The Monster of Mtubu: VI

***A most valiant rescue attempt...***

I was exhausted enough to sleep through to the morning and was woken then by a tremendous cry. Taylor and I rushed up the rocks to see what was happening. I could scarcely have been more shocked than to see the giant woman sat up with her fist before her face, closed around the unmistakably Caucasian figure of Montcliff. I relented with horror that we had never had a chance to save him, but realised then she did not have designs on eating him. For him a sickly but, and I use the phrase very loosely, more merciful task was in store. The giant woman opened her palm and held him more lightly, as he gave a few angry curses. She was not interested in his words, for she diffidently lifted the other hand and plucked carefully at his clothing. He struggled under her quickly moving fingers, but they suddenly retreated with his breeches hanging loosely from them, which she tossed away. Then came another short struggle, and he was momentarily lifted with great fighting frenzy, and relieved of his underwear.

I should warn the reader that what happened next was a ghastly encounter, and I hope no one thinks it distasteful that I record it, for if it was anyone but Montcliff I would quickly shy from the details. His memory deserves an account, I feel, for it is perhaps this trauma that later hindered his survival. He was lifted up again, to hang in front of the giant woman’s face, and I thought for sure he was to be her breakfast. However, her great tongue, wide as a man, protruded, finding its way up his bare legs. This above all we had seen so far convinced me the woman had a heart driven by cruelty more than mere nature; but then I recognised this was not intended to tease or, indeed, to taste, as she retreated his dripping body from her lips, and lowered him to her legs. She had meant to lubricate him, perhaps even to arouse him, the wretched beast, and I dare say it worked, for she proceeded to slip poor Montcliff, swearing at the top of his lungs, between her monstrous thighs and into the darkness under her skirt. It is hard to imagine what scale her genitalia must have been, but I feel confident it fully consumed our hunter as her hand worked itself into that region.

There was a twisted irony that in this most debased act, her pleasure took on its most human appearance. She sat there in a state of blissful arousal, moaning a low rumble that shook the rocks around us, and her arm moved with a self-gratifying but definite purpose. I had my disgust belied by the fear of what might become of Montcliff in there: did she intend to get pregnant from this man, a fraction of her size, or was this an act of simple pleasure? The idea of pregnancy did not seem entirely absurd, for the examples of creatures in nature whose females dwarf the males are countless, not to say anything of those that devour their partners. It left me concerned that on completion she would merely eat up Montcliff, or worse leave him there, to be consumed by her womanhood. The former fear seemed warranted when she gave one final groan and drew him out from her thighs, holding him back up to her mellowed face, but when he came to her lips the most remarkable thing occurred, for she gave him an enormous but appreciative kiss. I could see this was as nothing to Montcliff, however, for the man hung loosely in her fingers, worn to within an inch of consciousness by her abuse. She dropped him to the ground beside her, where the poor soul came to a rest, heaving up and down in a pool of her juices.

With little further ado, after only a moment’s rest, the giant woman turned to the cage next to her and reached in for another prisoner. Their collective screams could be heard as they retreated, but one unlucky man was carried up in her fingers and promptly shovelled through her lips, squirming and shrieking. Her cheeks bulged as she worked at him with her tongue and teeth before swallowing. Barely pausing, she hummed thoughtfully then reached into the panicking crowd again, this time pulling out a woman as her fellow captives tried to hold her back. Of course, their collective strength was nothing to the giant’s, and the woman was lifted free of the cage to be mercilessly eaten, too. Terrible as this scene was, it was especially strange to see the monster so flippantly devouring people that I could now see she had at least some regard for us as of her own nature. She lifted Montcliff again and placed him back into the cage.

Following this ghastly breakfast, the giant woman rested for about an hour, not sleeping but merely relaxing, before rising and heading out of her lair. As soon as we saw her lifting up to that magnificent height, we hid in our cave, and watched her pass down into the trees as the rocks shook about us. I made great haste in preparing the rifle and bags of gunpowder and rope, determined to head down into the pit and rescue Montcliff before she came back. Nothing I could say would persuade Taylor to join me, now, but he was equal to the task of keeping watch from the lip, where we tied a great rope for my descent. I hurried down and ran across to the cage, a greater distance than it appeared from above. When I got there, I found the tree-trunk bars packed too closely for any man to squeeze through, and realised there was no latch or hinge on its lid; it was of such weight that no man could lift it. The trunks were tied together with thick vines, almost as thick as trees themselves, and coated in a smooth but solid skin I could not penetrate with machete blows. I shouted for Montcliff, numerous times, as the imprisoned natives grew agitated and started to hoot back at me. Soon, an English voice cut through the rest of the ruckus, and I was astounded to see the crowds parting. Miss Betty Spillerson came forwards, with Montcliff supported by one of her arms.

Dear Betty was a frightful sight, barely recognisable for her weathered looks. Her dress, once regal and blue, no doubt, was now a miserable slip of muddy rags, her face sallow and filthy, her flesh weak and frail. She looked at me with a hopeful spark, however, and asked if I was come to save them. I insisted I was, and implored Montcliff for a plan. He instructed me, in feeble tones, to simply blast a hole through the cage wall with the gunpowder, and this I quickly set out to do. I was careful to prepare only a small pile, so as to contain the explosion, and led a trail away from the cage to light it from a distance. Betty and Montcliff urged their fellow prisoners away from the bars, but few listened. When the spark of the gunpowder grew close, however, there was a frightened crush away from it. The explosion was short and sharp, but still shook the area around us with a boom, and we wasted no time in kicking through the hole it had caused, dragging Betty out and hurrying towards the rope.

As we fled, the other prisoners saw the opportunity we had created and began a riotous rush to get out themselves. There was such an abundance of frenzied bodies that few were able to squeeze through the relatively small hole. Meanwhile, Montcliff stopped us as he limped along bravely, spying his rifle amongst plants and scrambling to lift it. For the horrors he had endured, clearly injured, he powered on and we began a frantic climb up the rope. Taylor’s shouts came from the lip of the cliff, urging us to hurry, as the giant woman must have heard our explosion and was returning, even if her vibrations could not yet be felt.

We climbed the rope all three of us, Montcliff leading and myself helping to support Betty from behind. When we were about halfway up, the few prisoners who had escaped below began to tug at the rope to climb after us. Montcliff shouted at them, roaring that it would not hold us all, but they did not see reason, some four or five of them scrambling to lift themselves. He aimed his rifle down with one arm and fired a booming shot. If the giant woman had not heard us before, she certainly did now, but the blast had the desired effect as the throng of prisoners dropped from the rope and hurried away. We were nearly at the top when the vibrations could be truly felt, and as we pulled ourselves up over the lip, with Taylor rushing to our aid, flashes of the bounding woman became visible through the trees, rapidly approaching.

The four of us sprinted for our lives down the rocks, towards the cave where we might shelter, but we scrambled in a moment too late, falling over one another as the giant woman came into view and spotted our retreat. The shaking walls played second fiddle to the sound of her weight crashing onto the rocks, her hands rapidly carrying her to our cave. As we all fled to the rear of the woefully small cavern, the giant’s face filled our exit, a monstrously large eye darting about, spotting us. The face retreated before any of us could react, and was quickly followed by one of her giant hands pushing in. We flattened ourselves against the wall, Betty letting out a little shriek, as the hand patted the ground, moving further and further in, feeling for our presence. As she reached the wall, we all scrambled to move out of the way, myself rolling under her powerful fingers, just a slither away from being touched. I rose back to my feet alongside Betty, pushing her against another wall as the forearm brushed against us. Montcliff, somewhere on the other side, was hurrying to reload his rifle, whilst Taylor, terrifyingly, found himself trapped to the left of her hand as it flattened against the rear wall. The fingers retreated slightly and felt along, our guide trembling, petrified in the corner. It seemed her probing was going to retreat, when her “little” finger brushed him and he flinched, his arm smacking into it. The giant hand paused for a moment, as did Taylor, then moved in one instant as he tried to leap past the fingers and she pounced on him. He very nearly escaped her grip, but his stray arm was caught by her smallest finger and the next and the fist closed tightly, clamping down. Taylor was lifted up by his arm, screaming and punching at the hand, and quickly dragged from the cave.

Montcliff bravely charged out after the hand, his gun ready, and I instinctively took Betty by the arm to follow. As our knight charged towards the cliffs, however, I skirted the side of the cave, heading back up the rocks. I was caught by a moment’s panic and awe, though, to see the torso of this great beast looming in front of us, lifting Taylor up as though he were light as a feather. She was concentrating on him for the moment, opening her fist to release his flailing form so he might fall from one hand into the other, which instantly closed on him.

Before she could act further, Montcliff fired. I’m not sure where he hit her, but she reeled back from it slightly this time, and roared towards him. Betty and I jumped for the cover of a tree as Montcliff bravely stood his ground and prepared a second shot. A catastrophic fist, as powerful as a boulder, came crashing down on him. I grappled with Betty to put a hand over her face and muffled her scream as our companion was so effortlessly squashed. She caved into me with sobs but I could not draw my eyes from the scene. The giant woman, somewhat angered by his attack, quickly snatched Montcliff’s crumpled body from the floor and tossed it furiously into the distance. I could see him limply floating through the air, out into the trees, and knew that if by any miracle he had survived her fist, there was no hope of him surviving this fall.

Calmed by her latest murder, the giant woman turned back to peering into the cave, but was satisfied that it was now empty. She must not have seen how many of us there were, for she spent no time searching the immediate area. Instead, without care, she shoved Taylor’s yelling body into her mouth and swallowed my final companion, before climbing back up the rocks to her lair. I told Betty to wait there, which, in her petrified state, she did, and I scrambled up the rocks to observe the aftermath of our escape.