Blue Lagoon pt 2
By unknown
Brooke the giantess gets bigger and Chris gets scared


   Chris's days had indeed gone from being carefree to filled
 morning to night with work.  He rose before dawn to go into the
 jungle to fetch food for breakfast.  No matter how much he
 brought, Brooke would eat it all and demand more.  "I HAVE TO
 EAT.  I AM A GROWING GIRL, AFTER ALL."  The sarcasm in the
 statement never failed to hit him.  She had also set him on the
 task of building a new hut--her size--for them to live in.  At
 least he hoped she meant for him also.  She was kind enough to 
 supply the bamboo and wood for the project, which she ripped
 whole from the ground.  She would also hoist him up to the
 rafters if he needed to do work up there.  In addition to the
 hut, she also demanded that he weave her new clothes.  Her 
old ones were rags which she had busted out of early on.  He
 spent any "spare" time trying to tie palm leaves and vines into
 a rudimentary bikini top and bottom.  Then it was back into the
 jungle to gather food for dinner.
     Brooke, for her part, chose to oversee his work, keeping him
 on task with an occasionally pinch which bruised him severely,
 and spending the afternoons sunning her monstrous frame to a
 golden tan.  The island seemed to be providing her with many new
 delights, delights she finally assumed you just had to be big
 enough to take advantage of.  She would pick fruit from the tops
 of 18 ft trees, or go hunting in the jungle for meat.  Not many
 animals could outrun her, or match her strength as she broke
 their necks.  Whatever she caught, she would eat alone.  The boy 
 simply was not able to bring her enough by himself, despite
 working from sun-up to sun-down.  But he was working, wasn't he. 
 He must be truly intimidated by her, she thought, for him to
 buckle under to her cruel hand like this.  How far could she
 push him, she wondered?  She was determined to find out, and was
 given the perfect opportunity the day he presented her with her
 new bikini.  "I HOPE YOU MADE IT BIG ENOUGH, AND LEFT A LITTLE
 ROOM FOR GROWTH IN IT," she said.  She tied the vines around her
 back, then scooped her mammoth breasts up into the frond net,
 tying the second set of strings behind her neck.  The added
 support gave her cleavage the length of Chris's leg, and he
 marvelled at how amazingly beautiful she was, and how much he'd
 love to poke her again, and damn the consequences.  Brooke
 hoisted the bottom section between her legs, and then tied the
 final vine around her waist.  That done, she paraded up and down
 the beach, showing off and attempting to be as alluring and
 desirable as possible.  Her intent was simply to make the little
 child as hot and bothered as possible.  His attentions were
 inconsequential.  She could do herself much better than he ever
 could.  But what could be expected when her smallest finger was
 twice the size of his penis.  No, her intent was simply further
 humiliation.  He deserved nothing better.  She had been
 resisting the temptation to masturbate for several days now
 planning just for this moment, and now, deliriously hot herself,
 she put her cruel little scenario into action.  "YOU DID A GOOD
 JOB ON THIS, BUT YOU MADE IT TOO BIG FOR ME.  THE TOP IS
 COVERING WAY TOO MUCH OF MY BREASTS.  YOU'LL HAVE TO BE
 PUNISHED."
     "You told me to make it big!" Chris yelled in protest.
     "DON'T TALK BACK TO ME, BUG," she scowled, and smacked him
 with a backhand that sent him flying eight feet.  "ACTUALLY THE
 SOLUTION IS VERY SIMPLE.  WATCH ME."  With that, she pulled
 aside the bottoms to expose her pussy to the light, and as she
 had learned how to effectively do, began to massage it.  Her
 clitoris engorged with blood and swelled instantly, and she
 devoted her attentions to rubbing and squeezing and pinching it
 exclusively.  Again the same sensations of power and growth
 followed.  She was very pleased to watch the bikini tighten and
 shrink around her expanding figure.  Chris, prone on the ground,
 just watched as the horror repeated itself.  He finally got up
 the courage to address her.
     "Please stop, Brooke.  Don't do this anymore.  You're big
 enough.  I can barely gather enough food for you now.  Don't
 grow again."
     "I'M AFRAID YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND," she said in a
 condescending tone.  "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M FEELING.  NO
 IDEA HOW WONDERFUL THIS IS."  Indeed, Brooke was discovering
 that the larger she grew, the more sensitive her erogenous zones
 were becoming, the more violent and intense her orgasms were,
 the more totally consumed with passion she became as her body
 was shaken in spasms of pleasure.  It was an addictive drug,
 whose affects she could magnify simply by growing larger.  The
 cause and the effect were one in the same.  And she really
 couldn't think of a good reason to stop.  Certainly not the
 pleas of a child now no more than knee-high.  As her new bikini
 now firmly caressed her body, she had an evil thought.  "I HOPE
 YOU MADE THESE CLOTHES TO LAST," she said.  "LET'S SEE HOW MUCH
 STRAIN THEY CAN TAKE."  She strode over to a fallen tree,
 straddled it, and using it as a phallus, rubbed against it.  The
 rough bark was painful against her sensitive areas, but in the
 pain she found pleasure, and her growth continued unabated. 
 Inch by inch she grew, each stroke along the trunk adding more
 and more mass to her frame.  Her growth remained proportional to
 her size, so that the larger she became the faster she grew. 
 Chris watched helplessly as she enlarged herself.  Twenty feet,
 then twenty-one, then twenty-two in rapid succession.  All the
 while, Brooke could feel the twine around her chest tightening
 and lifting her breasts higher and higher.  More and more skin
 became exposed as their increasing size began to dwarf the
 material that caressed them.  She was caught up in the glow of
 her amazing womanhood and took immense pleasure when the vines
finally could withstand the strain no long and snapped under the
 pressure of her mountains of flesh.  Her last orgasms too were
 just beginning to subside and she managed to climb to her feet. 
 Her bottoms were still holding, if not the worse for wear after
 being mashed so viciously against a tree trunk.  These she'd
 destroy tomorrow, she thought.  She removed what was left of her
 top and threw it at Chris.  "HERE.  THIS DIDN'T HOLD.  START ON
 A NEW ONE TOMORROW."  She giggled to herself about her cruelty. 
 He deserved it, after all.  She looked around.  My, how her
 perspective had changed.  Everything looked significantly
 smaller.  Twenty-eight feet of solid woman will do that, she
 figured.  She lay down and slept under the stars that evening.

     Brooke's life went on this way for the next few weeks. 
 Every evening before she fell asleep, she would masturbate
 herself to orgasm, and enjoy the sensation of growth which
 accompanied it.  She would make her own clothing as needed-
 Chris was simply to slow to keep up with her constantly changing
 proportions--and then spend the next evening busting the hell
 out of them as she spurted up.  She loved to watch her breasts
 spill over any object she tried to bind them with.  She loved 
 that last instant when the ropes or vines around her waist could
 no longer stand up to the stress of her expanding hips and would
 snap as the bottoms floated ripped and ruined to the ground,
 revealing her enormous pubic bush.  At times like these she
 sought Chris out to be her audience.  She loved showing off in
 front of him.  She wondered what emotions he experienced while
 he watched her?  Some possibilities occurred to her:  Terror as
 he realized his increasing helplessness, the inevitability of
 her continued dominance and his inability to ever stop her,
 along with the uncertainty of when, if ever, this horror would
 finally end.  Or was it jealousy that this wonder was happening
 to her and not him.  That she was reaping the benefits of power,
 and sorrow that his predicament seemed to worsen daily.  Either
 of these was fine with her, just as long as he was silently
 suffering.  Other than at these times, she virtually ignored
 Chris throughout the day--he was simply to small to be of any
 consequence to her.  She did make sure that he spent the day
 gathering food for her--he was forced to go deeper into the
 jungle each time; she had eaten everything and stripped every
 tree bare of fruit within a mile of their camp.  He couldn't
 possibly gather enough to feed her now.  She supplemented that
 herself.  Instead, she kind of looked upon the food as an
 offering, a sacrifice to her glory.  She even had found a flat
 stone (boulder) which she had placed near the ruined hut for
 Chris to place the day's harvest upon to wait for her approach. 
 On days where she judged the offering was insufficient or if he
 forgot, or was just being rebellious and refusing to provide for
 her, she would seek him out and punish him.  More often than not
 this would take the form of using him as a sex toy.  His
 thrashings and gyrations did wonders for her pleasures, although
 she was discovering that even now she was becoming too large for
 this play to bring her much joy.  Every day saw her becoming
 larger and always at an ever increasing rate.  A good fuck
 session could easily add three feet to her height.  Even on
 those evenings when she would fall asleep from exhaustion before
 she had a chance to stroke herself, she would awake finding
 herself all the more aroused and she would masturbate with
 increased vigor, as roughly and viscously as she could do it,
 and her dimensions would increase even more.  Everything on the
 island was becoming puny relative to her.  At fifty feet and
 more, she matched up well with even the tallest trees.  The
 little worm was no taller than her ankles.  His body was making
 an ever more insufficient phallus.  She was even beginning to
 run out of ways to humiliate the lad.  Truth be told, though, he
 seemed to become more obedient and more subservient each day. 
 is fighting spirit dissipated in the wake of the ever increasing
 odds against him and he fell into a resignation of his fate.

     Brooke began to sense a real problem within the next month. 
 Her growth had continued unabated.  Every evening saw a
 wonderful and continually more intense session of masturbation. 
 Each night it took longer and longer, and she suffered
 continually more violent and unmeasurable pleasurable orgasms
 which incapacitated her for hours.  And each time she'd shoot
 skyward another three to five feet.  The largest trees on the
 island were now serving as her toys.  She'd splinter a thirty
 foot palm with one hand and jam it up her vagina, twisting and
 plunging it in as far as it would go. Her screams of passion
 could be heard for miles, were there an ear to here besides
 Chris's.  And now she noticed that this island--this large
 intimidating island--the one she could now walk around in five
 minutes, was beginning to die.  It simply could not support a
 creature as dramatically large as she was becoming.  The trees
 had been stripped barren of fruit in an effort to supply her
 increasing hunger.  Chris had moved very far inland in search of
 food.  He found that he could hide from her fairly easily now-
 he was small and easily overlooked.  And so he spent his days in
 hiding and nights scavaging for any food that Brooke may have
 overlooked.  She herself was having problems finding sufficient
 nourishment.  She knew something soon would have to change,
 something drastic needed to be done.
     She came upon the little boy laying on the beach one day. 
 He had become foolishly bold, having eluded her for so many
 days, and was enjoying a mango that he'd found.  Brooke moved up
 on him remarkably quietly, and by the time he saw her, it was
 too late and futile to run.  She gazed down at him.  Could it
 possibly be?  She could scarcely believe how small he was--no
 larger than any of her toes.  "GIVE ME THAT FRUIT," she
 demanded.
     "No!" he screamed.  "This is nothing to you, but it's a meal
 to me.  You've really messed things up!  All this trouble's
 because of you.  I'd sooner die than give anything else to you." 
 He continued to rant and rave wildly at her.  Brooke picked up
 the little boy screaming at her between her thumb and index
 finger and placed him on her left breast.  He started to slide
 down, but got a firm grasp and foot hold on her nipple.  He
 straddled it with his legs, and grabbed hold with his arms,
 clinging for dear life.   Brooke revelled in the tingly feeling
 this sent through her bosom.  Not nearly as intense as when she
 was just starting to grow and he was still large enough to
 really excite her, but still not bad.  She looked down at the
 little insect clamped onto her nipple and marvelled at the fact
 that just weeks ago she was scared and in awe of his strength. 
 "I'm the strong one now," she thought.  She remembered how big 
 and intimidating he had appeared.  "you're nothing compared to
 me, are you," she mused.  He was no bigger than her thumbnail. 
 She looked around at the island.  She could see from end to end,
 and it wasn't that large.  The tallest and oldest trees were no
 more than knee high.  "I am a queen on this island," Brooke
 realized.  "No, not a queen--a goddess.  Everything on this
 island bows to me, and continues to exist only at my whim."
     She again turned her attention to the little mass struggling
 to keep from sliding off her nipple.  She looked down into his
 face and saw the expression of heart-stopping panic emblazoned
 there.  "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU KNOW.  IF YOU HAD JUST OBEYED
 ME AND DONE EVERYTHING I COMMANDED, I WOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO GROW
 SO LARGE.  I DID THIS ONLY TO INSURE YOUR OBEDIENCE."
     It was becoming difficult for her to hear his words; he was
 just too tiny.  Chris, for his part, had other concerns
 occupying his attention, but he still managed to blurt out, at
 the top of his lungs, "I'll never obey you!  I hate you!  Go the
 hell!"
     "THAT IS FINALLY ALL I'M GOING TO TAKE.  I'VE TRIED TO SHOW
 YOU MY STRENGTH, BUT YOU JUST DON'T SEEM TO REALIZE THAT I'M IN
 CHARGE NOW.  I'M AFRAID THIS REQUIRES THE ULTIMATE DISPLAY OF MY
 POWER."  And with that she plucked the tiny human off her breast
 and held him suspended between her fingers.
     Chris suddenly realized that he had made the supreme
 mistake, and as the terror of that realization sunk in, he began
 pleading and screaming.  "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  I didn't mean
 it!  I'll do whatever you say!"  But Brooke heard nothing.  She
 was to big, too far away for the little voice to reach. 
 Instead, she looked in disgust at the pathetic little bug
 struggling futilely between her fingers, hesitated for just a
 second, and then squeezed.
     Chris's body was crushed instantly.  The warm juices of his
 pulverized torso flowed over Brooke's index finger.  She stared
 at the red mess for a moment, and then with a smirk on her face,
 brought her lubricated finger down to her enormous clitoris and
 massaged the juices in to it.  How appropriate, she thought as
 the stimulations stretched her body another eight feet.  For her
 it was a barely noticeable increase, as if she had grown less
 than an inch, but she sensed and she knew that the slightest
 sensations of passion were now causing her to grow at ever
 increasing rates.  But now there was no one to impress, no one
 to marvel at her in her supremacy.  What good, she thought, is
 it to wield unearthly power without minions to subjugate?  And
 then she thought of home.  Not the island home that had been her
 prison for the past ten years, but the home of her earliest
 childhood; a time when she was small and frail and was doted on
 by other people.  Many people.  More people than she ever
 thought she could possibly know.  They had all appeared so big
 to her back then.  She suspected that they might appear quite
 different now.  And surely they would not be nearly as stubborn
 as Chris had been when it came to catering to her every whim. 
 Even if they were, it was an easily solvable problem.  A simple
 display of her awesome power should send them scampering.  And
 if some chose to disobey, she could crush scores and still have
 plenty of little slaves to do her bidding.  What was stopping
 her?  Three days ago it was the crashing waves past the reef,
 but what now?  Those waves were now just gentle caresses over
 the tops of her feet.  She stepped out into the surf.  She
 strolled out six miles, and the water came to her knee.  She
 waded out twenty miles from the Island.  The water rose only to
 her waste.  She knew  of the direction the boat had come from
 before it crashed.  She had a strong inclination which way was
 home.  She hoped everyone would be surprised to see her.  She
 started swimming....


                         The End