Author Topic: Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich  (Read 40257 times)


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Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich
« on: April 19, 2011, 11:52:58 AM »
By Puppy Dog

          The single-engine Klemm K1 broke from the clouds. As it banked along the coastline, a Tyrannosaurus Rex burst out of the jungle and roared its thunderous challenge.

          Monster Island – hidden from the world and cut off from time, here long-lost beasts fought tooth-and-nail for survival.

          In a secret base, concealed within the dormant volcano at the heart of the island, dwelt monsters of a different kind - Hitler’s scientists, who labored tirelessly to bend the laws of nature toward the mad will of their Fuehrer.

          Fleischer’s boot heels clacked on the polished steel tiling. Black leather trench coat flapping at his legs, he strode through a maze of towering, impossibly complex machinery. Above, the walls sloped upward to dizzying heights, like a futuristic cathedral  

          Ahead he saw a wizened little man in a white lab coat. “Doctor Baumgartner?” And when the old doctor turned, Fleischer saluted him with, “Heil Hitler!”  

          “Yah, yah,” Baumgartner waved dismissively, as if shooing a fly. With his shiny bald head and shriveled face, he resembled a fairy-tale goblin – Rumpelstiltskin perhaps. The statuesque woman at his side – her raven hair done up in a bun – flicked open a silver case from which the doctor plucked a cigarette. “My assistant, Agnes…” he muttered, and then added, “Well – it is not every day we are graced by a visit from the SS. You’ve flown all this way to see my creation? Come then Herr Fleischer, feast your eyes!”  

          They all turned and looked up at the cylindrical glass tank that was the laboratory’s centerpiece. It was filled with a bubbly liquid of a soft rosy hue. Well over fifty feet tall, it dwarfed the entire facility.    

          “Ah…” Fleischer’s jaw dropped, “…Incredible…”

          Suspended in the tank was a giant woman. Were it not for her size, she could have been a healthy young frauline fresh out of the gymnasium. She was slender; her limbs well-toned but not heavily muscled. Her long, wavy hair was wafting gently in the fluid.

          “Yes…” Baumgartner chuckled around his cigarette, “Subject X is quite awe-inspiring – wouldn’t you agree?”  

          “Why…” Fleischer dry-swallowed, “Why a female?”

          The doctor shrugged, “Eh, we were having trouble with the Y-chromosome.”

          “No matter,” Fleischer briskly straightened his cap. Its skull insignia caught the light and gleamed. “Ha! How humiliating for our enemies, to be crushed beneath the feet of a woman! But she must have a name, something better than ‘Subject X’ – Brunhilde! Yes,” he smacked a fist into his palm, “the valkyrie of legend!”

          “Eh, it’s not terribly original, but whatever makes you happy. Better than humbling the Allies, Herr Fleischer, ‘Brunhilde’ will be mother to a race of giants – an unstoppable army.”

          The officer gasped, “Mein Gott – how could we possibly feed such an army?”

          “Aha!” Baumgartner cackled, “But there lies my genius! Brunhilde requires no food; like a tree, she draws sustenance from the sun.”

          The giant’s loins and her mountainous breasts were swathed in a makeshift bikini woven from oversized palm leaves common on Monster Island. “We had to do something for clothes,” Baumgartner explained. “Some, eh, lesser minds were distracted by her humungous boobies…” – his laughter turned to a fit of wheezing – “… not to mention her other womanly assets.”

          A scuba team was down in the tank, working together to un-tuck a fold of Brunhilde’s leafy bottoms out from between her cheeks. “…Unfortunately,” the doctor continued, “the bathing suit tends to, ah, ride up when she tosses in her slee- eh?

          Shouts, screaming, and the rat-tat of gunfire came from the entrance. Suddenly, a booming explosion shook the lab.

          “What is happening?” screamed Baumgartner. “Get me a radio! I demand to know the meaning of this!” The doctor did a little dance in his tizzy. “Someone give me a report!”

          “Doctor!” In came running a squad of beige-clad Wehrmacht soldiers, their faces and uniforms streaked with soot. “Doctor, it’s that T-Rex again, it –”

          “Fools! Imbeciles! Close the blast doors! Hurry, before it’s –”

          Too late – the mighty Tyrannosaurus, its skin green with brown tiger-stripes, came roaring into the lab. With a lash of its tail it toppled heavy machinery like toy blocks, crushing a poor tab tech amidst an explosion of sparks.

          Fleischer spotted a ladder. “Doctor, Agnes – quickly, to the upper level!”

          The soldiers were in retreat, submachine guns chattering, when the T-Rex ducked low and ploughed into their midst. They scattered like bowling pins, while the T-Rex, its claws scrabbling for traction on the polished floor, skidded toward the tank.
          “No! No!” screamed Baumgartner, clinging to the ladder with one hand, with the other shaking a fist. “NOOO!”  

          Seven tons of scaly weight crashed into the glass. It shattered, issuing out a tsunami of liquid that engulfed the lab – scientists, soldiers, everything.  

          “Brunhilde…” Fleischer whispered from the second floor observation deck.

          The giantess, her body slick and glistening, dropped to a knee, pounding a crater in the floor. Honey golden hair slapped wetly against her back. Now that she was out of the tank, Fleischer could see her skin was lightly tanned, her lips naturally pink, and her eyes – they opened – blue as the Caribbean.

          “…She – she’s…”

          “…Beautiful…” finished Agnes in an awed hush.  

          The T-Rex reared, splashing about in the flood, before it lunged at the giantess and brought its terrible jaws down on her arm.

          “My masterpiece!” wailed Baumgartner on his knees.

          Pain – with an ear-splitting cry, Brunhilde came alive at this new sensation. Tears (a bucketful each) sprouted from the corners of her clenched eyes. PAIN! But then another feeling bloomed within the pit of her stomach – RAGE. Her face darkened as she made a fist and then smashed it – again and again – with godlike force into the monster’s skull.  

          The T-Rex lurched back drunkenly, its teeth leaving a crescent of pink indentations in her arm, but unable to break the skin. Another powerful blow – boom – staggered the beast.

          Brunhilde reached down, grabbed its tail and, with a mighty heave, swept the T-Rex off the floor. Now the dinosaur roared in fear as she spun it a full rotation before hurling its monstrous body across the lab, through row after row of equipment until it slammed into the wall with earth-shaking force. The great lizard crumpled into a lifeless heap.  

          Breasts heaving, Brunhilde took a slow step forward, followed by another. On an upper-level walkway, a soldier watched with rising panic as the giantess drew closer. Without thinking, he raised his gun.

          Fleischer saw him from the observation deck – but too late. “Stop, you idiot!”

          Rat-tat-tat – Brunhilde flung up a hand to shield her face, the bullets leaving tiny welts, like pimples. “GRR!” She swatted the pest – her hand a blur – bringing down the entire walkway with a deafening CRASH.

          “She’s going outside!” Baumgartner clutched at Fleischer’s arm. “There’s no time to lose; we will have to use the experimental rocket packs.”

          Brunhilde crawled out of the cave entrance into a war-zone. Smoldering, overturned vehicles and mangled bodies – the aftermath of the T-Rex attack – littered the clearing.

           Rising to full height, she turned her face toward the sun. Below, the Wehrmacht scurried around her feet.  

          One foolhardy lad rammed his bayonet into her ankle, boasting, “The bigger they are…” With a cry, Brunhilde jerked up her heel. “…The harder they f-” And – boom – she stamped it down on him.

          Distracted as she was, Brunhilde missed Dr. Baumgartner and Fleischer as they zipped overhead in rocket packs. “Follow me,” shouted the doctor, “to the airfield.”

          They’d been short one pack, so Fleischer trailed behind, carrying Agnes in his arms. “Careful,” she warned, “we’re too close.”

          “…Trying…” They bobbed erratically as the rockets coughed and sputtered. “Are we too heavy?”

          “Then land this thing!”

          “No, I – I think not. For the fatherland, Frau Agnes…”

          Realization dawned across her face. “Why you…” He dropped her. “...Schwanzlutscher!”

          Fleischer popped upwards like a balloon held underwater. But he overcompensated and swooped low. Wrestling with the controls, he didn’t see the tree in time

          “Oof!” For a moment, Agnes was amazed to find herself alive and in one piece. Then, like an icicle to the chest, she realized where she’d landed – smack in Brunhilde’s open palm. The giantess cocked her head and studied the little thing quizzically.

          “Ah, hah,” Agnes gasped for breath. Loose strands of hair were stuck across her face. “…B-Bu-Brunhilde…”

          The giantess twisted her lips and opened her mouth. “…BRUN…HIL…DE….?”

          “N-no, I – I am Agnes.” She patted her chest and repeated, “Agnes… You” – pointing at the giant – “you are Brunhilde.”

          “…AG…NES…” Brunhilde smiled brightly. “…BRUNHILD – EEK!

          She reared, clapping a hand to her bottom and nearly flinging Agnes to certain doom. Brunhilde hastily (and a touch sheepishly) checked to find Agnes hanging on for life to her giant thumb.

          Brunhilde furrowed her brow. What to do? Suddenly, her eyes lit up – of course! She took the squirming little woman and stuffed her waist-deep into her cleavage. There she’d be safe!

          “Wh- what –?” Agnes felt her cheeks burning. “N-no, let me – put me down!” She could barely move, crammed between two soft, fleshy boulders.

          Agnes secure, Brunhilde whirled to face the soldier who’d goosed her with a rocket. He was scrambling to reload the bazooka. Scowling, the giant swung back her leg and kicked – big toe colliding with the soldier to punt him up, over the tree-tops, and (plunk) into the ocean beyond.

          Meanwhile, Fleischer crawled out from the brush. He flagged down a jeep as it came bouncing over the rough terrain and swung himself behind the rear mounted machine gun. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! Fleischer’s whole body quaked. Shell-casings littered the ground as tracers pelted the giant’s belly. Writhing, she let out a peal of… giggles?  

          Brunhilde snatched up the jeep. Fleischer dived out in time, but the driver was not so lucky. Fleischer watched the hapless man cling for life to the steering wheel – screaming – while Brunhilde held the jeep upside-down over her open mouth and shook it. With a piteous shriek, he fell in. Her face twisted in disgust she – BLECH – spat him into the foliage.

          At that moment, a plane came roaring in from overhead. Inside, Baumgartner perched by the open passenger door, wind thrashing his lab-coat. Behind him, two soldiers wrestled with a barrel-sized canister. “Careful, you fools, we have only one shot! Closer – bring us in closer!”  

          A little too close – Brunhilde took a swipe at the plane, which banked sharply to dodge, throwing its passengers off their feet. The canister rolled out the open door – along with one of the soldiers. “Aieee!” He fell to a swift death - unlucky sod - but as for the container, it tumbled downward – end over end – before breaking open against the giant’s brow and releasing a billowy cloud of green gas.

          Brunhilde’s face went slack; her arms dropped limply as she wobbled on her feet. The lids fell over her eyes, and she collapsed.

          Fleischer looked up as her bikini-clad bottom filled his vision. “Gott im himmel!” he choked, “What a terrific heinie!


         “Yes! Yes! YES!” cackled Doctor Baumgartner. “Now, land at once. We must prepare the brain-washing device.” Rubbing his bony hands together – “Soon, soon all the world will fear the name BRUNHILDE!”
          -- The End?

          Um… first?  :D So I’m not that into the giantess thing. It seems to be a combo of femdom, foot-fetishism and (shudder) vore  :-X – not my cup of tea. Still, it was kinda fun writing this, and I’d love to know what you thought of it. As always, thanks for reading!  
« Last Edit: April 19, 2011, 06:15:01 PM by puppydog »


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Re: Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich
« Reply #1 on: April 23, 2011, 10:38:59 PM »
Damn you and your promotional speaking from other threads! Now I'm hooked! In all seriousness, that was amazing. I can't wait to see Brunhilde pop up more often :) nice work puppy.
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Re: Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich
« Reply #2 on: April 30, 2011, 07:57:11 AM »
I don't really like giantness as well lol but I did read this story cause you can wright some really good ones :) so if you do go on with this story try to add more wedgies or may be a panting or spankings :P


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Re: Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich
« Reply #3 on: July 20, 2011, 10:38:56 PM »
I've been looking for an appropriate place to pose this question, and this thread will have to do......

What on earth is a giantess fetish?!?
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Re: Brunhilde Vs. The Third Reich
« Reply #4 on: July 20, 2011, 11:06:27 PM »
I've been looking for an appropriate place to pose this question, and this thread will have to do......

What on earth is a giantess fetish?!?

Is this REALLY that hard for you to figure out?
It's all in the name really but a quick look through the links in the videos for sale section should give you an idea of the different types of giantess fetish.
Saving that, just Google it.