Name: Boudicca
Race: Human
Height: 6’9" (a little more than 2 meters)
Weight: 200lbs, possibly more.
Sex: Hermaphrodite
Gender: Female
Orientation: Pansexual  

Beauty, as it is known, is in the eye of the beholder. Yet there are few lands that would see this brutish and statuesque figure as a creature of beauty. Who knew, perhaps Sinfar had the eyes for such a woman. The term ‘woman’, was a rather loose definition of this particular figure. An almost delicate amalgamation of both masculinity and femininity were intricately woven into a cohesive existence within the towering giant. With nary an understanding of modesty, it would take little more than a passing glance to see just how such features could truly and naturally combine. She cared understandably little for clothing, and what scraps of fabric did adorn her frame were merely for the sake of decoration. As such, near the whole of her body was left on display.

If there was a single feature most could agree on in loveliness, it was her face. A stern gaze found itself offset by soft, rounded cheekbones and a diminutive nose. When her lips parted (though rarely with a smile), an onlooker would find themselves witnessing the brilliance of perfect little rows of pearl white teeth before finding a distraction in the curve of a rather soft chin. Beyond that, however, the potential for loveliness was called immediately into question. Rather than find a slender or perhaps meek neckline, as would surely be expected with such a face, the musculature of the supportive stalk was distinctive and well-defined. If not for the supple slope of the shoulders below, one might expect a man’s frame below, and in some ways, that’s what would be seen.

Of course, there were other signs of femininity, some more overt than others. The obvious choice was the pair of rather massive breasts set high and firm on her chest. Though tender and soft to the touch, the buoyant pair all but refused to bow to bow to gravity's sway and would instead hold defiant with only a minute, but natural sag. This was undoubtedly due to the musculature which lay below. If one were to request a cup size, an answer was an unlikely result if only for the fact that the woman’s lack of modesty had all but prevented her from ever even attempting to dawn a bra. Suffice to say, her chest was tremendous, perhaps even oversized for the all too massive frame she possessed. Beneath those bouncing bosoms was a dash back towards the masculine. In part, at least. Though masked with the supple curve of womanly hips, the brute’s abdomen was as solid as stone, and had the definition to prove it! Poke hard enough, and the offender might just break a finger.

If her abdomen was stone, then her limbs were surely those of an elder tree. Every muscle, be it bicep or calf, was an exemplary display of tone and definition. She was not bulky, however, at least, not as bulky as she was on her chest. The muscles were long and lean, marking an athlete or hunter rather than a mere body builder. Even so, one was well advised not to find themselves trapped betwixt her thighs or beneath an arm.

Were tone and definition a suggestion of masculinity, what lay betwixt those thighs could not have been a more patent display. Perhaps expected of a giant such as she, the woman’s thighs were separated not by the immediate softness of womanly folds, but rather the all too distinct shape of a phallus. Just as the rest of her, the offering was massive in scale, and easily bore the potential to cause pain and perhaps ruin any would-be suitor.  Then again, this was Sinfar, and size seemed a relative thing in such a place. Length was not alone in offering intimidation, however, for even whilst the mass rested at ease it bore a girth well beyond the diameter of even the brute’s own rather massive fist. Those that might chance an encounter with such an offering were brave indeed. Laying just below the shaft itself was a startling compliment; a pair of heavy, potent and pendulous balls were often left exposed to the elements and even allowed to swing about should she move too swiftly. Just maybe, her lack of modesty was a good thing, for who in their right mind would ever dare attempt to entrap something so massive?  

Although the presence of the aforementioned monstrosity might abolish the very notion of femininity, the figure had somehow found herself blessed to be birthed with a woman’s truest gift. As though in direct opposition of that tremendous shaft and baubles that lay below, the over sized and heavily muscled figure bore the supple petals of lips that belonged on not but a woman true. Though a rarity to be seen, (it is rather difficult to find the pair when they’ve got a giant satchel standing guard!), their welcoming nature was absolute. Should one’s gaze ever find her womanhood itself, it would undoubtedly note a perpetual touch of moisture as though the Amazonian figure was ever in heat. The truth was not far beyond such a notion. Receptive and inviting, the softness of her feminine touch might just guarantee the gift of offspring, should any find themselves daring enough to try.

Beyond the grace of womanly folds was the taught rim of her taint itself. A supple bud in its own right, the woman’s rear entrance looked just as inviting as her loins in proper, if not more so. With even a feather’s touch, the hairless rim would likely bow inward in submission and invitation to those that dare partake of this forbidden fruit. Of course, the bud itself would not be so inviting if not for the fact that it lay nestled between a lavish offering of rounded flesh. Her bottom, much like the rest of her, was no stranger to muscle. It found another friend, however, in the embrace of flesh and fat. Ripe, alluring, and enticing, such a bottom might just make any would-be gawker forget about the monstrosity that lay on just the other side of their fullness.