Giant Invasion
Title: The Giant Invasion: A Lewd Analogy
Imagine, if you will, a world turned upside down, a land ravaged by the most indelicate of invaders. No, not men in uniform or creatures of myth, but giants – towering, lumbering colossi that stomped across the countryside with a singular purpose. Not conquest, nor plunder, but a lewd and licentious desire that could be fulfilled in only one way.
The giants were a naughty bunch, their minds forever fixated on one carnal act. Their eyes, beady and gleaming, always roamed the horizon, seeking out any accessible orifice to penetrate with their massive, pulsing members. They cared not for culture, tradition or consent, only the primal urge to stuff, to stretch, to fill those poor townsfolk to the brim with their thick, rewarding seed.
It began with the hamlet of Darlam. Poor, rustic farmers and craftsmen, they had heard rumors of the giants’ approach but paid them no heed. Why would anyone in their right mind send a lilliputian army to vanquish mere peasants? And so, they went about their days as normal, ploughing fields, teaching children, and gathering in cozy pubs to discuss the day’s gossip.
Little did they know, looming over the horizon, the first of the giants had already spotted their quaint village. Its single, unfocused eye lit up at the sight of such ripe, unspoiled lands. Drool dripped from its fleshy lips as it quickened its heavy footfall, eager to burst in and upend their quiet way of life.
When the giant finally reached Darlam, its arrival was unmistakable. The earth shook, jars shattered, and children screamed in terror as its titanic form eclipsed the sun. Atop a nearby hill, the teacher, Miss Honeydew, stood in horror as she beheld the monster’s massive, pendulous sack. She noticed the bulge growing within, the outline of a girthy, veiny pillar that could only mean one thing.
“Oh god,” she whimpered, “Oh god, it’s going to… it’s going to…”
Before she could even voice her gruesome realization, the first giant had already begun its assault. With a swift sweep of its mighty arm, the beast wiped away a dozen homes, leaving only rubble and whey-faced citizens cowering in the street.
“Treaties! This means war!” spluttered the portly mayor, now reduced to knee-deep filth, his mayorship stripped along with his station. But the giant cared not a whit for bureaucracy. It lumbered on, its massive tool throbbing with arousal, glistening from its tip, aching for release.
One by one, the villagers were plucked up, their gyrating bodies pressed against the giant’s rock-hard cock. “I say, how uncouth!” cried little old Mrs. Pumpkinton, cloth hat quaking on her head, even as the monster thrust against her plush posterior. The giant simply grunted, hilted deep into its latest conquest, a satisfied smirk on its face.
Down at Hayfield, young farmer’s son Timmy gasped in horror, watching the spectacle unfurl through the hayloft windows. His innocent eyes widened, trying to comprehend what that giant thing was doing to them all. His inner child couldn’t understand the way bodies gyrated, or how the monsters seemed to line up, one waiting its turn to stuff the nearest bottom so full it would burst.
And burst they did. Entrails spilled like the guts of a slaughtered pig, splattering the once-virgin soil of Darlam until the entire town was coated in gore and grime. But the giants weren’t done. No, having come and sticky Chaos still seething in their veins, they sought out new targets, lumbering ever onwards.
Which town would be next to fall? Which poor souls would soon feel the fullness of a giant member stretching their backside to the limit? Would anyone be safe in this world of lewd invasion and bottomless penetration? The future was uncertain, but one thing was for sure – as long as those massive, hung giants crawled the land, no one’s tender pucker would ever be safe again.
There are few morals to be found in this giant invasion of privacy and posteriors. Just rampant, bottomless debauchery and BBCs on display. Watch the live link to see the story unfold – but beware. There’ll be nothing subtle about it.