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.Tales of the Exchange	By : keithcompany Category: G through L > Land of the Giants Views: 1808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Land of the Giants show, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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More Disclaimer: This work is my own. Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, ‘you gotta read this’ excerpts, the usual).
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Adrianna entered the interview booth slowly, eyes on the stranger through the glass.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I'm Corporal Ignatowski," he said cheerfully. "I'm doing your Exchange Interview."
"My interview?" she asked. He waved towards the chair. She sat down.
"I don't know what all you've heard," he started, pausing slightly. She shook her head. No, nothing. "Well, the giants have sold you to the giant government. Or, well, they've turned you over and received a monetary 'reward.'"
Adrianna was slightly amused to see that eagle claws were in use again among Earthlings. Which of course led her once more to the worry that this was an elaborate façade. Maybe the gesture was dated because their information was out of date?
She shook her head, trying to clear the suspicions. It was the general attitude in The Tank, look the gift horse in the mouth. Saddle it, but look in the mouth.
The Marine must have seen her reaction before. He sat quietly as she ran through the flash of fear, the paranoia, the determination and finally the calm wait for more information.
"Anyway," he said, politely ignoring her emotional speed bump, "you've been identified in our records. Your family is was contacted last night, or early today, depending on time zones. Email and Zmail messages will be delivered if you desire. And in two weeks you'll be released to Marine custody.
"No more than one week after that, you'll be in orbit and headed back to Earth."
"Three weeks," she said.
"Yes. Best we can do." He sounded at least a little sorry that that was their best. But he was resigned to it. "But I can tell you? We have never, ever lost an Earthling once they make it to the Tank."
"That's... I hope that's true."
"I swear it," he said, and there was no regret in the voice now. Just hard tempered steel. She found herself smiling and even maybe a little hopeful.
Well, that would come true or it wouldn't. She shook her head, the hope could be as dangerous as the paranoia. "What's the interview for?"
"Oh, we want to find out what has happened to you while you were here. Any other humans you know about, any giant issues we should know about, anything for our liaisons, medical issues for the doctor... Anything."
"Is that all?" she asked with a smile. "Was this interview designed by a committee?"
He snorted. "Earth hasn't changed THAT much since you left, you'll find." She smiled at that.
"Well, where I've been for the last four years? Locked in cage beside a bed, a whore's toy."
"Abba wha' now?" he asked.
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She stepped into the room calmly, without a trace of self-consciousness. The door swung shut in her wake, unlocked.
She walked between the bed and the wall, letting her peignoir slide off one shoulder and drape over the overstuffed quilt. Her eyes were on the big, wide mirror on the wall.
The woman didn’t exactly pose in it, but she did examine herself and her very short, very silky nightgown. A finger trailed across the lace framing her cleavage and she smiled.
There was pride and mischief in the look she gave herself, promise and satisfaction. Then she turned to the bed.
There was a bench alongside the mattress, as long as the bed but only half as tall. She sat there, not taking care to keep her knees together. There was a flash of hair, possibly lips, but it was gone in a second.
She slowly lifted each foot to pry the heeled shoes off, lowering them gently to the floor. No clatter, no shocking or sudden sounds.
Just a sibilant hiss as she leaned back and slid across the edge of her bed, her bare ass still on the bench.
She stretched, long and languid, and the slide had twisted her dress. The low-cut cleavage now framed one full, pouting breast.
After a moment or two, she sat back up, not rearranging herself, and glanced at the top of her dresser.
"Hmm," she mused. "Who to play with tonight?"
"The redhead," a disembodied voice said. It tried to whisper but came out as an urgent croak. She didn't react, not directly, but she did reach for the middle cage.
The redheaded human within crouched at the back, anxious but not terrified, not putting up too much of a fight. As if she wasn't sure if being chosen was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Come here, tiny," the woman said. She wrapped her hands around the Earthling, pinning the skinny arms to the torso.
Then she settled back down against the quilt. Her body lay in a line from the center of the mirror, up her legs, over her belly, across the bared nipple, and up to the face framed in the rumpled piles of fabric around it.
She held her captive just over her face and planted one kiss on a quivering shoulder. Then tiny little kisses here and there.
She added tongue, Frenching the little nude body at hip and thigh, over chest and shoulder blade, tailbone and calf.
Dangle the body before her open mouth, breathe on it, tickle it gently with tongue tip, kiss, with gentle suction, then turn the body around in her grasp.
Redhead suffered through it, eyes closed, rapid breathing, opening her legs or lifting an arm to give the woman access to any body part she wanted.
A hand reached down, pulling the hem of the shirt up, revealing a thick mat of hair. Her bright, pink, wet lips stood out against that carpet, quivering and just barely starting to spread, to gape.
She used both hands to change her grip, to hold the Earthling at the waist, with hands trapped once more.
Then her free hand stole down to stroke her hair while she began licking in earnest.
Now she sighed and moved her hand like she held ice cream, dragging the redhead over her tongue. Her face hardly moved, her hand moved slow, so very slow.
And at the end of each stroke, she whimpered, just a bit. Just one note of something that might have been frustration, or might have been satisfaction.
And another stroke. The pet, or toy, heaved her own sigh of pleasure during each pass along the tongue. Her skin shone in the light of the single lamp, wet and slick.
The woman's fingers started to caress herself in wider circles, through more and more pubic hair, until apparently accidentally stroking over her clit.
They rose, sudden, as if either surprised or maybe electrocuted, while her legs clamped together defensively. But her face, tongue, her licking hand went on uninterrupted.
Anyone seeing what was going on would have a difficult time deciding what area to watch.
Her hand returned to the hair, to exploring, like it expected to find a trap. And it did. Once the fingers found her pussy lips, they were caught, hooked, unable to stroke anywhere else.
She played, surrounding her clit with two fingers, the middle one hovering and tapping down to tease it.
Then she reached lower and pushed that finger into herself. It explored, then came back out, circling and circling the clit.
Then it went back inside, stroking longer and deeper.
At her face, she started to take the little woman into her mouth. Not much suction, she wouldn't even have popped the miniscule ears.
But she slurped her lips over shoulder and breast, sloshed the waist-length hair through her cheeks and over her gums.
Moist, sloppy sounds came from both ends, but slow. She whimpered even less, though the toy started to yip in pleasure.
"Faster," the voice commanded. Nothing changed.
"Please?" it asked, without effect.
The toy's yips were becoming short but intense screams, while the fingers, the sucking, actually seemed to slow down.
"Oh, Maker, PLEASE!" the voice pleaded.
She spread her legs as far as they'd go and started to pump herself furiously. She lifted the Earthling and held her, dripping, over one thigh.
"So... So close," she muttered. Then she sank further on the bench, shoving her ass out into the air, towards the mirror. Her weight was on either foot or the bench under her spine.
The redhead was turned to face the mirror, too, and her taut little ass placed right over her captor's clit.
"DO IT!" the woman screamed. The Little Woman pushed her feet against the hovering giant's hand, pressing herself back and forth. She pounded her fists into the hair behind and beside her and cried out.
That was drowned out in the screams of her mistress. The giant hands let go completely, moving to make fists in the quilting. The bed shook as the woman bucked and heaved and the tiny one hung on desperately.
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Adrianna took a deep breath. "Usually three times a day, five on Eight Day."
The corporal stared, eyes wide and mouth open.
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.Tales of the Exchange