Some people are never more alive than shortly before they die. US Army Spc. John M. Vickers’s eyeballs had burst when the giant pinched his body—and the bodies he pulled from every tanker in range—and crammed it into his immense cock shortly before ejaculating a load that overflowed the streets with cum and broken bodies. Vickers was Operation Splinter’s last survivor, and only for the next few minutes. Until the end, he sounded more alive than ever.
“Hansel… do you know why we called him that? It wasn’t because his grandparents were Operation Paperclip recruits, like everyone thought. Did you ever see him in action? Did you know what he called his tank? Gretel. That tank was more family to him than his real family. Hansel didn’t understand fear. When we were in Mexico we went sea-cave diving. You know the place?”
General Nichols knew the place but didn’t bother saying anything. He could only stare at the thick layer of cum that had attached itself to Vickers’ skin like a wetsuit. He was holding the soldier’s hand in his own, and the smell of semen in the med tent was overwhelming. Still, he held on, even when Vickers coughed up blood and what might have been bits of lung. And cum.
“There was a hole, a round fissure large enough to fit a grown man, but only the stupidest jumped in, because at the bottom of that hole there was water rushing in and out of the cave. If you jumped in at the wrong time, you drowned. If you jumped in at the right time, water returning to the beach dragged you all the way out to shore… you only had to hold your breath for a minute or so. Hansel jumped in again and again when we were there, and after one of those times he brought back a human bone from down there… a bone that had once been attached to someone that jumped at the wrong time and drowned down there. His name was Harry but we called him Hansel because he came back holding that bone all proud, with a swagger, and he said the witch was never gonna eat him now. You know the fairy tale?”
General Nichols knew the tale but said nothing. He knew Hansel had been pushed into the giant’s cock at the wrong time. The giant had squeezed about a dozen soldiers into his penis, and had stroked and rubbed his shaft just right, trapping them there until he came and sent flying every one of those broken bodies like ghosts shrouded in cum that splattered on the streets below, apparitions with red centers that radiated like blooming flowers. Vickers said nothing else. Miles away, the giant rumbled his one message again. The general dropped the soldier’s hand and looked at his own with disgust. The smell of cum was everywhere. Fresh cum here, but upwind the giant had been jerking off for days.
The giant had appeared in the middle of the day and people were at work. Those out in the crowded downtown area were trampled as the giant made his way to the thickest patch of buildings, removed his stylish jacket and draped it carefully over a dozen of them. He then tore the tallest building off its foundation, and as he stood on his two perfectly shaped legs covered by tailored pants, he held onto that building with one hand, loosened his tie, and pulled down his zipper.
With one graceful tug, he extracted over four hundred feet of hard flesh out of stretches of fabric edged by metal teeth that had been joined together just a moment before. If there was still anyone foolishly watching the spectacle from the closest side of the doomed building he now held between his hands, the last thing they saw was his cock plunge into it, penetrating it as easily as a battering ram pulverizes the last gate of a conquered land.
The giant pushed and pulled, dragging the structure that had once not even reached his knee away from his crotch, to only slam it against his awaiting hips. He stared deeply at those tiny windows, knowing the moving contents would now have crashed into walls, or office furniture, or one another trying to flee the immense force of his penis. He smiled a lover’s smile as he grunted one final time, and filled the building with a load large enough to drown everyone inside.
Once done, the giant looked around and when he found a spot he liked, he took the building there and planted it firmly on the ground, obliterating whatever homes and offices might have rested there previously. He then addressed the city. His words sounded like thunder and made no sense to any of the thousands of terrified listeners. He walked back to the cluster of downtown buildings and picked up his next toy. Streets crumbled under his shoes.
It had been as simple as changing the pitch and speed of the giant’s words to decipher them. Now that they had figured out those deafening roars coming from his mouth had been words and they meant something, all the world had to do was comply. But how?
Multiple recordings of the giant’s rumbling words made it to every intelligence agency, private or governmental. No algorithm was necessary to decode it; no powerful computer, no cryptanalysts’ months of sleepless nights studying the rumbling utterances. It didn’t take a genius to realize the words he said formed the same sentence. Citizens with access to electronic devices had done it, but no one thought of running a facial recognition program to identify the giant. Not when every possible body had been mobilized to attack and destroy it, and not when no one could have conceived the giant was local. There were no local giants. This monster arriving and fucking buildings and saying the same words after every orgasm couldn’t possibly be indigenous.
The giant kept cumming, and every time he violated a building he placed it next to previously ravaged structures. After dozens of times he had achieved the construction of something that looked like a chair with a tall back and armrests, and when he finally sat on it with a fresh building in hand, everyone in the world called it a throne. With tremendous grace, he tilted the building over his awaiting palm, and whatever tiny bodies fell in it he popped into his mouth. At the same time he was under every type of conceivable fire, up close and from a distance. No ammunition made a difference. Once the smoke cleared, it was only to reveal he had gotten up long enough to fetch another building, and was plunging his cock deep in it.
Bring him to me alive. Those were his words. For a moment no one knew what to do with them. It was then known that calls and emails from people that reportedly knew the giant’s identity began to flood police stations and government offices. Links to the giant’s Twitter and Facebook accounts made it clear he was human and once an employee of a local accounting firm. He had recently been fired and was obviously disgruntled… though how disgruntling involved growing to a mile in height and making a bizarre demand while drowning buildingfuls of people in his ejaculate was beyond anyone’s understanding.
“How long have we been getting these phone calls?” General Nichols was staring at the picture of a man on a large screen in an underground bunker.
“From the very beginning, sir. We got thousands of emergency calls about the giant within minutes, including some that sounded like the rantings of lunatics; people saying they knew him. The building where he used to work-” “We don’t know it’s the same guy, do we.”
“It’s the same face, the same body. When his ex girlfriend texted us pictures of them together, we realized we had our guy. I don’t know what else can be assumed, sir.”
The general took a deep breath. “Assume nothing, soldier.” It took all of three seconds for him to make a decision. “Go to his address. Bring me whoever you find there. Make it understood that under no circumstances is anyone found there to suffer an unfortunate accident on their way to this bunker. If anyone dies, I will take the family of whoever kills him, and I will personally cram them into that giant’s cock, one by one. Babies, pets, grandmas, I don’t care. Bring them to me alive.”
Rick Cross had been drinking all night. He didn’t have a job anymore, so he could drink all he wanted. What he truly desired was to keep sleeping, but the sharp claws of a hangover had gotten a hold of his head and were not letting go. He’d had a different hangover the last three mornings, and today wasn’t going to be different. He’d get up, throw up, down a couple of painkillers, and go to the liquor store to start all over again. Anything to stop the pounding in his head that somehow felt like his front door flying off its hinges, and a SWAT team… no, soldiers storming his home, and pain, so much pain, followed by darkness.
When he came to, he was handcuffed to a metal table in a small room with what had to be a one-way mirror. Across the table there was a large screen broadcasting a still image. It looked like a picture of him until he blinked and made an effort to focus his blurry vision. It was him but it wasn’t him. For a moment it looked like footage of this room, but it was too bright, and the man on the screen got up from his chair. The room trembled as though a train was rushing by only a few feet away. Rick might have recognized the skyline if it had still existed, but the giant had mated nonstop with dozens of buildings, and nothing but a smoking wasteland patched with whitish fluid was left. Rick watched himself pick up something from the floor, and the room shook again. It wasn’t until the man on the screen whipped out his cock and proceeded to slam it into that box he had picked up from the floor that Rick realized the tremors visiting the walls that surrounded him were a perfect echo of that man’s motions.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
The only response he received came in the form of soldiers. Three of them entered the room, followed by a higher ranking official that said nothing as the soldiers moved briskly. One freed him from the handcuffs, while a second pointed a gun to his head. The third one held a hazmat suit in his direction.
“Put the suit on, Mr. Cross.”
“I’m not doing shit until you tell me what’s going on.”
“The giant wants you. We’re going to take you to him. End of story.”
“The giant. The giant? What giant? Are you crazy? I want my lawyer. I’ve done nothing!”
“Every lawyer in the city is dead, or will be soon.” He then addressed the soldiers in the room. “Tell you what, just grab this motherfucker. I don’t give a shit if he asphyxiates on his way to the giant. Put him in the tank and take him there.”
Rick had no explanation for what happened next. He thought it was a prank until he realized the terrible stench invading his nostrils didn’t come from his body. He thought it was all a joke when two soldiers riding in the tank with him grabbed him and tossed him out. He was too busy gagging to see the giant shadow covering his body and flattening it with a sticky crunch. He’d been dead a whole minute by the time the giant disappeared the way he came, never to be seen again.