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.Repatriated	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 3308 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Chapter List
- 5
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Hort's eyes were closed and she leaned back against her companion. Ritch's gentle fingers cupped her breasts, drawing the giant's attention.
She suddenly squeezed them together. Hort assumed it was to enhance the cleavage. Then she sensed...something in her presence.
Ted's finger allowed a drop of water from the bath to fall to her breasts, collecting in the space between them.
Hot and wet, all her attention was drawn to the inside curves of her breasts. Then two fingertips, equally hot, touched at her nipples.
"Ooh, baby," she moaned. They didn't stay. A quick caress, taking her mind straight down to her hard nipples, and they were gone. Ritch let go, pushed Hort up onto her own feet and moved away.
The water cascaded down her belly and started to cool in the room-temperature air.
If anything it made her nipples harder. She moaned and opened her eyes. Ritch stood between her and Ted, back to the man.
His fingertips were easing her bra straps down her arms. Hort took a step and brushed his fingers away. Or made motions to, and he cooperated.
She turned Ritch around and pointed the bra at their husband. She moved the straps back into place. Ritch started to protest. Hort reached over the shoulders to run fingertips down the front of her breasts.
Fingers spread wide like an unfolded fan, she inched her way down, down across the material.
She did make sure to pay some attention to the bumps where the nipples were, exaggerating movements so the giant could watch.
He stopped breathing for a moment so she felt sure it worked.
She continued to reach down under the curve of the boobs, hooking fingertips under the bottom and lifting.
The clasp untouched, she tugged the breasts free and took the bra off like one of Ted's t-shirts. That was tossed towards the pile of their clothes one handed, the other staying in contact, rubbing and caressing.
She cupped the boobs as Ritch had, murmuring...something in Ritch's ear as the giant repeated the hot water trick.
It was quite possible that her little Ritchasska came when Hort let the cupped water go.
She certainly made a lot of noise. And her knees gave. Hort had a busy moment. She didn't try to stop the fall, just keep it gentle before they hit the stony surface.
Instead they landed on a fleshy one. Ted's hot hand was a mattress as they hugged each other.
He lifted them as they lay there, side by side and turned to face one another. Hort used one finger, one fingernail, to peel the ephemeral thong off of Ritch's hips. Once it was down to mid-thigh, Ted pinched it and dragged it down and away.
Then his fingers returned and stroked hip, thigh, belly and breast. Hort kissed the younger woman and caressed her as well.
Her hand brushed across wet, matted pussy hairs and Ritch shouted again. "Oh, oh, god!"
"I guess it's been a while," Ted apologized.
"You're forgiven, I assume," Hort said. Ritch gasped.
"I guess I'll have to take my own thong off," Hort said. She rose to her hands and knees, butt sticking into the air.
Ted rolled the straps off and down to her knees. She lay down, dangling her legs over the heel of his hand. He finished stripping her.
Then the hand moved again. Hort lay back and watched as Ted moved Ritch to his knee. She draped across it bonelessly, face down with her head towards his...face. Belly button. Eeeeeeeeverything but his toes.
She got a little upset as he moved her to his other knee. She wasn't done yet. Ritch was sated, but... Before she could protest, she was moved, but set down sitting.
His knee supported her, heat from him penetrated her and she faced...his face. Chest. Everything of interest.
Ted smiled at her and picked up a tub of soaps. She smiled, knowing what he was about to soap up.
Then he started rubbing a thigh. The wrong thigh. He was soaping up the leg Ritch was perched on.
"What the hell?" she shouted.
He ignored her. Ritch smiled, slowly but widely, like a cat submerged in heavy cream.
When the length of his leg was sudsy and shiny, slick with bubbles and curds of bubbles, he reached up for Hort.
"What are you doing now?" she asked.
"Trust me?" he asked back.
"Oh, a worthy riposte," she admitted. In answer she relaxed. Everything. Every muscle limp, she waited for whatever he cared to do with her, with them.
Ted cupped Hort in his hand, and lifted a handful of water in the other. He poured it slowly over her, starting at her feet and working his way up.
He didn't pause, just wet her entirely from top to bottom. Then he turned her over and spread her across his thigh, face down.
She lay there, feeling the heat come off of him, smelling the soap. Two fingers pinched her hips and kept her in place. Then he moved.
Muscles under the skin clenched and relaxed, tightened and loosened. Nothing changed but the undulation under the skin. It was like a fairly lousy massage, at least at first.
No fingers dug in, no caresses stroked. But the power. The intense forces at work beneath her... That got her attention. She remembered him swimming, walking, rowing. Building up the tone and mass that was performing for her.
Suddenly the smell of Ted, being downwind of her husband on a long day of him rowing, that came back to her. Watching a drop of sweat course across his skin, drawing a wet, salty path over his shoulders, down his bare chest, around his nipple and down.
She could practically taste it, lazy afternoons licking at him in the tent while they waited for his turn at bath.
When she moaned, he let go. The gentle fingers parted and she slid down his leg. Over the soapy slope, headed for the water and his lap and his gigantic cock.
She bent her knee, lifting one foot to try to graze across him, but she never reached it.
The fingers paced her fall, gently nudging her when she started to spin around. He kept her straight, not going too fast... Then he put a finger under each armpit and raised her back up.
Up over the soap again, long lengths of his leg, still clenching and relaxing, flowing by across her body.
He raised her high enough that she could kiss Ritch. She'd just woken the woman up enough to participate when he dropped her again.
His free hand poured more water on her, slicking the soap, heating her body and smoothing the ride.
Down and back up, and again.
Then, as Ritch's tongue entered Hort's, he dropped her a final time. And straightened his leg.
Both women felt the mass of leg dropping, heard water rushing, then it flowed over them.
Hort barely started to sputter when he picked both of them up. They were rushed through the water in a quick rinse, then lifted.
Ritch got a kiss on the belly, then she was held to one side. Ted kissed Hort's belly, then each boob. Then he took her entire rack into his mouth to gently suck.
Fingertips rubbed the sides of her breasts as he lifted her a bit higher. His tongue eased out and parted her thighs. She cooperated, feeling a thrill in the knowledge that it wouldn't matter if she hadn't.
She was licked from knee to knee, the tongue wrapping her from belly to tailbone.
He licked, nibbled and sucked. She grabbed his nose and pushed herself down. The soft but rough surface moved, faster and faster. She bit her lower lip and whimpered.
She was so, so close. She could feel and identify every nerve of her body and, maybe, a few of his as well.
"Harder," she gasped. His tongue lifted her up, she pushed back down against his nose. He squeezed his fingertips. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her breasts.
She found herself arching her back to improve his view. There was an appreciative moan, then his eyes rose to meet hers.
He saw her, they connected. She knew he really did see her as a person, not a toy or a pet. They weren't sexing at each other but making love.
That thought did her in. She squeezed everything. Thighs crushed the tongue, hands pinned fingertips to her boobs, she even tried to bite the nose in front of her.
He wrapped his lips tight and just sucked on her. On everything.
"Yes," she shouted. "Yes! Yes! ZUCK yeah!" Then she shrieked, and fell limp once more.
He licked a few times after that, then lowered her to the water. He carefully lay so that water pooled in his lap but didn't cover the tops of his thighs.
Hort lay in the bath water, everything submerged except for her head against his thigh and her feet poking up where they rested on his belly.
Ritch was across the way, leaning against her own giant thigh.
Between them, a powerful cock rose majestically out of the water. It throbbed a bit, but seemed unusually patient for a cock in that condition.
She'd get motivated...in a few. She'd get up and address that magnificent piece of manhood...in a moment. Maybe when Ritch got up and started. Any minute now...
Ted regarded his wives in the bath, sitting on his lap, gently dozing in the hot water. Their bodies were submerged except for heads and feet. He shifted a bit, very slowly.
The bath's engineers had put the faucet in the middle, so he could reach it easily. They'd also put in a control for the drain valve. He played with the level of water in the tub and angles of his leg until he had everything perfect.
The wives were still nestled in place, sated and sleepy, with only their heads, feet and breasts exposed to the air.
"That's perfect," he said softly.
The rumble of his voice shook the women through his body, and an echo flowed through the water.
"What are you-?" Hort started to ask. "Eeek! That's cold!" She ducked everything down into the water again. Ritch had a similar reaction.
Ted laughed. Then he sank down in the water. Hort and Ritch ended up standing on his waist, heads barely clear.
"I am reminded of his traverses between islands," Ritch said. Then she spied a 'sandbar' just below the water's surface. "I wonder if some sort of geological action could lift that to the surface?"
She stepped into the water, treading softly next to the underwater promontory.
"That might be an interesting experiment," Hort agreed. She took a more direct action to the site. Pinching her nose, she lifted her feet and slid down the underwater incline.
Ted flinched a little bit as one of her feet grazed his balls. She recovered quickly and kissed the spot of impact a few times before having to surface.
She tread water across from Ritch, watching the other stroke the item of interest with a fingernail.
"Which do you think would be more effective, Duchess?" Ritch asked. "Working from the surface or from the base?"
"Well, Duchess, with two researchers, there's no need to compromise. We can do both."
"Dare we? We won't ever know which was the better method?"
"Do we dare not? We don't really care about the method at this point." Hort reached out with one hand to assist in the strokes. The soft material dimpled under her fingernail. "We....just...want...to raise it...into view.....   Don't we?"
"I think.... I take... your meaning."
Water thrashed at the end of the tub. The feet were the only outlet for the tension that he would dare indulge.
Ted's thighs closed together, perhaps to offer a stable footing for more direct taction.
Without a word, the two explorers lifted their hands from touching him in any way. They tread water and stared until he spread his legs again. The whimpering was most enjoyable.
Once the knees touched stone again, Hort dove. She made sure to roll over swiftly and expose her behind to air and view. Then she sounded, grabbing handfuls of sac to keep her at the base of the cock.
She kissed, rubbing her face into the skin. It throbbed quite satisfactorily. Then she let herself rise, touching the shaft here and there until she reached air.
As she gasped a breath, Ritch dove. Hort busied herself at the tip, grabbing the ridge of the helmet and squeezing. Her hands slowly spider-walked around the edge, squeeze and move, squeeze and move.
Ritch surfaced just as the helmet did. Hort kissed the tip and dove.
After a few cycles, it became harder and harder to keep position next to the tiny little island. "Wave action is increasing!" Ritch noted.
"With hot winds coming out of the north!" Hort replied. For safety, they decided to abandon the dives. They clamped themselves onto the shaft with their legs, holding each other's arms and using their tongues and lips to continue exploration.
It began to buck, heave and leak. Hort played a fingertip in the fluid and went to taste it. Ritch shook her head slightly and pursed her lips.
Hort smiled and offered the finger to her partner. Ritch took the top knuckle into her mouth and sucked the whole digit in.
Then she smiled and slowly lifted her head off the finger.
Ted exploded.
-------
At some point, water had splashed on all the clothes that weren't hung on the wall.
"Ours," Hort said dryly.
"You splash, we're soggy," Ritch added.
"Sorry," Ted said, drying himself with a towel. It had been made in Hort's Viscount holdings, a textile town's output for a year. The edge had embroidered signatures of everyone that helped make it. Ted could make out two or three of them.
"Well, we'll have someone lay out fresh clothes in our rooms," Hort said, wringing out a blouse.
"Knowing our staff," Ritch said with a smile, "we already have fresh clothes laid out on the table."
"I'll look!" Ted said. He opened the door, rubbing the towel vigorously across his wet hair.
Ritch started to point out that he had nothing else on, but the giant was already out the door.
There were screams of surprise in the distance, a clattering of shoes. Ted backed into the room, towel covering his intimate parts.
"They, uh, they're almost done laying out new clothes," he reported.
---------
Ted collected his pet and her cage the day before the grand opening of the Boiritesse Spa, the Maritime Academy and the official completion of the Pan Blefuscan Highway.
He'd rowed around the island, delivering the newly completed second giant rowboat. His wives were traveling with the Royal Party coming up the Highway.
Arlene was thrilled with the gift, and the custom inserts for collecting specimens or carrying grad students.
"Gift?" Ted asked in mock surprise. "This is an investment! That's why my name is painted on the bow."
"In case anyone in two nations hasn't heard of the giant idiot with two wives?" Arlene asked.
"Yep."
She crouched down to look at the hull. Careful lettering said, "Big Idiot" in English. "What does yours say?"
"Property of the Duchess," he said with a shrug. He turned to the little woman cupped in his hands.   "True any way you want to take it, huh?"
"Any way that matters." She curled in his palms and rubbed her cheek against his thumb.
Arlene demonstrated the carefully cleared steps from the harbor to the top of the mesa. Ted followed, diligently watching his steps, not the giant caboose.
Phoebe giggled to watch his expression as he fought his eyes' attempts to flick upwards.
He complimented her on her native dress. Everyone in Boiritesse was dressed up for the visitors and the ceremonies and just a general civic pride that Arlene encouraged.
Arlene pointed him towards her home at the end of the lake, then scampered towards the landwards end of the peninsula.   Preparations for the King and Queen, and their party, at the Hotel At The End Of The World were the crisis of the moment.
Ted knew that too many giants did not calm things down among stressed Lilliputians, and left it to the Duchess.
Her rooms were more airy than Teds. At the tops of the walls were pillars lifting the roof about another foot. Light and fresh air could get in, though the openings were six feet off the ground, secure from all but the most determined peeping tom.
Her bath was a mosaic-lined pool in the middle of the floor of the main room. Images of local fish sported through the waters, along with some artist's attempt to portray Arlene in diving suit and tanks.
It was fed from a small shrine on the wall and the overflow went to the lake.
"She bathes weird, too," Phoebe reported.
"Don't risk treason," he said softly.
"By weird, I mean she has odd priorities. Not that she's not a perfectly sane, not even eccentric individual."
"Okay. And?"
"She bathes in a bucket! She has this huge filter out back. She gets a bucket of hot water, soaps herself up, rinses herself off-"
The little woman pointed. In one corner, Ted saw what looked like a shower without a drain. "And collects the water to pour into the filter?" he guessed.
"Yeah!"
"And, I'll bet she won't let anyone build a toilet that feeds into the lake, either?"
"Like I said, weird."
------
The ceremonial dinner was the most seafood Ted had seen since his sailboat went down. They ate sitting on the floor with a table raised no higher than most of her staff's heads.
He finally had to stop Arlene's dinner conversation. "Look, it's a blue fish, fine. It's similar to a Mediterranean species sacred to a Roman cult, great. It lives symbiotically with a species of anemone, wonderful. Stop telling me what the damned things eat!"
Royalty, nobles and the pet on his shoulder giggled. Arlene pretended to pout. "I just like to share knowledge," she said.
"Idiot giant concede knowledge good," he grunted. "Carrion not word for dinner talk. Offal, same. Scavenger, same. Salivary secretions of the..the..." He waved towards the soup toureens. Phoebe stood on tiptoe to speak in his ear. "Eugh! Really?"
The company laughed outright. And dug into their soups with hearty satisfaction.
"Giant not talk any more," Ted sulked.
The conversation shifted to history. Tales told by the Boiritesse indicated the first people to land in the area set up homes in the protected harbor.
"There are obvious European influences, in their language, their dress, their cooking," Arlene said cheerfully.
"Maybe they're from Atlantis," Ted joked. Arlene and Ted were both startled by the little people's reactions. Servers and diners, performers and waiting servants all stared at the man.
The tumblers fell, the jugglers dropped everything, the musicians silenced and the King choked on his wine.
And they stared.
"What?" Ted asked.
"Master," Phoebe said, talking loud enough for Arlene to hear. "Master, people do not SAY that word."
"Really?" Arlene asked. "Why?"
"It..." Phoebe grabbed the chain holding her harness and twisted it about, clearly uncomfortable. "It's our history. We were..." She looked down at the sea of faces. No one seemed too mad at her for revealing this information. Yet.
She took a deep breath. "When we left, we were hunted. We escaped. We hid. We found safety. We hid from the wizards that made us. We still do. We don't say their names, or anything that will help their magic detect us.
"Or they will return and take us." Ted picked Phoebe up to finger-hug her shoulders tightly.
"Whoa," Arlene said. "But then, how do you know not to say..."
"The number eight," Ted interrupted. "It's a fantasy novel. The magic number, eight, has power. Everyone says six, seven, seven-a and nine."
"Fine. How do you know not to say Eight?"
"Coming of age," the King explained when no one else spoke. Phoebe was shuddering in the giant grip. "When you are of age, you take powerful vows, learn of our history, and swear mightily upon great and terrible spirits that you will not speak aloud, the word revealed to you in the holy sacred place."
"Whoa," Arlene and Ted said together.
After a moment, Ted raised his hand in the Boy Scout gesture. "I solemnly swear to observe your stricture." The King glanced at the three Bishops sitting at the table. Two nodded, one shrugged. His majesty glared.   All three nodded.
"Good enough," he said.
All eyes turned to Arlene. She raised her hand...
-------
After dinner, the table was lowered into the floor. Dancing and other civilized celebrations were announced.
They were slow to start. The mood of the party was down since the mention of what Arlene wanted to call the Lost City of Voldemort.
Finally, His Royal Puissant Majesty, Lord of All the Isles and Nations, stepped away from the courtiers and mistresses and offered his hand to his wife.
The Queen, consort of His Royal Powerfulness, Heir to the Crown and half the Royal Court, shook off her obvious surprise and started to dance with her husband.
There was no apparent distaste or coercion. They danced because they knew each other and this was a party and dammit they'd make sure everyone had fun.
Ted leaned towards the band stand and asked if music should be playing. Stunned musicians struck up seven tunes. An alert conductor shouted a title and they shifted to that.
The Royals never missed a step in their dance.
After the first dance, Ted tapped the King gently on the shoulder and stepped in. Her Majesty graced the Duke's hand and danced at the end of his reach.
Arlene offered her hand to dance with His Gracious Power. People moved onto the dance floor. The mood improved and the terror of the faux pas passed.
The King managed to make Arlene's fingers cooperate with a flourishy dip. Ted considered an attempt but figured the queen looked better any place but dumped on her royal ass.
He demurred and allowed the King to cut back in. He sat back until Ritch and Hort grabbed a hand each and struck out onto the dance floor.
-------
About two in the morning, the King and Queen retired to their rooms above the dance floor. Arlene played hostess until four, then dismissed the performers, musicians and servers. A specially detailed cleanup crew ran in.
Ted escorted Arlene around the lake to her home.
"Naturally, I'd really love to talk about tonight's revelation," she said.
Ted raised a hand to his pocket and three terrified faces. "But we won't."
"No, no, we won't. Do you think we'll be in trouble for...saying it?"
"I don't think so," Ted said. "I'm human. Humans have been referring to Voldeville for years and years. Movies, books, plays, spells, all sorts of things. If they're out there, they're not keying on us."
He looked down. "So I think you're safe," he assured the Lilliputians and the Blefuscan.
"Fingers crossed," Arlene said.
-----
After seeing the Duchess to her house, Ted sat outside the tent, watching the sky. It was odd to think that the same stars wheeled over Seattle.
He counted out the months since he'd left, trying to imagine what had happened. How long had he been late before they started to search. When they'd given up.
And then, tried to imagine who'd cared. No one came to mind.
Hort leaned over the bottom of the tent opening. "My Lord? Your harem has completed their preparations for bed and await your pleasure."
"They do, do they?" he murmured. He turned to crawl in after her.
n
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.Repatriated