Bikini Kaiju - Ch 16

Ash had started to appreciate the possibilities of her new life. She had expected to die on Steel Island, having spent her life savings getting there, but was more thankful every day that she hadn’t. It felt karmic, almost, that she’d put everything into bringing down Ruth, and getting her revenge, and while things hadn’t panned out as she’d expected, and the global picture seemed increasingly unstable, she was seeing a positive change. Though Pelican promoted programs of giants and were developing technology around this, they were controlling the Sentinels. It was hard to overstate how happy it had made Ash to see Ruth knocked on her ass by the White Fort defences, and doubly so when the Sentinels had begrudgingly fallen into line since. They had cleaned up the mess of San Francisco with all the air of criminals doing community service, and for the first time in history it looked like someone had managed to humble the giantesses.

Ash watched the news daily with delight, hoping for some new project or commentary that would see Ruth and her friends sent to do more work or to publicly admit culpability. There were chat shows finally discussing the wrongs they’d done in the past and how this new era would see the Sentinels finally giving back. There had been a couple more shocks from the rings when Ruth or Ramona showed signs of resistance, quickly bringing the monsters in line. It was better than killing them, Ash saw. And somehow, she knew, this was at least partly thanks to her, and the energy she had put out there.

It was a strange situation, to find herself in Alaska with luxurious lodgings, allowed to roam about at her leisure, use their spa, and dine on incredible buffets. It was like a holiday resort, if you ignored the scientists and workers occasionally wandering past, and all she had to do was occasionally sit in on a meeting to give the ‘people’s perspective’. She had regular meetings with Tim and Mandy, executives who eagerly listened to everything she had to say about the Sentinels and the world in general, making notes, all things they said would help inform their projects’ progress. She’d been reluctant to be fully truthful at first, not wanting to annoy anyone, but finally admitted her distrust of the Sentinels, and Ruth in particular. She confessed that Ruth had killed her father, and her handlers were incredibly kind about it, insisting they would make a difference in the future. They called her brave and rewarded her with time off and promises of a salary as a sensitivity consultant. They put her before more cameras and she found herself broadcast to the world, the voice of the ordinary person.

The clips she saw on the news weren’t quite as honest: no one mentioned her specific situation publicly, instead using soundbites that skewed a little less extreme, such as “I’ve never been sure I could trust the Sentinels before” and “we’ve all been victims of their collateral damage at some point”. Tim explained that they needed to keep things general for her own sake, really; they didn’t want to make a spectacle of her trauma, nor to limit her experience to one specific incident, though she wasn’t sure what that meant.

It didn’t matter, really. Ash could still enjoy the results of her limited involvement, and trusted they knew what they were doing. The Pelican Crystal Estate was proof enough of that: it was a temple of technology and wonder which she delighted in exploring, between the enormous corridors and furniture fit for giants and the various leisure spaces for the employees, to keep them more than happy so far from civilisation. A massive swimming pool, a sauna, climbing walls, multiple cinemas… and more novel amenities – electric buggies to get around, automatic lights and heated floors, little touches that showed they cared. She caught occasional glimpses of the labs, too, with their layers of walkways and testing chambers, technology and diagrams she couldn’t begin to understand, and she knew for sure she was at the heart of something important.

The one drawback, which was also a boon if she thought about it, was how much personal attention she got from Sloane herself. The giantess played it up for the cameras and public appearances, holding her close and declaring Ash her lucky charm, so happy she’d saved her life, but it bled into their private time, too. After the White Fort summit and a whirlwind of interviews, Sloane had idly carried Ash away to various press meetings, seeming to forget she was in her pocket. She’d been taken to Alaska and introduced to lots more people, before they were reunited for a video interview and Sloane had pocketed her again. She hadn’t asked anyone, least of all Ash, just carried her off as easily as a free pen. In Sloane’s private chambers, the giantess had stripped, tossing her denim top onto the bed with Ash in it. She’d showered and changed and only then come back to ask if Ash was going to come out, evidently aware she was in the pocket all that time.

Ash spent almost as much time in Sloane’s room as her own. It was a massive version of the regular living quarters: vast, soft bed, a kitchenette, a cupboard, startling luminescent lighting and a building-sized window view of the mountains and sea. Sloane sat on the bed or crouched in front of Ash and mostly made small talk, asked what she liked to eat, or wear, or listen to. Occasionally she asked about her home life, or spoke about her own, recalling fun memories of growing up in the South, playing games in fields, taking trips into the big city. She gave her smiles and winks and, without saying much more, would carry Ash to one part of the room or another to join her as Sloane exercised or watched TV. Her idle hands sometimes found Ash to toy with her, squeezing her body or rolling her in a giant, soft palm. Normally gently, never quite enough that Ash dared protest. Somehow, she found she wasn’t as furious at this giantess as she had been at Ruth; where the prospect of captivity on Steel Island was the height of disgust, this was tolerable. Nice, even, sometimes – when Sloane lay back on her bed to read a book and dropped Ash on her belly, it was a warm and weirdly captivating place to settle, feeling the platform of a living body beneath her, the ridges of her muscles.

Then, there were more confusing times. On their first meeting Ash had been thrust inside Sloane’s mouth, and it wasn’t the last time. Without comment or apology, Sloane could, in the middle of whatever she was doing, pluck up Ash and throw her into that wet cave. She sucked and lightly chewed, and took her out again when she was done with an acknowledging smile, wink or laugh, but never much to say about it. She was likewise rolled over and pressed into other parts of Sloane as the giantess’s carrying hand wandered, or was carried in the straps of her bra or pants when there was no pocket available.

Ash was also witness to the giantess’s great appetite, which started as incredible feats of engineered junk food, burgers and fries taller than a human, and later was revealed to be the same as the other Sentinels. She swallowed a scream the first time Sloane opened a box she’d brought into her room and plucked out a person, too far away from Ash’s position on the bed to make out in detail. The giantess casually tossed her little victim into her mouth and ate them alive. Followed by another, then another. Even having seen Ruth and Ramona do the same, Ash was rigid with fear and shock at how casually Sloane devoured living people, and all without a hint of remorse. But perhaps it was precisely Sloane’s dismissive attitude that allowed her to ignore it too. She’d seen, anyway, the news reports that Sloane was doing good work breaking up terrorist groups and military oppressors overseas, and was certain she only ate such terrible people.

This was confirmed after Ash watched the violence in Sanaa on the news, having been left on Sloane’s bed before a billboard-sized TV, not for the first time. There was a way down, a system of stairs and ladders, but Ash had nowhere better to be. Sloane returned that evening carrying the same bag she’d been throwing people inside on the broadcasts, only now it looked empty. She sighed tiredly, sitting on the bed beside Ash with a thump that knocked her over, then she reached into the bag and pulled one of the soldiers out – not quite empty. The man begged in his native language as Sloane pushed him into her mouth, then crunched him between her teeth and swallowed.

The news was still on the TV, and Sloane frowned as it shifted from recaps of her activities in Yemen to footage of inner-city rioting. The Borough. She said, “Well, what all is this.”

The anchor and ticker explained that there was increasing unrest in the refugee city in response to Sloane’s behaviour in Yemen. Crowds of people were marching and shouting, brandishing signs with slogans like “Sentinels Out!” and “Pelican’t On My Watch!”

Ash yelped as Sloane’s hand fell towards her, huge fingers scooping her up, and a moment later she was sprawled across her palm, next to the massive woman’s face.

“You seeing this? Those ungrateful bastards setting shops on fire like they did to your daddy.”

Ash paused at her inaccurate summary – it was a giant, after all, and not protesters, that had destroyed her family shop. But as she watched the news footage, with the furious people tearing through their own town, she couldn’t deny a similarity. They were out in large numbers trashing the surrounding, streets lit by flames.

The footage switched to a wider view of the burning Borough skyline, a humanoid silhouette standing over it. From her curves, Washington Fury, watching the disruption below.

“Why ain’t she stomping out the fire already,” Sloane sighed with disappointment. “Seems it’s about time we trampled this particular bugbear, ain’t it?”

It was Ash’s turn to frown. “You mean attack The Borough? But that’s an American city.”

“Ain’t really a city at all, is it?” Sloane said.

The news played out with more violence shown, and anchors raising the same question. Why wasn’t Washington Fury moving in? There was a sudden movement as she twitched, pained, reacting to her ring activating. They’d jolted her and must’ve been encouraging her to act. But Washington steadied herself and glared at the circling cameras, not moving. Anyone watching could see Pelican and the US government and whoever else wanted The Borough brought to heel but she was not going to play ball. An expert came on the screen, some man in a suit being interviewed via video link, growing increasingly concerned: “Never mind the damage they’re doing to themselves, this violence is a sure beacon. Guaranteed, unless something is done, we will see more kaiju attacks in response.”

“That’s what she’s there for,” Sloane murmured. “But I guess these Sentinels still ain’t understanding the job. My apologies, Lucky, I thought we’d have a nice relaxing evening together – seems I’m needed.”

The giantess lowered Ash and tipped her back onto the bed, standing and rolling her shoulders. As Ash crawled upright, watching the massive woman readying herself to leave, and the daunting news footage of the riots beyond her, she had an uneasy feeling about it all. Washington restraining herself, Sloane’s readiness to strike The Borough. And what of those claims that this descent was really drawing the kaiju back? Despite being at the centre of it, things were spiralling in ways Ash was sure she didn’t really understand.

But if it meant the giants would come to blows… Well, she wanted to see the Sentinels put in their place.