I carefully lifted the huge beer, the size of a two-liter soda bottle - and heavier still from the thick glass mug it had been poured into. I'd seen some of the male staff in the bar carry them one-handed - with some effort - but not me.
No, not sickeningly petite Annabeth, whose hands were even smaller than one would think for a five-foot-tall girl who didn't even weigh a hundred pounds, especially not when I'm wrapped up in real simple black knee-length dress.
The raucous noise of the place seemed to be reaching a fever pitch. I turned around, consigning myself to lugging the last beer over to the table I was serving - I'd moved them one at a time. G-Bar had been built by and for giantesses, back in the eighties - and it apparently hadn't gotten an update even once since.
The fifteen-foot ceiling had only a scattering of pin lights; most of what scant illumination existed was provided by the pink and blue neon lining the dented chrome bar... which was taller than me. A little more surrounding the windows, as if the place wasn't tacky enough.
The walls were decorated with old-school propaganda posters showing uniformed giantesses lugging howitzers to fight Nazis in France in 1938, doing the same to overcome the Communists, bleeding in Vietnam, marching for civil rights, building towers and bridges, hunting down terrorists at the far corners of the world... one from every decade, it seemed, yet all kind of the same.
The utilitarian tile floor was stained and pock-marked all over, though perhaps that was less obvious from nine or ten feet up in the air - as most of the patrons of G-Bar would be viewing it from. They were all around me, sitting at tables that stood over eye level to me, talking incredibly loud; playing darts over there, and... hey, were they...?
My mouth went agape. I'd never seen such a thing - certainly not in public! At a far table in the corner, two giantesses - both brunettes - were sitting with their chairs leaned back against the wall, legs spread wide.
Their jeans and panties were around their shoes, and between each giantess' legs and standing on a pair of step-stools were two men - studs, as the male employees were called, with their own pants down and cocks out - ramming their poles into each of the two giantesses' pussies fast and hard.
I had heard that giantesses had incredibly strong sex drives, and that they were insatiable lovers... but good people dismissed that as urban legend bullshit. Still... looking at the spectacle... my eyes only went wider as I stared.
A small crowd of other giantesses had gathered around them, hoisting their beers high and calling out loudly. It was some kind of contest - money was changing hands quickly, the seemingly diminutive six-foot studs both wildly fucking the nine- or ten-foot giantesses who'd chosen them, and doing it as hard they could.
The two receiving the studs' efforts seemed to be more interested in the game than the sex, and were smiling and laughing at the men fucking them - even as the pair of burly studs did their level best and used every rippling muscle in their frames to do their task.
Had it been in any other context, I would have been impressed... or a bit turned on... to see such well-built men - but then and there, rutting themselves into women who looked like they could break any man in half without even trying, the bare-ass guys looked... well, kind of pathetic.
I whirled on my feet, pushing a lock of chestnut-brown hair out of the way as I searched for the innkeep - and yes, she actually told me I was supposed to call her that when she hired me. It's some kind of giantess history thing, goes back to colonial times? I don't even know her real name.
There she was - talking to the bartender and leaning on the bar top herself. The innkeep was maybe fifty years old, almost nine feet tall and with streaks of grey in her brunette hair, waist held tight by a corset and a long, narrow skirt. Her face had the same knowing, bemused expression as always.
I gestured toward the... offending guests, staring at her expectantly. I mouthed toward her: What - The - Fuck - Innkeep?
She crooked a finger at me, beckoning me close. I reluctantly came closer, still carrying the beer due to a table, and came up to the side of the bar, my face not quite reaching the top of it. Bending down as I drew close, she leaned over the bar and pressed her body to it as she brought her massive face close to mine.
"This is your first Saturday night, isn't it?"
I only nodded. She smiled.
"Well, get used to it. The action doesn't always make it all the way to the private rooms. We don't judge as long as nobody complains and everyone pays their tabs, okay?"
I looked up at her, flabberghasted - but she only winked back. I swallowed. What the hell kind of job did you go and get, Annabeth? I glanced back at the public spectacle in the corner, then turned away. It was my third night since I'd begun working at G-Bar. Atlanta's premier - only, really - giantess-owned drinking establishment. The offer had been good at the time, and about the only place that was willing to work with my insane class schedule.
Fuck. I had no choice. It was here or go back to doing massages, and if I got asked for one more... happy ending... before I retire, it would be too soon. I straightened the simple black dress that was my 'uniform', and walked back to my destination, giant beer still in my straining arms.
I was almost to the table that had ordered the beer - there was only one giantess at it now - when the girls, giantesses all, at the table before mine all got up at once, mostly drunk. One of them stumbled into me, not really paying attention.
The drunk giantess' massive thigh bowled me over, and I wailed, tumbling aside and trying to keep the beer upright - only to find I'd been caught, something warm pressing against my side and chest. I glanced down to see a thick arm and hand, feminine yet enormous, gently setting me back upright again, and pulling the beer glass from my hands.
"Thanks, darling." A voice came from above, then it spoke again - but not to me. "Watch it, Allie."
