Jonathan’s heart pounded as he stepped into the massive cottage atop the hill. The place smelled different today—less of sweat and wood-smoke, more of something rich and feminine, something intoxicating. For months, he had trudged up this path with baskets of food, always leaving them at the door, always returning to find the previous day’s offerings consumed. But lately, the giant’s appetite had waned. It had been weeks since anyone had seen him. The village whispered that he had died, that the monster who once terrorized them had vanished into the night.

And yet, as Jonathan set the basket down inside the doorway, a voice, soft yet commanding, called from within.

“Come here, young man.”

He froze. The voice was undeniably female—deep, velvety, but unmistakably feminine. Slowly, he stepped further inside. The cottage was sparsely furnished, built for a creature far larger than any normal man. And standing near the hearth, bathed in the golden light of the fire, was her.

She was beautiful, impossibly so. Her long, dark hair tumbled over her broad shoulders, framing striking features that seemed carved from something finer than flesh. Her skin was smooth, her lips plush, her eyes piercing as they studied him. But it was her size that made his breath catch—she was enormous, easily eight feet tall, her proportions perfect but undeniably giant.

And she wore only a shirt.

Jonathan recognized it instantly—the massive white shirt that belonged to the beast that once ruled this cottage. It draped over her, far too large even for her towering frame, the fabric slipping off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone. It barely reached the tops of her thick, muscular thighs, leaving long, bare legs exposed beneath it.

She took a step toward him, and Jonathan staggered back, but there was nowhere to run. She smirked.

“You’ve been bringing me food for so long, Jonathan,” she murmured, taking another step. “But I’ve been waiting for something else.”

His mouth went dry. He didn’t know whether to flee or fall to his knees.

Then she was upon him.

Her massive hands slid around his waist, her strength undeniable as she lifted him like he weighed nothing. His feet left the ground, his breath hitching as she hoisted him against her. His head was now level with her heaving breasts, and even through the fabric, he could feel their soft, overwhelming weight against his chest.

She smelled incredible. Warm, earthy, and something else—something deeply womanly.

She guided his hands to her shirt, silently commanding him to undo it. Jonathan swallowed hard and obeyed, his fingers trembling as he worked the buttons free. The fabric parted, revealing perfectly round, heavy breasts, each one larger than his head. Her nipples, dark and gorgeously oversized, stood stiff and aching.

“Taste me,” she murmured.

He didn’t think—he obeyed. His mouth latched onto one of her thick, sensitive nipples, his tongue circling it, sucking, worshipping. She moaned, her massive body shuddering under his touch.

And then she moved him.

With terrifying ease, she flipped him, his legs straddling her broad hips, his erection pressing against her bare, wet heat.

“You’re so small,” she purred, her hands sliding down to cup his ass. Firm. Controlling. Holding him like a toy.

Then she lowered him.

Jonathan gasped as he felt himself enter her, her powerful grip guiding him in, thrusting him deep. She was tight, impossibly so, her muscles clenching around him, milking him as she used his body.

He tried to brace himself, clinging to her, his face buried between her massive breasts, but she was in complete control. Her hands gripped his ass, lifting him, thrusting him in and out with effortless strength.

She fucked him.

Not gently. Not slowly. She took him.

His world became heat and motion, his body pounded into her wetness with each demanding thrust. His moans were muffled by her breasts, her scent overwhelming him, her pleasure engulfing him.

“Mine,” she whispered into his ear, driving him deeper. “You’re mine now, Jonathan.”

He shuddered, pleasure ripping through him, his body helpless in her grasp. She didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied.

And Jonathan was lost to her.

Jonathan lay spent in her arms, his chest rising and falling against the smooth, towering curves of her body. But she was not finished with him.

“You taste good,” she murmured, her voice still thick with satisfaction.

He barely had time to react before she flipped him onto his back against the massive bed, her strength effortless. She knelt over him, her powerful thighs framing his body, her towering form dominant, intoxicating.

Jonathan stared up at her, awestruck. Her body was magnificent, golden skin glistening, her breasts swaying with each slow, predatory breath. But his eyes were drawn downward—to the place between her thick, powerful thighs.

And then she began to lower herself.

His breath hitched.

“Suck me,” she ordered.

Her heat was unbearable, her scent thick, musky, intoxicating.

Then she was on him.

Jonathan’s entire face disappeared into her.

Her cunt engulfed him, her wetness dripping down his chin as she ground against him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—only taste.