Giantess Sophia Stone Novels & Stories

Tonight, there was nowhere for me to hide. The emerald silk of my gown fell perfectly around me. The fabric caught the warm light of the chandeliers with every small movement. A diamond necklace rested against my collarbone. Its stones had been carefully chosen by Julian because he knew I hated anything too extravagant. My hair was swept into a neat, elegant bun, leaving a few soft strands around my face. I looked exactly like the woman I had spent three years pretending not to be. Sophia Sterling. Not Mrs. Damien Vance. Not the poor girl they had pitied. Not the unwanted wife they had treated like an outsider.

“Yeah, yeah, we know—your precious list of impossible women.” Lucas leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We’re talking about a different kind of impossible.” I took a sip of my drink. “Let me guess. Some girl who ghosted you? A barista who told you to fuck off?” Adam smirked. “Try Sophia Moreau.” I stopped mid-sip. Lucas’ grin widened. “That’s right. The Sophia Moreau. Your list’s final boss.” Sophia Moreau. The name alone could clear a room.

—he asked, incredulous. —Matt, I work here. Did you forget? Our conversation was interrupted by one of Anais’s fake groans. I rolled my eyes and walked away. How could I describe my relationship with Matt? Let’s say that I, Sofía Adams—twenty-seven years old, a medical graduate for a few years now—once met Philip Stone, a multimillionaire businessman with an unbearable temperament, during my morning rounds. I didn’t judge him; he was older, tired, and very ill.

But she was already leaning toward it. “Maya…” Her whole body jolted. I watched her expression change instantly. Mix of Pain, relief, fear, all at once. “No,” I said again, louder this time. “That’s not him.” Sophie turned sharply. “What?” But Maya had already stepped forward. The moment she moved, the stone pillars vibrated faintly like something inside them had just woken up. Finn reached for her. “Maya, stop!” But she was already walking. Power inside her had grabbed a thread only she could feel.

She was literally his prisoner in every way. She stuffed food into her mouth angrily, barely tasting it. The door opened suddenly. A woman walked in. Natasha had never seen her before. She was tall, maybe in her early twenties, with honey blonde hair and a body that screamed expensive cosmetic procedures. Her name was Sophia, though Natasha didn't know that yet. Sophia looked dragged, like she'd just come from somewhere. Her hair was messy. Her makeup was smudged. She wore an oversized designer shirt over what looked like nothing else. Her heels dangled from her hand.

Sophia Harrington was walking towards her parents’ bedroom in the sprawling mansion they called home. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, and the tight black dress she wore barely contained her massive breasts and thick, fat ass. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, so every step made her heavy cheeks clap loudly. Sophia had received countless offers to model, but she had turned them all down so far.

As for Jongin, he lost his cool and ran into the crowd around her, separating them so that he could see her careless body lying on the hard ground and she was really not in good condition, first she was in the hot water for a long time which made her skin red and glowing, secondly her face and her little hands full With wounds „Finally, I fell from a great height, if someone else was there, my bones would have been shattered. His heart softened at her weak appearance, beating wildly against his ribs, he kneeled beside her and leaned close to her face with a pained expression, tenderly placing his palm on her hot cheek to whisper. Damion-Yah. Until he can't feel her breath, is this the end..

As it swung open, the scent of stagnant air mixed with a faint, metallic tang greeted her senses. ​"Kneel. Let us cleanse the stains of last night," the Pope said, pointing toward a stone table with drainage grooves carved into its edges. ​Elenor did not resist. She knelt toward the statue of the deity, clasped her hands to her lips, and began to chant. ​WHIP! ​The first lash landed on her back. The force sent her sprawling, her chest hitting the rough stone floor. ​"Stay still, Saintess." ​Elenor returned to her position. She accepted the 'heavenly punishment' without a fight. But the metal hooks at the end of the whip tore through her skin, dragging fresh blood to the surface.

She laughs and says, "You are quite beautiful." I'm taken aback by her direct approach. Her compliment is hilariously awkward and she looks really young. I am often not good at gauging the age of women but the woman in front of me looks nineteen or under. She got makeup on and wears a micro mini volleyball shorts. "I'm Sophia, a photographer. I was hoping to get a selfie with you last night at the runway afterparty, but you seemed busy. Imagine my surprise to see you here," She smiles warmly.

A grand piano gleamed under recessed lighting, its lid raised like a gaping mouth. And there she was. Sylvia lounged on a Roche Bobois sofa, her crimson Dolce & Gabbana dress pooling around her like spilled blood. She held a crystal glass of Barolo, swirling the wine with lazy fingers. "Ah." Her lips curved. "Mr Blackstone. How... predictable." Sophie moved first. Three strides across the marble and she'd slapped the glass from Sylvia's hand, crash—the wine splattering across the white rug like a gunshot wound.