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A New Start - Part 2 (Commission for Code-Shark101)
🕑 Added 2021-11-19 15:03:44 +0000 UTCTAGS: Amazon/Mini-Giantess, Slice-Of-Life (ish), Dom/Sub, Sexual Awakening
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It had been a while and a half since the last time she’d had a good cry; given her experiences with the genemodding program, as well as the very changes wrought to her mind and body, the sensation of frailty and vulnerability left her feeling as if someone had broken her upon some kind of mental knee, as if an unfathomably powerful creature pierced through her mental defenses and left her bereft of any kind of leverage unto which to hold onto. She was adrift in an ocean of her own thoughts, a sensation far too similar to what she’d gone through immediately after being booted from the project to begin with; after the certainty and confidence that came with her joining the gym and having a goal to work towards, being so abruptly reminded of the fact that other people existed, and that she actually did care about what they thought about her, no matter what Ashly did to convince herself otherwise… it hurt. There was no other way to put it other than the simple reality that it hurt it, that it hurt like it did when she was unceremoniously booted from the project, like when she was told she was no longer necessary, like when she was discarded like a spent tissue and told to suck it up. And while her life before the project hadn’t exactly been a sea of roses, Ashly had done a good job of forgetting that it ever happened; to some extent, whoever she was before the gene treatments no longer existed, as this was her life now: her body, her will, her desires, her everything. It just so happened that, underneath the height and musculature, the power and dominance, she was still the scared little girl whose own lack of a place in the world had been the reason why she signed up for the project to begin with; desperate for somewhere to belong, hell, for a life goal that she could work towards, Ashly had thrown herself fully into this new life of hers, and yet, it seemed that her attempts at playing pretend with herself hadn’t really gone anywhere. As she walked back home, head hung low and sniffling far too much for someone of her size and girth, the canid could barely even think about what to do next; she still had feelings for Richard, that much was true, but she clearly couldn’t keep following them the same way she had up until then, at least no without attracting the ire of everyone else around her. This wasn’t made better when she actually arrived at her place to find a single letter waiting for her, postmarked from the day before and containing a sternly-worded couple of paragraphs on the part of the gym’s staff, reminding her that she was meant to keep things above board and family-friendly for the customers, lest of course she’d like her membership revoked. Just what she needed really: not only had she been rejected by her peers, by her potential lover at that, but now the one place that gave her some semblance of joy was smacking a proverbial newspaper over her muzzle and telling her to stop making a mess of the place. Honestly, it was all she could do to keep herself from bawling before closing the front door to her apartment behind her, at which point the waterworks flowed in earnest, with the wild dog unable to control herself any longer. It felt terrible, bitter even, seeing as there was no happy ending waiting for her once she was done; this wasn’t her getting rid of excess stress and pressure by way of letting her tears flow naturally, this was her reaching an apex of misery and having no other recourse but to bawl her eyes out where no one could see her, even if the neighbors could definitely hear her wailing. Stuck in her room for hours, Ashly went through a couple of bags of tissues and even a roll of toilet paper before she was done, feeling even worse at the end than she had initially; there were no plans in her mind, no epiphanic revelations on what she should do going forward: just sadness, pure and undiluted, pressing down on her like a colossal rock on her shoulders. She couldn’t even bring herself to go to gym the next day; the mere thought of doing so, even if she put on her least-revealing clothes and behaved like a good little girl, was enough to leave her on edge. It went against everything she wanted, everything she was, to just throw away her true self and pretend like she was a domesticated animal, ready to do whatever her masters told her to; she wanted Richard, and she needed to let him know that, even if it went nowhere. It wasn’t the healthiest of relationships and she was well aware of it, but what else was she supposed to do? Where else could she possibly go that would allow her to externalize what she was feeling, where else could she turn to that would give her somewhere to direct the raw, ludicrous amounts of arousal that she felt on a daily basis?
… well, there was always the internet. An odd thought, given that Ashly barely used her computer on a regular basis, but a thought regardless, most likely brought about by her raising her head to grab another tissue and happening to catch her desk and laptop off the corner of her eye. In truth, the option had always been there: if there was any place on the planet where she could find the answer to her problems, Ashly could probably find it somewhere online; not that the notion was remotely appealing to her, but at that point, fragile as she was, the one thing in the giantess’ mind was getting the feelings out of her in whatever way possible, even if that meant diving into places that she normally wouldn’t. It was as if her fingers were on auto-pilot, guiding her to places that Ashly didn’t have any conscious knowledge of; perhaps it was a remnant of her training, of the few times when her handlers tried to impart more technical knowledge onto her, or maybe she was just so far gone that her brain decided to take things into its own hands (and quite literally so). She went through a series of installation processes and dubious websites and forums, before finally landing the wild dog directly into the deep web, at which point Ashly stopped trying to make sense of what she was doing and just rolled with it; only after a couple more hours, at which point the sun was already setting outside, did the wild dog realize where she had found herself at. The website itself was barren, lacking anything other than a black background with some encoded information that she couldn’t make heads nor tails of; there was a single chatbox on the bottom-right, one that opened without Ashly telling it to, and one with a few choice words on them. Having just then snapped to reality, as if waking from a dream, the canid’s eyes focused, her mind sharpening properly after realizing its owner was back, and in that moment, Ashly understood where her aimless wandering had brought her to: a dominatrix room. Cheeks burning bright red, all the young woman could think to do was apologize profusely before slamming the laptop shut, not even bothering to come up with an excuse as to why she had just taken time off of a professional’s life only to then turn around and tell them they were no longer needed. That the tone the words were written with appeared to be a teasing one, not too dissimilar to the one she herself employed with Richard, did not help, as Ashly was clearly very good at dishing it out, but stupendously terrible at receiving it; all it took was a little teasing and a couple of comments to get her to start grinding her legs together at the sort of depravities being written down, and as much as she wanted to say to this unidentified person that she didn’t want to use their services… Ashly couldn’t well lie to herself like that. Hours spent searching for something to ease the pain, and now she was going to back out? No, she needed that, even if she’d wake up the following morning feeling more embarrassed with herself than ever before; it was a mistake, but one she had to make… so she began writing back. For all of her bravado, for all of her talk of doing unspeakably lewd things that Richard never once reacted to, Ashly had a surprisingly low threshold when it came to being teased herself; really, just a couple of sentences in and she could barely type anymore, the offers being made far too powerful for her to even so much as type a single lower-case Y, much less anything more complicated. Whoever was on the other side had no intention of showing themselves; rather, as they so helpfully explained, their job was to “guide” their “valued customer” in doing whatever it was they felt like said customer should be doing. Some of the suggestions were downright degrading, or at least would be if Ashly wasn’t in such a state that it didn’t occur to her to call them that, while others were so utterly innocuous that the wild dog couldn’t tell if she was being played with or not; perhaps this was a way of gauging her interest, of seeing how far she could go: would she stick to the light stuff, to the spanking and the self-denial, or would she go the full mile, using tools and toys to do things that she’d never once considered doing? Granted, so much of it was informed by her own lack of experience that Ashly had no clue what should even be considered “hardcore” or not, if such terms even applied anymore; she was, ultimately, still a virgin, and lacking any sort of reference frame thanks to her lack of a romantic relationship at any point in her life, all that the canid had to go on were her own instincts… and those were telling her to just say yes to everything. No matter how difficult, no matter how painful, no matter how many times she had to write down on her “to buy” list, she simply said yes to whatever the person on the other side of the chatbox told her to do, going along with the narrative they were constructing and playing the part of the submissive, pliable little thing, the inexperienced gal who needed a strong, steady hand to guide her through the ins and outs of what being a fucktoy truly meant. At no point, besides the one right at the start, did Ashly stop to think about what she was doing; after a while, it just felt natural to keep proverbially nodding along, to keep doing whatever she was told to do, to lose herself in the moment, again and again and in increasingly more extreme ways. Hours passed like this, with the wild dog staring at the screen to check up on her latest instructions, then away from it in order to follow them; she wasn’t even thinking of payment, or what kind of information the website was siphoning from her personal computer, but that hardly mattered when it just felt… right. In between the minor acrobatics, the endless self-pleasuring, the exploration of new and more inventive forms of getting off, all that Ashly could think of was just how much she’d been missing out, how many experiences she had denied herself for simply not being adventurous enough… and how far her body could actually go when she put her mind to it. Granted, Ashly was all-but certain that the military hadn’t intended for her to use her unique abilities in that way, but if they didn’t want it to happen, then maybe they shouldn’t have kicked her out the door.
From there on, hours still passed, at the end of which Ashly found herself waking up with her back to one of the walls, her legs spread wide open, her inner thighs slick and wet with her own juices, and her hands very much in the same state. With two bright red cheeks, she looked up to her laptop, the memories flooding back in as she reached a state of clarity that was, perhaps, a bit too much for her to handle at that point; panicked, the canid stumbled her way over, throwing the chair to the side in her mad dash to see if her mysterious interlocutor was still there… only to find that not only had her browser been turned off, but the laptop itself wasn’t even on at all. Stuck to the front, however, was a post-it, one written in shaky handwriting that Ashly barely recognized as her own, reading “GO TO BAR ASK FOR LIRA”, followed by what she initially presumed were coordinates, but turned out to be an actual address, just as written by someone who could barely keep themselves from shaking for two seconds. She had absolutely no recollection of ever writing that thing down (nor of buying post-its to begin with), which left her slightly concerned as to how deep her stupor had gone; for her to completely lose herself to that degree could only mean that whatever had happened was so far out of the ordinary that her brain chose to shut down rather than face whatever it was being made to do… which wasn’t as bad as Ashly knew it should be. She was under no delusion that it was a terrible thing to happen, as normal people didn’t dissociate from sheer pleasure alone, but at the same time, she felt significantly better about herself than she had previously; at the very least, all the worries that had been plaguing her were… not so much gone, really, but not nearly as prominent as they used to be, almost like they were put in a cage and shuffled off to one side where they could be conveniently ignored. It wouldn’t last for long; the protective shielding of carnal bliss could only ever be temporary after all. Though, if that was the case, then why shouldn’t she seek out more of it? An interesting thought, doubly so once Ashly began considering the implications of it, but if she’d gone that far, even to the point of apparently being given a handler to look for, then surely she should at least try and see where things were going; if she didn’t, then the young woman was all-but certain that she would spend the rest of her life wondering what would’ve happened if she had gone to that bar and asked for whoever (or whatever) Lira was. Granted, not that night; what she needed at that point was a long, hot bath followed by eight hours of sleep, not further stimulation… not unless she wanted to break herself in half mentally, which wasn’t exactly the order of the day (yet, at least). So, after a prolonged sigh, Ashly straightened out her back, tried to take off her clothes only to realize she was completely nude already, then, more embarrassed than ever before, went to the bathroom to try and forget about everything; a good hour or so later of soaking in soapy water, the wild dog was ready to sleep the night away, not even bothering to clean up the mess on the ground, choosing instead to side-step it and let future Ashly deal with it. Not that she would, obviously; her morning self was programmed to do one thing, and one thing only: grumble, get up, grumble some more, make herself a sandwich, and then keep grumbling until she had her morning coffee. At no point did the concept of cleaning enter her mind, not until after her pint of bean water and a handful of chocolate cookies for the extra sugar boost; only then did Ashly actually remember what she’d done the previous night, at which point the reality of the situation truly sank in and the giantess was left with two bright red spots where her cheeks used to be as she rushed to get a mop and a bucket of water to get rid of the stains. When done, however, she couldn’t help but look up at the post-it again: go to the bar, and ask for Lira, followed by an address that led her downtown. She shouldn’t go, considering just where she got that address from… but she had to. It was a terrible idea, and one that she’d most likely come to regret in very short notice, but it was an obligation at that point, a promise made that had to be kept, no matter how terrible the consequences; plus, it was a good enough distraction from the gym, something she could do to pass the time while her mind recentered itself over time. A distraction, is what it was, and one she desperately needed to keep her mind from wandering to places it had no business going; besides, she needed the fresh air anyway, so after slapping on some jeans and a shirt that wasn’t so tight that it left her slightly short of breath, the wild dog locked the front door behind her and began walking towards the central downtown area, one hand holding her phone so she wouldn’t get lost. It was only then that Ashly came to realize just how little she actually knew of the city she lived in; what with having been with the genemodding program for so long, and only really leaving her place to shop at the nearest deli, most of the urban jungle was uncharted territory for her. So much so that, by the time she actually reached her destination, the canid was slightly winded, wondering just where in blazes she was meant to go. The establishment itself was expertly disguised as a perfectly regular bar, one that, while it was open outside typical nighttime hours, was manned mostly by a skeleton crew meant to entertain whoever happened to walk in there for the cheap snacks or some terrible coffee. Ashly herself was mostly just confused as to why she was supposed to go there… at least until her head turned to the side while she scanned the interior, and the canid happened to spot someone who most definitely had to be Lira. She didn’t know what she expected, honestly; the dominatrix, perhaps? The selfsame person who had spoken to her through a text box on a screen? Even then, someone “normal”, a regular person, as opposed to whatever she was observing at that moment: a panda gal, about as tall as she was (if not bigger), strikingly blue eyes visible even from a distance, clad entirely in leather and looking as if she had just walked out from either a biker reunion or a low-budget porn flick… though, given who she had next to her, most likely the latter. Ashly had to stifle a yelp when she saw the person next to who she assumed to be Lira, as she hadn’t noticed them before on account of them being on all fours and underneath the table the panda was sitting at. From a distance, it was hard to tell the specifics, but from what she could see, the wild dog figured that this second person was a vulpine of sorts, one clad in a full harness, with their mouth closed with a gag, wearing leggings leading down to a pair of heavy boots, complete with a set of hoof gloves for whatever reason. Well, she thought “whatever” at first, but it was pretty clear what the reasoning there was; Ashly just never expected to see it out in public, not where just about anyone could see it and comment on it. ‘Twas the sort of thing one did behind closed doors, though given the complete nonchalance with which the single other patron at the bar, not to mention the staff itself, treated the scene, the panda probably swung by quite often… and they were beckoning towards her. Immediately, Ashly stood at attention, her back snapping straight as her mind raced with a million different excuses she could provide; hell, she could just turn around and pretend like she hadn’t seen it, even if the image would be burned into her mind’s eye for years to come. Yet, much like back at home, there was that side of her that reminded her that there was no turning back; she’d gone all the way over to the bar, and now she had to deal with the aftermath. There’d be no forgetting, no convenient ignoring of what was more than likely there just for her, only the wild dog walking towards the panda, one step at a time, doing her best to pretend like she wasn’t a half-second away from a full freak-out. Even when finally sitting down, having worked through her embarrassment after accidentally bumping into the poor gal (at closer inspection) underneath the table, Ashly still felt so intimidated that, for a moment, she forgot she was eight feet tall and strong enough to bend steel without breaking a sweat; confronted with a situation so thoroughly out of her comfort zone, especially with someone else who seemed so at ease with it, all she could do was sweat and squirm in her seat. The way the panda gal was staring at her was unnerving: a mixture of scientific curiosity, like one might observe a particularly curious bug in a display case, with a lurid desire that should only ever be seen behind closed doors. This woman wanted her, and not in a way that Ashly knew whether or not she was comfortable with; it was a possessive desire, where the wild dog was a thing to be used, a sex toy to be played with, rather than a person with thoughts and feelings. And while this was undeniably setting off a myriad of red flags inside Ashly’s head, there was something familiar about that, which there absolutely shouldn’t be given her life history; at no point had she felt like that way before… at least, not until the previous night. It was faint, in that the canid had very few actual memories of whatever had taken place; rather, what she had were vague splatterings, sensations that had imprinted themselves onto her long-term memory, making it difficult to tell for certain whether anything in particular took place. Ashly just remembered feeling somewhat the same as she did sitting there, staring back at a panda gal bigger than she was, licking their lips unashamedly as they clearly and openly sized her up; it was the same sense of lack of restraint, where the wilder side of her yearned to break free from its cage, underscored by a certain apprehension at the mere notion of letting herself go that hard. Above all, however, was the fear she felt at being treated like an object to be desired; it brought to mind the earlier days of the genemodding project, where she was just a random test subject, before the treatment actually took properly and things progressed far more in her favour. She didn’t like feeling like a nameless, faceless thing to be coveted; she was herself, she was Ashly, and no one would take that from her.
So why did she find it attractive, to some extent?
“Took you a while,” the panda spoke up, thoroughly startling the newcomer, “got lost on the way?”
“No! I mean, uh, no, I uh, just-” Ashly stumbled over her words, hoping her brain would get back on track on its own “-just never came here, so it took a while. Didn’t get lost.”
A single raised eyebrow. The greatest of disarming maneuvers.
