About a week ago, I was asked to draw a pic illustrating the winner of a story contest for the Giantess City Writer's Guild. It sounded like fun and I'm glad to say it was.


Here's the story in case anyone was curious. I didn't write it, I just did the picture.

Checkmate
by Nathanial Skye

The floor shuddered under me as a crash rang out that I could both hear and feel. I fought to keep my balance, physically and mentally. I didn't have time to think, and doubt I even could right now. I continued to run, trying to plot a course through familiar, yet alien terrain. I recognized everything I saw, but it was all at an impossible scale. You see, I was only an inch tall.

I'm still at a bit of a loss as to how I got myself into this. Casey was my neighbor and long time friend. We got into more trouble then we should have. She was the wild one, I was the voice of reason. I kept her from getting too far out of hand, and she taught me how to live a little. She was always cute, but I never really thought about that. We were so close for so long, it was hard to think of her as anything but my closest friend. That was the mistake that got me into this. Well, one of them at least.

An explosion snapped me back to reality. I was thrown off my feet and the ground was none too gentle about reintroducing itself. One good thing about being a football player though was that I was in prime physical shape. I needed to be. While trying to decide if my head or body would stop rattling first, I saw a red mass settling before me. It was impossibly large and shifted as if alive. I knew what it was, but still had trouble believing it. A foot. Casey's foot.

It was an odd dynamic. We tried very hard to pull the other our direction. So much so, that we made a deal. She pushed me to come out of my shell and go out for football. I pushed her to settle down a little and try out for the chess team. Surprisingly, we were both very adept at our new interests.

I could hear a rumble from above, and somehow knew it was only a giggle. I tried to stand, but the world was still spinning around and under me. Instinctively, I reached a hand out to brace myself feeling the smooth silken surface of her red nylons. This time the world went black for a moment as her other foot settled down on the other side. I knew, or at least believed, she was trying to be gentle with me. Yet every motion, no matter how slight, affected the world around me catastrophically.

She was so excited to show me her chess trophy. She had to beat some real talent, and I knew it had to be tough for her as she was still prone to act under impulse. She invited me over, offered me a drink even. It didn't take long for her to start teasing me, asking me where my football trophy was, how she was better then me and such. It was all in good fun, and I thought my response was as well. But I didn't know just how much trouble I was getting myself into.

It was as if the world had raised anchor around me. The walls, the colors, everything was swirling about defying my attempts at putting them in their place. I could see red on either side, then dared look up. She was wearing my red football jersey, which was a bit big for her, hanging down to the middle of her thighs. I followed the red upward through two red pillars that finally tapered into flesh. Between them it was too dark to see clearly, but I could swear I saw traces of red. My senses snapped back as I could feel a rhythmic shaking, and looked back to see ten massive boulders raising and lowering, Casey playfully wiggling her toes.

“Chess isn't a sport. It's something you play when you're not big or strong enough to play a real sport.” I had grinned at that, happy to have found a way to turn the conversation against her. We were always competitive, especially with each other, but we never took it personally. I didn't know she'd take my words to heart, and in retrospect my choice of words could have been better. I should have known when she simply flashed me that predatory grin. But could you blame me? It always looked very similar to her playful one. Maybe that should have told me something as well. She handed me another drink and excused herself from the room.

It all happened in a moment. Before I could realize what was happening, one of the red masses raised and shifted. I tried to back up, but this time the heel made contact with the floor hard, throwing me up into the air. Crashing down yet again, all I could see was ripples of red moving before things went dark again. I could feel a pressure on my chest, my whole body, pinning me roughly to the ground. As I pressed back I could feel my hands sink slightly before stopping, and as the smell of worn nylon filled my senses, I knew very well what had happened and where I was.

I had trouble fighting off a drunken slumber, but stirred a little when I heard her come back in. When I turned to face her, I sobered up in a heartbeat, jaw wide open. There she was “little Casey” standing before me wearing the red jersey she must have dug out of my bag and a pair of red nylons. I couldn't tell if she had anything on under the shirt, but I couldn't see anything else outside of it. She was beautiful, only 5'3” to my 5'9” with long, fiery red hair that she long since given up hope of taming and soft blue eyes that could melt you if you gazed too long into them. I wasn't surprised that most of the guys tried to pick her up. What surprised me was that she always turned them down.

I felt the rough nylon wall scrape over me as she shifted. Suddenly it seemed to slide and split open somewhat. I couldn't make out what had happened, and though I squirmed I couldn't escape. Then all the segments shifted again, surrounding me. As they closed I could feel the pressure growing stronger and stronger as I was being moved with ease, somehow almost sinking deeper. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what had happened. I was being held by her toes. And they were still closing tighter.

She had walked up to me silently, sultry. Without a word she slipped onto my lap, grinding her ass against me so slowly. When she did speak, her voice was deep. “I'm tired of waiting. I've taken it slow, done what I was supposed to, how I was supposed to, but you never noticed me. Well, big guy, notice me now?”. How was I supposed to answer? She was beautiful, any guy would die for a chance like this. But...she was my friend, and she was drunk. Swallowing hard I mustered every ounce of will I had left. “Casey, you're drunk.”

Her toes continued to clench and release, squeezing me in different places, harder each time. I tried to fight back, I squirmed, I pushed but it was no use. I was held, trapped in a prison of nylon slowly squeezing the life out of me. Running out of air, my struggles slowed. I felt one more squeeze, then blacked out, wondering if I would live to wake again.

I don't remember what happened after I pointed out she was drunk. When I woke, the world was different, unknown. I staggered about trying to make sense of things. I quickly realized I was naked, save for my white road jersey for some reason. My confusion was thrown aside with the first eruption. Turning, I saw her towering over me. My mind couldn't, wouldn't process what it was seeing, all I could do was shake and fight to catch my breath. Her voice boomed down like thunder. “So, chess is what people play when they're not big and strong enough to play real sports? Well, let's play a little game. The Red Queen will try and capture the White King. If you can avoid that for thirty minutes, I change you back. If I capture you...well...you're mine until I decide otherwise.”

Light finally crept back into my world. The ground beneath was warm, soft. Moments later I let out an involuntary scream. Before me was Casey's massive face. Her eyes sparkled, but her lips were twisted in the most playful and frightening smile I had ever seen. I tried to crawl back, but quickly realized I was simply in her hand, high above the ground. Her words were whispered, but thundered across my ears and into my heart.

“Checkmate, little man.”
-Nate