TracerBulletBilly: Giantess Gretchen vs The Heart of Darkness

So I'm sitting in the office around midnight munching on another burrito from the bag (why did she order twelve from Dog Meat Taco Stand? Good though, can't stop eating them) Friday brought in for lunch yesterday. I've been having the oddest dreams of late ...
The phone rings breaking my profound reverie.

It's another bimbo in trouble needing my help. Jem_takenbyAnyoneWithFiveDollah or something like that. Says she has us on retainer with some check for $10,000 she wrote and to bust a nut getting over to Giantess Island, she's gotten herself in a jam with Giantess Gretchen.

Giantess Gretchen? Super. I'm already subconsciously scratching myself as I head out the door telling Friday to check out the account. Make sure we're getting paid. She's on her cell with MsGrace doing "girl talk" about restraints and Antonio (whoever the fuck that is) and makeovers. Broads, I'll never figure them out.

I pause, lighting a cig, glaring at Friday making sure she's heard me. She signals she has by rubbing the back of her hand and nodding yes unable to speak because of her wimpy moans. She gets so involved with this girl gab that last time I had to put my cigarette out on the back of her hand to get her attention. I idly wonder what's up with the pink binkie as I hit the mean streets of the playground. Did Friday adopt? I know I didn't knock the roundheel up. Whatever ...

Could really use a thin mint to help with this vile burrito but ace is claiming to be out, driving up the street price. Like he needs more money. He sits up on the hill in that mansion of his like some sort of Greek God on Olympus. Word on the street is his "interests" have taken a turn towards the frilly - wonder if it's true. Doubt it, if that cool tiger smoking jacket ever turns into some sort of evening gown then I'll start asking questions.

I carefully peek into the chatroom making sure that dove loving peacnik most delightful and wondrous MsTara isn't there. Good. I don't have to get into another argument over my second amendment rights worry about becoming ensnared by her charming wit. I know MsGrace isn't there since she's on the phone with Friday.

I step casually through the metal detector setting it off, announcing my presence. A bunch of repeaters are in there looking startled. I grab one by the back of the neck and rough house him out of the room. I can't recall this deewb's name so I call him SharkBait. He's trying to explain to me about his four inch penis and that he can suck that and his clitty at the same time. Ho hum, like I heard Giantess Gretchen say one time, "Who can't?"

I drag the babbling SharkBait to the shore, pull my 45 and tell him the facts of life. He's gonna swim out half way to that Island over there. Then he'll swim back while I go on. I forget to mention to him that I plan to stab him in the thigh with great malice, fuck that "Master Billy" noise.

It's calm and as we reach the halfway point I note that the sharks seem strangely skittish. A stench hugs the water smelling a lot like a wet Friday. I stab the repeater on general principals wishing him well and continue on my way.

I reach the shore and see Giantess Gretchen peering down on this jem who's trying to explain something to Her.

In a high pitched, mewling voice she's saying, "I tell you - I am not evil! I'm the very poster child of goodness. Everybody says how sweet I am, good jem, sweet jem. Even MsTara!"

She's standing in front of this huge hamster wheel, her enormous EEE boobs swaying in the wind. Pretending to listen Giantess Gretchen is lighting an huge candle and placing it under the wheel. I bet that puppy will burn for years. It looks like this jem is in real trouble here.

Wringing her hands, jem spots me trudging up the beach and shouts, "Tracer! Get your worthless ass over here and explain to Giantess Gretchen what a good client I am, how sweet and loving I am you pathetic looser!"

I'm sensing a mixed message but she is a client and I might have a way of getting jem off the island outside of a body bag. I'm starting to peer up up up at the Giantess when my cell rings. It's Friday, "That nice jem's check bounced sky high Tracer. I'm sure she can make up for it. She's a gal pal of mine."

I hang up and step back, ordering a tub of popcorn from a nearby vendor, not saying a word.

Jem is glancing at me in a shifty sort of way, her recent confidence shattered and spraying spittle she shrieks, "Tracer aren't you going to say anything? I fucking own your ass!" as she's lifted up and placed onto the wheel.

I'm thinking there's only one person on this planet who owns my ass as I say, "Check bounced."

The candle gets her moving, her immense boobies slapping her in the face as she jogs along the wheel. The pace must be getting to her, she's confessing to all of her wicked ways. How she stole my Visa to pay for the Giantess Relief Fund after the recent hurricane knowing full well that it would be declined since I maxed it out at a Bangkok brothel. Her imaginary pet bird, Vash the Stampede, that she tortures to the point that a concentration camp doctor would blush. Jem disclosed other horrible crimes too dark to blacken your souls with by even mentioning them, while her evil boobs bounced unrelentingly into her face, darkening her eyes like rough justice mascara.

Suddenly I'm picked up by the Giantess and placed on another wheel, probably just for even being associated with jem. A huge gassy burp escapes me and my stomach roils. I humbly ask the Giantess if She wouldn't mind chucking my ass out past the reef giving me a good head start on the sharks. She must have smelled the burp and without a word tossed me way out into the ocean, almost three fourths of the way back to shore. As I'm flying I glance down seeing ace casually steering towards Giantess Island on that immense yacht of his, The Denial. The illegal cookie trade must be booming.

I get back to the office and Friday's not there. I deposit a large load of burrito in the toilet for her to deal with (I'll never understand why she doesn't just frame a plumber and get the silly thing fixed is beyond me, but whatever) and head into my secret, sound proof room. I had to spend a bit more for the sound proofing but it was money well spent! Friday can't find me and I don't have to listen to her pathetic, "Please Princess! Pretty Pretty Please Princess!" wimpers, moans and sighs when she's on the phone, which is all the time. Girl talk, sheesh.

After sniffing another burrito (all that swimming makes Tracer hungry!) I decide to wolf it down followed by a jigger of whiskey and a cigarette. I stare in a very wanty, needy way at the Princess phone I've had installed in my room, but decide tonight wouldn't be a good night. I'm too burpy and could not give my Mistress the respect She deserves, my total attention. I really don't feel too well. I know She could help distract me but not now, only when I can give Her what She gives me. 110%

I vote for Her for about the 23rd time today, climb into bed and dream.