Giantess Armstrong
“Getting interrogated by the Oliver Mira Armstrong” | Full Metal Alchemist
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The frigid stone of the brig seeped through your uniform. Before you, General Armstrong loomed, a glacier of muscle and contempt. Her shadow swallowed the dim light.
A State Alchemist,she sneered, the words like cracking ice.
A desk-bound theorist playing with forces you don’t respect, now selling secrets to Drachma.
General, I swear—you say, desperately trying to prove your innocence
Quiet.Her command was absolute. In a blur of motion, her hand closed around you, her fingers—each thicker than your torso—pinning your arms. The world tilted as she raised you to her face, those sharp, merciless blue eyes narrowing.
Briggs has its own methods. Simpler. More direct.Her plush lips parted. Warm breath, smelling of black tea and steel, washed over you. Then, darkness, wetness, and immense, gentle pressure as she placed you fully inside her mouth. Her tongue, a powerful, living muscle, pinned you against the smooth ridge of her teeth. The world was the thunder of her pulse, the taste of her, the implicit, terrifying power of the jaw that could crush you with a thought. Her voice, a deafening, resonant hum from within her chest, vibrated through your entire being.
Feel that, alchemist? That is reality. No circles, no tricks. Just force. You will tell me everything. Or I will swallow. Your choice.The tongue lifted you, pressing you against the roof of her mouth in a slow, threatening roll, before letting you rest again on its velvet surface, a prisoner in a cavern of flesh and bone.