Giantess Stories: The Giantess in the Infield By willie     Part I

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The Giantess in the Infield

By willie

Part I

"The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play." That's how

Ernest L. Thayer wrote it in the Sunday Edition of the San Francisco Examiner in

June of 1888. Of course he was writing about a slugger named Casey, on a strong

team known as the Mudville Nine. I'm writing about a struggling team known as

the Philadelphia Phillies, who for the second year in a row were trying to get

the first overall pick in the draft. Actually I'm not exactly writing about the

Phillies. 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 in

town on business and came across two tickets. I had no choice but to ask my boss

to join me at Fenway Park that muggy evening. He and I had spent the last three

days together attending a sales meeting and, believe me, I was getting sick of

his 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 four

belonged 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 that

would have been an easy out at the Vet where the Phillies played their home

games. The ball had plenty of height and just enough distance to clear the very

short in distance and very tall in height left field fence known as the green

monster. The home run brought the Phillies to within two. Unlike the famous

poem, 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 I

noticed a commotion in the stands in deep center field. I tore my eyes off the

fat kid with the Red SOX cap three rows down and one section over who was

digging up his nose for some buried Cracker Jack treasure, and looked toward the

disturbance.

My boring boss and I were sitting behind the plate so we couldn't quite see what

was going on at the far end of the stadium. I figured it was a fight between two

obnoxious Bostonians until I saw the growing woman step onto the field. My jaw

went from "root root root for the home team" to "what the..." Stepping over the

center field fence was a woman rapidly growing to the height of the left field

wall.

The organist made it as far as "at the old ball" before his fingers stopped

working. 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 saw

the growing woman on the other side of the playing field. By that time, Everett

in center field along with his fellow outfielders, was making a run for the

dugout. Mass chaos erupted in the outfield bleachers as frightened fans

stampeded into the concourse. The growing woman ignored them. She took two giant

steps toward second base and stopped to look around. The Red Sox infield dashed

for 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 reached

second base, she was twice as tall as the green monster and still growing. Two

of the base umpires were off the field, but the blue standing to the right of

second, held his ground. He stood motionless, staring at the huge breasts fifty

feet above him.

"Run for it Eric," yelled the other three umps, but Eric was frozen in his

tracks. I couldn't tell if it was fear that had his body petrified like million

year old wood, or if it was lust for the goddess that towered over him, but the

second 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 taller

than the stadium, looked down and saw the tiny umpire gawking up at her. She

shook her head, allowing her thick mantle of hair to flow from side to side

sending a cool breeze throughout the stands that broke through the warm summer

air like a Canadian clipper. What the giant woman did next made my boss shriek

out load and grab my arm so tightly, he left a five fingered bruise. She lifted

her left foot and moved it toward the second base umpire. By the time Eric

looked away from her beautiful gaze and saw what was rapidly approaching, it was

too 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 before

it descended upon the poor man, removing him from the view of the remaining ten

thousand loyal fans.

A collective gasp resounded from the stands as the giantess put half of her five

hundred thousand pound weight onto her left foot. The exposed and flaling left

hand of the umpire under it was instantly stilled. The first base coach, who was

running toward second base, like he was attempting a steal, stopped cold. He

realized he wasn't going to be able to help poor Eric after all, so he quickly

turned 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 began

in right field near the foul pole and moved methodically toward the infield

seats. She was obviously looking for something, or someone.

She didn't seem at all interested in the fleeing Red Sox fans along the right

field foul line. She looked briefly into the Red Sox dugout and smirked at its

emptiness. As her gaze moved into our part of the park, my boss stood up to run

but 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 giantesses

my whole life. Now that I finally saw one, I wasn't going to turn my back and

run 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 left

field. When she hit the bleachers behind third base, her head stopped its

swivel. "It looks like somebody in the section behind third is in trouble," I

said 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. Behind

his back, he was known as Skippy. "This is a once in a lifetime event. Enjoy

it."

"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 still

standing on the expired second base umpire. I shrieked loudly. She was no longer

staring beyond third base. She was looking back in our direction. In fact, she

was 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 the

backstop. I watched in utter amazement as she gazed down upon us. My boss was

shaking 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 giant

sized womanhood, and over mountain sized breasts. With her face so far up in the

air, I couldn't tell for sure if it was us she was looking at. That's when I

heard the quiet.

I instantly knew my previous thought was an erroneous one. The giantess had to

be looking at us. Fenway Park, the ball field that moments ago was filled with

screams of terror, was as quiet as a Catholic Church. I didn't need to pull my

eyes 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 our

part of the stadium.

The giantess then began to bend over and move her right hand toward us. I wanted

desperately to flee, but couldn't. I wasn't even able to move. It was like her

gaze 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 which

one of us she was after. Skippy had said he recognized her, so maybe her beef

was with him. I tried to take some comfort with that train of thought as the

giant hand quickly approached, but deep down I knew I should recognize the giant

face looming down on us. I just didn't know. What I did know was that my earlier

fascination had turned to pure terror.

As the hand of the giantess drew near, my eyes broke free of the trance her eyes

held them with. I found I still couldn't move a muscle as I focused in on the

approaching giant hand. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be

grabbed by the hand; its fingers wrapped around my helpless body; my life at the

will of its owner's mercy. I sat there in a hard plastic seat petrified with

fear wondering if I was the target of the beautiful giant female hand about to

reach me.

The hand turned into a fist and stopped five feet from us. I gulped loudly. I

was 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 wet

himself. 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 them

moved. The knuckle of the forefinger moved upward slightly and the rest of the

finger unfolded in a flash. Its long red nail flew upward and came to rest mere

inches from my boss's nose where it stayed for about five seconds. I guess it

was 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 the

giantess wanted, when the giant finger moved. All at once I was looking up the

shiny red polish. It seemed the giantess had changed her mind. Her thick

fingernail 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 I

drank 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 angry

giantess and swallowed whole where I'd spend days being slowly and painfully

digested, when the giant finger moved away. Once again it was addressing my

boss.

The giantess had made her decision. Her hand lunged forward and swallowed Skippy

whole. The fingers of the giant hand wrapped around his body entombing

everything but the top half of his head. The smooth white hand lifted him out of

his seat. I'll never forget the look on his face as he moved away from me. It

was the look of a man who was meeting not his maker, but the devil himself. It

was the look of a man truly afraid to die.

Once the giantess had her victim, she stepped over me. Climbing up the rows of

seats behind me, she headed for the outer confines of Fenway Park. I found

myself able to move again as I followed her ascent up and over the stadium. I

stood and watched. Before she disappeared from view, she looked over her

shoulder. I was the target of her gaze for sure this time. She gave me a stern

look that froze me in my stance. Although I had no idea who this beautiful giant

woman 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 to

stay 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 each

time I tried, my senses hid. I was in a living dream I couldn't awake from. Then

I heard sound.

"at the old ball game." The music ended. A swarm of chatter replaced it. Reality

came rushing back at me at warp speed. I remembered seeing a sped up view of

nighttime traffic at the Franklin institute in Philly once, with thousands of

headlights whipping across the screen at the blink of an eye. It felt like I was

the destination of all those speeding lights. Somehow they all hit me at once

and I was thrown into my seat. I opened my eyes and saw I was surrounded by

people.

I looked around and saw normal surroundings for a ball game. The stands were

full of people. The hot dog vender was making a pass. The fat kid was still

picking his nose. I looked out into the field. The Red Sox were taking their

positions. And yes, good old second base umpire, Eric Greg, was alive and well

in all his immense form behind the bag. I closed my eyes and shook my head. What

the heck happened, I wondered.

My eyes remained closed for a good thirty seconds while I tried to figure it all

out. I came to the conclusion that maybe I had just one beer too many. I

convinced myself that the sausage sandwich I had eaten for dinner didn't help. I

replayed what I could remember of the sequence in my mind. When I got to the

part where my boss was abducted, my eyes shot open and my head snapped toward

the seat next door.

I expected to see my overbearing boss chomping away on his popcorn and wiping

the left over butter onto his pant leg. What I saw was a seat occupied by a few

lone 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 was

concerned.

One thing was true about Skippy. He would not drop a box of anything he was

eating until the last of it was through his disgusting pallet. To drop a whole

half a carton of corn on the floor was unheard of. I looked from the yellow

stained cardboard to the puddle. The floor outside the puddle was dry. There

were no smaller puddles or droplets. It wasn't a puddle of beer. Had he dropped

his beer, the dirty floor beneath Skippy's seat would not have one single round

perfectly formed puddle. Down deep, where it always counts the most, I knew the

puddle I was looking at was a puddle of piss.

I wanted to leave Fenway Park immediately, but I was too scared to move. I had

visions of an encore performance by Skippy's friend. I sat through a long bottom

of the seventh, where the Phillies brutal relief pitching got pounded. With one

out in the top of the eighth, I decided I couldn't take it any more. I was

sweating like a pig and my heart was pounding so hard, it was giving me a

headache. I stood up to leave, but the blood inside me didn't. I felt instantly

light-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 turned

toward the aisle. As Glanville crossed the third base line, I squeezed past the

knees of the fan holding the aisle seat. As Glanville stepped into the dugout

and Marlon Anderson stepped up to the plate, I turned away from the playing

field and headed toward the concourse and the end of my first bad baseball

experience ever.

Although we had all our expenses paid, including the fare for the game, Skippy

had refused to pay for parking. The tight-ass parked on a side street many

blocks away from the park. As I walked toward his car, I cursed Skippy for his

stupidity. I longed for the comfort of the rented Ford.

It seemed I spent more time looking over my shoulder during my trek for the car

than I spent looking ahead. The standing hairs on the back of my neck were

seeing something my eyes weren't aware of. As I approached the intersection

where I was to make a left, I realized I hadn't seen a single person since I

left Fenway. That seemed not only extremely odd, but very eerie, like I had

moved into the giantess's time frame again.

When I reached the stop sign and made a ninety degree turn, my fast paced walk

turned into an all out run. I saw our cheap rental ahead. I reached into my

pocket to fetch the car keys, but my pocket was empty. I tapped my other pocket

with my free hand. Again, no keys, just some spare change.

"Shit," I screamed. Skippy had driven. He had the keys. Now what was I supposed

to do?

I reached the car and pounded on the window glass until my hands hurt. My arms

were getting tired and my hands were beginning to turn red, but I couldn't seem

to regain my composure. That is until I heard a slight clank on the blacktop

behind me.

I froze. After a long deep breath I looked over my shoulder. On the road at my

heels were the keys to the car. I wanted to pounce on them and get the hell out

of Boston, but I knew they weren't a gift from God. The giantess was lurking

about, toying with me like a giant female cat.

After another deep breath, I slowly bent my knees and reached for the keys. I

knew that if I made any sudden movements, I'd be pounced upon. At that moment in

time I wished I was Stretch Armstrong, able to rubber band my arm three feet

longer and grab the stupid keys. No matter how much I wished, my right arm just

wasn't growing any.

It took about thirty grueling seconds of bending and stretching before my

fingers felt the hard coldness of metal. I grabbed the keys and quickly stood

up. 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 the

trunk. Why? Who cared. As I stuck the square key into the lock, I saw a shadow

move across the same glass I had minutes ago been pounding on. My hand turned to

the left. Nothing. It twisted to the right. Click. I saw the shadow move across

the glass again.

"Shit," I said with nary a voice. As my right hand pulled the key out of the

door, my left hand lifted the lever. The door opened. I dove inside. I was

almost home. Then I felt something grab a hold of my feet. I screamed and

grabbed 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 the

entity that had me by the ankles was much too big and strong. As quickly as I

had entered the safety of Skippy's rental, I was pulled into the harsh warm

world of the evil giantess.

I was quickly wrapped up in warm fingers and lifted at stomach emptying speed

way up into the summer sky. When the motion stopped and I was able to calm my

quaking gut, I slowly opened my eyes. What I saw made me gasp. I was face to

face with the giantess.

Part II

The giantess had her arm fully extended, so I was being given a full view of my

tormenters face; and what a face it was. She looked much prettier now than she

had 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 round

nostrils 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't

answer right away so she gave me a little squeeze. I looked away from her face

and down at her fingers that could at any moment squeeze the life out of my

helpless body. Her nails, painted the same dark color as her lips were long

enough 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 resting

against my head, got impatient and forced my face into the side of her

forefinger. 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," the

giantess 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. The

momentary smoothening of her face didn't make me feel any better. "I used to

work for the same company you work for," she said moving me slightly closer to

her face. "In fact we had the same boss."

"Skippy?" I asked out loud not expecting to be heard. "Yes Skippy," she answered

bringing 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 to

eat me.

"You see," the giantess continued. I could now feel her breath on my face. It

was 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 me

so close to her seductive mouth that if I was able to move my arms, I'd reach

her fat lower lip. "Now it's my time for revenge."

I screamed. I'd have screamed longer if the fat slippery serpent of a tongue

that had been darting to and fro beyond the pearly whites before me hadn't shot

out and enveloped my face. Then, the lips that I'd been gawking at, closed

around 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 even

feel my clothes being ripped from my body by the long fat spears the giantess

called her fingernails.

The whole time my face was in the giantess's mouth, I thought I was going to be

eaten. I figured her tongue was doing the foreplay to my death. I wasn't yet

prepared to die and didn't want to spend my last hours dissolving inside the

acidic pit of a crazy giant woman. I also didn't want to be ground to pulp by

two foot wide bicuspids. I was trying to say a Hail Mary when the facial abuse

ended.

The giantess, no longer in the infield, pulled me out of her mouth and once

again held me before her face. This time her lower three fingers were open; her

thumb and forefinger holding me from falling to my death. That's when I noticed

I was naked. She bathed me with a cool blow from her lips that, despite the

heat, 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 my

apartment. I had to move back home with my parents. Do you have any idea how

horrible that can be?" She had her hand clenched into a fist again with just my

head sticking out. The more she spoke, the tighter her grasp went, making it

difficult for me to breathe.

The giantess continued on her tirade. "I had to finally settle on a job in this

crappy town. I hate it here. The weather sucks. The people are nasty. I want to

move as far away from this place as possible. I want to move to California; to

San Diego."

The giantess took a breath and evidently noticed my beet red face that was about

to pop off my body. She loosened up her fist. "I don't want you dead yet," she

said meanly. "I've been here for two years waiting patiently for my chance. I

made friends with people at all the hotels. I gave them both your names. I asked

them all to call me if either one of you checked in. I got lucky. Both of you

checked in at the same time."

The giantess uncurled her long fingers again, exposing my body from the chest

down. 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 chest

that wasn't underneath her forefinger was safe from the probing tongue. The

giantess's palm was against her mouth and I was looking up her cavernous

nostrils.

The giantess sucked on me for several minutes. Her relentless tongue

concentrated on my manhood. It felt unbelievably good; so good that I was

approaching something I desperately did not want to do. Unfortunately I had no

control of the situation. I exploded inside the mouth that was stimulating me. I

closed my eyes and just let it go. What choice did I have. From the moans

vibrating my very soul, I knew my tormentor was enjoying herself too.

After I was finished emptying my tiny supply of soon to be disappointed sperm

cells into the giantess's mouth, I opened my eyes. Her hand was no longer near

her mouth. I was at the mercy of her lips alone. As I came down from my orgasm

and stared into the oval openings above, I wondered what was next. I found out

quickly.

The giantess spit me out. I freefell screaming for only a few seconds before I

landed on her soft palm. Again she lifted her hand up to her face. This time she

held 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. "That

busboy who offered them to you was one of my people. I love baseball. What

better place than a ball field to initiate my revenge." She smiled. "I know it's

not your fault. You didn't know I'd get fired so you could get hired. That was

the assholes doing. That's why at this very moment he is surviving right where

he belongs."

My legs began to move despite themselves. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, a

sicker 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. Again

she closed her fist with only my head sticking out. "Your boss is now thoroughly

entrenched in his own kind. I shoved him so far up my ass I won't be seeing him

floating around my toilet bowl for days." With the news of my boss's imminent

demise, I fainted.

I came to after the giantess blew on my face again. She still held me eight

stories high above the streets of Boston. "Don't worry," she whispered. I

couldn't take anymore but I was forced to endure. "I have a much better place in

mind for you. Once you are secured in place, I'll shrink back to my normal size

and you and your shit eating boss will shrink along with me. I will keep you

both 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 then

began lowering me down her body. Over her chin and down her hard Adams Apple I

went. The trek between her soft breasts would have been enjoyable under

different circumstances. Her belly was firm but the skin was baby soft. Then I

hit the rough terrain of shaved pubic hair; nubs that almost scraped the skin

off my chest.

Once I recovered from the burning of the skin on my torso, my other four senses

kicked back in. My nose was center of the sense that was accosted next. The

strong aroma of the giantess's womanhood attacked the sensitive receptors in my

nose and ignited a fresh stirring in my own groin. How could a smell be so foul

yet so fragrant; so powerful yet so soothing? My manhood, though spent, reacted

instantly. I knew by the burning in my balls.

I didn't linger long before my face was pressed into the giantess's throbbing

pussy lips. She was definitely ready for me. She didn't mess around with

foreplay. She shoved me head first into her warm moist vagina. And I thought the

summer air was humid. Once my head was in, the hand of the giantess didn't have

to 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 top

of my head hit her cervix. I felt her cervix give as her vaginal walls continued

there oscillations. Although half in shock, I was aware of the fact that I was

close to entering the giantess' whom, where I'd be partially absorbed and turned

into an embryo; sure to be reborn months later as the son of myself and the

giantess.

I don't remember much else of that weekend. I was inside the pussy of a woman. I

lived off her pussy. I was nourished with both oxygen and nutrition through her

vaginal walls. I spent the time half in and half out of sleep, constantly

massaged by living flesh. I was in a semi-slumber wet dream and I wasn't

suffering.

I didn't spend the entire time out of it. I'd awaken occasionally. At least I'd

partially 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 to

make any headway. When the giantess had her fill of my stimulus, she'd simply

clamp 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 she

possessed would send me into an uncontrollable orgasm. My prostate would pump

dry 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 was

pretty sure the dreams where my struggles ended in pain were waking dreams, but

I wasn't sure. Somehow I did know that the amount of time I spent in my aware

state of sleep was growing less and less. I knew, as my deep slumbers seemed to

grow longer, that if I didn't find my freedom soon, I'd fall into such a deep

slumber that my sleep would turn into my knew reality. My old reality would be

gone. I'd totally loose conscious thought. Once my mind was out of the way, my

body would slowly begin to be assimilated by the internal sex organs of the

woman who owned me.

I remember one last bout of consciousness, my minds last stand, before my

reality turned into dream. I wanted to make one final effort to crawl to freedom

but 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 no

longer pumped alone. It had turned into a tiny helper to a much greater life

force. I felt myself not as a tiny man surviving inside a giant vagina. I felt

myself as part of the vagina. I had been absorbed. I was at peace. I was where I

belonged. I was also tired, so I slept.

*********************

I woke in Skippy's rental car. My watch said it was Monday morning. I was alone

and nude. My cloths, or what was left of them, were on the seat next to me. I

looked at the time. Something inside me set off an alarm. I was supposed to fly

home Sunday night. I missed my flight.

I looked at the ignition. The keys weren't in it. I almost panicked. I searched

the seat and sorted through my clothes looking for them. Finally I spotted them

on the passenger side floor. I shoved the square one into the ignition, started

the car and put it in drive. I looked out the windshield. I couldn't see a

thing. It was pouring rain. No wonder she hated Boston. Who hated Boston? Where

did 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 was

able 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 spot

Skippy and I parked Friday night. Then my memory kicked back to life. Friday

night; the baseball game; the giantess; Monday morning minus Friday night equals

sixty hours. The thought of it made my right foot push the pedal to the medal. I

spent two and a half days inside the vagina of a giant woman. And I didn't even

know her name.

I sped to the hotel. I wasn't sure if I knew the way, but somehow I arrived in

front of its swinging doors. I had thrown on my clothes as I drove, not caring

how wrinkled and dirty they were. I parked the car into the valet area, locked

it so the attendant didn't drive it away, and entered the hotel. I ran to the

elevator and saw half a dozen people waiting for the same elevator button to

ding. They were all gawking at me like I was some kind of alien. The thought of

what I looked like after spending a day and a half inside a vagina hadn't dawned

on me.

I turned and located the stairwell. Five seconds later I was pulling the metal

door open. "Take a shower. You stink," I heard just before the door slammed shut

behind me. I hadn't thought of what I smelled like either. Thank God I only had

to 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 be

missing, but luck was with me that morning. The key was there. The door clicked

open. The key still worked. I thanked my lucky stars that the desk clerk hadn't

given 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 was

convinced the smell of pussy was off my external self, I got out of the shower

and dressed into clean clothes. The smell of pussy may be gone, but it would

take days for the taste of pussy to go away. Normally I wouldn't want the taste

of pussy to go away. This was an unusual circumstance. I couldn't wait for the

taste and the memory to leave.

I drove to the airport, looking into the air and the rear view mirror more than

on the road, fearing another visit from my knew friend. I had a strong feeling

that 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 a

quick flight back to Philly.

Twenty minutes later I reached the counter. My neck was getting sore from

looking over my shoulder. Once again that morning I got lucky. I got the last

seat on a plane leaving in thirty minutes. I stopped off at an airport bar on

the way to the terminal and had myself a Bloody Mary. As I sat nervously on the

barstool looking into my red drink, I couldn't help but wonder what my last two

days would have been like if the giantess had been having her period. I

shuddered and tried to change the subject of my thoughts.

I was overjoyed when I heard flight 309 was boarding. I grabbed my carry-on bag

and 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 had

another early morning drink. The stewardess gave it to me for free, during my

wait. 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 the

giantess, but it didn't. The taxi to the runway and the take-off were picture

perfect.

The plane took off towards the East and circled north then west before setting

it's course Southwest towards my home town. I had a window seat so I looked out

the dirty plastic at the city I never again wanted to visit. At about the same

time the airplane's turn straightened out and my ears popped, I saw something. I

saw 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 at

all. I realized that from the window of an airplane, nothing looked like it was

moving. I knew, in this case, nothing really was moving. Somehow, she had that

power.

Four hours later I has behind my desk. It had been a beautiful flight and a

perfect landing. The bag I checked was the first bag off the conveyer. When I

walked out of the airport, a cab was waiting. It took me straight home. I threw

my bag inside the house and jumped into my own Ford. I wanted to get to work as

fast as possible. Sure I was late, but that's not what fueled my desire to get

to 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 work

with other employees returning from lunch. I only looked at her briefly. I took

the elevator up to the sixth floor like I had done for over a year. I stepped

out of the shiny sliding door into the hallway and headed straight for my boss's

office. When I got there I wasn't surprised. I was weak kneed, but didn't see

anything I hadn't expected. Skippy's office was as it was the previous week

before we left for our meeting in Boston. He hadn't yet made it back from Boston

and 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." said

Vivian, 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't

know 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. I

don't think he ever had one. He was mid-fifties and probably still a virgin. At

least 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 left

fielder Pat Burrell. A collective gasp from the loyal Padre fans followed. The

left fielder turned his back to the infield and watched the ball sail over the

left field fence of Jack Russell Stadium and land high up in the bleaches. His

attention was quickly drawn away from the ball. A ruccus was ensuing in the next

section over.

I jumped up and shouted "Yes." I quickly sat back down among the gloom of the

Padre 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. It

was Friday night, a beautiful night for baseball. The Phillies were going to

win. I had the whole weekend to spend myself in San Diego. Nothing could break

the happy mood I was in.

Then I saw the left fielder pointing to something in the stands. He was shouting

to the center fielder. I looked into the general area they were gawking and saw

something growing. My heart rate skyrocketed, reminding me of something that

happened two years ago; something that I had blocked off from the rest of my

memory and something that I hoped to never again remember.

As I watched the growing giantess step onto the field, the horror in the deepest

corners of my mind unfolded behind my eyes. I knew what the giantess wanted. As

she strode up to second base, narrowly missing the fleeing ball players and

umpires with her cadillac sized feet, she scanned the crowd. I knew who she was

looking 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 flee

along with the rest of the people in the stadium, but I knew it wouldn't help. I

downed 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 and

cozy in a warm moist tight living coffin. Some giantesses just never forgive.

Giantess Stories: The Giantess in the Infield By willie     Part I

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