wasclose to entering the giantess' whom, where I'd be partially absorbed and turnedinto an embryo; sure to be reborn months later as the son of myself and thegiantess.
I don't remember much else of that weekend. I was inside the pussy of a woman. Ilived off her pussy. I was nourished with both oxygen and nutrition through hervaginal walls. I spent the time half in and half out of sleep, constantlymassaged by living flesh. I was in a semi-slumber wet dream and I wasn'tsuffering.
I didn't spend the entire time out of it. I'd awaken occasionally. At least I'dpartially awaken; each time with a renewed hard-on. I'd struggle a while,searching for freedom, all the while pleasuring the giantess. I never seemed tomake any headway. When the giantess had her fill of my stimulus, she'd simplyclamp down on me, stilling me instantly. Each time she did, a feeling of lust,fueled by her dominance, would come over me. The overwhelming power shepossessed would send me into an uncontrollable orgasm. My prostate would pumpdry loads until my balls ached. When I finished and had nothing more to give,I'd fall fast asleep, exhausted, where I'd re-enter my exotic dreamland.
Half asleep, half awake, I had no concept of how long I was being held captive.
I was losing my ability to know when I was asleep or when I was awake. I waspretty sure the dreams where my struggles ended in pain were waking dreams, butI wasn't sure. Somehow I did know that the amount of time I spent in my awarestate of sleep was growing less and less. I knew, as my deep slumbers seemed togrow longer, that if I didn't find my freedom soon, I'd fall into such a deepslumber that my sleep would turn into my knew reality. My old reality would begone. I'd totally loose conscious thought. Once my mind was out of the way, mybody would slowly begin to be assimilated by the internal sex organs of thewoman who owned me.
I remember one last bout of consciousness, my minds last stand, before myreality turned into dream. I wanted to make one final effort to crawl to freedombut my energy had been sucked away. I felt my extremities, not as arms and legs,but as the blood vessels and nerve endings of my vaginal cell. My heart nolonger pumped alone. It had turned into a tiny helper to a much greater lifeforce. I felt myself not as a tiny man surviving inside a giant vagina. I feltmyself as part of the vagina. I had been absorbed. I was at peace. I was where Ibelonged. I was also tired, so I slept.
*********************I woke in Skippy's rental car. My watch said it was Monday morning. I was aloneand nude. My cloths, or what was left of them, were on the seat next to me. Ilooked at the time. Something inside me set off an alarm. I was supposed to flyhome Sunday night. I missed my flight.
I looked at the ignition. The keys weren't in it. I almost panicked. I searchedthe seat and sorted through my clothes looking for them. Finally I spotted themon the passenger side floor. I shoved the square one into the ignition, startedthe car and put it in drive. I looked out the windshield. I couldn't see athing. It was pouring rain. No wonder she hated Boston. Who hated Boston? Wheredid that thought come from? It took me a few seconds to find the wiper button,but I succeeded. Once the coating of random droplets was out of the way, I wasable to see out of the car and get a fix on my location.
I immediately knew where I was. I was in the rental car parked in the same spotSkippy and I parked Friday night. Then my memory kicked back to life. Fridaynight; the baseball game; the giantess; Monday morning minus Friday night equalssixty hours. The thought of it made my right foot push the pedal to the medal. Ispent two and a half days inside the vagina of a giant woman. And I didn't evenknow her name.
I sped to the hotel. I wasn't sure if I knew the way, but somehow I arrived infront of its swinging doors. I had thrown on my clothes as I drove, not caringhow wrinkled and dirty they were. I parked the car into the valet area, lockedit so the attendant didn't drive it away, and entered the hotel. I ran to theelevator and saw half a dozen people waiting for the same elevator button toding. They were all gawking at me like I was some kind of alien. The thought ofwhat I looked like after spending a day and a half inside a vagina hadn't dawnedon me.
I turned and located the stairwell. Five seconds later I was pulling the metaldoor open. "Take a shower. You stink," I heard just before the door slammed shutbehind me. I hadn't thought of what I smelled like either. Thank God I only hadto climb five floors of steps to reach the floor my room was on.
I reached into my pocket, half expecting the credit card shaped key to bemissing, but luck was with me that morning. The key was there. The door clickedopen. The key still worked. I thanked my lucky stars that the desk clerk hadn'tgiven my room away. I was supposed to be out of the room by noon the day before.
I didn't think I was out of the giantess's vagina by noon of the day before.
I took a long shower and let the hot Boston water calm my nerves. When I wasconvinced the smell of pussy was off my external self, I got out of the showerand dressed into clean clothes. The smell of pussy may be gone, but it wouldtake days for the taste of pussy to go away. Normally I wouldn't want the tasteof pussy to go away. This was an unusual circumstance. I couldn't wait for thetaste and the memory to leave.
I drove to the airport, looking into the air and the rear view mirror more thanon the road, fearing another visit from my knew friend. I had a strong feelingthat I wasn't safe until after I got the out of Boston. I reached the airport,turned the car in and got in line at the ticket counter. I prayed I'd get aquick flight back to Philly.
Twenty minutes later I reached the counter. My neck was getting sore fromlooking over my shoulder. Once again that morning I got lucky. I got the lastseat on a plane leaving in thirty minutes. I stopped off at an airport bar onthe way to the terminal and had myself a Bloody Mary. As I sat nervously on thebarstool looking into my red drink, I couldn't help but wonder what my last twodays would have been like if the giantess had been having her period. Ishuddered and tried to change the subject of my thoughts.
I was overjoyed when I heard flight 309 was boarding. I grabbed my carry-on bagand boarded the plane. With the help of the drink, I was starting to feel safer.
Of course we sat on the runway for half an hour before we took off. I hadanother early morning drink. The stewardess gave it to me for free, during mywait. She said I looked like I needed it. When the plane finally lunged forward,I half expected it to make a sudden liftoff straight up at the hands of thegiantess, but it didn't. The taxi to the runway and the take-off were pictureperfect.
The plane took off towards the East and circled north then west before settingit's course Southwest towards my home town. I had a window seat so I looked outthe dirty plastic at the city I never again wanted to visit. At about the sametime the airplane's turn straightened out and my ears popped, I saw something. Isaw the giantess. She was standing in the middle of a four lane highway waving.
She was waving at me. The cars below her didn't look like they were moving atall. I realized that from the window of an airplane, nothing looked like it wasmoving. I knew, in this case, nothing really was moving. Somehow, she had thatpower.
Four hours later I has behind my desk. It had been a beautiful flight and aperfect landing. The bag I checked was the first bag off the conveyer. When Iwalked out of the airport, a cab was waiting. It took me straight home. I threwmy bag inside the house and jumped into my own Ford. I wanted to get to work asfast as possible. Sure I was late, but that's not what fueled my desire to getto the office. I wanted to see if my boss Skippy was there.
"Nice of you to join us Mr. Smith," said the receptionist as I walked into workwith other employees returning from lunch. I only looked at her briefly. I tookthe elevator up to the sixth floor like I had done for over a year. I steppedout of the shiny sliding door into the hallway and headed straight for my boss'soffice. When I got there I wasn't surprised. I was weak kneed, but didn't seeanything I hadn't expected. Skippy's office was as it was the previous weekbefore we left for our meeting in Boston. He hadn't yet made it back from Bostonand I feared he wouldn't ever.
My fears were confirmed when I left Skippy's office and his secretary saw me.
"What the heck happened up there that made Mr. Carpenter resign so suddenly?"she asked me.
"Resigned?" I repeated.
"His girlfriend called first thing this morning and said he was resigning." saidVivian, Skippy's personal secretary. "Ten minutes later we got a fax confirming.
The funny thing is the number the fax came from is a Boston exchange. I didn'tknow his girlfriend accompanied the two of you to Boston."I didn't know what to say so I didn't. I shook my head and went to my office.
Everybody knew that not only was Skippy single, he didn't have a girlfriend. Idon't think he ever had one. He was mid-fifties and probably still a virgin. Atleast he was until Friday night.
I went home early, ate something, and went to bed. Boy did I dream that night.
two years later"CRACK" sounded the night as the baseball exploded off the bat of Philly leftfielder Pat Burrell. A collective gasp from the loyal Padre fans followed. Theleft fielder turned his back to the infield and watched the ball sail over theleft field fence of Jack Russell Stadium and land high up in the bleaches. Hisattention was quickly drawn away from the ball. A ruccus was ensuing in the nextsection over.
I jumped up and shouted "Yes." I quickly sat back down among the gloom of thePadre fans. The Phillies had just taken a four to two lead on Burrell's blast.
Now it was up to their closer, Ricky Bottalico, to seal their victory.
I sat back and sipped my warm Budweiser as three Phillies crossed the plate. Itwas Friday night, a beautiful night for baseball. The Phillies were going towin. I had the whole weekend to spend myself in San Diego. Nothing could breakthe happy mood I was in.
Then I saw the left fielder pointing to something in the stands. He was shoutingto the center fielder. I looked into the general area they were gawking and sawsomething growing. My heart rate skyrocketed, reminding me of something thathappened two years ago; something that I had blocked off from the rest of mymemory and something that I hoped to never again remember.
As I watched the growing giantess step onto the field, the horror in the deepestcorners of my mind unfolded behind my eyes. I knew what the giantess wanted. Asshe strode up to second base, narrowly missing the fleeing ball players andumpires with her cadillac sized feet, she scanned the crowd. I knew who she waslooking for.
As the giantess in the infield cast her view into my section, our eyes locked.
No wonder that ticket behind the plate was so easy to get. I could try to fleealong with the rest of the people in the stadium, but I knew it wouldn't help. Idowned the last few swallows of my beer before the muscles in my body froze.
Unfortunately, my mind wasn't going to freeze untill I was tucked away nice andcozy in a warm moist tight living coffin. Some giantesses just never forgive.
