The sun shone upon Lovely Mari just as it shone upon all of Green Bay and the rest of Wisconsin, but it was a unique experience for all.

For the hungover residents of Green Bay, the sun was unwelcome. It struck their eyes like a discordant orchestra, blaring and stabbing at their skulls.

For the other citizens, the sun embedded a cozy warmth in their faces and arms. The flowers and trees drank deeply of the sunlight, building themselves up and spreading in the warm soil. This same sunlight, in fact, glinted on the wings of the Wisconsin Air National Guards’ F-16s.

For Lovely Mari, however, the sun posed an interesting contradiction. It was quite warm around her boots, but her head and shoulders were still icy cold, and the sun beating down on her didn’t seem to absorb and build up in her skin. This was because the ground was retaining the sun’s warmth, her boots were on the ground, but her head was two miles above the earth’s surface.

And this was because Lovely Mari is a playfully witchy goddess, and today she chose to be two miles tall.

Additionally, she chose to see how many football stadiums she could fit in her mouth, just on her tongue. In her career as a playful, fun-loving giantess, she had destroyed entire cities beneath her boots and sat on small islands, burying them into the ocean floor. Some days she was only a few hundred feet tall; others, she stretched up to ten miles or even higher—it really depended upon her mood, and no one had the ability to predict where those winds would blow.

Today she was a mere two miles tall, standing high above metropolitan Green Bay. Before her was the crater where Lambeau Field used to be firmly planted. The home of that famous coach, Vince Lombardi, and the scene of the legendary Ice Bowl of ‘67, Lambeau Field was an edifice both in the city and in the imaginations of generations of Packer fans. It was, in its way, a kind of holy ground, a religious destination for football fanatics around the world.

At the moment, it rested upon the back of Mari’s cute tongue, quivering with each unconscious twitch of her nerves. The cries of 80,000 minuscule people, plunged into perfect darkness and oppressive humidity, squealed in the echo chamber of Mari’s mouth, never knowing how closely they and their much-vaunted stadium  and teetering over the chasm of her soft, wet throat. But even if they had sufficient light, even if Mari had chosen to slightly part her pillowy lips and rows of gleaming teeth, could they have made any sense of their new environment? If they could have looked up at their new sky—the roof of her mouth—would they have recognized it at all?

Mari stood not far from the stadium grounds, her left boot planted deep into S Oneida St, her right boot several yards below where S Ridge Rd once ran. The 16 acres of each footprint covered all five blocks from Liberty St to Lombardi Ave, which only meant anything to the former citizens of Green Bay.

Former, because when she suddenly appeared, teleporting in from her secret and mystic hideaway, two things happened. She filled the atmosphere with two miles of slender, well-proportioned witchy-goddess, and displaced all that air, pushing it aside rapidly—faster than light! As well, two miles of adorable anime goddess is an awful lot of meat and bones (not to mention a stylish witch’s hat, black 18-hole kneeboots, and the rest of her fetching ensemble), so nearly 400 million tons of Lovely Mari abruptly drove into the lithosphere below Green Bay.

Between the sonic boom and the crash landing into the city, an astonishingly violent earthquake rippled violently throughout the entire area. Beaumont Elementary was flattened promptly, like everything else in the immediate area; all the teachers and children immediately turned to jelly in the shock wave, just like everyone from Highway 41 to Fox River. They never even knew what hit them: there was no flash, there was only a second of noise in their ears before their cells ruptured and their bones shattered.

And that was just in the immediate area: all around the greater metro area, Lovely Mari watched with merry, laughing eyes as the ground rolled up in perfect circles, all around her boots, spreading out and fading in the distance. Neighborhoods were demolished within seconds, buildings tumbled easily to the disrupted ground. A few hundred people died immediately, thrown up by the land or crushed beneath their own houses and offices.

In another filter of perspective, Mari’s crimson eyes watched the hundreds of souls slipping away from their weak meat-vessels, wafting up like the vapors of alcohol. She raised one eyebrow slightly, grinning to herself, waiting… Ah, there it was! The souls drifted toward her feet, as though attracted to her tremendous mass, passing through the leather and entering into the cells of her skin and blood. They integrated, these hundreds of souls, and dissolved into her blood and the fibers of her being. No longer aware of themselves as people, they merged into Lovely Mari’s being and flowed through her veins, losing the property of themselves and entirely, completely joining the goddess.

Lovely Mari sighed with pleasure. While it was true she much preferred the happy, bright souls of the tiny little people (or “bugs”, as she would have it) who loved her and willingly sacrificed themselves for her, she still appreciated the minty-cool terror of people who died badly. This felt quite pleasant in her warm boots, truth be told. It was a warm day, especially on the ground in which her feet were embedded.

The goddess’ eyes flew open wide, as her panties tightened with a sudden constriction. This was a strange side effect that occurred sometimes, and it was difficult to understand why, but the hundreds of souls she absorbed flowed up her thighs and amassed in her buttocks, making her bottom grow slightly larger. It was a cosmic mystery, and a cute blush came to Mari’s lovely cheeks.

But her business here was done, and with Lambeau Field resting more or less steadily upon the base of her tongue, she turned to the southeast and ran toward her next destination: Ford Field in Detroit, Michigan. For no reason than whimsy, she decided these were the two stadiums in neighboring states that she must hold in her mouth, for her little experiment. (Also, though she was too polite to say so, she’d heard awful things about the new Vikings stadium in Minneapolis, Minnesota, an oddly shaped black lump on the edge of the city. What was it supposed to be? A boat, a helmet? Art? No one knew, and she certainly didn’t want it in her mouth.)

Around this time, several F-16 Fighting Falcons came screaming through the air: the 115th Fighter Wing had scrambled and cleared the distance from Camp Douglas in under nine minutes. When the initial calls of a gigantic and beautiful young woman suddenly appearing in Green Bay came through, Governor Walker had laughed them off. “I’ve heard everything now,” he said to his intern, who laughed nervously and shared none of his confidence.

But when USGS Earthquake Hazards Program called repeatedly, urgently insisting upon measurements of a magnitude 7 earthquake in the center of 104,000 registered voters, Governor Walker only blinked once before ordering 115th Fighter Wing and 128th Air Control Squadron into action with all the imperativeness of his office.

The F-16s arrived first, engaging with the target with everything they had, none of which could attract Lovely Mari’s sacred attention. In fact, when the two-mile-high goddess turned to reorient herself, her left arm (just over a half-mile in length) idly swung back and collided with two fighter jets, ending them promptly. Two more pitched and dove between her knees—who knew what they were hoping to achieve?—and when her left foot swiveled on its balls and her right boot heaved from S Ridge Rd to Morris Ave, south of the stadium grounds, her knees gently brushed against each other, compressing one jet flat, the other steering badly into her inner thigh and exploding.

The fate of the last jet was only slightly more exciting than that. The pilot pulled up and raced along Mari’s chest as she turned, gaining momentum up her flat belly, then pulling into a panicked barrel roll to slip between her tremendous boobs as they drifted like planets through the Wisconsin atmosphere. One wingtip just slightly grazed the broad hem of black silk fringing Mari’s breathtaking décolletage, yet the pilot kept his head and pulled his Fighting Falcon up, intact. Her collarbones dropped away below him, her throat turned with its thin black choker, he adjusted to chase her chin, and his tiny jet shot up her puffy, pink lips, and he glanced at his dials for just a fraction of a second.

That was when Lovely Mari sniffed the air, entirely unconsciously. Her gently sculpted right nostril flared prettily: hundreds of gallons of air rushed into her sinus and seized the courageous F-16 with it. Even her mere nostril was over twice the length of his jet, so he was sucked into the cavernous nose entirely in one piece. His aircraft yawed out of control, caromed off her nasal vestibule and collided with the cavity above it. Yet to Mari, this was nothing more than a brief sting against her tender tissues, and she pinched her nose cutely to end the irritation.

Thus ended her Wisconsin vacation. Mari’s gorgeous, tall black boots carried her swiftly to the Two Rivers area, on the shore of Lake Michigan. It took her nearly 60 strides to get there, with her powerful legs, each nearly a mile long in their own right. Briskly she jogged to the shore, each boot falling from the sky to deliver nearly three petajoules of devastating force, blasting into the earth and blowing Highway 43 into smithereens. Behind her, the air that she’d carelessly shoved aside returned to collapse and fill the wake she left behind, again booming throughout Brown County and pummeling the landscape. In only a few seconds, the capricious giantess had obliterated Pine Grove, Glenmore, Denmark, Cooperstown, Fisherville, Kingsbridge, and dozens of other towns and villages entirely, thoroughly off the map. All the businesses, all the geniuses of industry, all the rich history of the land was pounded into plain, unrecognizable dust beneath those black 18-hole kneeboots.

At Two Rivers, Lovely Mari smiled cutely and flipped up the back of her short skirt, flashing her excitingly rounded and slightly larger buttocks at the devastation. Was this an apology or a final insult? It was impossible to know, and the ways of a two-mile-tall goddess are inscrutable to mortals, surely.

She paused, briefly, on the shores of Lake Michigan. She’d heard the water was cold, but then she had cast that magical shell on her person to control her temperature. Still, she decided it would be annoying to get her beautiful boots all wet, so she cast another little spell to unlace them, and she tossed them across the lake, crashing into Ludington, Michigan, where they immediately destroyed the ferry system upon which so many hundreds of thousands of tourists and workers relied.

Her heels dug deeply into the soil of Two Rivers, and she giggled cutely to herself as the frigid waters splashed about her darling toes. She had forgotten for a moment about the stadium full of football fans resting precariously upon her tongue: her merest giggle boomed through the structure and immediately liquefied 80,000 Sconnies. When their cool, horrified souls soaked soothingly into her throat, she noted their departure with only a trace of disappointment, as she had hoped to keep them intact to meet the other population of sports enthusiasts. Well, whatever! Her smooth, rounded shoulders shrugged pleasantly in her blouse, and she stretched out one slender, mile-long leg to dip her precious toes into Lake Michigan.

There was no shock to speak of. Lovely Mari’s magic was very powerful, when she could control it, so instead of being frozen to the bone like all the weak, pathetic bugs who lived here, she only experienced a calming, refreshing coolness that spread pleasantly throughout her dainty, pink foot. Smiling broadly, she stepped forward and the waters of Lake Michigan covered the bridge of her right foot. Another stride, and the cool waters lapped around her left ankle.

Mari tilted her head curiously. This was the third-largest Great Lake? What was so great about this?

Onward she strode, the gloriously beautiful giantess who was much larger than Reykjavik, the capitol of Iceland (just a point of trivia), into the frigid waters of the lake. Even at its deepest point, the fifth-largest lake in the world (by surface area) only came up to the middle of her shin, not even to her well-formed calf.

If she weren’t trying to preserve Lambeau Field inside her mouth, she would have screamed at how lame this was turning out to be.

It took her a mere fifty strides to cross the entire lake. Disappointed and a little irritated, she took up her boots and turned around to pull them on. Her light black shirt flared as she bent and lowered her bottom to the ground. The citizens of Amber, Scottville, and Custer felt the impact, but it was Ludington and Pere Marquette that got the worst of it, exemplified in the experience of one small boy.

He was playing outside of his house at Madison and 3rd street, kitty-corner from Bethany Lutheran Church. It was a beautiful summer day, and his parents had just given him a kite as a present—not for his birthday or anything, simply because it was a gorgeous afternoon, after a long and miserable winter, and the sun filled their hearts with generosity. They wanted to see their little boy happy, after all, and he was positively gleeful as he assembled the kite, spooled out the string a good distance, and began to run toward his elementary school to catch some wind.

When he, like everyone else in Ludington, heard the roar of the collapsing atmosphere and saw the tsunami rising up to devour the ferry, he didn’t know what to make of it. He was only a few years old, after all, and had very few remarkable experiences in his life. The wall of water was one of them. The other was the broad field of black-and-white striped panties that covered the sky, cast the town into shadow, and ultimately buried him, his kite, and everything around them for one-quarter of a mile deep into the earth.

Mari’s darling dress poofed out over the landscape and settled gently upon the neighboring communities, blanketing the devastation caused by the shuddering earth and not by an immensely broad and weighty pair of buttocks. She drew her knees to her chest, slipped her delicate feet into her boots, and gesticulated the spell to lace them back up. It was so convenient to be a goddess!

Boots planted firmly into Highway 10, Lovely Mari turned once more to her destination and broke into a sprint: it was very difficult to hold a football stadium on your tongue! She missed singing and laughing aloud, and she didn’t really care about the 80,000 people who sweltered and languished in her mouth, but she was dedicated to this little experiment. Could she hold two football stadiums in her mouth at once? It was important to know!

She built up speed quickly, pounding acreage of Manistee National Forest deep into the lithosphere in a series of 1,500-foot craters, each nearly two miles apart. But even as she stomped White Cloud, Lakeview, and Ithaca into oblivion, something else was happening. You see, when a two-mile-high goddess kicks out her mile-long legs and races through earth’s lower, denser atmosphere at 18,000 mph, she builds up friction. Her massive body pushes the air away, like shoving a carpet ahead of her—more friction around her feet, where the atmosphere is denser, and less friction around her ears and hat, where the air is thinner, but still. All that air has to go somewhere, so it spreads out in all directions and levels out, but it also roars all around her body at such speed that it creates heat. And even if Lovely Mari’s body was protected from temperature variations, her boots, hat, and smart little black dress were not.

There was a dazzling flash in the sky, witnessed by Michiganders for miles around, as all of Lovely Mari’s clothes incinerated in the air, leaving a gorgeous, surprised, and abundantly nude young woman raced across the state. As they looked up, her powerful thighs churned, her calves flexed and tensed, and her tremendous breasts, each several hundred feet wide, heaved and shuddered and bounced joyfully back and forth; as she raced past, impossibly fast, her pert buttocks rolled against each other in a shiny, pink farewell.

Almost immediately after this, everyone was pulverized by earthquakes and what’s classified as a high-hypersonic boom. There were absolutely no survivors, and several hundreds of thousands of souls flitted up to the naked giantess, where they deposited into her breasts and her bottom, each of which grew fuller and more prominent with their absorption.

This was absolutely mortifying to Lovely Mari, of course, and she skidded to a halt, burying all of Lansing, the capitol of Michigan, beneath a small mountain of fresh loam. With spiky, angry gestures, she cast the spell to fully clothe her once more—it was harder, but not impossible, to cast spells without speaking them. Yet the playful and witchy goddess was quite powerful and adept in spellcraft, so this was only a minor inconvenience. She could take her frustration out on the entire state of Michigan, if she so chose.

Governor Snyder’s phone lines were only just beginning to light up. No one in the path of Mari’s devastation was in any state to report the incident of the beautiful giantess racing over their homes. It would be another ten minutes before, at the urging of Governor Walker, the 110th Air Wing and 127th Wing would be dispatched. These things take time to build up.

Detroit was still 78 miles away (or 26 running strides for the elegant and stylish goddess) to the southeast, and 18 miles to the southwest of the city lay Detroit Metropolitan Airport—“Metro Airport” to the locals. A lovely summer’s day was no time for air traffic to slow down, and while the Delta Airbuses accessed a cruising altitude several miles above Mari’s head when she was crossing Lake Michigan, they were coming in and taking off at much lower heights, the closer she got to Detroit.

Her French maid’s blouse, flapping in the fresh Michigan air (and protected with another round of spells!), hung flatteringly around her fit frame as she slowed to a walk, crunching Highway 96 from Webberville to Brighton beneath her attractive boots. She took another deep breath through her nostrils, calming herself down and protecting Lambeau Field in her mouth. “Protected,” that is, because although it was still standing and hadn’t plummeted down her throat, it was still flooded with the goddess’s sweet saliva. Thousands and thousands of minuscule corpses floated in the wash, slowly breaking apart and dissolving as they drifted like ghosts over the bleachers.

Ghosts that fell apart and dwindled into nutrients, that is. Real ghosts don’t do that.

Outside of Mari’s lovely face, however, a large speck was rising and approaching. It was even large enough that the giantess noticed it. It was heading straight at her head, in fact, which was why she could see it when it flew close enough. At her height, however, it appeared to be moving very slowly, so she had all the time in the world to bring her hand up as it approached.

She spread her fingers apart, four slender and graceful fingers, and held her palm outward.

On the Airbus, the captain and his crew stared in disbelief at the wall of flesh before them. Unsure how to describe this to their passengers, they pulled the plane up with plenty of room to avoid the 600’-wide palm. No matter how soft and sweet it looked, they were correct in their assessment that they would not survive impact with it at 500 mph.

However, the delicate fingers were a new problem. Even though they were half as thin as their aircraft was long, again, they doubted that the fingers would lose a fight against them. All they could do was bank the plane hard, babbling an apology to their passengers about unexpected turbulence, and steer between Mari’s tremendous third and fourth fingers.

They successfully avoided hitting a finger, but when those slender digits passed by all the passengers’ windows, all hell broke loose. No one heeded the seat belt sign, no one used their air masks, and the floatation devices had no use here. Few people could form a complete sentence other than “what the hell is that” or variations thereof.

The captain and his crew could only stare mutely out of their cockpit, staring at the broad smile with flashing white teeth, staring at the cute button nose, staring at the enormous crimson eyes that looked as though they could swallow the plane whole.

Oh, how Lovely Mari wished to open her jaws and let that slow, stupid plane gently glide into her mouth! It would explode between her teeth! She would make a game of chewing it into a broad, flat piece of metal, then rolling it up into a ball with her tongue! Her tongue was very strong and she could use it with great skill, especially on anything these insignificant bugs could construct.

But no: she had to preserve Lambeau Field for science. Not for the first time, she felt a little resentment that such a powerful goddess as she should protect some stupid bug-built building, limiting her freedom and her ability to sing or swear or snack. Instead, she snapped her head around and brought up the full and luscious waves of her hair to swing around her massive skull and sweep at the Airbus.

Every single strand of blonde hair was just over three inches thick. Individually, the jet might have been able to snap through one or two, booming along over 500 miles an hour. Human hair is built pretty well, however, and even a regular strand at normal size is surprisingly strong. But it wasn’t just one hair or even two that Mari swung at the plane.

The Delta Airbus A330 was entirely covered by waves and waves of thick, blonde hair, covering the windows and blocking out all light. Strands of hair got sucked into the jets, which exploded in dazzling fireballs outside the passengers’ windows. They could hardly appreciate this, however, since the hair wrapped around the body of the plane—almost as though it were alive—and pulled it out of its trajectory. The wings tangled in Mari’s beautiful locks, the plane hung suspended, and 500 mph slowed to 200, then to however fast her hair was sailing through the air, two miles above the ground.

People were thrown out of their seats, of course. They collided with the windows, came to rest against the ceiling or the back of the plane, whichever side happened to be facing down at any moment. Necks snapped, organs ruptured; some people died quicker than others. It was only 234 people who perished in that thin tin can, people who thought they were traveling to Utah but who left their bodies behind to snake through the thinning air and embed themselves in Lovely Mari’s plump lips. Only 234, but the goddess held some affection for every soul that entered her, built her, made her even better than before.

But how do you improve upon perfection? Only Lovely Mari can say.

Leaving the jet hanging from her hair like an errant barrette, her merry crimson eyes only swept over the landscape to pick out her destination from the horizon, and each gently walking step only generated a series of magnitude 5 earthquakes as she resumed her short journey. Her mouth salivated to think of Ford Field, the stadium in her mouth finally overflowed with spit, and tens of thousands of deteriorated corpses slid over the hilly field of her papillae and down her throat, departing Lambeau Field one last time.

She was in the home stretch: as she exploded her way through Dearborn Heights, Mari decided to take a gentler approach. With her powerful magic she significantly lessened the impact of her footsteps, and thus was able to home in on the stadium without too much damage. Instead of pounding Woodward Ave into the earth, she only tore it up as though it were under construction. Lovely Mari fluttered her eyebrows at downtown Detroit, expecting them to appreciate this special favor she was granting them.

She knelt before the stadium, to focus on the building and get a better grasp on it. However, the spell only applied to her sexy footgear, so even though she only partially ruined Comerica Park under the sole of her boot, her unprotected knee drove down into the spaghetti juncture of Fisher Freeway and I-375. Vast stretches of highway, multiple lanes of cars and trucks simply evaporated beneath the smooth, pink knee of Lovely Mari, compressed deeper and deeper into the ground. Business would be disrupted for weeks, months, as the main arteries of the city were torn out like the throat of a man, mauled by a bear. But Mari knew none of this: part of her attention was wondering whether the Midtown neighborhood was staring up her skirt and ogling her panties. They must be, since her French maid’s skirt spread out across the area, creating an unofficial night, and if they looked up to examine the sky they could only see the forbidden spread between her soft and shapely thighs. This was an occupational hazard with which the goddess was quite familiar.

The rest of her attention was focused on another handy bit of magic: she cast a spell of precision and delicacy upon the fingertips of her right hand, and with this she reached down and oh-so-gently plucked Ford Field from its foundation. Her fingertip crushed the Lions Pro Shop on the south side, her thumb flattened the Turf Tavern with all its drunken patrons on the north, but the stadium itself remained perfectly intact.

Lovely Mari lifted it up to one enchanting eye, scrutinizing its contents: what luck! They were having a game after all, and so it was full of another 65,000 screaming occupants! Not as many as Lambeau Field, but ah well. It would have to do.

Grinning like a sunbeam, Mari straightened out her powerful, shapely legs and rose to her feet. It was the moment of truth! She opened her mouth wide, stuck out her tongue, and her eyes cutely crossed to follow the stadium as she daintily—…

“Hey! What’re you doing?”

The witch-goddess’s eyes fluttered open with genuine surprise. She had excellent hearing, of course, but mostly all she ever heard was the roar of the upper wind corridors or the squealing shrieks of hundreds of thousands of people dying in terror and agony. It was quite uncommon, quite unusual for her to pick up on a single, coherent sentence like this.

She looked around but couldn’t see anyone in the area. What the hell? Squinting her eyes to intensify her astounding focus, she studied the ground all around her tall, exotic boots. To her astonishment, standing with tiny fists on tiny hips, the two-mile-high goddess spotted a tiny little giantess! She must have come running up north along Chrysler Drive from the Detroit River, the border between Detroit, USA, and Windsor, Canada.

For a moment, Mari was surprised to realize there was a part of Canada that was south of the US, but everyone goes through that for a moment.

“I’m talking to you!” screamed the tiny woman, and Mari was utterly baffled. This little woman only came up to Mari’s slender and lovely ankle—why was she acting so bold? Did she know something Mari didn’t?

Inwardly, Mari laughed. That was impossible!

The little woman actually dared to walk up between Mari’s boots. She had tanned skin with long auburn hair that spilled around her shoulders. She wore shreds of fabric that covered her shoulders and breasts, and another stretch of cloth around her waist. It looked very savage and rough, and that was kind of interesting, but she was entirely far too rude for the goddess’s liking.

But Mari was as curious as she was lovely, which was very, so she looked down at the little woman and shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t speak, not with a stadium in her mouth; Ford Field was still poised in midair, nearly two full miles above the city, next to her soft and creamy cheek.

“Don’t shrug at me! And don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” yelled the woman, pointing a strong (but tiny) arm up at Mari. Well, up Mari’s skirt, anyway, since she was standing between the tremendous giantess’s ankles. Poor Mari had to bend quite a bit to peer at the woman over her tremendous bosom.

Oh yeah, bosom! Lovely Mari almost forgot: she lowered the 65,000 terrified football fans, hooked a thumb inside the silk trim of her décolletage, and tugged the front of her dress open. Enormous twin breasts bulged within her dress, squeezing together slightly and producing deep, plunging cleavage, and into this yawning chasm Mari upended Ford Field and dumped most of its occupants. They sprinkled like fine confectioner’s sugar, catching the breeze and spreading. Most of them did sift gently into her cleavage, sliding down the pale, curving slopes into the darkness; a few stuck to her skin, adhered to a very light coat of perspiration. Fewer still were lost to the powerful winds two miles above the earth, and they simply tumbled away into empty space, commencing their very long descent back to their home city.

Mari could barely be bothered to notice these: she was far too pleased with the tens of thousands of people, shrieking in abject terror, as they settled along the slopes of her huge and perfect breasts or flowed over her sternum, lodging somewhere within the depths of her dress, somewhere over her toned belly. Many died, and the rest would die at some point in the near future, and all those minty-cool terrified souls would slip right into her chest and go straight to her boobs, and these would enlarge and strain the structural integrity of her dress, and she would be pardonably proud of the effect. Surely those lucky people who stuck to her tremendous breasts would learn how truly lovely they were, the loveliest in the world, and maybe they would even turn into the loving, sweet souls who are happy to join her. Those souls were much more pleasant to feel, as nice as dissolving a candy in her mouth.

The tiny woman standing between her legs was furious. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing! What did you… Did you actually just dump the people of my city into your dress? Right in front of me?” She fumed and swore, then stomped over (her stomps were so tiny and cute!) to Mari’s left boot, and she punched Mari in the left ankle.

This diminutive woman actually punched the capricious witch-goddess in the ankle!

Mari couldn’t feel it, of course, but still! The impertinence! The cheek! This little imp had to be dealt with. Faster than lighting, Lovely Mari’s pretty little hand descended through the atmosphere and seized the rude little woman in her fist. Now it was really pathetic: Mari’s palm was 600 feet across, and this woman barely filled it at all. When she closed her fingers, only the woman’s long, flowing hair stuck out of the top, where her index finger curled into her thumb. Not even the tiny woman’s feet stuck out! But nothing could excuse her rudeness.

Lovely Mari stood up and opened up her palm, showing the tiny giantess what would happen to her if she tried anything stupid. The little tan woman seemed shaken, rose to her knees, and peered over the edge of Mari’s hand. She saw the vast landscape spreading around, and she saw how her soft and fleshy platform hovered in a void far, far above the earth. Slowly the woman crawled back into the center of Mari’s palm, where she drew her knees to her chest, hugged her legs, and rocked back and forth in a state of shock.

The goddess was not without mercy, but the little woman did need to be taught a lesson. What to do?

Tilting her hand to make the giantess roll down it, Mari quickly pinched the woman into her skin with her thumb. Now her arms, head, and legs were all free but her waist was securely held in place. Mari lifted the tiny giantess up to her soft cheek and opened her mouth extra wide. When the woman stopped screaming, she looked inside the gaping maw and saw Mari’s adorable tongue sticking out at her. At the back of her tongue stood Lambeau Field, shaken and drenched but still standing. Maybe now the tiny woman would understand what Mari had to do.

Very gently, she placed Ford Field upon the front half of her tongue. Immediately she could feel the two stadiums bumping against each other, and the edge of Ford Field stuck out over the tip of her tongue just a little bit. That was no good. With great skill and care, Mari shoved Lambeau field around and turned it 90 degrees, and likewise she placed Ford Field sideways on the end of her tongue.

Success! Lovely Mari proved to the world—and this tiny, savage giantess was witness—that she could fit two football stadiums in her mouth at one time! Oh, Mari wanted to dance with happiness, but first things first: the horrible little woman had to be punished.

Still sticking out her massive yet alluring tongue, Mari waved her fingers to create an enormous smartphone that hovered in the air some distance before her face. She posed the tiny woman by her cheek, closed her eyes in an expression of delight, and took a selfie of the momentous occasion. That done, Mari happily crunched the two stadiums into rubble and choked them down, and then she held the woman before her puffy, rosy lips.

“Now then, whatever shall I do with you?” Her voice boomed with tremendous violence through the atmosphere. The tiny woman clapped her hands to her head, but the sound pounded every inch of her body like violent ocean waves. Her face contorted in agony and she screamed something, but it didn’t make any sense to the real goddess.

Shrugging, Mari simply popped the woman into her mouth. Not all the way, of course, not at the start: the tiny giantess’s chest squirmed against the ticklish surface of Mari’s sweet tongue, and the goddess closed her delicious lips around the woman’s waist. That left her legs dangling down Mari’s chin and her bare butt exposed. Mari threw up two fingers and grinned at the massive, floating smartphone, getting a nice picture of her charming expression and the tiny giantess’s thighs spread to expose everything, sticking out of her puckered lips. She waved her fingers again and the smartphone disappeared.

Now there was nothing else to do but finish the job. The tiny woman was screaming her head off inside Mari’s mouth, loud enough to hear, but the goddess only sucked in her cheeks and opened her jaws, keeping her lips closed. This created a powerful vacuum that drew the woman’s body toward her throat: the woman’s round breasts dragged over Mari’s lovely tastebuds, and her round hips and butt popped in through her lips. Two powerful thighs snaked inside her mouth, then her feet, as the woman’s torso began sliding down Mari’s throat.

The witch-goddess could feel the tiny giantess grasping for things to hold onto. The woman’s tiny fingers slipped over her teeth, slid over her tonsils, but none of it helped. Mari tried very carefully to relax her throat, breathing gently, and soon the woman’s body filled it. Mari tilted her head back, squinting at the sun, opened her mouth wide and let gravity do all the work. The tiny woman’s screams echoed down Mari’s throat, and her heels kicked at the roof of her mouth, and her powerful little body writhed and struggled all the way down. Lovely Mari could actually feel it, all the way down, first like a chunk of meat lodged in your throat, and then like a burp that won’t come out.

At last, however, the tiny giantess worked her way down to Mari’s beloved stomach, tumbling into the digestive juices and settling down like a heavy snack. There, that was good: Lovely Mari stroked one perfect hand across the black fabric over her firm and taut belly. She closed her eyes and believed she could feel the ridiculous, rude little woman trying to stand up, punch at the walls of her stomach, and other weak attempts to escape or rebel.

“You just keep fighting,” whispered Lovely Mari to her little prisoner. “Fight as long as you can, days and days. That will show me how much you love me.”

But now her adventure was over. She had proven that she could hold two football fields in her mouth at once—what next?

Actually, a really good idea came to her. Walking back over her huge stompy craters, she picked her way across the state to return to Lake Michigan. She was pretty sure she could drink it all, and there was only one way to find out.

“So… sleepy…”

Lovely Mari’s voice resounded across the countryside, echoing off the mountains, breaking through the upper atmosphere. Today she was no less than five miles tall, for one thing. Her hair looked terrific: five miles is when gravity significantly lessens from the planet’s pull, so her long, silky blonde hair lofted prettily about her head and shoulders, framing her beautiful face quite remarkably. Only once did her witch’s hat float off her head and into space; she held it down with a simple spell after that.

But aside from how great she looked, it had been an exhausting day, even for the most powerful witch on Earth. There were so many areas that needed stomping, so many populations that needed wiping out… It just seemed like an endless task! Yet Lovely Mari never wavered in her dedication to her task, crushing everything she could see—and she could see everything.

At long last it was evening and Mari decided it was time for a break before she moved on to the next location. In fact, she had been so productive, she felt she deserved a bit of a nap. But where should she sleep…

The young goddess threw back her head and laughed! A goddess like herself sleeps wherever she damn well pleases!

And so it came to be that where she stood was a good enough place to doze. There was a lovely mountain range for her pillow, and… well, nothing else mattered. Her arms and legs could spread out wherever they liked, across the countryside. She braced her boots upon the ground, kicked away with the right one (digging up massive tracts of earth and hurling them miles away), spun on her left boot and executed a perfectly darling pirouette. Her form was exquisite, if you were far enough away to take it all in, and it triggered the spell that changed her entire outfit.

Gone was the witch’s hat, French maid blouse and apron, and the tantalizing black leather kneeboots. In its place were a floppy bonnet and a draping nightgown, both in cornflower blue. Voluminous sleeves decorated in white flower print trailed behind her twirling arms, with her signature black garter on one bicep. The black satin belt and her legendary décolletage were all trimmed in white lace. And on this occasion, Lovely Mari chose no footwear but instead went barefoot: the ball of her left foot spun and grilled a tremendous divot into the ground, lawns and trees squeezing up from between her dainty, darling toes. The carcass of a wolf upheaved and rolled into the corner of her toenail, embedding itself where the nail wedged into the skin, and there it would remain, lost to the world and outside of the goddess’ knowledge.

Mari came out of the spin, planted her right foot upon a coal refinery, and giggled with irresistible cuteness. Her tremendous bosom heaved in the upper atmosphere: today had been a day of much dying, and her boobs were fully loaded with as many souls as they could contain, straining mightily against her nightgown. Her merry laughter spread out across the land, deafening everyone within a mile radius, shattering windows and knocking pictures and mirrors off the walls. None of this, of course, was any of Mari’s concern, because it was bedtime and that was all that mattered, truly.

A passenger jet coasted through the evening sky, just beginning to enter its descent. The crew nosed the craft down gently, but only too late turned to notice the huge wave of blonde hair sailing through the air. Frozen in shock, they watched the hair give way to a broad, peach-hued cheek, an adorable button nose the size of a skyscraper, and one sparkling, crimson eye. The blood chilled in their bodies as their minds struggled, completely incapable of comprehending this scene. Parts of it were familiar, but all of it was so, so wrong...

Lovely Mari stretched out her long, toned arms, balling her massive hands into cute little fists that twisted and rolled in the great void of space far above the planet. She pursed and licked her lips.

The crew of the jet, still motionless, watched the tremendous tip of the witchy giantess’s tongue come rolling out from between two sweet, pink lips. The dying rays of the sun glistened on hundreds of moist, bumpy taste buds. The captain and copilot were absolutely hypnotized; the navigator passed out cold and collapsed to the floor in a heap. The remaining crew only gaped at the massive tongue as it slid back and forth, covering many hundreds of feet in just a second, then at the enormous black nostrils above the giantess’s lip, nostrils that spread and flared directly ahead of them…

Even an all-powerful goddess enjoys a couple lungfuls of good, clean air, and Mari threw back her head and yawned. Oh, it was a good yawn! She could feel her powerful muscles tensing and shivering all the way up her spine, all throughout her arms. This was a great yawn, in fact! She closed her eyes and turned her focus to her throat, feeling the muscles strain and stretch pleasantly! Her tongue unfurled, broadened and reached out from her teeth, the muscles lining her ribs all rippled pleasantly beneath her nightgown, and her lungs just sucked in more and more air. Lovely Mari extended this experience for as long as she could, reveling in her tired muscles flexing and shuddering in the climax before relaxation.

The cavernous nostrils gave way to a broad pink lip; the lip passed by and was replaced by an imperious row of glistening, sharp white teeth; and even the teeth elevated above the hapless passenger jet. The copilot began to moan and, far too late, the captain pawed at the steering controls numbly. A chorus of shrieks and screams began to arise from behind the cabin door as the jet sailed under the enormous half-circle of perfect teeth, heading toward the pink, glistening ceiling that was the roof of a giantess’s mouth. But they did not collide: instead, they were swept along with the powerful gale that the giantess sucked into herself. The jet shook, pitched, and finally tumbled down the back of the gaping, black throat. The screams of over 200 people echoed in the chamber of Mari’s pharynx, nearly as loud as the roar of the engines, until the craft finally collided with the tissues of her throat, crumpled, and showered in pieces around her larynx. All these souls vaporized and sank into her massive tongue, for some reason, which twitched ecstatically with the additional life force and the amazing yawn in progress.

The five-mile-tall goddess smacked her lips and grinned happily. That was probably one of the top five best yawns of her life. She was pleased nothing occurred to disturb it!

Rubbing her large, limpid eyes, Mari looked around at the land. The sun was halfway below the horizon now, tingeing the skies in a striking array of orange and red streaks. She grinned at the sun, which seemed to be showing off just to attract her attention; in response, she cupped her hands below her gargantuan boobs and hefted them a couple times. The tender, succulent skin of their gracefully curved surface glowed warmly in the dying light, a sure sign of the sun’s approval. She blew a kiss to the sun and then settled down to find a place to sleep for the night.

All things being equal to a five-mile-tall goddess, of course, she simply plopped down where she stood. Through her nightgown, her soft, round knees dug broad tracks into the countryside as she got comfortable. Her head rested nicely in the saddle between two mountains, with long sheets of shiny blonde hair draped across one peak, her cornflower bonnet sagging and building up on the side of the mountain and the valley below. Contentedly she wrapped her vast, powerful arms around the entire mountain range and snuggled in, already drifting into slumber.

Now, through this mountain ran a long stretch of railroad tracks, and it was on these that Lovely Mari had settled her colossal, delectable body. In fact, the line of these tracks nearly perfectly ran down Mari’s middle. If a train were to drive into the mountain, chug through the tunnel and emerge on the other side, everyone aboard would have been blessed with the exquisite treat of plunging safely into the goddess’s sacred cleavage. Yes, they could have looked out their windows at the enormous boobs, squashed against the foothills of the mountain and swelling to cover the entire county. There used to be towns there, small podunk villages with independent businesses and families who’d lived there for five generations. There was even a powerful textile mill in the town on the right of the tracks and a hugely successful coal refinery in the town on the left, but by considerable coincidence, each of these had been pummeled, crumpled, and driven deep into the earth by each of Lovely Mari’s cute nipples. The chilly night air had slightly hardened them to where they had poked alluringly through the fabric of her nightgown, and when she lay down for the night, they fell like asteroids upon the factories that had funded and built these downs, flattening and shattering them into an unrecognizable state.

The passengers could have stared at Mari’s voluptuous boobs instead of the towns, and taken pictures to their heart’s content, until the train drove into Mari’s taut belly, fully relaxed and crushing the tracks.

But there was no train coming from that direction tonight. No, the only train scheduled along this line, this evening, was coming from the opposite direction. It was turning very slowly around some foothills that blocked the engineer’s view—a blind curve. If the engineer had been paying attention, he still might have seen Mari’s cute heel rising above the foothills, off in the distance. As it was, his office was understaffed and he was nearing the end of a double shift. Despite drinking three times as much coffee as he liked, he was still very tired and his senses were dulled. It was all he could do to watch the dials and listen for any incoming phone calls. Otherwise, the monotony of the bland countryside rushing endlessly past his windows was lulling him into sleep, against which he was losing the battle.

But then his train cleared the curve, and before the sun was gone entirely, he saw a dainty, cutely shaped foot lying upon the land. Yes, it was the size of a mountain, but it was perfectly pink and look oh-so-soft, with a cutest row of darling toes he’d ever seen in his life. Each toe was larger than his house, larger than the building in which he worked, but somehow his mind interpreted them as just the cutest things ever.

He stared at it, wondering if it was some astounding billboard or maybe an insane artistic construction. But no, the enormous foot led to an enormous, slim ankle, and from that an enormous shin led to an enormous, round calf. He leaned out the engine’s window, looking back at the ankle and the big toe, then up at the calf as his train chugged ahead, accelerating as it came out of the blind curve. He knew that was an enormous woman’s leg, and he ran to the other window and confirmed the presence of another enormous woman’s leg, and then the train was pitched into darkness.

It should be known that this was no ordinary train. It was not a passenger train, so when it crashed there would be no hundreds of souls flying out and seeping into Mari’s enticing thighs. No, most of the cars were carrying building supplies, two were fully loaded with tremendous quantities of fuel, and one bore three large missiles, draped in canvas and securely strapped to the flatbed. This was the train that the sleepy engineer had been guiding across the country.

And the reason why it suddenly grew dark? That’s simple. Even though the sun was setting, it didn’t set that quickly, and half the sky was still glowing warmly; the engineer could see this over the pleasant curve of Mari’s calf. But when the beautiful giantess laid down and spread herself out over the land, her nightgown became bunched up in places. Overhead, the fabric clung to the backs of her powerful thighs, and it spread like a vast and impenetrable awning over the land. This is what blocked out the light as the sleepy engineer’s cargo train rumbled past the giantess’s dimpled knees. Yet the track was still clear because the front of the gown had cinched up around Mari’s hips, leaving the front of her thighs bare as they crushed the forests around the tracks, and leaving the tracks clear as they ran all the way up to...

The sky’s fading light still glowed, albeit dimly, through the spreading cornflower gown far overhead, and the engine’s brilliant headlamp pierced the murky air ahead. Between these, the engineer was able to perceive the narrowing corridor formed by to tremendous thighs, sweeping way up above the train and curving perilously close to the tracks. They were motionless, at least, but the train bore ahead inexorably to… to the…

Fully awake now, the engineer rubbed his own eyes much as the giantess surrounding him had not long ago. He strained to peer ahead, adjusting to the gloom of the evening, following the engine’s light all the way up the tracks.

Far ahead rose a wall of broad, thick white and blue horizontal stripes. Where they started, they buried themselves with the steel tracks into the earth, and from there they rose far, far overhead. The lines were not perfectly straight, not where they hung, for they wound around a colossal set of labia, conforming to their soft, inviting curvature. And where they elevated into the sky, the engineer was far enough away to see them disappear over the twin peaks of perfectly round, massive buttocks, larger even than the mountains he’d expected to drive through.

His heart, which had been fluttering in panic, now pounded slowly and very hard, like a prisoner hammering away at the walls of his cell. In his pants, there was a stiffening and a growth…

On the train rumbled, into the inky blackness of the valley of the young giantess’s compelling thighs. The engineer shook his head: with 15 cars behind him, heavily laden with construction materials, fuel, and weapons, he had very little time to hit the brakes and control the skid of metal-on-metal, but if he reacted quickly, he just might pull it off. If he seized the brakes right now, right this second, there would be a moment of physical turbulence, but the train should drag itself to a halt, sliding down the metal rails to a standstill before the collision.

All he had to do was wrap his hands around the brakes and apply them.

Precious seconds ticked by. He knew he had to act quickly.

Just grab those ol’ brakes, any second now. The sooner, the better.

Instead, he leaned against the front window and watched the massive wall of the giantess’ pussy grow closer and closer. The train rumbled beneath the swelling monuments of sweet inner thighs, and he longed to taste them. Hell, at this size, he could crawl on his belly across this woman’s leg for a year and never get anywhere. He blinked, repeatedly, drew a very long breath through his clenched teeth, and then took action.

He’d had plans for his life, yes. He was going to take a long vacation next year. He’d been planning on staying in southern Italy for a whole month: he’d saved up enough money to live very comfortably, and he had more than enough vacation time built up. In fact, he’d been dating a nice woman for the past two years, and he was considering buying a nice ring and proposing to her in the cliffside village of Amalfi Coast. The pictures of this little town were picturesque, and he wanted her to know how grateful he was for her, to reflect the beauty and richness she gave his life. Until she found him, he questioned whether he’d ever known love or life at all.

Now, however, he was throwing this all away. He climbed out of the door of his engine, hurtling down the tracks at a respectable 70 mph. Squinting into the wind, he wrapped his fingers around various bars and ledges on the engine’s exterior, then planted one foot upon the sideboard and pulled his frail little body out of the cabin. The wind tore the hat off his head promptly, and his skull was awash in roaring, blasting air, but he was determined. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of something metal, stepped forward again, and carefully he picked his way along the side of the vehicle, clawing his way forward.

Far off in the distance, Lovely Mari licked her lips in her sleep. She was deep in a wonderful dream, in which she was visiting a planet of ice cream. Her happy sighs echoed across the side of the mountain. Five miles off in the opposite direction, her darling, excited toes carved trenches into the surface of the land.

Down between her legs, the long, thin train barreled into the darkness where her tender, milky inner thighs drew closer and closer. The engineer spared little time to take in the scenery, however, entirely focused upon his task. The hard part was nearly over: he braced himself against the relentless windstorm and hauled himself onto the narrow platform on the very front of the engine. He couldn’t fall from here, between the safety rail before him and the violent winds pinning him to the engine.

Closer and closer the train raced; closer and closer the young giantess’s tremendous thighs loomed around him; closer and closer came the thin layer of blue-and-white panties. Yet this platform was not enough, the engineer realized, he needed the last edge for the full effect.

Ducking beneath the handrail, he struggled against the wind to sit on the platform and force his legs over the front lip. Powerful lanterns blazed into the darkness on either side of him, and the enormous wall of panties began to glow at the end of the tracks. Broad ovals of light spread across the tender inner thighs. The engineer believed this was absolutely right, what he was going to do, and with that conviction he planted his feet on the thick, meaty front pintle of the engine, braced his left arm against the edge of the platform, and stuffed his right hand down the front of his pants. So anchored, he leaned forward into the merciless wind and greeted his fate.

The last hundred feet of tracks were closed in a second, and time slowed down. The train pushed the little engineer into the wide, tall webbing of blue-and-white striped panties. The whiskers of his stubbly chin caught and snagged in the coarse woven fabric of the giantess’s underwear.

The engine drove forward, and the wall of fabric began to bend and stretch all over the front of the engineer’s body. Now he was shoved up against the tender folds of the giantess’ labia, hot and thick and puffy through the fabric. The panties hardly mattered as the engineer's entire body plowed into the gigantic, swelling mounds of flesh.

The engine drove forward. Now the mounds began to spread, to flatten against the front of the train, and to fill all the space around the engineer. Her pussy stretched above into interminable distance, he knew, but his body was entirely engulfed with the upper region of the monstrous labia. As her hot skin absorbed the impact of the train, he wondered how close he was to her clitoris, in fact. Would it pop between his knees? Would his face mash into it?

The engine drove forward, and now the tremendous cakes of pussy flesh began to spread and part around him. Still apprehended in the dense webbing of her panties, the little engineer was still shoved forward into the tender, hot entrance of the goddess's most sacred chamber. The labia widened around the front of the engine, and the engineer was plunged into a vertical pool of hot wetness. It went everywhere: his hair was plastered, his shirt was soaked, everything on him was drenched in the juices of the goddess. He opened his mouth and through the fabric his throat was filled with...

“Ice cream,” Lovely Mari whispered into the mountain peaks.

The engine abruptly halted but the 15 cars behind it did not. The night air was torn apart by screaming metal being torn, crumpled, twisted. The cars kept hammering into the engine, however, pounding it insistently into the young giantess's panties. The construction materials scattered and flew everywhere, bouncing harmlessly off of Mari's silken thighs. The fuel containers immediately ruptured and splashed flammable liquids all over, coating every surface and seeping into the ground.

Then the missiles arrived. They drove straight past the other cars, tumbling to the right and rolling to the left. They drove straight through the rubble, which launched the flatbed at such an angle, at such speed, that it actually rose a few feet, just enough to strike the back of the engine. At that impact, the restraining cables snapped like mere threads and all three missiles went briefly airborne, flying the short distance into Lovely Mari's blessed pussy, several yards above where the engineer was mashed into a paste. And they might even have gone in, if not for the unbreakable webbing of the blue-and-white striped panties.

So instead they just exploded. The missiles collided against each other, detonated, and ignited the entire landscape doused in fuel. The fireball spread instantaneously, everything lighting up all at once: steel cars melting, railroad ties consumed, the ground charring and blackening but for the hellish blaze of powerful, civilization-ending explosions.

None of which Lovely Mari noticed, of course. Even as the train disaster boiled into slag between her tender thighs, the only thing she was aware of was a shift in her dream.

In her dream, she had been floating in an ocean of ice cream, protected from the icy chill and splashing vanilla, chocolate, and sorbet all over her legs and body. There came a gentle tickle between her thighs, not enough to disturb her, just an interesting little twinge. It became a broad and sensitive thumb, almost, as though someone had swum up from the depths of the ice cream ocean, slipped his hand between her thighs, and started nudging his thumb against her sexuality. In the dream, she arched an eyebrow and hummed contentedly.

Then it went away. It sat there for a few seconds, pulsing gently against her sex, and then it disappeared. Disappointed, Mari dipped her hand between her thighs and felt around. For some reason the ice cream was thin and runny there, but even that went away and she continued to dream of endless desserts.

Hours later, when the sun crested the opposite horizon and spread its rays across the countryside, Lovely Mari yawned, stretched, and grinned at the kindly star. She sat up, rolling to the side, her broad, round bottom flattening hundreds and hundreds of valuable acres of food-producing farmland. Her hair was a little tousled but her sleeping bonnet still sat in place. She trusted she looked glorious as ever, and she was perfectly correct.

With alarm, she discovered her nightgown had worked itself up her legs in her sleep! Mortified, she hastily tugged it back into place, then finally stood up and shook it out so it hung better. She was entirely unaware of the sheer tonnage of scrap metal that tumbled from her crotch and violently pelted the earth, just as she was unaware of how her precious toes pinched and mangled the same stretch of railroad track she'd slumbered upon. She spun herself in a quick twirl once more, transforming her sleeping clothes into another stunning and gorgeous outfit, one fit only for a cute and clever goddess like herself, and she got back to stomping the holy hell out of the countryside.

Around midday, while crouching over the capitol city of the region in order to bury it in a mountain of poop, she noticed the blackened charring and ash coating her inner thighs and the crotch of her panties. Her skin was unharmed, of course, and the panties were perfectly intact, just needing a little cleaning spell.

Lovely Mari laughed to herself. "Not again!" She shook her head, magically rinsed herself, and merrily skipped off across the countryside, setting off her trademark magnitude 7 earthquakes all the way.

Fully refreshed, the five-mile-tall witchy goddess known as Lovely Mari grinned and stretched her broad limbs in the cool morning air. It was going to be a magical day, she could tell already!

She thought about her next outfit. Her enormous fingers plucked at the cornflower gown she'd slept in. She twisted her hips and let the dress bloom out all around in a tremendous bell around her powerful legs.

"Actually," she said aloud, to no one in particular, "I think I quite like this. I don't see any reason to change at all." She shrugged cheerfully and adjusted her bonnet as her keen eyes swept across the horizon. The day was a gigantic playground to her, with no particular agenda but to amuse herself. Where would she find the greatest entertainment?

At five miles high, everything around her appeared more or less the same: just broad fields of dull green, gray, and brown. In some areas, low clouds hovered over the land, and those were attractive, but there wasn't much to do with them.

Yet something was tugging at her attention. It was very slight, and it wasn't always there... But when Lovely Mari closed her eyes and slowed her breathing down, when she paid special attention to everything her body was telling her... there it was again.

But what was it?

This would take a lot of work, because she was so massive today. At five miles tall, her cute feet could cover an entire neighborhood. The tiny people she called bugs were impossible to see, even with her incredible vision. When she sensed them at all, it was through her powerful magic: she could feel the presence of life kind of like the heat from a candle flame, not obvious but occasionally noticeable. What on earth could this be...

She looked down. All she could see were her enormous boobs. They stood out at a tremendous distance, even from her perspective. She laughed and they bounced and swung back and forth, and she admired them. It wasn't a stretch to say she was in love with her own body, and who could blame her?

But she did have business to attend to. Lovely Mari stretched her left arm across to grasp the outer edge of her right boob, and she tugged them to the side as far as was comfortable. Finally, she was able to stretch her gaze down her side, over her curvy hip, down her powerful thigh, all the way down past her fine calf to where her bare foot peeked out from beneath her nightgown.

On the ground, not far from her darling row of toes, there was a series of tiny lights flashing. They seemed to be blinking at random, here and there, just tiny little pops of light even smaller than a bush full of fireflies. Smirking, Lovely Mari tilted her pretty head, some locks of blonde hair sliding over her shoulder, and wondered what the hell all that was about.

There was some warmth and the slightest tingling around her feet. It was familiar... not like when she sat on her leg wrong and cut off the blood and her foot fell asleep. That was insanely ticklish! She cried and laughed and cried until the blood returned. But this was not like that. It was almost as though someone were gently tapping at her skin with warm droplets of water... but those lights.

Down on the ground, Col. Kleinbaelle stomped over to the Commo tent and collared the PFC running the radios. Hurling the late-teen flunky from his collapsible chair, the colonel took over the handset. "All stations! All stations this net! This is Papa-Niner-Fife! Report for network status, ovah!"

One by one, each battalion's Commo chief reported that they were online and listening. Satisfied, the colonel broke with telecommunicative protocol and swore a blue streak for two solid minutes. He wanted more tanks to the front, he wanted more howitzer support, and what the hell, the whole regiment of light infantry had better be bayonetting this overgrown, goddamned sack of estrogen in a rotation of two-hour shifts. And where in the great and holy hell was air support, ovah?

In fact, all the Air National Guard from this state and two neighboring states were already closing in: "ETA 40 seconds," reported the Nevada commander, and the others weren't far behind. They were meant to hold off the gigantic young woman until the larger Naval and Air Force fleets could swoop in with the big guns. Some debate in the background was torn between whether they should strafe away at her tremendous ankles and saw her down like a tree, or race up and down the backs of her legs in hopes of either compromising her support tendons or simply draining her dry. So far, nothing they attempted seemed to be making a lick of difference, so it was up to the bombers to unload the most devastating payload Western military had on hand.

Five miles above their heads, the gentle and beautiful Mari still mused about those scintillating lights, and it was another five minutes before she realized she was under attack.

"Ooh, the military!" she squealed. "I wonder which ones have shown up for the party?"

Not far off the ground, three wings of Air National Guard rocked and rolled in their jets, the stable air they relied on for cruising having been abruptly shattered and rippled with the delighted cooing of a five-mile-tall woman's offhanded comment. Only a few dropped from the sky, and only one of them fell into friendly formation, so all in all it wasn't a terrible disaster. The news would make some hay of it, but they were always itching for a shot at unchecked military expenditures under the current presidential administration.

As the local air defense recovered and pulled back, the shadows of four Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirits passed over them and climbed. They had raced over from Missouri under cover of night, as soon as reports came of three missing Minuteman III missiles, soon reported as detonated. The the Air National Guard pilots peered up through their cockpits to see what the Spirits were hauling, and when they saw, they leveled out and put as much distance between them and the garganguan young woman as they could. The Spirits silently, undetectedly began their long spiral up the woman's nightgown, rounding her thighs and preparing to give her hands wide berth.

Four miles above the Spirits' heads, Lovely Mari gazed at the lights a bit longer. They were pretty but they were too small to be very interesting. She had been hoping for a full-scale military assault, but at five miles high, she felt she was missing the action. She had considered shrinking herself down to a more manageable size for them... but no. Lovely Mari was taking a "me" day, and that meant five miles tall, darn it. If the stupid joint military forces wanted to have it out with her, they had to learn to step up their game.

Three miles down, the four B-2 Spirits had successfully navigated past Mari's left hand and were preparing to climb up the backs of her thighs to "her gluteal region", as they reported back to Col. Kleinbaelle.

"What in Sam Hill is that supposed to mean, Major?" he demanded.

The pilot cleared his throat and clarified: "We are in ascent to engage with her bottom, sir."

"Well, whyn'cha just say you're approaching her ass?" He slammed down the handset and kicked the chair away. The PFC was about to clarify this point of strict radio-telephonological procedure but saw that the career officer was turning a compelling shade of scarlet. He interpreted this as a sign to check the status of toilet paper in the latrines and scrambled away.

Two-and-a-half miles up, Lovely Mari was weighing her options. She could go forward... or she could back up... or she could step sideways. She could turn and walk forward, which was the same as stepping sideways, technically, but you were looking in a different direction for it when you went. It was a good direction to look in, because you would be looking ahead while walking ahead, but... A smile crept across her face as she thought about the mystery and adventure that came with stepping somewhere and not looking where you were going.

This required a lot of thought, and that required standing in place for a long time, and slowly her massive muscles began to transmit to the complex brain beneath her cornflower bonnet that they were starting to ache with disuse. In unconscious response, Mari placed her hands in the small of her back, arched her shoulders backward and thrust her hips forward.

"Nnnyyyaaauuugh," she said, yawning, as she reveled in the tension of her springy, powerful muscles.

"We are not clear, I say again, we are not clear for this circuit," said the major, again. He was actually the second major in the formation, and one of two majors in his bomber.

"That is a negative, Bravo," said the first in formation. "Bogey has advanced her buttocks to sufficient distance to clip two minutes off our ETA. We will take advantage of this change immediately. All units, do you copy?"

The four majors in the third and fourth bombers copied immediately. The second pilot still had his reservations but, after consulting with his copilot, complied nonetheless. It turned out, of course, that he'd had the better judgment, because just as the first two planes had surpassed Lovely Mari's deep and plunging butt crack (hidden beneath the drapery of her nightgown), she had completed her stretches and was straightening back up. When her tremendous bottom was no longer where it had been, the leader of the formation had hoped to fly his planes through the vacated space, but now her butt was returning.

"Scramble, Charlie and Delta! Pull out! Bogey is reengaging!" The first major was deeply embarrassed to have made yet another tactical error in formation with the second major, and this would likely cost him his position. Fully knowing this, the second major refrained from saying "I told you so" and leveled out to avoid Mari's enticing right hip. Even under the nightgown, she still revealed plenty of delicious curves that, in any other situation... well, you know.

The bomber labeled Charlie did the same, but with much narrower clearance. The fourth bomber, Delta, was not so lucky: Mari's tremendous buttocks caught up with him, and the fabric of her nightgown gave against the B-2 Spirit's mass, and the fourth major and his copilot found themselves buried deep between two enormous yet pert buttocks. There was room for a long time, too, because her cheeks were quite round and full, but eventually she drove her hips back and surrounded him where her crack grew narrower. The $44 million bomber was sandwiched too deeply between her buttocks, where it exploded.

It should be noted that the Delta majors never attempted to eject but only turned and stared to watch the young woman's ass advance on them. There are no recorded screams of horror or anything, only one man making a comment (redacted) and the other agreeing emphatically.

Two miles up, however, Lovely Mari's huge crimson eyes fluttered and winced. "What was that?" she wondered aloud. "That itched, whatever it was."

What it was, was the US Massive Ordinance Air Blast, the most powerful nonnuclear bomb. The "mother of all bombs" blew up in Lovely Mari's pretty bottom, and she thought it was an itch.

In response to Col. Kleinbaelle's urgent request for information, Bravo reported (and Alpha Leader ruefully confirmed) that Delta had been caught in the posterior of the bogey and its ordinance deployed prior to engagement, with no noticeable effect. The PFC knew that when the colonel's face and neck were red, he was furious but it would pass soon after a small dictionary of swear words. But when the colonel's eyes bulged, his jowls went purple and his neck started to drain of color, the shit had really hit the fan. He warned all the other admin in the Commo tent, who discreetly excused themselves to double-check the status of toilet paper in the latrines.

"You take this bitch out," shrieked the colonel into the handset. "You take this whore-bitch out if you have to fly into her goddamned eyeballs and deploy in her goddamned brain."

He did not hear the lead major declare radio silence for the final ascent. It was enough that the colonel was allowed to fully vent his spleen, and Alpha, Bravo and Charlie were pretty sure they received the gist of his transmission loud and clear. Besides, they had a new obstacle looming before them: one right breast, roughly the apparent size of Earth's moon.

By this it is meant that Lovely Mari's boobs were near-perfect spheres today. She had swallowed up an awful lot of souls this week, and along with adding three miles to her height, she decided to repurpose and distribute some padding to her butt and boobs. It made her feel powerful, somehow, to see these titanic mammaries jutting out proudly from her chest. The band of satin that trimmed her decolletage was strained nearly to bursting, biting very gently into the creamy swell of her breasts. From this band the rest of her cornflower nightgown draped straight down, like a stationary waterfall in mid-descent, but above it, her boobs bulged deliciously, reflecting the noonday sun gloriously. They made her very happy, her boobs did, from the way they sloped inward in perfect hemispheres, to the powerful nipples that poked prominently from beneath her gown. Mooning over them lovingly, Lovely Mari could not resist giving them a playful little shake, a little shimmy to watch them dance for her pleasure.

She heaved one tremendous shoulder forward, then back as her other shoulder lunged forward, and then they reversed directions, then back again. To mere mortals this was a slow-motion syncopation of massive bodies, but from Mari's perspective, she was shimmying and her planetary breasts were responding in kind.

"Alpha! Alpha, be advised!" barked the third major. "Bogey's mammaries are engaging! I say again, we are-" Then he blew up, because Alpha and Bravo were already clear of her boobs, sailing over the vast landscape of her tender, glowing skin, drifting safely over the bottomless chasm between her tits, but Charlie was spending more energy in reporting the obvious than in evading Lovely Mari's sizeable and hardened nipple. His left wing was sheared away by her aureole, and her nipple proper pounded his nosecone into his fuselage. Same as before, the majors did not elect to eject but only ejaculated prior to impact, blowing their wad like their MOAB.

Now Mari was definitely sure something bit her. It was a gentle and small bite, sure, but it was where it was that troubled her. Something bit her on the nipple, and she blushed. If this was part of the military's doing, she was going to be so mad...

Colonel Kleinbaelle was beside himself. There was no talking to him, and nothing intelligible came out of his flopping, foaming mouth. He simply lay on the floor, kicking his spit-shined boots in the dust and clutching the handset as though he meant to crush it. He realized, transitioning from all the F-words to all the G-words he knew, that Alpha and Bravo were no longer listening.

"We have one shot at this, Bravo," said the first major. "Charlie and Delta are out of commission-"

"May God have mercy on their souls," returned the second major. His copilot grunted, not liking their odds.

"They're in a better place now, surely."

"Personally, I liked where Delta was placed," murmured Bravo copilot.

"That's enough! We have one shot at this!" There was a long pause. "Bravo, what is your recommendation?"

The second major barked laughter into his headset. "Negative, Alpha. This is your ballgame."

"Hey, Leonard, this is no time to-"

"I say again, Alpha: you are the squad leader, the head honcho and the LWMFIC. We full intend to follow you to Hell itself."

"If only outta morbid curiosity," muttered his copilot. The Bravo majors high-fived each other.

The lead pilot sighed heavily. "Very well. Bravo, ascend to bogey's... you know what, fuck this. Leonard, you take this girl's left ear and I'll take her right. We'll deploy in 20, and hopefully the MOABs will destabilize her inner-ear fluid enough to dizzy her and knock her to the ground." He blew a long sigh out of his nostrils. "At which point she's Kleinbaelle's goddamned problem."

After an impressed silence, Bravo only said, "Wilco, Alpha Leader. Out."

The last remaining B-2 Spirits climbed over each of the young goddess's shoulders, cleared the stray locks that fell tantalizingly from her sleeping bonnet, and gave themselves some distance from her cheekbones. "She really got some perty eyes," said Bravo's copilot.

The pilot pursed his lips. "She looks like she's not much older than my own daughter. She just started her sophomore year at MIT." He craned his head back to give his copilot a side-eye. "I really don't want to do this."

"What're the odds we could eject and 'chute right between her titties?"

A little bile rose in Bravo pilot's throat as he confirmed his flight's path, coordinating with Alpha Leader. "Deploy and pull out in fife... four... tree... two..."

The twin B-2 Spirits released their MOABs and pulled up and to the right, Alpha racing behind Lovely Mari's bonnet and Bravo pulling out by her huge, glistening eye.

"Truly lovely," Bravo pilot whispered, as the two bombs arced perfectly and deposited themselves neatly in the young goddess's aural canals.

If Mari had been anyone else, that is, a nonmagical, nonwitchy nongoddess and only a really tall girl, their plan might have worked. As it was, this was Lovely Mari, the capricious and beautiful witch with goddess-like power (or goddess with astounding witch powers, still working that out), and the majority of the concussion was absorbed by an assortment of protective spells she always coated herself in, a couple times a week to keep them fresh.

That's not to say it went unnoticed.

"The fuck was that," Lovely Mari growled. Both of the tremendous explosions, together, bothered her very much. Her ears were still sensitive, and she was listening carefully to all the tiny noises these military bugs were making. Now, if you were concentrating on something very closely, trying to hear something very quiet and maybe important, and then your older brother snuck up behind you and belched very loudly into your ear, how would that make you feel?

However you reacted, you couldn't react like Lovely Mari did. She put her hands together and sang out, "Love-Colored Master Spark".

On cue, a solid shaft of blinding light sprang from her palms and blasted a hole into the earth. This hole was a few miles wide and several dozen miles deep. There was no more dirt or rock there anymore, for several dozen miles. If there was gold ore or dinosaur bones down there, they did not exist anymore. As well, the entire joint military forces that had assembled there, comprising the "pretty little lights" that held Lovely Mari so fascinated, was also gone forever, without a trace. No Colonel Kleinbaelle, no latrines, nothing.

The hole was large enough to impress Mari, who stepped carefully away from it. "Wouldn't want to fall in there," she noted wisely, because she was super smart about these things.

And ultimately she did choose a direction to walk in, even after her choice of directions was limited by this tremendous hole in the planet; some say, because of it.

What else was there to do on this planet, Lovely Mari wondered. She’d already generously created a series of new and interesting landmarks—craters in the shape of her perfect feet—and rid the nation, in some small way, of overbearing military presence. And she was quite sure that geologists, spelunkers, and other people would be intrigued by the gaping hole she’d drilled several miles into the lithosphere. Who wouldn’t be?

She sighed, her enormous, planet-like breasts rising and falling ponderously. There had to be something else to do, though, something interesting to pass the time. It was a huge planet and it thought an awful lot about itself, what with its colorful cultures and tremendous variety of cuisine and art. Perhaps that was the problem: rather than admiring themselves endlessly, the planet should be admiring Lovely Mari and how lovely she is. Then perhaps the collective wisdom of the nations could dream up something fun for her to do.

As her pretty head drifted in the clouds, several miles below there was quite a fuss being raised in a certain city. By chance, Mari hadn’t stepped on it and obliterated it beneath her heel, and by coincidence, she hadn’t smooshed it with her sweet little bottom when she sat down for a while to contemplate her options. In fact, the worst that had happened to them was that they’d lost their sunlight when she folded her shapely legs around the city and her cornflower nightgown draped far overhead.

That wasn’t terrible, as it afforded the greater metro area a long gaze at her panties and the treasures within, but they had been enjoying their sunlight. This was actually a divided issue: some held that the sun was necessary, others felt it was stupid and what they were looking at was much, much better. But there was nothing to be done about it either way, not until the five-mile-high giantess decided what to do with her day.

And then she had it. “Books!” she cried. “When’s the last time I read a nice book? Oh, there’s gotta be some good books around here!” And in scanning around, she sensed there was a large city right between her legs! What luck! She leaped to her feet (careful not to destroy her discovery), brushed her arms dramatically all over her body, and changed her outfit for her day in the city. With a flash of light and a chord of music, now she was attired like a huge, sexy businesswoman: a form-flattering vest and skirt combination in gray wool, smoky hose and red pumps, and a cunningly designed white blouse that somehow opened in the front to create Lovely Mari’s stunning décolletage once again. Foregoing her witch’s hat, she let her beautiful golden hair explode all over and shimmer down her shoulders. A gorgeous ruby pendant trimmed in crimson ribbon, the same color as her twinkling eyes, set the ensemble off, resting at her collar, just above the vast abyss of her cleavage.

Lovely Mari grinned brightly to see her immense creativity in the outfit! Oh, the humans would love her! Then it hit her, square in the forehead: she was far too tall for the stupid tiny bugs to truly appreciate her. “Well, it’s yer lucky day, bugs,” she murmured. “As long as you’re hostin’ me in your city, I guess I can meetcha halfway.” So saying, she closed her eyes, booped herself on the nose, and shrunk herself down to one-sixth of her height. That should be good enough, she figured.

Except it wasn’t: now she stood 4,000 feet tall, her vision obscured by the dense layer of clouds hanging over the earth. The tallest skyscrapers in town only reached up to around her knee.

Lovely Mari parked her hands on her hips and frowned darkly. “I’m not shrinkin’ down any more, you dumb bugs! If I’m too tall, why, you just better grow up instead!”

On the other hand, that meant finding a library should be a piece of cake, she figured. If only she knew what the library in this city looked like. She shrugged: there were probably a few of them, and if she grabbed a bunch of buildings that looked right, she was bound to come away with two or three, surely.

An hour later: “How can there only be one stupid library in this whole stupid city!?”

But it was true. The only one she could find anywhere was the metropolitan library. It was beautiful, artistically designed, but what kind of wretched city valued books so little that it only had one library? She vowed to destroy the whole stupid, illiterate city after taking this treasure home where it would finally be loved and appreciated.

Lovely Mari carefully picked her way through the city proper, crossing the winding, snaking river that split it in half, and followed the highway to the metropolitan library. There it stood, all angles and glass and loveliness. “It’s a damn shame they can’t appreciate you, little lady,” she told it. All libraries were ladies to her. “I’ll give you all the love you’ve been missing.”

She knelt, her tremendous knees pummeling huge craters into the Old Oaks neighborhood, which she didn’t think much of: it was a shabby, run-down neighborhood of decrepit houses and dying lawns and trees. If the tiny bugs didn’t care enough to keep it up, there was no reason she should take especial pains to preserve it.

The nylon weave of her hose stretched and thinned. The tiny bugs in these aged, crumbling houses parted their drapes and craned their heads up to look at her. Many of them were horrified and intimidated, but out of every hundred of them there were one or two who got a tiny little stiffness in their jeans, and that set of wretched little ideas in their filthy skulls. They crept out of their dwellings and glanced at each other in surprise, then shame, then a knowing conspiracy. Grinning like sick dogs, they (some men, some women) started walking up their crappy, potholed street up to the beautiful, round knees of the young goddess concentrating on something else.

Lovely Mari was taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful library. It was nothing like the one her friends lived in, of course, which was ancient and well-preserved, with shelves covering all the walls and running up to the high-peaked ceiling. But it seemed nothing in this stupid tiny bug-world was ever as nice and pretty as where she came from. Sighing, she began whispering the spell of delicacy, and the tips of her fingers began to glow with swirling purple sparks.

The people on the ground crept closer, hunched over in their dull shirts, their hunting jackets. They kept their eyes up, warily observing the gorgeous young giantess, only abstractly noting whatever remarkable thing she was doing with her hands. It looked like their library had disappeared between her calves, as she knelt on the ground, destroying several blocks of neglected city streets. Slowly and of one mind, the crowd of a dozen horny adults crept as close to her smooth shin as they could, hidden from the giantess’s view by her own thigh, and then split into two groups. Those heading east hoped that accessing her knee would bring them up quicker to the beauty beneath her skirt; those stalking to the west believed they could crawl up her shoe and ankle to get there quicker.

Meanwhile, the frantic call went out from Franklin County to assemble as large a SWAT force as everyone could afford. Steely-eyed men in black BDUs strapped weapons and supplies to their arms and legs and chests; they hup-hupped into vans and trucks and helicopters, converging on the metropolitan library just outside of the heart of downtown. The national terror codenamed “Grand Empress” was sighted, reported, and confirmed to have entered their city and they were going to do their damnedest to control this situation.

One-hundred feet of glistening, pink tongue poked out slightly to wet the pink and succulent lips of Lovely Mari, as her keen eyes stared at her work. Her thumbs and forefingers were glowing with power, and she spread them in a small rectangle around the corners of the library. She hadn’t even thought whether there were people inside, and she wouldn’t have cared. This precious gem had to belong to her, if the rest of this forsaken city couldn’t appreciate it.

Glowing purple beams shot from her fingertips, then consolidated into four bridges, shaping the outline of a box slightly larger than the library. Nodding, she pressed the frame into the ground, where it blistered and scorched the earth. With a little more concentration, she extended the frame downward, cutting into the pavement, then closing in to a point below the library. This was tricky, delicate work: she didn’t care if she wiped the city out of existence with the errant sweep of a leg, but she really wanted this library to come home in perfect condition.

Several fat and dull-eyed men began scaling the sole of her red pump, not making much progress until they cooperated (which took much longer than it should have). They pulled each other up the hard sole and allowed themselves to slide down the side to her nylons. Grinning, they wrapped their sausage-fingers around the strands and hoisted themselves up to the gentle curve of the goddess’s bony little ankle.

At the other end, three desperate-looking men and two haggard women contemplated her huge knee. It was too round, too curved to provide easy access to anything. But rather than retreat and join the men climbing the large foot, seven blocks west, they tried other ideas. One was to break into a nearby hardware store and steal the largest ladder they had, but it was just an independent outlet, a small mom-and-pop shop that couldn’t even hold a large enough ladder for their task. That was when they instead ran to the local volunteer fire department, where they easily overpowered the skeleton crew of half-drunk and sleepy staff and raced back to her knee with a full fire truck and the perfect extendable ladder to start them on their way.

The coordinated SWAT effort had their work cut out for them. From a long way off, they saw the beautiful young woman kneeling over the main avenue into the city, hunched and intent on something they couldn’t get discern. One of her legs was crushing an impoverished section of town, and the other had demolished several blocks of nicer residential homes. Worse, that was all that was around them: there were no skyscrapers or buildings with more than two levels. It was entirely a residential district, right outside of downtown, and they were badly exposed as they took up positions as closely as they dared.

Finally, the metropolitan library was safely free from its miserable surroundings! Lovely Mari brought her fine, slender hands up to her face, fingers splayed, her prize hovering between them. There it was, this work of art, sitting on the upside-down pyramid of pavement and soil she’d sliced away. She blew it a soft kiss with real affection and whispered a little spell of protection upon it, just to keep it safe until she could place it in her bedroom, next to the other lovely buildings amassed in the corner.

Neither team of horny citizens was making spectacular progress at the time. The west group had cleared the giantess’s ankle, having to crawl around the outside of her foot, as her enormous butt was spread all across both heels. There was some debate as to whether it would be useful to try to claw at her gray skirt and scale her full, round hip in the hopes of accessing the surface of her thigh. It seemed reasonable, but a couple dissenting voices wanted to crawl along the back of the giantess’s calf to reach the hem of her skirt and pull themselves up that way. Unable to agree, the tiny group split up once more and pursued each discrete strategy.

On the east end of the young giantess’s leg, the desperate men and women had successfully made it atop her knee and studied the vast stretch of thigh before them: it was still a few blocks to the hem of her skirt, and after that they would run out of relatively flat area on which to walk, needing to resort to clawing their way inside her inner thigh. One woman looked up at the giantess’s activity: “Damnit. It looks like she’s about done with whatever she’s doing.”

“She’s stealing our library, looks like,” said the other woman.

One of the chubby men blinked. “We got a library?”

The leaders of the SWAT forces were unhappy: they did not possess anything that looked like it could take out the giantess. She had lifted the library right out of the ground and was about to walk away with it. Beyond that, a new problem had presented itself: even if they had heavier armament to chase the lovely, young giantess away, her legs were now crawling with civilians. The collateral damage of the residential area was regrettable but it had occurred before they arrived on the scene. If anything they did inadvertently caused the death of these reckless individuals, it would be a PR nightmare. The city was already under heavy scrutiny for the recent militarization of their police…

One officer’s eyes narrowed. SWAT had told the local police to avoid the area, do nothing more than cordon off the surrounding blocks, but maybe bringing them into this wasn’t such a bad idea. They had ridiculously powerful trucks and weaponry (only slightly used by elite military forces), and if anything went wrong SWAT could plausibly shift the blame to them.

He unclipped his handset and squeezed the mic. “This is Operator Drummond, calling rear.” He clicked off and composed his thoughts, then resumed. “What say we let the local boys in blue in on the fun? No reason for us to hoard all the glory.” Rear command confirmed, calls were placed, and soon the residential area was shrieking, flashing in red and blue.

Subtle, they were not. Drummond grinned tightly, looking forward to this little drama play itself out.

“Pretty lil’ library,” Lovely Mari sang to the building, turning it around in her magical grasp. “Who’s a pretty lil’ library? Oh, yes, you are.” She finally noticed some people inside, adults who had been looking for work on the free computers, teens who had been looking for boyfriends and girlfriends on social media. They weren’t doing these things now, of course. They were piled up in the center of the building, terrified of their new height, and screaming and waving their arms around.

Lovely Mari giggled prettily, then tilted the library slightly to one side. Hundreds and hundreds of books fell out of the shelves and piled upon the eensy-weensy humans as they slid across the floor and piled up around the restrooms. The witchy goddess licked her lips and raised an eyebrow: it looked like this stupid city could afford her a little amusement after all.

The two men who’d elected to climb the giantess’s hip were starting to regret their decision. Her hip was simply too round and full, sweeping out sharply, and though they could slowly creep their way up in the thick fibers of wool, they hadn’t yet reached the seam on her skirt or a fold in the fabric, either of which would have made their climb much easier. Now their arms were starting to weaken, after several minutes of hoisting their lazy, plump bodies up the side of the giantess.

The man and women who’d hiked over the giantess’s calf were doing a little better. The man helped the two women up around the grand arc of her thigh, and they pulled themselves up by the hem of the enormous skirt. That part of the plan worked out perfectly. But then the giantess had shifted her weight slightly, perhaps getting uncomfortable with sitting in one position for so long. She slowly raised her hips, bending her powerful knees to lift her sensual body up, and then settled back down again. In that time, the women atop her thigh threw themselves flat against her skin and laced their fingers into the netting of the giantess’s nylon hose, and they remained in place until she settled down again. The man, however, had lost his footing when the tremendous calf on which he stood flexed. He tumbled helplessly beneath the giantess’s thigh, and when she came back down his hoarse screams were completely silenced by the sheer tonnage of succulent thigh pressing him into a thin paste.

Far off on the east end, the group of men who’d climbed the giantess’s knee began the long trek up her thigh. This got easier as they went on: her leg dipped toward the knee but flattened out as they got closer to her skirt. All they had to do was tread carefully over the dense nylon weave of her smoky hosiery, and then they could reach the safety of her skirt, which they did after a few minutes of walking. In fact, once they arrived at the hem of her vast gray wool skirt, they dropped to their bellies and gripped the hose, lowering themselves down into the chasm of the young giantess’s thighs. They disappeared between her legs just as the two women climbed up the outside of the giantess’s thigh, and when she rose up to reposition herself, they were already in place to anchor themselves to her leg and let her move and wriggle as much as she liked. Flush with success, they crept up her leg and into the tremendous cavern of her skirt.

“No-go, that’s a no-go, Foxtrot-Tango!” squawked the headset on Drummond’s radio support. Rear command had received new information that upset them greatly. “Hold position, Foxtrot-Tango! You do not move! You do not fire, I say again, you do not fire!”

“Range is hot,” quipped Drummond into the mic. “If my men get a shot, we’re taking it.” He squelched the incoming transmission and balanced his way across the peaked roof of a bland house to where his snipers patiently lay. “How’s it looking?”

One sniper snorted. “No fucking way, sir. Even if I could target her eye, something tells me my rounds would just bounce off it like…” He paused. “Like nothing I’ve seen in real life, sir.”

Drummond pursed his lips. “How about her fingers? Think we can distract her that way?”

“There’s no question I can empty a clip into a one-foot circle on her index finger, sir. It just won’t do a hell of a lot of good.”

Nodding, Drummond merely told his men to hold position. Something surely had to turn up. He stalked off but then froze in his boots when shots rang out. But it wasn’t his men: this wasn’t one calculated shot, this was someone blowing their wad on full auto. What the hell?

He spun, scanned around, then cursed: Spec Ops had arrived, grinning like idiots and firing off in all goddamned directions. “Stand down! Stand down!” Drummond barked, running to the edge of his roof. “This is not your theater! Who is your commander?”

The Spec Ops guys laughed and made gestures like they couldn’t hear him, and they loaded another belt into their tripod-mounted .50 cal, drawing a bead on the gorgeous young woman who towered over their city, kneeling.

Lovely Mari had her fill of rocking the horrid little bugs back and forth in their glass cage. Anyway, it looked like most of them were broken or dead, so it was less fun than when they had the energy to protest and freak out. Pouting, she tapped open the ruby brooch at her throat: the exquisitely cut oval swung open, revealing a little storage chamber in the gold base. Little, but big enough to contain a large library with a protection spell on it.

“In you go, sweet lil’ library!” She hummed to herself, hovering the building closer to her throat. It drifted over her deep and plunging cleavage and could easily have gotten lost in there, mangled between her luscious boobs, had it slipped out of her magical frame.

Two of its large bay windows shattered, then another. Precious books spilled out and tumbled through space on the long trip back down to earth. Lovely Mari’s crimson eyes grew huge with surprise, then fury as the pretty, pretty books sifted away like sand. Some corpses, too, of course, but who cared about those? Swiftly she righted the building and stashed it in her brooch, sealing it up securely. That done, she focused her eyes sharply and scanned the perimeter, quickly spotting several houses not far from her knees. These houses were crawling with little bugs: the black bugs weren’t moving and there weren’t many of them. The green bugs, on the other hand, were swarming all over, dropping from tiny helicopters, piling out of tiny trucks, coating the houses with their repulsive presence. And the tiny dots of light they made told her they were firing weapons at her.

“How dare you stupid green ants get in the way of my readin’,” she growled, and her menace rolled across the landscape like thunder.

The chubby men clinging to the giantess’s hip like balls of lint ceased their struggle. One of them said, “Holy shit. You hear that?”

The other one only said, “Goddamn it,” as his fingers finally weakened and his lumpy mass drifted away from the giantess’s hip, racing past her ankle, and striking the ground like a drop of ketchup.

All the blood drained in his friend’s face, as he followed his descent with horror. Gulping, he decided there was no way he could back out now, and his hands finally discovered a helpful fold in the fabric of the giantess’s skirt. He clutched it in one fist and looked for a place to plant his boot and hoist his overweight self up.

Then the fold straightened out and disappeared. The giantess was rising to her knees: her plump rump lifted off of her heels and elevated rapidly. The chubby guy without a handhold went on to follow his friend, just from a greater height.

The two women on the giantess’s thigh shrieked and clutched at the giantess’s hose. They were just about to enter her skirt, after a couple minutes of calling for their companion and getting no response. They had spent a few more minutes studying their environment: the buttoned vest that stretched over the giantess’s firm belly, the impossibly gargantuan breasts that hung directly over their frail little bodies, like planets somehow holding still in the sky.

“I like her outfit,” said one woman, and then the thigh they stood on tensed and shuddered and pitched up into a sharp angle. The women shrieked, dug their fingers desperately into the weave, and then dangled from the giantess’s thigh like a couple of ugly Christmas tree ornaments. The ground was too far to drop to, but their arms were too weak to support them for long. They screamed and screamed instead of thinking of something to do.

The two men inside her skirt were having the best luck. They were in pretty good shape, and they were already climbing the webbing of the giantess’s hose when suddenly gravity pointed in a new direction for them. They simply let their tiny bodies swing around until they found a resting position, and then it was a short climb to the narrow space at the top of the giantess’s thigh, where the skin retreats to the hip and room is made for the massive vulva. The men grinned at each other like wolves and continued their crawl.

On the rooftops before the giantess’s knees, Drummond was chewing out the leader of this Spec Ops movement. “I did not authorize firing upon the woman!” His eyes were blazing with fury. “There are civilians in the library currently in her possession! For all we know you took a few of them out with your wild goddamn spray!”

The Spec Ops officer remained cool behind his opaque aviator glasses. “Sir, you are advised to back the fuck off and tend to your own. Okay?” He tilted his helmet back slightly. “We got this.”

What the Spec Ops officer actually got was a solid shot across the chops. He crumpled like a sack of dry leaves and rolled down to collapse in the dirt lawn. Drummond shook out his hand and looked to the next house over, covered with Spec Ops who were slowly turning their helmets and sunglasses toward him. He ordered them to pull back and cease interfering; they informed him he had no jurisdiction here. Swearing, Drummond backed up to the far end of the house he was on, sprinted, leaped across the empty air to the next roof and caught the eaves with fingers of steel. He promptly hoisted himself up, stretched his shoulders, and addressed an entirely different argument to the surprised Spec Ops operators in rapid, punchy phrases.

All of this was lost on Lovely Mari, who wondered how best to destroy these annoyances. It didn’t take much deliberation: she bent at the hips and pounded her flat palms into the earth, arching over the former site of the library and the warring rooftops of black and green bugs. Her breasts swung away from her chest, all their mass welling up into truly massive globes barely restrained by her flimsy blouse and wool vest. Shifting her weight to one hand, her other hand nimbly popped open the buttons on her vest and shirt, then snaked into her bra to dig out one awesomely enormous breast. It glowed in the sunlight, and she hefted it in her fingers: it was full and heavy, impossible to control with her slim hand. Laughing, she slowly pulled her hand away and dangled it tantalizingly over the war zone.

All the Spec Ops stopped fighting with all the SWAT crew (the local police were feeling a little left out now), and all their heads craned up as though magnetically drawn to the sight above them. Directly overhead, one pink nipple pointed down at them, erect, around 40’ in length. Around that spread a delicate aureola, some 80’ in diameter, and around that was nothing but an entire planet of smooth, soft, peach-colored skin.

The men swore in amazement, some reaching for their smartphones, others clutching the bulges in their pants. Drummond used this opportunity to punch a few more Spec Ops in their throats before hopping down to the ground, rolling past the unconscious commander, and sprinting across the dirt lawns.

The air around them boomed with the velocity of tremendous mass, and the glorious sphere fell with unimaginable violence. The houses offered no resistance, and the military and police forces were immediately pasted across them. The liquefied remains and the demolished neighborhood were then plowed deeply into the ground, deeper and deeper, and they would form the lining of an exquisitely hemispherical bowl-shaped crater three miles east of a major metropolitan business hub. It would become a monument, commemorating the loss of so many loyal men in the service of the public good. And despite self-righteous moral outrage, the city would prohibit the 40-foot-deep hole drilled into the ground by the giantess’s nipple from being filled and leveled out.

The force of the giantess planting her hands on the ground, then thrusting her boob upon an entire neighborhood, was sufficient to shake the two weak and flabby women from the tremendous thigh. Their fingers went numb, their round bodies rolled against the thigh for a few yards, then free-fell through the air to splatter across the main street leading out of this area.

Deep inside the giantess’s skirt, the two men had accessed the giantess’s panties. One of them had an extremely impressive hunting knife and, with some labor, sawed into her smoky hose. The strands snapped and spread eagerly, and the men pulled themselves up into the hole, using the hose itself as a net to carry them as they pulled their way to the leg hole of the vast blue-and-white striped panties. Pausing to high-five each other, one used all his strength to tug an opening in the elastic hole, the other one crawled inside and kicked away with his legs to create and opening, and his buddy followed immediately. From there, it was short work to claw their way across the soft fabric and pull themselves across the swollen folds of the giantess’s labia majora: jackpot. Wordlessly they stripped off their shirts and unbuckled their pants, stripping down for the last part of their amazing journey—the insertion.

Admiring her work, Lovely Mari heaved her tremendous boob back into its cup, straightened her blouse and buttoned herself back up. There was nothing else to do here: she had her library, the stupid ugly bugs were wiped out, and....

“Hold on just a second,” she growled. “Is there someone in my panties?”

The two men stiffened, their blood chilling.

“There better not be anyone in my panties right now.”

They looked at each other, panicked.

“Because if you… aw, fuck it.” Shrugging, Lovely Mari rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Bending slightly, she slipped one fine hand up beneath her skirt and rubbed two broad fingertips all around her pussy. It took her a few passes, but she squashed the sneaky little pervs in her underwear, sensing their souls seeping into her vulva just like the military forces’ essences went directly into her boob.

Now all the issues were truly taken care of. It was time to return to her cute little cabin in the Forest of Magic. She opened her jaws and let loose the singing spell that opened up a portal before her, a spinning circle of light that shimmered above the city.

Lovely Mari’s eyes opened wide. This stupid city! She almost forgot! She left the portal hovering where it was, pulled off her sharp little pumps, and spent a joyful 15 minutes hopping, stomping, dragging her stockinged feet across the entire metropolitan infrastructure. It resembled nothing more than an enormous plate of gray ash when she was done with it, and she climbed into her portal and teleported back home.

Outside of her cabin, Lovely Mari slowly reduced herself in size, restoring to her normal height and taking care not to crush any of her neighbors.

Now Drummond knew something strange was afoot. Picking his way carefully across the giantess’s massive boob, he peeked out of her blouse and watched the world rising toward him, but slowly. As the ground grew closer the trees widened and stretched upward, and an unfamiliar house tucked in the woods began to emerge in view, also growing larger.

He looked back at the huge nipple. Its size wasn’t changing, and neither was he. With a start, he guessed at what was happening and flung himself from the giantess’s breast. He seized the lapel of her blouse, rapelled down to her vest, slid down to the hem of her skirt and then cast himself away from her body. He tumbled through space and banged himself up pretty badly in the landing, but diffused the force with a textbook tuck-and-roll, so the worst he suffered was a badly dirtied and torn outfit with some bruises.

Sitting on the ground, he paused to collect himself. The house seemed to resemble a European cottage, maybe a household of some wealth, but there was something strange about it. It looked like it was designed to be small, yet it stretched far overhead, like an artist’s model of a comically oversized cabin. It wasn’t until the thunder of the giantess’s footsteps pounded the earth behind him that he realized what had happened. With feline reflexes, he leaped to his feet and spun to face the beautiful giantess who approached. She was huge, still, but she wasn’t piercing the level of clouds now. In fact, she was about the same size as the cabin…

Drummond stared around him. He was standing on her lawn, but the blades of grass came up to  his midsection. Now he was tiny, in her world. The giantess must’ve had some ability to shrink herself, and he shrunk with her, but that process halted for him once he was no longer on her body. How tall was he now?

When her distant foot lifted from the earth, swung forward and loomed overhead, Drummond rolled to the side and sprang at it. Expertly he seized her shoe and clung with fingers of steel, hoisting himself up promptly to rest upon the bridge of her foot. As he rode the giantess into her house, he estimated himself to be somewhere around four inches tall.

He was surprisingly practical about the whole thing, part of his brain noted, when he should’ve been freaking out or something else.

Lovely Mari’s heart warmed to see her little cabin in the woods once more! All the comforts of home, all her wonderful toys, and now a new item for her collection. She ran inside, trotted upstairs, and threw herself into her beloved bedroom. The sturdy oak shelves on the left were crammed with clothing, books, and magical supplies and her armoire stood nearby. In the corner, she’d pulled out a nightstand to clear space for her collection: a seemingly random assortment of buildings from the normal, stupid world.

But these buildings were special, in that they struck Mari as particularly skillful, or else they bore some kind of nostalgia for her. Grinning, she opened her brooch and extracted the dainty little library from within. Now, where to put it? She knelt on the floor and cleared a space with one hand, pushing aside a spooky British gaol and lining it up with the Empire State Building.

During this process, Drummond slipped off of her foot and took in the lay of the land. The furniture was enormous, but not totally inaccessible if he needed to climb up something or hide beneath something else. While the giantess hummed and rearranged her buildings, the SWAT leader sprinted behind her and ducked under her bed.

Now Mari had everything the way she liked it: the new library had been too small in its present form, so she enlarged it to more closely match the scale of most of the other buildings. Only the tallest skyscrapers were shrunk to fit inside her bedroom, while everything shorter than that was set at the perfect size for a four-inch-tall person.

Lovely Mari stood, hands on her hips, grinning proudly at her assemblage. Not that there was anyone in this makeshift city, of course. It was a ghost town, though there were no youkai haunting these buildings. “At least, there’d better not be,” she said, eyeing the structures with mock-suspicion. Everything looked great, she’d had her adventure for the day, and she could see the sunset outside her window. Time for an early bed, as far as she was concerned. She changed into her favorite cornflower nightgown and bonnet and trotted off to take care of a few other household items before tucking herself in.

Drummond sweated, watching her huge bare feet padding out of the room. Now what? Even if he could escape this house, how could he grow back to his regular height, much less return to his city? And where the hell was he, anyway? This old-world cabin seemed nearly ancient—still in great shape, of course, but the wood floor was polished with heavy use, the panes of glass rippled with slight imperfections, and… the stuff this giantess was storing on her shelves? Some of it was seriously creepy. Things glowed, other things scurried in bottles, and then came the drawers and bottles with obscure labels and nonsense words on them. Why was it easier to accept she was a giantess than that she was a witch?

Because there’s no such thing as witches, he reasoned. But two weeks ago, before the nationwide stories of a rampaging giantess, he would have said there was no such thing as giantesses either. That meant literally anything was possible, then, and he had to be extra careful.

He was meandering around the center of her room when he heard her thunderous tread racing up the stairs. Swearing, he sprinted for the city (just because it, among everything else, looked a little familiar). He passed his former library, now in a prominent position, and observed the total chaos inside: the floor was knee-deep in books and corpses. Shuddering, he ran for a cathedral, parked at an angle against the wainscoting, throwing himself inside the iron-belted doors just as the giantess entered the room.

Lovely Mari’s radiant smile faded when she returned. She paused in the doorway and cast her sharp gaze around all the furniture. The armoire was still closed, the tea table on the scarlet rug still held a large candle and a plate with half a cookie on it, and the pile of socks and underwear at the foot of her bed seemed undisturbed. Still…

Humming to herself, she tiptoed into the room, still glancing left and right, hoping to catch a telltale movement or spot some wrong detail. There was something bugging her about this place, but there was so magic in every single log in this cabin’s frame, and so much power radiating from her cute little shop downstairs, that many of her sensing abilities were flooded. She was just a regular ol’ woman in her magical cabin.

“Nothin’ I can do about that, I guess,” she said loudly, for the benefit of any intruders. She finished the cookie on the tea table, peeled back her fluffy eiderdown and slipped her tender feet into the sheets. Her bed was soft and cool, very soothing. She tugged her nightgown down around her legs and settled into the large down mattress, sighing contentedly.

Drummond pressed his ear to the heavy door, straining to hear the giantess’s breathing patterns shift. After an agonizingly tense half hour, he thought he heard some deeper breathing, holding in lungfuls of air for longer periods of time, and protracted inhaling and exhaling. He debated rushing out right now: if half an hour was good, wouldn’t waiting a full hour be better? He was in no rush, probably, being stuck here all night. Restlessness twitched in his limbs, however: he needed to find a solution to his problems, and sooner rather than later. He crept in his perfectly silent Magnum Hi-Tecs to a stained-glass window. The glass was blurry, and the yellow hue didn’t help his vision, but overall he was unable to detect any movement in the eiderdown on the enormous bed. He forced himself to count slowly to 200 before finally pushing the cathedral door open.

The sun had gone down and the room was dark, but for the candle on the tea table. When had she lit that? All the candles and lamps in here had been extinguished when he’d policed the grounds. It could’ve been more magic—Drummond was unwilling to rule anything out now.

Several yards ahead of him was a book, lying open. He couldn’t read the language of its print, but he did recall that several of the shelves in the giantess’s bedroom were crammed full of gorgeous, crazy books of all shapes and materials. In fact, hadn’t she just stolen a library?

Holding his breath, he listened for a moment longer before creeping out into the room. Silent as a cat, he snuck around the enormous book and found himself face-to-face with a huge sock. It was white with pink flowers around the cuff, and it was fuzzy. He reached out to feel this monstrosity: it was so incredibly soft, it seemed as though his hand sank into it without touching anything. He blinked rapidly. His mind filled with visions of the large yet dainty foot that this sock had been pulled over, and he glanced up at the bed. He couldn’t see the giantess beneath the eiderdown, not from his angle, but he spotted a pair of huge blue-and-white striped panties lying on the floor, directly to his left.

This was too much. He needed a plan. Maybe he could hide in the city until the giantess left the cabin the next day. Then, depending on the household activities, he’d be free to forage for food and take stock of any resources. He was thinking about the cathedral but his eyes were locked on the huge pair of women’s underwear, when he was bowled over by a wall of sound.

“Whaddya think you’re doin’?” demanded the witch-goddess Mari, sitting bolt upright in bed and glaring at the little intruder.

She could see him rolling around like a little ball, tiny hands clapped to the sides of his head. When he rolled upright to kneel and took his hands away, she asked him again, quieter. She wasn’t furious, just a little surprised and a little sleepy. And besides, this was her cabin: she had the upper hand and he was helpless.

Drummond knew this, too. He’d been caught flat-footed in the middle of the room by a giantess with astonishing magic at her disposal. There was no negotiating with or deceiving her. The best course of action was to be straight-forward. “Ma’am,” he called out at the top of his lungs, “My name is Major Kirkland Drummond. I’m the forward commander of−”

“I didn’t ask your dumb name, you little rat.” Mari rested on one arm and leaned over the edge of the bed. “I asked you just what the heck you think you’re doin’ in my bedroom. An’ I’ve asked you three times now, an’ I won’t ask a fourth.”

Drummond paled, feeling his chest go cold. “Ma’am, I−”

“Knock off that ‘ma’am’ bull-crap! I ain’t yer mother!”

“Sorry.” He smiled a little. “I was merely−”

“You need to start callin’ me goddess.” Her rosy lips pulled down at the corners.

“Goddess… my goddess,” he started, and she seemed to approve. “I was hiding in your cathedral, and I was looking for some food.”

“Is that all?”

“No, my goddess. I was also trying to make some sense of my surroundings. I don’t know where I am, and everything’s enormous. I can’t read the pages of that book.”

Her crimson eyes narrowed to savage slits. “Then why were you starin’ at my panties?”

He blushed and stammered. With a flick of her magic-wielding fingertips, Lovely Mari sent the panties in question flying across the room to pile on top of him. His legs buckled, but when the full weight of them settled, he found that they weren’t oppressively heavy. He rolled to all fours and crawled in a direction until he reached an edge.

It was the crotch of her panties that he emerged from. Mortified, he stared up at the angry giantess, and then a familiar aroma drifted by his nostrils. Reflexively he inhaled it, recalling some distant affection from his past, but cut himself off when he saw her expression.

“That proves it. Rotten, stinkin’ panty-sniffer.” Something massive rolled under the eiderdown, and her huge, pink foot slipped out of the sheets and started for the floor.

“No, wait!” he shouted, hastily tacking on “my goddess.”

She tilted her head, regarding him. “How’d you get in here, anyway?” Her bare foot swung idly at the end of her leg.

Drummond had to force himself not to stare at the pretty toes. And while he was going to be honest with her, he elected to leave out the part about getting stuck in her bra. “I was trapped on you when you left my city, my goddess. I rode into your house on your shoe.”

Lovely Mari’s eyes widened at that. “But I never heard you walkin’ around here or nothin’. I couldn’t even sense you. What kinda magic you got goin’ on?”

“No magic, my goddess.” Drummond pulled himself out from under her panties and stood up. “I am a specialist, my goddess. I’ve trained very hard to not be noticed, when times call for it.”

The giantess’s cute bare foot swung through space like a wrecking ball. Then she stretched her leg and pointed her big toe at him. “You’re a specialist,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re special.”

The SWAT leader was unsure where this was going. He admired the length of her shapely leg while denying he was very special.

“Oh no, you’re very special.” She nodded, locks of golden hair swirling around her jaw. “It’s too bad you’re illiterate.”

Drummond’s jaw dropped. “My goddess, I’m not illiterate. I enjoy reading very much. Whenever I get a chance, in fact.”

Mari chuckled. “You just said you couldn’t read, you lil’ liar!”

“I can’t read that book, my goddess. It’s in a language I don’t recognize. But I swear I can read you any book in there.” He pointed behind him, at the library of broken spines.

The witch-goddess’s eyelids fluttered fetchingly at him. “Prove it. Go get me a book, a nice one.”

He saluted her, spun on his heel, and marched off to the library. He was about to inform her it was a chaotic mess, but she was ahead of him on that: wiggling her fingertips, she cast one of the few orderly spells she knew. Through the windows, Drummond watched books flying off the floor, as if in a tornado, all of them cleaning themselves off and shelving themselves tidily. The place looked good as new, but when he pulled the front doors open, two corpses rolled out at his feet.

“You’ll clean those up in the mornin’,” said Mari. “Now, g’wan.”

Grimly, Drummond stepped over the bodies and picked his way through the library. He loved this building, was excited to track its construction week after week. He knew the staff, who’d transferred from the library this one replaced; he was on its board initially, before the demands of the SWAT team became too much to share with anything else.

And so he moved easily through its shelves, straight to sections of literature and information he hoped a beautiful young giantess would find interesting. He picked out not one book but a full armload, lost in his own little world.

Thus laden, he left the metropolitan library and hustled over to her bedside. Her bare leg still hung out of the eiderdown, and she grinned at him bewitchingly. “You hold onto those books good ‘n’ tight, ‘k?” With scant warning, she swiped her foot at him. He hadn’t time to dodge, not with all those books, so he only braced for impact.

Her big toe and second toe widened and wrapped around his waist. He gritted his teeth at the collision, then struggled to keep his breath as her sweet toes tightened around him, and then his feet left the ground. The world around him cartwheeled and blurred; he wrapped both arms around his books and clutched them to his chest.

Abruptly her toes released him and he fell the short distance to the surface of her blankets. Before he could stand, however, her leg withdrew under the covers and she shifted around fitfully for a minute. “Okay, done,” she whispered, loudly enough for him to hear. “C’mon up!”

Come on up? Drummond’s eyes went round.

Nonetheless, he found his footing and slowly trudged up the eiderdown. It was easier to do on her leg, though he tried not to get distracted by thoughts of walking up the silken, firm thigh of a giantess, and these thoughts got worse as he reached her hips and made his way up her belly. By the time he reached the edge of the eiderdown his heart was pounding, and not from exertion.

The blanket ended just at the base of her breasts. Her boobs stood like two proud and overjoyed mountains, round and gleeful, draped in soft cornflower fabric tenuously held in place by a wide silk trim. He could not see anything beyond them, as the gown stretched taut between her twin peaks. “Now what?” he hollered up at her.

The giantess’s hand flew up into the air and gently karate-chopped the fabric between her oversized boobs. She laughed at him, her belly trembling like a violent earthquake, and Drummond collapsed to the blanket. To his credit, he did not drop a single book.

“I said come on up here, baka! Do I have to do everything?” Her huge hand flew in from out of nowhere, rapidly descended upon Drummond and seized him by the collar of his BDU jacket. She hoisted him effortlessly through space and set him down upon the peak of her right breast.

Her skin was too soft to support him, and her boob was too wobbly for him to balance on, so he could only sit down hard, spreading his legs out for stability. The way her huge crimson eyes flared, the way she grinned toothily at him, he realized he’d sat right on her nipple. Almost immediately, he began to rise up in the air as it hardened beneath him. He looked at her nervously.

She smirked and tilted her head. “You’re fine there. Now, whatcha got to read?”

“My goddess…” he stammered, blood charging through every inch of him like a series of firehoses. Unable to think of anything but sitting on the huge and gorgeous breast of a fantastically beautiful giantess, he struggled to read each title to her.

“What’s that one about,” she said occasionally, and he explained.

She shot down a few more books until he got to The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. “I love that one!”

He looked up into her delighted face. “Me too, my goddess. I’ve loved this since I was a child.”

“Well, why doncha read it to me, then?”

Slowly a smile crept on his face. “I’d love to, my goddess.”

“One thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You gotta do the voices.”

Drummond laughed and promised he would. And he did. Lovely Mari listened with real pleasure, chuckling occasionally at the silly little man clowning around for her; he wobbled and heaved along with her tremendous breast when she laughed, and he laughed too. He read her to sleep, and then read a couple more chapters just to make sure she was out.

But then came a new problem: where was he going to sleep? He looked all around him, studying her massive and gorgeous head before him, and then the mountain range of her bodyscape beneath the eiderdown behind him. He didn’t want to be rude, and he definitely didn’t want to be crushed…

“Excuse me, my goddess,” he whispered. She gave no indication of hearing him, so he tried a speaking volume. “My goddess, I’m sorry, but−”

Her other hand flew up, slower, more dreamily. Her slender fingers flicked at him, knocking the books and the tiny man down into her cleavage. Plastered against her warm skin, Drummond lay motionless for a moment, then looked up at the giant woman. He could only see the tip of her cute nose, poking up over her well shaped chin.

Shrugging, he unlaced his boots and tossed them down into the gown below her cleavage. He could probably find them later. He pulled off his shirt, left his pants on, and lay face down in the deep valley between Lovely Mari’s enticing breasts. Whatever happened, happened.

Most people don't realize it, but it actually takes a lot of work to stomp cities and military forces into the ground. All they know is how easy the witchy goddess Lovely Mari makes it look.

But it happened that there came a lovely summer day, and even within a giantess, a powerful witch, and a goddess there is still a young woman who loves simple fun, and so the capricious goddess decided it was time to head for the beach. She shuttered all the windows in her cabin, closed up her magic shop for the day, and ran back up to her room to change into a fetching black bikini.

But which beach to choose from? She only wanted to go to the loveliest beach possible, anywhere on earth. Withdrawing an enormous hardcover picture book from her shelves, she perched on her bed and sifted through the broad pages of gorgeous photography. Pansy Island off the west coast of Mozambique looked very pretty, but it seemed practically deserted in these pictures. It wouldn't be very relaxing to fly all the way out to southern Africa, just to isolate herself in the middle of the blue sea. Ipanema Beach in Rio de Janeiro was of course famous, but it was also too crowded with vacationers from all over the world. The jagged rocks and black sand of Honokalani Beach in Maui were gorgeous and very striking, but that might be a location for a special event. All she wanted right now was just a cute little beach with pretty sand, a beautiful sky, and lots of people enjoying the waves.

The urge to teleport to some world capitol and stomp it into a pancake was rising within her. Why should it be so hard to find a nice spot for a quick vacation? Couldn't she ever get anything she wanted? She started to gnash her teeth, and her curling fingers nearly wrinkled the page.

And then there it was, a beautiful two-page spread of a spectacular sunset over Trunk Bay, the northern coast of St. John in the Virgin Islands. It was stunning! It looked the the quintessential beach, when you think of exotic, tropical beaches! There were little islands in the water, there was a coral reef, there were palm trees fringing the creamy sand... perfect! In a second, she clapped the large book shut, sprang up off her bed and teleported herself to the tiny island chain southeast of Florida and directly east of Cuba.

When the beautiful giantess—a mere 500' tall today—exploded onto the beach, sand and water flew in all directions over the tourists and locals, already sunning themselves. They cried out and fled as one foot sprayed earth and sand into their hair and eyes and the other splashed a great wave of chilly water over their bare skin. Lovely Mari noticed none of this and only laughed with delight at the lush scenery. She was here, really here! And it was going to be a lovely day!

First things first, though. She had to claim her section of the beach from the wretched Bugs, so they knew to stay the hell away from her. Her cute little feet were only 75' long today, but they still did a good job of swiping through the sand and piling it to the side, then smoothing it back out in the other direction. Within the new pile she had buried dozens of eensie-weensie men and women, but those were taken care of when she plumped her robust bottom down onto the sand. There weren't even any screams or anything, just the dull crash of her butt against the shore. Nearly a hundred souls lifted from their bodies and seeped directly into Mari's buttocks, enlarging it ever so slightly, but the chill from their terror and confusion was quickly replaced with the warmth of the sand, and this was a delightful sensation. Mari grinned around her at the tourists, many now picking up their belongings and moving away. If she felt that was a little rude, she didn't show it, instead drawing her knees up to her enormous chest and grinning, letting the sea breeze catch her long and lovely blonde hair.

Humming to herself, she splashed at the water with huge but cute toes, and glanced at the little island just off the shore. The island book told her this was a cay, a low and small island formed by coral or sand. This one looked like a pile of brown boulders coated in brush and small trees. How interesting it was! You couldn't grow any food there, but tiny little people could bring their own supplies and hide out there, pretending they were on some kind of adventure! It wasn't really very far, though: she stretched out her long, slender right leg across the shallow reef, and her heel actually landed on the edge of the cay. Well, now she could be a little bridge for the Bugs, if they wanted to cross over to the island without getting wet and without a boat.

Mari pursed her lips. That was a ridiculous thought. It was such a specialized and particular service that no one could possibly want it, and any Bugs that dared to climb up on her were asking for trouble.

As it happened, a group of four teenaged boys had assembled and conferred among themselves, just south of her on the beach. They had never seen anyone as gorgeous as Mari before (they didn't follow the news, apparently), not to mention anyone that large, and so they decided they had to experience this amazing woman for themselves.

"We gotta get on her somehow," they insisted.

"But how? If she feels us, she'll probably swat us."

"You don't know. Maybe she'll be interested in us."

"And anyway, who says she'll even know we're there? She'll be all distracted with the water and stuff."

"What would we even do with her, anyway? She's enormous."

"Idiot! Look at those tits! Tell me you don't want some of that."

And on they went, trying very hard to look casual and disinterested while glancing up the beach at her dainty, wiggling toes, her shapely thigh and hips, and the oversized boobs that glowed in the sunlight, scarcely contained by her straining bikini top. Eventually it was decided they had to sneak into the forest behind them and sneak up the beach until they were just behind her huge round butt, and at that point a solution would probably present itself. Three of the boys in agreement—and one not wanting to be left behind—casually stood up, casually brushed the sand off their trunks, and casually strolled into the palm trees and ground cover, then casually crouched and casually sneaked up northward through the exotic flora.

"I can't believe how gorgeous this all is!" said Lovely Mari cheerily, calling out to the Bugs so far from her. "Do you come here all the time?"

If anyone answered, they were too far and too small for her to hear.

"Well, I would," she said, resting her chin on her left knee. "I'd be here all damn day, every day." Her large crimson eyes flicked left and right, comparing the pale blue water of the reef to the deeper, richer blue of the channel. And all the trees that ran along the beach, from Hawksnest Bay southwest of her to Cinnamon Bay not far northeast, they were like rippling globes of all shades of green. These harmonious colors were very soothing to Mari, lifting something in her chest that had been sagging for a long time. What was it? She tilted her pretty head, her long hair spilling over her shoulder.

What did she have to feel dissatisfied about? She was an incredibly powerful witch, she was a goddess to all these stupid Bugs, and she had a body that was beyond perfect. Maybe she didn't get along with her family, but who does? Anyway, sometimes your family isn't the people you're born into, they're the friends you make who accept you for who you are, and she had some really good friends. Glancing around at the fearful and tiny Bugs, each one less than an inch tall, she wished a couple of her friends could've come along with her. That'd be lots of fun, kicking huge waves of water over each other in the bay, tanning on an island together, all sorts of things.

The teens crawled through the lavish brush, getting scraped in a couple places, but steadily picking their way in the densest part of the plants between the beach and the service road. Just a few more yards now, and everything would be made clear, probably. They glimpsed the beach-going goddess from between the trees occasionally, staring at the long and graceful spine, gaping at the tremendous buttocks, so firm and pert for all their hugeness. Their minds raced with what they could do, if they were left alone with her for only one hour.

Except for the one boy who thought this was all a terrible idea. He tended to weigh risks against gains, and while this meant he missed out on a lot of adventures, it also meant he stayed out of trouble and rarely got hurt. In this case, the gains of getting to rub up against the private parts of a giant girl were not worth the risk of getting killed or tortured by her... but he didn't want to be seen as uncool by his friends... who already didn't like him very much... so maybe going along with this would show them that he was actually cool.

It was just that, you know, climbing up the bare body of a girl who didn't know you were there...

Lovely Mari stretched out both her legs across the reef. She admired herself in the bright, tropical sun, reaching out to spill water across her shins, watch it run down between her thighs. This was kind of hard since, to her, there was only the thinnest scrim of water over the sands. After a minute of this she got up, dusted the sand off her bikini bottom (sprinkling a not-inconsiderable payload of sand upon the beachgoers for hundreds of feet in either direction), and stepped out into the reef. There were Bugs swimming in the water that she didn't notice at first until two sprinted away. By the squirming under the ball of her foot she supposed there had been a third. Oh well! Her cute foot sank deep into the reef and plowed up large barriers of moist sand on either side, and on her second stride she was already on the cay.

"This ain't much of an island," she commented, resting her graceful fingers upon her hips. The first mound of rocks actually crumbled and got buried beneath the pale blue waters. Her third step rested on the largest section of rocks, where some Bugs had been hiking until they got mashed into a thin jelly beneath Mari's tender, cool sole. But at least this part of the cay withstood her weight.  She brought her other foot up and stood on opposite shores of the small island, her heels sinking into the water but her adorable toes stretching and flexing on dry land, scraping up any trees within reach and scattering them over the reef. It was a fascinating activity that held her attention for a long time.

"Goddamn it," one of the teens said, emerging from the bushes. "Now how're we gonna get to her?"

The shy boy looked at the beach where the giant girl's giant butt had been. It dug two enormous, almost perfectly spherical craters into the sand, and deep down in it he could see where the sands reddened with the life fluids of the poor vacationers who couldn't get out of the way. His skin felt chilly just then and he stepped away from the twin bowls in the ground.

"What's the matter, knob-gobbler?" one of his friends said. "You checkin' out her ass-prints?"

Another one laughed. "Fucking perv. If you like them so much..."

He didn't see whose hands planted into his shoulder blades or which foot shot out to trip his shins. The sand beneath his feet slid out from under him as he tumbled all the way down into the cavernous depression. The bottom was beginning to fill with sea water, seeping in from the reef. He wasn't hurt and he could have climbed out of the pit easily, but his friends were waiting at the rim, pointing and laughing, waiting to kick him back in.

Lovely Mari took in the whole island from her vantage point. It was a sequence of cutely rising mounds everywhere to the east and south, little green piles of volcanic rock and tough, determined trees sticking out of the bluest of blue waters. She took a deep breath of the clean sea air, her tremendous boobs heaving and rising on her chest. She could almost feel the gaze of a few hundred more tourists down below. Well, let them watch: let them drink in her majesty with their eyes, so they can go back home and tell everyone they know about how truly lovely Mari is. She turned her head toward the sun and grinned at her old friend. It was hot and dazzlingly bright, just like her favorite magic, and for this she always had a soft spot for it.

But what else was there to do around here? St. John didn't have a city, just some little roads that wound between small residential areas. Tourism was big, so there were obviously cabanas and bars and resorts every now and then, but the beautiful goddess didn't feel like going out of her way to ruin other people's vacations. She loved destroying cities where the Bugs worked and neighborhoods where they stared at their TVs, but there was something a little precious about where they chose to get away from it all and—if only in this moment—she chose not to ruin that.

She might feel differently in ten minutes, after all.

But as for now, she decided a little nap in the sun was in order. She turned and lowered her enormous bottom where the small part of the island used to be, and when she leaned back she discovered Trunk Cay could support her torso pretty well. She spread out her long, luscious hair across the reef, splayed her legs playfully toward the beach, and let her elongated arms stretch out to either side. Immediately the sun warmed up her flat belly and gargantuan breasts, in contrast to the cool waters that lapped at her bottom and legs, and she grinned very happily up at the heavens.

The teens were elated to see the giantess lie down and apparently fall asleep. This made everything easier: all they had to do was swim as fast as they could to get out to her, and then she was theirs.

And that they did: splitting up, one ran along the coast to reach one of her arms; another swam up to try to access her hip; and the third teen simply waded across the reef between her thighs, climbing over the ruined part of the island to confront the crotch of her bikini.

The last teen saw none of this, too afraid to climb out of the pit. He saw the boys run around the rim of it, but he knew they were tricky and were probably spreading out to stop him from any direction. For now, it seemed safest to just wait in the deep crater of the giant girl's butt-prints.

The first teen waded the short distance from the rocky shore to Mari's wrist, and he found it easy indeed to just climb up and run along her pale forearm, over her elbow, and then trot up her bicep to her armpit. He couldn't believe how incredibly easy this was, as his tiny feet picked their way along her collar bone, at the base of the enormous boob that loomed overhead. Smiling to himself, he sauntered up to the giant girl's tit, pressed himself flat against it, and began to crawl up its surface. He intended to disappear beneath her bikini, and then she'd keep him there wherever she went, and he'd just have a faceful of warm, sweet−

Frowning, Mari brought up her hand and swatted at the small itch on her breast without even opening her eyes. The soul that sank into her chest was so small and young, and her skin was so warm with the sun, that she didn't even notice absorbing it. It was sweet with happiness, however, and that made her grin and relax once more.

The second teen saw none of this as he pushed the pale blue waters out of his way, storming up to the giantess's hips. The broad black band of bikini bottom rose out of the water before him, where her thigh ran up to her waist, and it was very easy for him to climb up it and reach her taut belly, hot and cozy in the sunshine. But once he was up there, he was faced with a choice: Should he run up to her boobs, which were huge and beautiful but farther away, or should he slip down into her pussy? It was closer, but he'd seen pictures of them and they looked scary. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do with them, even normal-sized, so he figured his best bet was with the tremendous breasts.

As before, drowsy Mari brought her crushing palm down upon the minor irritation, and his soul sank into her bellybutton.

The third teen knew none of this as he came out of the water and picked his way over shattered boulders to approach the narrow strip of fabric that came down from her pussy and disappeared between the swelling mounds of her butt. He knew a little more about women from online videos, so he knew this was where he wanted to be. His thin arms reached out for the crotch of her bikini, ready to tug them away and slip himself inside, when Mari shifted in her sleep.

The shift started up with her shoulders, a syncopated rotation to get more comfortable on the cay, shoving trees and rocks out of the way. Then it migrated down to her belly, where the blood of a teenager dried on her skin: her spine writhed and shifted, making room for itself in the reef. Finally, she lifted her hips and all the water in the area rushed to fill the space her tremendous ass made, and that water flushed the experienced teenager down into this space, and then her ass descended and while it didn't crush him, it did hold him in place as his air ran out. The cool terror of his soul was unnoticeable in the cool channel waters.

Lovely Mari lay stretched out like this for some time, after these three insignificant passages, and no one else dared bother her. The Bugs on the beach were much more respectful, taking care only to walk around her at some distance. Her 75’-tall feet stuck straight up in the air on the beach, for example, and families that packed up their gear walked a little out of their way to pass by one of her soles, pose around her heel for photographs. It was impossible to get a very good shot, however: if you tried to get the distance you needed to squeeze the giantess’s foot into the shot, you backed into the jungle and the plants blocked your view; if you stood close enough to clear the plants, it just looked like your loved ones were standing before a broad, tall pink wall.

After a pleasant hour of stretching and sunning, Mari had finally had her fill. Besides, she was getting hungry, and aside from a couple beachside convenience shacks, she didn’t really see anywhere to get a soda or ice cream or anything. Smacking her lips with sleepiness, she sat up slowly, letting hundreds of gallons of sea water drain from her thick hair and run down her back. Gulls flew around her shoulders, screeching as they glided on the breezes. When the Bugs saw that she had risen, they dutifully scrambled away and gave her cute feet plenty of room. This was a pointless gesture, of course, as Mari could have scraped away the jungle and flattened them all within a minute, but she appreciated the courtesy. It showed her that they respected her, and that they could learn from the mistakes of others.

She was tempted to scoop them all up and make them populate her city collection, but she always knew there were a few bad apples in every bunch. Instead, she simply rose to her knees, rotated, and plumped her broad hips right back in the very same craters she’d made before. She brushed the sand from her shoulders and arms, sharing it back to the beach, and she tried to clean her suit off as best she could. Her hair? She couldn’t do anything about that until she could shower back at her cabin. Maybe then she’d discover some sea life or even some snorkelers who were too curious for their own good.

A thought occurred to her. Arching one fine eyebrow, Lovely Mari turned around slowly to face the retreating crowds and called out: “There’d better not be any hitchhikers on me! I don’t take very kindly to leetle Bugs tryin’ to get a free ride outta me!” She tugged at her bikini bra. “You hear me, in there? If there are any dumb bugs sneakin’ around my bosom, you’d better just drop out right now! It’ll be the worse for you if you don’t!”

Without waiting to see if anyone complied, Mari stood up and stretched to her full height. She gave her hair one more shake, causing a short rainstorm over the Trunk Bay Plantation Ruins and surrounding jungle. Satisfied, she finally created a portal before her back to the Forest of Magic, gave everyone a friendly wave, and stepped through to her home.

She stomped back up the stairs of her cozy little cabin, ran to the back of the house, and quickly stripped down to take a nice bath. She loved the ocean and all, but it did leave her kinda salty and itchy. And experience had shown her that, despite all her precautions, a few stupid Bugs would sneak onto her somewhere and hide out until they were killed somehow. Sure enough, she found a splotch on her chest, right above her boob, and another one on her belly. It was a little surprising how much blood these Bugs carried inside them, because they always made such a huge mess when they died.

When the water was nice and warm, Lovely Mari slipped her long and slender limbs into the soapy water and rested her shoulders against the back of the tub. She could still feel the sun glowing in her skin, making her very content for a long time.

In her bedroom, where she had dumped her wet bathing suit, something rustled within her bikini bottom. It was a teenage boy, crawling out and collapsing on the red rug under her tea table. He lay in the plush pile and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. All he knew was that the giantess had come back and sat on him, but somehow he caught himself in her fabric, above the water line that was filling up, and somehow he wasn’t crushed. Now he was here.

When he opened his eyes, there was a stern-looking man in a black military uniform standing over him. He was a normal-sized man, though, the same size as the teen, surrounded by huge rug fibers in an absolutely enormous bedroom.

The man tossed some clothes at the teen. “Put these on.”

They were approximately the boy’s size, though they weren’t any style he would’ve chosen for himself. “Where’d you get these?” he asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed and he turned back to look at a bizarre sight, what looked like a random assortment of very impressive buildings piled up far in the distance, in the corner of this room. There was a cathedral, a couple skyscrapers, a bank, and a library, at first glance.

“Don’t ask,” said the man grimly.

Locked away in her bedroom, atop her disheveled bed sheets, Lovely Mari thrashed back and forth and rolled around. She cried out and wailed; she kicked up her long legs in striped stockings and and pumped her cute feet in the air. She pounded the mattress with her fists, slammed her head repeatedly into her cushy pillows, and let out a prolonged moan.

“Bored, bored, bored, BORED!”

It was a lovely summer afternoon in the Forest of Magic, but even lovely days can drain all the ideas out of someone’s head, especially if there have been too many of them. The powerful little witch thought about creating a thunderstorm, just to liven things up, but that seemed like too much effort. Business had been slow in her magic shop, as well: it wasn’t that she needed the money, but business meant interesting visitors with unusual and fascinating stories to share.

“Why ain’t there anything to do around here?” she whimpered. “Drummond!”

The tiny little SWAT Operative was sitting cross-legged on her tea table, attempting to translate one of her many mystical tomes. “Yes, my goddess?” he called out in a strong voice: Lovely Mari had gifted him the ability to speak loud enough to hear when he needed it.

“Give me something to do-o-o-o-o-o!” Mari rolled to her enormous chest and parked her chin on her palms, glaring at him.

He took a deep breath. This was the twelfth time the beautiful and capricious giantess had interrupted his focus, and he was disciplining himself to accept it. He walked up to the edge of the table and sat there, swinging his legs in the void not far from Mari’s face. “Well, I’m sure we can work this out together.” He stared up into her crimson eyes with wide, heart-shaped pupils and spoke in reassuring tones. “Why don’t you destroy Houston?”

Mari blew a raspberry at him. “I already took out Green Bay, Detroit, and Cleveland, Drummond. Houston’s boring.”

“Well, what about transdimensional travel?” This always took a long time, and Drummond was confident he could make a breakthrough in translation while she was gone. “I know for a fact you have a list of some extrasolar planets you’ve been meaning to check out.”

“I’ve already seen all the cool ones!” Her head slipped out of her palms and buried in her eiderdown. “Just the stupid ol’ ones are left!” Her voice was muffled in linen and down stuffing.

“The ‘hot Jupiter’ planet orbiting 51 Pegasi isn’t stupid.”

“That’s the stupidest one of all!”

Drummond felt disarmed. He’d had a daughter—before the messy divorce and custody battle—and though she was several years younger than this giantess, it looked like Mari was still stuck in that earlier stage of development. He had no tools to cope with a tantrum like this, had no idea how to calm his daughter down, seemingly no empathy with women at all. Probably why his wife left, he figured.

All he could do was come up with ideas, each of which were shot down. Treasure-hunting was dumb; building a castle at the bottom of the ocean was lame; firing Master Sparks up into the sky to see what came down was idiotic. Drummond rubbed his temples to soothe his mounting headache and realized that he was hungry.

“Do you know anything about mushrooms, Mari?” he asked the top of her skull.

The giantess raised her beautiful face. “Duh! I run a magic shop! I know more about mushrooms than you know about…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “...like, police-stuff or whatever.”

He smiled gently. “I’m not talking about magic mushrooms. I mean the lion’s mane mushroom, the one that tastes like crab.”

Mari’s eyes went huge. “Wait, what?”

“And maitake mushrooms. If you find an old one, you can dry it out, powderize it, and bake it into bread.”

“What the fuck?!” Mari’s face broke into a radiant grin. She rocketed off her bed, her frilly black skirt twirling around her thighs, and began tearing through one of her overburdened bookcases, whooping when she found the one about mushrooms. Flipping through its pages, she looked up the pictures of the mushrooms in question and made notes of several others.

Hurriedly she tugged her 18-hole kneeboots on, cast a cantrip to lace them up, and scooped up the SWAT officer in her hands. “Drummond! I love you for, like, five seconds!” she cried, tearing his shirt open and slathering him in her wide, pink tongue before tossing him back to the tea table. Her boots stampeded out of the room and thundered down the stairs as she went to look for a large basket.

“I’ll be back in an hour or three!” she called up to him. “I dunno! Whatever!” And she slammed the door behind her, charging off into the Forest of Magic, singing a bright little song of destruction and mayhem.

The little man in soaked black BDUs picked himself up and bent his head slightly, listening for the excited young goddess running around the house and plunging into the woods. After a moment he glanced back at the collection of small buildings in the corner of Mari’s bedroom. The library, sitting in front of the mass of architecture, had a tiny head poking in the window. Drummond nodded at it and hopped down from the table onto the red rug.

He’d learned that his descent was slower here, at his size, than it had been back on Earth. He was also pretty sure they were no longer on Earth, or else in a strange parallel version of it. The one solar chart he’d been permitted to glance at was unrecognizable, but that didn’t mean they were in it.

The door of the library opened and a teenage boy emerged. “Is she gone?”

Drummond frowned. “I wouldn’t have given you the all-clear if it weren’t all-fucking-clear. You need to learn to trust me here.”

The teen shrugged and apologized. He looked especially pathetic, his pale, underdeveloped body in slightly baggy borrowed clothes, holding one elbow and staring at the large bedroom. “Is she really scary? Is she gonna be pissed if she finds me here?”

“I promise you, she’s capable of anything.” Drummond didn’t know this, but it was a useful story to inspire loyalty in this soft and undisciplined kid. “I’ll explain it to her when the time’s right. In the meantime, you’re safe in this city. I talked her into supplying a modicum of power,” he waved at a small glowing orb, connected to the buildings by a thin cable, “and we hardly need any food at all, relatively speaking. You just have to lay low for the time being.”

The teen sniffed and shuffled his bare feet. “But I get bored.”

Drummond pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and sighed.

 *   *   *

Lovely Mari’s chunky black soul pounded the turf, and the soil rippled with the impact. Her successive footfalls were fainter and farther away, and eventually a head of shaggy brown hair poked up out of the grass by her house.

“She gone?” said a raspy voice beside him. “Andon? You see her?”

Andon nodded, a grin creeping across his face. “Took off like a shot. She’s after somethin’ and it ain’t us. Let’s go!” He bent and lifted a small portal in the soil, and two more tiny people like him crawled out. A pudgy man with a round face and slick black hair huffed a bit, then hauled out their third companion, a wiry young woman with piercing green eyes and reddish hair pulled back in twin ponyfalls.

Immediately she took a defensive position and sniffed the air. “Did you even check for squirrels or anything? Idiot.”

Andon laughed, a throaty and slightly dopey sound. “It’s all right, Pavla. We’re totally clear. All we gotta do is move fast, grab what we need, an’ we’re outta here before she even knows what happened.”

The pudgy guy kicked the portal shut and trotted over to the corner of the house. Peeking around, he waved his friends up. Pavla shot Andon a cold glare as they ran around and sprinted for the front door of Mari’s cabin. They squeezed themselves through the gap beneath the door, though of course the pudgy one got wedged halfway through.

Andon and Pavla swore, grasped his meaty paws, and heaved back with all their might, and he emerged with a comical poot. “I think if yer too big to fit under the door, Mecho, yer too big to eat anything y’kin find in here!” Andon patted his friend’s large belly.

Grumbling, Mecho said, “This way,” and they charged off to where they knew the larder was.

 *   *   *

Deep in the woods, Lovely Mari’s day was indeed turning around! She darted from tree to tree, lean legs pumping hard as she sprang about, and that went on for around ten minutes before Mari decided she didn’t need to spring upon the mushrooms in surprise.

The wicker basket hanging on her forearm was still mostly empty, but not entirely: right off the bat she found a striking cluster of orange chanterelles, and according to her book these could be sliced and sauteed in butter and simmered in a stew! Her mouth was watering already and she couldn’t believe her luck at finding such a good score without even trying.

 *   *   *

Drummond and the teen poked through the cathedral to see if what was still in there. While Mari’s magic had tidied up the library, she hadn’t extended the same service to most of the other buildings, it seemed. They hauled rubble aside, righted candle holders, and collected all the hymnals in one corner.

“Why do you think she collects these?” the boy asked the SWAT officer. “The buildings, I mean.”

“Everyone needs a hobby.” But he’d been wondering the same thing.

“Is it because they’re all beautiful?”

“That’s as good a guess as any.”

The teen shook the plaster and broken glass off a broad white cloth that covered an altar. “I was thinking it’s either that, or they represent a conquest or something.”

Drummond paused, then dragged a pallet of crumbled stone out the door and dumped it.

“Do you know where all these buildings came from, though?”

Drummond shrugged.

“Were there people in them when she took them? Do you know what happened to them?” He flinched when the officer dropped what he was holding and turned to stare at him.

“Kid, you do not want to know. Believe me on this.” Drummond stared at him a little longer before kicking the wooden doors open and hauling the rubble outside.

 *   *   *

“There’s hardly enna-thin’ here!” Andon was crawling around on all fours, behind the furniture where food was stored and under the sink where food was prepared. “Not a slice, not a crumb!”

Mecho ran his hands along the base of the larder. “And the doors are charmed shut. If we don’t know what word she used to get in here, we’re out of luck.” He rubbed his palm over his jowl.

Pacing irritably, Pavla abruptly froze in her tracks, waving her friends into silence. “Did you hear that?” she hissed.

The men’s eyes went wide, sweeping slowly left and right, but even their heightened senses didn’t pick anything up. “Whaddya hear?” asked the tall, goofy-looking man.

She pursed her lips. “Maybe nothing, but is there anything upstairs?”

Mecho shrugged. “Never tried. Only way up is those stairs, and it’d take too much time for us to help each other up all the way to the top. No telling when the giantess is coming back.”

“Her bedroom has to be up there.” Pavla glanced at the ceiling. “And if anyone’s going to have snacks lying around in her bedroom, I’ll bet it’s this girl.”

Andon and Mecha gaped at her, then each other, then lit up in delight. “Of course! An’ the best food!” Andon agreed. “Cheese an’ meats’ and choccies fer afters!”

“Ooh, choccies!” Mecho clutched his belly. “Haven’t had a good choccy in years! But how’re we getting up there?”

But Pavla was way ahead of them, pointing into the next room. On the floor was an array of miniature battle armaments and structures, all skillfully carved out of wood. To anyone else they would have looked like extremely precise replicas of medieval siege engines and the props of war. But the three Tinies could clearly see these were more of Lovely Mari’s souvenirs from another world, and they were probably plucked from their original time period.

“Help me with this one,” ordered the redhead, walking around to shove a large catapult to the base of the stairs.

 *   *   *

Lovely Mari knelt beside a large cluster of fungus at the base of a large, old oak. “Ruffles, ridges…” she muttered, going over her notes. “Brown, tan…”

She paused and studied the frilly brown fungus. “Can’t tell if it’s a ram’s head or, uh,”—consulted her notes—“hen o’ the woods.”

It sat there, squat and mound-like and totally silent.

“Well, what the heck are ya?”

It said nothing, very slowly nursing on the decaying portion of the oak roots.

Pouting, Mari jammed her notes back in her apron pocket and snatched up her basket. “Who needs ya!” she grumped, stomping off. “You’re probably some stupid poisonous false dogbutt or something!”

 *   *   *

Andon and Mecho loaded up a round rock into the pocket of the catapult, and after some adjustments Pavla fired it off. It shot up and smacked the front of the third step from the top with a bang, then rolled and banged its way back down the stairs. The Tinies yelped and sprinted to the side as it barged through.

“Think yer alignment’s off a tetch.”

Pavla glared at him and made the final adjustments. “There, that’ll take care of it.” She swept her arm grandly over the mechanism. “Load up, Andon, you’re first!”

The tall Tiny paled. “Wha? Ya want me ta jus’... sit in that thing? And ya fire it?” He looked up at the step that stopped the rock in its flight.

Pavla smirked at him. “What, you don’t trust me? We tested it three times. Now it’s ready to go.”

Before he could rejoin with “why can’t Mecho go”, the two of them trundled their friend into the arm of the catapult, and Pavla pulled the trigger rope before Andon could recover.

Off he went, sailing through the warm air of the cabin, the huge steps racing below him. The top step loomed closer and closer, but he cleared it and sailed briefly parallel to the upper floor before rolling to a stop against a pile of books. All things considered, a successful landing.

“Hey, thet warn’t too bad!” he called back down. “Send Mecho on up!”

The chubby little guy hurtled through the air and bounced a couple times before coming to a rest, and Pavla launched herself shortly after. They dusted themselves off, gave each other a round of high-fives, then marched into the middle of the room where the capricious witch-goddess practiced her most powerful magic.

 *   *   *

Drummond placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder, where they crouched behind a washing basin across from Mari’s tremendous bed. “You see them?” he whispered.

Peering through Drummond’s compact monocular, the kid nodded. “Three of them. Two men and a woman. They’re looking at the magic table now.”

Drummond’s eyes widened. “What magic table?”

“The one surrounded with the piles of books—”

“There’s piles of books everywhere!”

“These are glowing, and sometimes they open themselves or turn around.” The teen looked back at the man in black combat gear. “The table’s full of candles, a crystal ball, stuff for writing, and some glowing wooden block that shoots sparks once in a while. Think it’s important?”

Drummond’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s worth thinking about. But keep an eye on our visitors. I don’t know if they’re regulars or not, but let’s not bank on making close friends with them.”

Ecstatic at feeling useful for once, the teen returned to spying through the bedroom doorway at the motley trio as Drummond hopped down off the crude wooden vanity and returned to the library. Behind the front desk he opened a large drawer; behind a large, organized pile of money he had stashed two black books and one notebook. He pursed his lips and wrote a few more lines plus an untalented sketch in the notebook before replacing them behind the stack of cash.

The money had come from the bank vault. Drummond emptied the vault to store a dozen dead bodies of library patrons. And if he played his cards right, if his notes were correct, the money might come in handy someday. Maybe.

 *   *   *

While Lovely Mari hadn’t found all the mushrooms she was looking for, she had definitely amassed a respectable haul. Some were wrinkled and puckered, others were adorably cute and round. She grinned at these, thinking of all the things she could do with them, looking forward to showing off her cleverness to Drummond. Unfortunately, she never did find the lion’s mane mushroom—it looked so beautiful in the pictures. Briefly she toyed with the idea of just magicking one up, you know, creating one somewhere near her so she could still get experience the joy of “finding” it.

But that wouldn’t have been as special as actually finding one, of course, and if she’d done that and cooked it up and let Drummond have some, he’d know something was off. He’d know she hadn’t really found the elusive lion’s mane, and she’d have to toss him into the mortar and grind him and mash him into a paste to cover her embarrassment.

She was surprised to discover she didn’t want to get rid of him just yet. He was a stupid little Bug, of course, she could pop his head off with her thumb like a dandelion… but she was curious, you know, just to see what would happen if she kept him around. That’s all. He was full of surprises, and Mari loved surprises. Nothing more than that.

Anyway, if she hadn’t found a lion’s mane yet, she probably wasn’t going to. Maybe they didn’t grow in the Forest of Magic: her mushroom-hunting skills were first-class, it’s just that this mushroom didn’t exist here. That was probably it!

Smiling, Lovely Mari spun in her boots and skipped through the woods, back to her cabin.

 *   *   *

The trio explored the magic room for all it had, but there was no food roasting in the fireplace and no leftovers to be discovered on any pile of useless books. They looked at the bedroom door, looked at each other, and nodded resolutely.

This room was an explosion of objects, clothes strewn across the floor, bookshelves stuffed to capacity with thousands of different things, odds and ends and supplies stashed anywhere there was empty floor space. On the left were a sequence of overburdened bookcases, on their right was a large basket stuffed with maps, scrolls, special papers and vellum, and other decorative stationery. In the middle of the room was an antique tea table, and that was the likeliest spot to find something good to eat. There were piles of books everywhere, again, and a huge armoire on the left after the bookcases—no food in there.

But in the far right corner was the giantess’s bed, as enormous as it was messy, and in the far left corner was a bizarre sight. Large buildings were pushed against each other, buildings in a style the Tinies had never seen before in their lives. Many were gray stone with huge panels of mirrored glass. A few were very tall and reached up to the ceiling; most others were shorter, various sizes, and they were made out of beautiful wood or stately brick-and-mortar or styles of chiseled stone they couldn’t have imagined. It was all fascinating and, amazingly, it looked like it was perfectly scaled to their size!

Andon stared, his eyes huge, his adam’s apple wobbling up and down. Mecho could only stammer, “Juh-... juh-juh-...”

“Jackpot,” Pavla finished for him, smiling broadly. “Let’s get to it, boys.” They broke into a run and charged across the red rug beneath the tea table. When the rug ran out and their bare feet struck hardwood floor once again, however, a small explosion just before them stopped them in their tracks.

“Not so fast.” A dangerous-looking man in black appeared before them. He was also their size.

 *   *   *

Drummed stepped out of the library. He raised his .45 by his head, a Kimber Custom TLE II. Not the most powerful hand-cannon, but judging by the looks on the intruders’ faces, it had the desired effect. “What are you doing here?”

The three scavengers looked at each other. “Well, what’re you doin’ here?” challenged Andon.

Drummond walked up to him—the shaggy, goofy-looking little man was just slightly taller than himself—and punched him in the throat. Andon staggered back, clutching his neck and gasping, and Drummond fixed his serious eyes on Mecho. “What are you doing here?”

Pavla, quick as a snake, seized his wrist in both hands and tucked and rolled beneath his body. Surprised, Drummond lost his balance and fell over her body, rolling on his shoulder to recover on one knee. The tiny woman clearly had no idea what a handgun was: she clung tenaciously to his arm, effectively holding the muzzle against her chest.

They weren’t a serious challenge. Drummond let out his pent-up breath and boxed her on one ear; she released him to hug her head and roll away. The chubby, black-haired one hadn’t made a move, only stared at them in fright. Drummond rose to his feet before him and only said, “Don’t make me ask a third time.”

“We’re looking for food,” Pavla snapped. “We’re hungry, get it? Any little scrap this giantess leaves behind is more than enough for all of us, even with you.” She rose to her feet, and everything in her stance told Drummond she was ready to square off with him again.

He holstered his .45 and folded his arms. “No food up here.”

“B-b-b-but those houses!” Mecho pointed at the collected city. “There’s gotta be−”

Drummond shook his head. “Empty. Dead. Just a collection of the crazy giantess that lives here.”

Andon, recovered, stared at him in alarm. “So she’s really crazy, ain’t she! Ah knew it! Din’t we know thet?” He swatted Mecho’s arm, and his buddy nodded enthusiastically.

Pavla raised her narrow jaw at Drummond. “Then how are you making out, huh? How are you surviving in this place?”

“Just as you said. Scraps of food, wherever I can find them. Barely enough to get by.”

She narrowed her eyes and planted her fists on her hips. “You’re lying. I can smell it on you.” She was about to say something else but swallowed it at the last second. Her auburn ponyfalls swayed gently as she shook her head, considering her opponent.

Drummond had a weakness for beautiful, competent women, and this little fighter was worming her way into his heart. Inwardly he cursed himself for this vulnerability. He was getting distracted with the notion of training her to fight, learning her knowledge of sneaking and the surrounding woods. She was strong and fast, she didn’t trust much outside of herself, and she had the ability to read someone quickly. All of these were admirable, survivable qualities. He certainly didn’t need the two goofballs that tagged along with her, but if he could forge some kind of alliance…

He snapped out of his reverie at the distant explosion of the front door slamming in its jamb. “Drummond! I’m ho-o-o-ome!” The giantess’s cheerful voice rang up the staircase.

The core temperatures dropped in all four tiny people. Drummond and Pavla said “fuck” simultaneously, glanced at each other, then stared at the top of the staircase.

Lovely Mari danced into her kitchen, setting her basket of foraged mushrooms beside the sink for washing. She was delighted with the variety as well as the quantity, and she knew Drummond would be proud of her too. Not that she cared what a stupid Bug thought, of course.

Should she wash them up and bring them up to him to show off? Or should she go up and get him, bring him down to see, and maybe show him the rest of her cozy little home as well? She decided on the latter: the sun and the birds had lifted her heart, her amazing mushroom-hunting expedition had been a rousing success, and she felt particularly generous toward her strange little man. Just for today, though, just for a little bit.

She ran to the staircase but then skidded in her tracks, staring. “Drummond?” she called up again. “What’s my catapult doing at the bottom of the stairs? Were you playing with it?”

 *   *   *

Drummond glared at Pavla, as he’d decided she was the leader of the group. “Catapult?”

“How’dya think we got up here?” said Andon. “Hey, how’d you get up here?”

Pavla’s expression was dark. “I didn’t think we’d be here this long. We were just supposed to zip in, grab what we needed, and get out again.”

Mecho snapped out of his fear-induced trance. “The larder’s all locked up! And the kitchen’s cleaner than we’ve ever seen it!”

Drummond rubbed his jaw and tried to mask his surprise. These three were clearly familiar with the downstairs level, maybe all of it, somewhere he’d never been before. Chagrined, he suddenly realized he needed to protect them long enough to learn everything they knew. “All right, come on, back to the city. We’ll work something out.” Reflexively he grabbed Pavla’s hand; she snatched it back angrily.

“Why should we trust you?” she hissed, eyes frantically searching for a better place to hide.

Andon and Mecho disagreed with her, urging her to run with them to the nearest buildings, because maybe there was food here after all, and anyway, there were more of them than there was of this guy. “No offense, mister,” said Mecho guiltily.

“Believe me, none taken.” The giantess’s boots thundered up the stairs, and Drummond turned to face Pavla. “I’m your best chance of survival here, dammit. This is my turn, I have an ‘in’ with the−”

“Sellout!” she spat the word in his face. “You’re a fucking house-Tiny! I knew it!”

He swung to backhand her across the chops, but she dodged him effortlessly. Her foot shot out and bent his knee the wrong way, and he collapsed like a sack of broccoli.

“C’mon, guys! Under the−” Pavla looked at the bed: the frame was solid to the ground. “How about the−” but the armoire was across the room from them. She glared at the city: so many places to hide, so many dark rooms, buildings behind other buildings, but too far away now.

“Drummond! Are you okay?”

The three Tinies spun around. Atop a small, crude vanity, a slender and much younger person crawled out from behind a ceramic pitcher. Drummond swore, grabbed his knee and kicked himself across the floor with his good leg, distancing himself from the intruders. “Stay up there, kid! Don’t come down!”

The teen hopped off the vanity, anticipating the slower rate of descent like he’d seen in Drummond, and ran toward them all. The three Tinies spun to face him, a much easier target, and Drummond clawed at his holster while still clutching his knee.

 *   *   *

Lovely Mari glanced at her magical studies room. Nothing was out of place, but her finely focused vision suggested traces of things that should not have been there. Little resonant traces on the ground… the SWAT operator? No, there were three little tracks of things scurrying around in here.

She bit her full bottom lip and cursed. Tinies. They’d broken in again, looking for food. She could’ve sworn she’d cleaned up their last colony around her house. What did it take to keep them away?

But if they were here, they could be in…

Mari cried out in alarm and ran to the doorway of her bedroom. Inside her chest, a small but fierce blaze abruptly ignited.

 *   *   *

The giantess appeared, as loud and huge as a peal of thunder, fists on her hips, her crimson eyes scanning the room furiously. When she spotted the Tinies, they felt the heat of her gaze fall upon them.

Andon and Mecho sprinted away but in the wrong directions: they charged into each other and fell on their asses. The teen, turning to stare at the giantess while in full sprint, tripped over them and spilled gracelessly. Pavla only swore and started to run, but then the explosions started.

One of these was the huge boot that fell from the heavens and pounded into the rug, just where the female Tiny was about to run; the other landed on the other side of the three oafs struggling to right themselves. Pavla fell to the rug, clutching her head and straining to look up, but she only got a glimpse of a polished leather kneeboot and the dark inner recesses of layered skirts far overhead, before the giantess's huge, pink hands flew down to scoop them all up.

They raced up through space, they tumbled in her palms, and before they knew it, the beautiful visage of their goddess filled their sky and glared at them all. In enormous crimson irises, heart-shaped pupils flickered left and right, scanning, reading, assessing. Pavla felt naked before the giantess and unconsciously covered herself, despite being clothed in a crude woven jacket and rough little pants, like her friends.

 *   *   *

“What the hell is going on around here?” Mari demanded of the little people rolling around in her hands. She kept tilting her cupped palms to prevent anyone from being able to stand up and try anything stupid, because stupidity seemed to be Tinies’ chiefest pursuit.

Among the voices calling up at her, the only one she recognized was Drummond’s. “My goddess, please let me explain…” Then he cried out in pain.

Mari’s hands held still and she peered at him. The little guy was trying to protect his leg, which he held at an odd angle. “Oh, no, Drummond! Did I hurt you?” She pinned him in place with her thumb and tumbled all the strange Tinies into her other hand, seizing them angrily in her fist. How dare they hurt Drummond! She shook her little man in black out, then laid him tenderly between her massive, cushioning boobs, his head against her chest, taking special care to let him protect his leg as he needed to do it. He stared up at her in awe as he slowly stretched his leg upon the rise of one breast and got comfortable.

“Fucking house-Tiny,” someone muttered in her fist. Mari gave them all a fierce squeeze, and she took some pleasure in all their squeals of agony. The fire inside her began to grow.

“It wasn’t you, my goddess,” Drummond called up to her. “There was an altercation. I’m fine, my goddess, I just need to stay off my leg for a few days.” But she saw the pain he was trying to cover up in his face, through her highly sensitized vision, and her heart melted for the brave little man.

Bending carefully at the knees, Mari used the arm that held the Tinies to sweep all the objects off of her tea table; they spilled to the floor but caught themselves, hovered, and turned rightside up before smashing and scattering. Standing up, the capricious witchy-witch cast a little spell to elevate the tea table so it hovered around her midsection, and upon this she roughly dumped all the naughty, unknown Tinies that broke into her room.

 *   *   *

The teen fell to his back. His ribs ached from the giantess’s fist, and his hands and arms hurt from when he fell over the two wild-looking men and hit the floor wrong. He was always doing that, walking into things, tripping over things and falling into other things. It was his hope that Drummond, mean as he was, could teach him some coordination or other skills. But now he was lying on a huge table that looked like it was hovering in the air. His heart started to pound: he was terrified of heights.

Beside him, the wild people were recovering and picking themselves up. The chubby one and the tall one with messy hair looked frightened, about as frightened as he felt, but the pretty woman with the two long, perky pony tails looked pissed. That, at least, was familiar: the prettiest girls at school always seemed to be upset with him for some reason.

Painfully he picked himself up, staying very far away from the edge of the table but not getting too near the three crazy people. Shaking his head, he looked up at the giantess who held them all captive.

His eyes widened. It was the girl he saw at the beach, the one who sat on him and trapped him in her bikini bottom, but she looked totally different now. Now she had a broad, peaked witch’s hat with a flowing white bow around the crown, and she was wearing a puffy white blouse and a black velvet vest that seemed to fit her very snugly. The blouse itself was unbuttoned on top, and her monstrous boobs stuck way out, thrusting over the table and nearly blocking her face.

He immediately sprang an erection in his baggy jeans.

 *   *   *

Damnit, damnit, damnit. This wasn’t how Drummond wanted it to go down at all.

Except yes, maybe the boobs part. That was an unexpected delight. He was comfortably nestled in Mari’s deep cleavage, her breasts swelling pleasantly on either side of him, and she’s the one who put him there. It was so hard to think about escaping back to his world or private training sessions with the wild Tiny woman when he was embedded in heaven like this.

Well, let it ride.

But that fucking idiot teenage boy! What was he thinking? Drummond couldn’t protect him from up here, and if Mari didn’t like his explanation for how he got here, he could lose much more than his privileged perch in her succulent décolletage.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. There was still a way out of this, a way to minimize casualties and gain the intelligence he required. There had to be, he just had to think.

But it was difficult to focus, when every slight gesture Mari made or every partial twist of her chest deliciously rocked her boobs around every last inch of him. Even the heat of her body felt sweeter, somehow, as it came through her enormous breasts, if it were possible for heat to come in flavors.

Sometimes it was damned inconvenient to be a man.

 *   *   *

“You three, I know,” the giantess thundered at the trio of scavengers. “I thought I destroyed your last colony. What’re you still doing here?”

Mecho began to earnestly explain how their vast, far-reaching colony had hundreds of exits, when Pavla smacked him hard on the back of his skull. “We fled when you destroyed our last home,” she said, glaring up into the angry crimson eyes. “We suffered greatly. Our village is reduced to a fraction of what it was, but still there are not enough resources to go around.” She hung her head, as though defeated. “We are starving, giantess. We don’t require much, but we have nothing.”

She elbows her companions, who similarly hung their heads, and Andon made a show of pretending to stifle his weeping.

“That sounds horrible.” The giantess’s voice was a soft blessing upon the heads of the three. “I can’t believe I’ve done anything so cruel to anyone before.”

The wild Tinies secretly traded sneaky grins with each other.

The giantess’s heart-shaped pupils dilated briefly. “I wiped out your entire colony, huh? Everyone you care about? All your dreams and ambitions?”

To his credit, Mecho put on a reasonable performance, raising his hands in supplication. “Nearly everything, oh mighty giant-lady. But we don’t hold this against you. I know we must seem like itty-bitty little pests to you…” He ran out of steam and faltered.

The giantess’s voice flowed like warm caramel, full of love and sympathy. “I truly can’t believe I was capable of such a dastardly deed. Drummond,” she addressed her considerable cleavage, “have you ever heard of anything so horrible?”

 *   *   *

Drummond, lulled quite comfortably in Lovely Mari’s opiatic bosom, glanced up at his goddess. He could only perceive her visage the way a man at the bottom of a cliff can study the cliff face, but he did catch a certain twinkle in her crimson eye, a certain slight upturn of one corner of her mouth, exposing a single, glinting canine.

“Never in my life, my beloved goddess,” he said loudly. “Except for Green Bay.”

“Green Bay?” Mari mused. “When was that?”

“Right before you leveled Detroit.”

She hmm’ed dramatically. “Was that when I blew a miles-wide hole into the ground?”

“Oh no, my goddess. That was at the four-state intersection of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico.”

“Well, then what did I do in Green Bay?”

Drummond cleared his throat, for the benefit of the listeners on the floating tea table. “You started to eat an entire sports stadium in Green Bay, my sweet goddess, but you had to wait until you ripped the one in Detroit out of the ground.”

Mari’s laughter split the atmosphere in her room. “Oh, that’s right! There’ve been so many cities under my belt, I lose track.”

“Don’t you mean, under your feet, my illustrious goddess?”

Mari and Drummond laughed together. The three feral Tinies looked at each other in confusion, while the teen only cowered and hid his crotch in his hands as casually as possible.

The magical blonde goddess tilted her head. “What’s wrong, you thieving, lying little Tinies? You look like you don’t understand something.”

Andon and Mecho exchanged glances, but Pavla spoke up. “I apologize for our ignorance, massive and great giant-lady, but we don’t know what a Detroit is.”

“Oh-h-h-h, that’s right! You’ve never left this dimension or even this world!” She leveled a chilling glare down at them. “Or my yard, apparently. Drummond, would you please explain these strange words we’ve been using?”

“Avec plaisir, ma géante délicieux,” he replied. “Detroit and Green Bay are cities in the world where I come from. They have a combined population of 800,000. Ah, but we forgot Cleveland.” He looked up at the beautiful young woman. “The library.”

“The library!” she laughed. Her tremendous breasts heaved and bounced the little SWAT operator in a luxurious ride.

“That brings the death toll to around 1.2 million people. And that was just last week.” Drummond paused. “This isn’t counting all the people she stomped along the way, of course, or the people who died in the earthquakes she caused with every single footstep.”

“Or the people I smooshed under my butt,” Mari chimed in. “That happens a lot.”

Drummond looked up at her. “Does it? A lot?”

“All the time.” She grinned back at him. “It might still.”

 *   *   *

Mecho was petrified with fear, so Pavla punched Andon in the shoulder. “She’s lying! Don’t listen to her!”

“A million people,” he mumbled. “Ah never even heard o’ that number.”

“No one can do anything like that! Another planet? What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

The tall, shaggy Tiny only sank to his knees on the wooden tea table and repeated the brand-new number to himself quietly.

Pavla scowled. Both of them were useless. She wheeled and turned to the teenager hanging out nearby. “You! Boy! What’s your problem?”

The teen’s problem was that he thought his dick was about to explode.

 *   *   *

“What the hell is that kid’s deal?” Mari whispered to the little man in her boobs.

“He’s cool, my goddess. He can’t do anything, he just helps out with cleaning in your city.”

“How’d he get here?”

“Remember when you went to the Virgin Islands?”

“Yeah?”

Drummond smiled at her. “You caught a virgin in your pants. Seriously, he doesn’t mean any harm.”

But Mari was staring hard at the frail little boy. The red-haired Tiny had advanced on him and was poking him in the chest, yelling at him. He made no move to defend himself, only cowered.

To no one, Mari said, “I have an idea for a game.” The fire inside her chest was now a raging inferno, and it spread to her arms and legs and head and everywhere, everywhere.

The smile faded from Drummond’s face, and ice water flushed his veins.

 *   *   *

“That looks good to you, huh?” Pavla scolded the teen, who could only nod miserably. She snorted and stomped around. “I will never understand what it is with you stupid men! A big pocket of fat builds up on a woman and you lose your fucking minds! Like these drooling idiots!”

She pointed at her companions who were still numb with terror, somewhere between consoling each other and staring into the maw of death. Only occasionally did they glance skyward, where the giantess’s overly abundant boobs hovered impossibly above them. They glanced, they smiled for a little bit, and then they sunk back into despair.

Pavla folded her arms and gave the teen a chilly side-eye. “We used to be friends from childhood. We played together, we explored together, all sorts of fun stuff. And then this happened,” she hefted her firm breasts and slapped her ass, “and they just went stupid. No more playing, no more exploring… at least, not the good kind.” She closed her eyes and scowled, turning away with real bitterness. “After that it was all ‘let’s go sneak behind the food stores’ or ‘do you want to see something’. Now I can only get them to cooperate on food raids if I promise to let them touch one of these.” She stomped up to the teen and thrust her boobs against him. She stood nearly a head taller than him, and her proud breasts mashed against his collarbones, just below his chin.

He stared directly at them, not even trying to hide his wide-eyed gawking.

With a curled lip she snorted and shoved him away from her. The teen stumbled, screeched, and fled to the center of the table, curling up in the fetal position and shivering.

She was about to ask him what was wrong when a shadow fell over them all. Her head shot left and right, watching the darkness spread, and finally thought to look up. The giantess’s long, slender fingers were fiddling with the buttons on her blouse.

“Oh, what the hell is this,” she muttered, backing away.

 *   *   *

Before Lovely Mari scooped her luscious breasts out of their cups, she took care to lift Operator Drummond out of her cleavage. “Where would be the best place for you,” she mused. “I can’t set you on the table with these savages.” She chuckled blackly. “Not with what’s about to happen.”

Drummond said he could sit on her shoulder, with a couple fistfuls of her hair, and there she placed him. She clapped, her loosening bosom heaving ever closer to the table, and he favored his leg away from her jostling shoulder.

“Can you guess what comes next?” Mari called to the little people below. She gently heaved one enormous boob out of her bra, needing both hands to manage it, then offered the same treatment to the other one. Now her tight-laced bodice started to pinch beneath her breasts, so she untied that and tugged it wide enough to be comfortable. And then she collapsed to the table, resting on her forearms, her tremendous bosom slamming into the wooden surface and rippling massively.

“Go on, guess.” She smiled with all of her teeth. The Tinies, however, said nothing: the men stared at the vast nipple a few feet away from them, while the woman only stared up at Mari warily.

“Feats of Strength!” Mari declared, laughing and clapping. The miniature people covered their ears against the din. “Today we get to see who’s fit to survive! What do they call that theory, Drummond?”

Swinging in the air by her ear, he said, “That theory’s outdated, and it was mistaken to begin with, my goddess.”

She pushed her fat bottom lip out. “You’re no fun, little man. Let’s see how you two do, though.” Parting her huge breasts with each hand, she grinned down at Andon and Mecho, who to this point had been transfixed by their view of the giantess’s chest.

“Get away from there, you assholes!” Pavla screamed at them, but they didn’t seem to hear. They remained motionless right up to the point that Mari’s great hands wrapped around them.

Hoisting the hapless tiny men before her face, she told them, “You two will be the champions of the Tiny colony right outside my front door, understand? I’m going to task you with one physical challenge that you have to overcome, and if you do, I’ll set you and your girlfriend free.” She puckered her lips in thought and stared at the ceiling. “In fact, I’ll even leave you a third of a sausage and a fifth of a loaf of bread once a week. How’s that sound?” She brought them up before each of her shimmering eyes. “I’ll even leave them right outside your so-called ‘secret portal’. How’s that sound?”

In their current state—shocked, the wind crushed from their lungs—they couldn’t reply but merely managed to nod their heads in assent.

“You didn’t even ask what the challenge was!” Mari smirked and rested them upon the table just before her. “Quite the little champions… or should I say ‘champignons’? Eh, Drummond?” She swung her head to look at him on her shoulder, but she only whipped him around with her locks of hair, coming to rest against her back. Feeling him there, she laboriously canted her head to the side and swung him carefully back to rest upon her shoulder.

“That’s not gonna get old,” she muttered. “As for you two: I hope you had a good breakfast and have stretched properly, because here we go!”

She instructed them to stand up, which they did, shakily.

She ordered them to raise their hands over their heads, which they did.

She hoisted up one massive boob with her two hands, held it over the wild-looking Tinies, and then dropped it from at least twice their height. It fell a short distance to the table, where the men offered absolutely no resistance.

Pavla screamed silently. The last sight she had of her compatriots was a split second where Andon’s spine crumpled and Mecho’s legs split two extra ways, and then there was nothing but a tremendous spill of fleshy, peachy breast covering them completely.

“What… what was…” Behind her, the teen had recovered from his shame and was staring at the giantess’s massive boob in horror. “Are they…”

Pavla turned to him and saw the shock on his face. His eyes were huge and his face had gone pale. She ran to him and knelt down, resting his head on her lap and blocking her view with his body. “Oh no, boy, just breathe,” she urged him, fighting her own tears. “Just breathe now, please, listen to me. Just look at me and breathe.” She stroked his hair until his eyes slowly rolled up to her face. She smiled through tear-streaked cheeks and nodded at him. “Just look at me and breathe.” He gasped and nodded back.

Lovely Mari’s laughter rang out. “And that wasn’t any fun at all! What happened to you guys?” She lifted up her boob and heaved it to the side. On the table were the broken little men, limbs mangled every which-way, and spreading pools of scarlet beneath them. Pavla refused to look, cradling the frightened boy.

“Oh well, to the victors, the spoils.” She set her breast down and scooped the little men in her palms. “Not that you were victorious or anything. What the−… Oh, you’re not even dead! You little fakers! Is there anything you won’t lie about?”

Through the showers of golden hair, Drummond strained to perceive the state of the little men. He could only just make out that they were lying one in each palm, losing blood rapidly, with extensive trauma to… good lord, everything. If they were alive, they wouldn’t be for long, not as they were.

But Mari couldn’t leave them as they were. The men disappeared in her palms as she swung her arms behind her, where Drummond couldn’t see, and below the table, where Pavla and the teen couldn’t see.

Because Pavla heard the rustle of cloth and the whistle through the air the giantess’s long fingers made, and she just glimpsed her handfuls of two badly injured Tiny men disappear over the edge of the tea table. She checked the frightened teen in her lap, then craned back to glare at the giantess. “What did you do with them? You monstrous bitch!”

The powerful young goddess paid her no mind, as her attention was elsewhere. All Pavla saw was her lissome upper torso twist and shift to one side, and her arms… operated differently. They were bent but one was bent sharper than the other. The giantess’s expression was one of concentration, tip of her tongue sticking out, eyes rolled to the ceiling… then they winced with exertion… then they fluttered with a certain kind of thrill, a blush came upon her cheeks, and when her hands returned to the table they only contained Mecho.

All the air sucked out of Pavla’s lungs. She couldn’t even react as her mind raced to piece together what had just happened—arriving at the correct conclusion, in fact.

Drummond was unable to see any of this, instead monitoring the wild little woman’s facial register. He surmised something truly awful had happened. Andon’s words echoed in his head: “So she’s really crazy, ain’t she!” He inhaled slowly, concentrating, thinking, careful not even to mutter to himself as he hung beside Mari’s darling, well-shaped ear.

“You… you…” Pavla gently shoved the teen off her thighs and turned to rise before the insane giantess. “You horrible… witch…”

“I’m the best witch!” Mari preened at the little woman, who took one step and then another toward her. “I don’t think I care for the way you said that, however, so let’s finish up the final round so I can get to you.”

That stopped Pavla in her tracks. She wasn’t done?

The teen, mostly recovered, pushed up to kneel on the table, making sure he was still in the center of it. “Drummond? Where’d you go?” He looked all over the table, even between the giantess’s huge tits (which were less sexy now, in his eyes), but he couldn’t see the military specialist anywhere.

Mari sighed. “Okay, very quickly now,” she muttered, disappointment dripping from each syllable. She raised her palm to her face, and her other hand gently plucked at Mecho’s fat, weakened arm. She lifted it by the wrist and placed his hand just inside her pink, puffy lips, and she winked at the little woman with the sexy red ponyfalls.

Pavla gasped. “You can’t.”

Mari merely shrugged and leered at her in mock confusion, then sealed her lips around Mecho’s wrist and effortlessly sucked his arm inside. His chubby body slid across her palm, stopping only when she’d pulled him in up to his shoulder.

Without blinking, Mari stared Pavla down. She parted her lips to grin, and her two rows of massive, shiny teeth only moved the slightest bit. There was a crunch and a snap, and Mecho uttered something like a low moan that dwindled quickly.

Pavla’s hands flew to her mouth. She gaped at the heart-shaped pupils that grew so huge in the giantess’s eyes now. She wondered why the hearts, why there was a symbol of love in this grotesque nightmare’s eyes.

Mari only rolled Mecho over, tugged his other arm into her lips, and repeated the procedure. Bright red blood coated her teeth this time, that was the only difference.

Now Drummond was able to watch this spectacle, only partially blocked by his goddess’s gently round, peach-hued cheek. This went beyond anything he could have guessed she was capable of. It was one thing to stomp out a city population when each person was only fractions of an inch; it was something else to slowly gnaw off the limbs of a tiny, broken man the size of her palm.

“You guys aren’t laughing,” Mari observed. The teen was kneeling on the table and looked like he was about to vomit. Pavla’s expression was something else, a blend of horror and yet the strangest tinge of fury. And she imagined Drummond was going to be a stick in the mud about this too, so she didn’t even bother checking in with her little SWAT commando.

Alone in her humor once more, Mari sighed heavily. “Okay guys, this is going to be super funny, so if you don’t laugh at this… I don’t know what your problem is.” She plucked Mecho’s unconscious body from her palm and pinched his huge belly between her thumb and forefinger in order to make him appear to be standing upright on the table. She even turned the little Tiny toward his friend.

Pavla couldn’t look away. She saw Mecho’s head loll sickly to the side, blood and saliva running down his jowls. His shoulders and sides were steeped thoroughly in deep scarlet, muddy and pasty with blood. His legs no longer functioned, broken in one thigh and the other twisted with shattered tibia and fibula. The giantess held him hovering a foot above the wooden table surface, and his legs dragged uselessly.

“Are you watching? Don’t look away, this is seriously funny.” So saying, Mari mimed the broken little man hopping across the table. “Doot-dee-doo,” she sang in a parody of his voice, “what a lovely day this is. Oh no, a Tyrannosaurus Rex!” Her hand jerked him along in a sloppy, nightmarish sprint, and then her head lunged down from above. Mari opened her jaws wide, eyes leering to make sure the little woman was watching, and with her teeth she gently plucked the fat little Tiny away from the table.

She snapped her head back and released him at just the right moment to send him spinning slowly in the space above her head. With a roar, she opened her maw as wide as it would go, and the tiny man bounced against her lower row of teeth before tumbling into the back of her throat. She made a big production of straining to get him down in one gulp, then roared again like a triumphant carnivorous dinosaur. As the denouement, she displayed her empty mouth to the teen and the appalled little woman, and as she showed it off she burped a little.

Mari’s hands flew to her mouth and she blushed, giggling helplessly. “Oh holy crap, I burped! Did you hear that? Drummond?” Getting no reaction from the two little people, she seized the locks that dangled from his fists and swung him right in front of her face, “did you hear that? It wasn’t my best burp, but I was showing these two how I swallowed the guy all-gone, and I burped at them!” She released him back to her shoulder, laughed some more and apologized for burping.

The two tiny people on the table looked up at her blankly.

She shifted on her heels, commenting that she couldn’t believe the tall Tiny was still so squirmy.

The teen’s eyes fell to the edge of the table, as if trying to bend his vision down to understand what she was talking about. Pavla merely covered her face in her hands.

Lovely Mari studied them for a bit longer. She poked gently at the little woman; Pavla swatted at her fingertip once, then turned her back to the giantess and covered her face again. Her shoulders were shaking slightly. The teen, awkward and shy, walked up to her and tried to put his arms around her. She let him and rested her forehead on his shoulder, and he hugged her tighter.

Drummond sighed and, swinging closer to Mari’s darling ear, gently whispered, “My goddess…”

Mari also sighed, just heavier and more dramatically. She trundled her enormous breasts back into her bra and buttoned up her blouse to its normal, only moderately scandalous setting. Her bodice was too much trouble to bother with right now.

“Okay, fine,” she groaned. “You’re free to go.”

The teen looked up at the giantess, and after a few moments the Tiny woman did too. “What?”

“Did I stutter? G’wan, get the hell outta here before I change my mind.”

Pavla’s jaw dropped, then her face flushed. She pointed a finger up at the enormous woman. “Do you think you can just−” she started, but the teen, of all people, started dragging her to the edge of the table.

“This is your chance!” he hissed. “You saw what she can do to us little people! You have to get out of here while you can!”

She wheeled on him. “Do you think she’d seriously let me go free? Do you know anything about this demented monstress?”

The teen’s incomprehending stare answered all her questions for her. Pavla looked at him and her shoulders slumped slightly. She looked back at the giantess, who was rolling her eyes at the ceiling, drumming her long fingers against the tabletop. Deep within the forest of her golden tresses, the menacing man in black met her glance for a moment, saluted her, then hung his head in what she took to be shame or something close.

All became clear to Pavla. She nodded at him, though he wasn’t watching, and took a deep breath. She asked the teen, “So how am I supposed to get down from here?”

His body jolted with fear. “You… but you…” The threat of the edge of the table came back to him.

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “You. Kid. Focus on me… focus.” When his eyes rolled back to hers, she continued. “How do I get down from here? You jumped off her vanity with no problem, right before you came charging at us.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

The teen took a couple sharp, jagged breaths, but then some color returned to his face. “Oh… Drummond taught me that. Gravity… works differently here… for us.” The kid squinted. “I don’t know how it works, but… I guess because we have less mass?”

Pavla’s long, perky ponyfalls swayed as she assessed the edge of the table and looked back to the teen. “Even up here? I won’t get hurt if I jump off?”

“Probably?”

She frowned, but only for his benefit. “Fine. I’ll do it, but on one condition: you have to come with me.”

His body trembled in her grasp. “I can’t… can’t! No… heights…”

She pulled him in close, her eyes blazing. “You listen to me. If you think I have any chance of surviving this fall and that crazy-ass bitch, then you fucking show me you believe what you’re telling me right now.”

“I… don’t make me…”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then you’re a fucking liar, just like her and that traitorous little house-Tiny on her shoulder.” She shoved him away. “I have no need for someone like you.”

The teen looked as though he might cry. But he didn’t. He met her gaze and slowly straightened up, permitting himself only one more sobbing gasp.

“Okay,” he said.

Pavla blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

His mouth tightened and he took her hand, and she let him. She let him lead the way to the edge of the table, where the giantess’s desultory bedroom yawned at tremendous distance before them. Even Pavla felt a little dizzied by the vast expanse of empty space, and she couldn’t imagine what the teen was going through, but she was a little proud of him at this point.

The giantess turned to watch them, the little bodies picking their way slowly across the wooden surface, walking right up to the rounded edge. “Huh,” she murmured.

Pavla gave his hand a squeeze as they contemplated the fall. “You know, I was just… being tough with you. But I know you’re brave, you don’t have to do this.”

The teen turned to her with an uncharacteristically sober gaze. “One.”

“What?”

“Two.”

She squeezed his hand once more and let go. On three, they stepped out into empty space.

Drummond could only see them disappear over the edge. Few things in life surprised him anymore, but that scrawny, shy teen pretty much blew his mind with this gesture.

 *   *   *

The fall took a long time.

Wind whistled past the two diminutive bodies as they hurtled through the bedroom atmosphere. For the first several seconds the teen clenched his eyes tight, but when nothing happened for a while he slowly opened them. Pavla watched the transition as his fear started to thaw, his eyes darting around the room in wonder. They indeed were drifting almost lazily through space, the red rug taking forever to reach them.

The teen looked at Pavla with something approaching delight in his eyes. Then his eyes flicked down, his cheeks reddened, and his head turned away.

Pavla looked down: her crude jacket was flung wide open, flaring behind her. Her firm abs and round, proud breasts jutted out in their momentary weightlessness. She laughed and would’ve ruffled his hair if it wouldn’t have sent them both spinning uncontrollably.

The ground expanded and became less hazy, and then they hit it. They would have been fine on the hardwood floor, but the shock of their travel was largely dampened by the plush rug. They rolled awkwardly to the side and came to a rest, breathing hard, exhilarated.

Pavla sat up and then the teen did. They looked at each other for a long moment before breaking into relieved laughter.

“That was amazing!” he yelled.

Pavla stood up and pulled him up to her, and embraced him in a strong hug that lasted nearly a minute. “You are kind of an idiot,” she purred in his ear, “but you’re braver than anyone I know. Thank you for freeing me, little warrior.” She cupped his jaw in her fingertips and kissed him lightly on the lips. He closed his eyes, ecstatic with the extremes of emotional experience, and didn’t notice the single tear glistening on her cheek.

She turned and sprinted away, toward the bedroom door, beyond which lay the staircase.

The teen dreamily opened his eyes and watched her round hips churning with her exercise, her auburn ponyfalls streaming behind her.

A gigantic black boot appeared out of nowhere, and Pavla disappeared.

“Ba-dum-bump, pssh,” Mari said.

 *   *   *

“I hate that no one thinks I’m funny,” muttered Lovely Mari. Her head rested in one palm, elbow on the mattress, and she and Drummond lay in bed. Her fingertip idly traced around his little body. She’d stripped him down but left his pants on, at his insistence. “I know I’m funny. Why doesn’t anyone else?”

His arms were folded behind his head and he stared at the ceiling. “My goddess is a hoot-and-a-half when she wishes to be,” he assured her quietly.

She smirked at him prettily, a dimple forming in her peach-soft cheek. “Drummond! Are you upset about what happened today?”

Realizing she was sensitive to him avoiding her gaze, he forced himself to look up into the huge black hearts in her eyes. “My goddess is wise beyond my comprehension.”

“Aww, lil’ military dude!! Those Tinies are just pests. There’re fucking hundreds of them next to the house. Trust me, another week an’ they’ll be scratchin’ around for scraps all over again.” She leaned down and covered his bare chest with huge, pillowy lips, leaving a line of saliva across his pecs. “They don’t remember, an’ they don’t learn from each others’ mistakes. You’ll see.”

The arousal that surged in his body stiffened his cock and made his wrenched knee throb angrily. He hated how his skin flooded with blood when she did this, whether smothering him in affection or merely looming over his shrunken self. Betrayed by his own body, yet again. If he had a little more self-control… if he could think quicker…

He closed his eyes but only saw the wild Tiny woman’s scowling face, her eyes burning straight through him. So he opened them again and instead counted the tiny hairs in his goddess’s nostril.

 *   *   *

Across the room, the teen lay in the aisle of the cold, dead cathedral. The god for whom this structure was built perhaps did not exist in this world, and perhaps he never had. Conversely—perversely—the teen was intimately acquainted with the goddess of this land, knew what she looked like, where she lived, everything.

The teen had torn down one of the long velvet curtains in this building and wrapped it around himself. For the past half hour he struggled against sobbing, instead clenching his fists in the thick fabric and growling, in his soft voice, a mantra.

“Stronger… brave… stronger…”

But eventually he did succumb to weeping.

Lovely Mari was watching television in her bedroom with the Tiny SWAT officer, Drummond.

By “television”, the reader must understand this is Mari’s magical system of projecting long-distance images upon her wall by means of her powerful magic. Through this she can spy on everything going on in any dimension or on any planet, as well as watching ordinary broadcast programs and movies. For free! Because that’s how powerful Lovely Mari is.

Lounging in her favorite cornflower gown, Mari stretched her long, smooth arms behind the wild and flowing mane of her golden hair, resting on a pile of pillows, one shapely calf crossed over one bent knee, her sleepy eyes regarding the flickering images without much interest. Drummond also rested on a large pillow: her boob. Mari insisted that he perch there, sitting on top of one massive, round breast, but she also insisted that he remained fully dressed in his black BDUs and keep his hands to himself. She didn’t bother to say “please” and he didn’t dare disobey an order.

So with Lovely Mari reclining comfortably on her messy bed and Drummond seated in a state of attention on her breast, they stared at the images of the world. She controlled what appeared, either driving an invisible eye through cities and homes to peer into people’s lives, or flipping through channels like anyone else would.

Drummond stared intently at the images, only mildly irritated when the gigantic witch switched scenes. All he could think about was how much easier it would make his own job, back on his planet, if he’d had access to technology as flawless and effective as this simple spell. He glanced at his captor, looking like she was about to fall asleep at any moment, then back at the crystal-clear imagery inside people’s homes while they were perfectly unaware of being spied on. He shook his head slowly, just amazed.

After changing views a dozen times, the images solidified on one particular scene. It looked to the capricious giantess like any other human celebration: a large gathering of people, cooking food outside, children running around on grassy lawns. But there was something that distinguished it from other occasions, and she wasn’t sure what.

“Drummond?” she murmured. “What’s goin’ on here?” Her huge hand hovered next to his tiny body, and she slowly unfurled one large, slender index finger beside his head to point at the pictures.

Ducking his head beneath her finger, he called up to her: “That’s the Fourth of July, my goddess. Independence Day. That’s a family having a picnic.”

Mari furrowed her brow. “But it’s not July.”

“No, my goddess, it’s not happening yet. This program is just showing people celebrating it because it’s coming up.” He looked at the images. “They’re probably trying to sell something… yeah, see? It’s an insurance commercial.”

“But what’s this Independence Day? All those people looked like they were together, not independent.”

Drummond smiled and draped one little arm over her finger. “Syntactic confusion, my goddess. They are celebrating the independence of their nation from another nation. Many countries around my world have the same holiday, just not on the same days. They celebrate the day they were liberated as an independent nation and became their own people.”

Mari blinked at him. “But they ain’t. Independent? Nations? They’re just a buncha bugs waitin’ to be crushed under m’boots.”

“Right, but within the−”

“Muh boots!” she said in a deeper voice.

“−context of my world, where−”

“MAH BOOTS!” She laughed and kicked her bare feet into the air. Drummond lost his balance but wasn’t sure what he was permitted to grab onto, so he tumbled down the length of her boob and got wedged into her bosom. “Mah boots, mah boots!” she sang, pumping her legs and rocking her breasts back and forth. Unable to reorient himself, Drummond could only go limp and let the giantess toss him about as she would.

Eventually she lost interest in this and extended one slim leg toward the ceiling. Her pale, smooth skin glowed in the candlelight. “Oh, I’m not wearin’ any. Drummond! Where’d ya go?”

The tiny officer politely coughed from within her decollétage.

Mari yanked him out and scolded him for taking advantage of a lady, then set him down between her collarbones and returned to the images on her wall. “What do people wear for a Fourth o’ July celebration? What’s the costume?”

“I don’t think there really is a costume, my goddess. If you look at those people, they’re just wearing their everyday clothes.”

“No costume? But I need to get dressed! How’m I s’posed to know what to wear today?”

Drummond tried to look at her, but could only peer over her chin at her nostrils. “What do you mean? Today’s not−”

“We’re havin’ a parade, Drummond!” she said cheerily, sitting up and spilling Drummond onto her boobs. He bounced off, spun haplessly through the air, and collapsed in her lap. “Just me, the Most Beautiful Goddess of Them All, Lovely Mari! Think how excited they’ll be!” Tossing the little man aside, she leaped off her bed and started tearing through her piles of clothes. “And I know just what to wear now, too! I saw it in that commercial!”

Thoroughly dizzied, the tiny officer weakly untangled himself from the bedsheets and croaked, “But what… there was no…”

The capricious witch was beyond heeding. She tossed garments into the air over her shoulders, set a few choice pieces aside, then grabbed one of the smaller books in one of her jam-packed bookcases. Flipping through the pages, she looked back at the images on the wall, then opened a spread and thrust it in his direction. “Is this the flag o’ yer country, Drummond?”

He rubbed his eyes and strained to focus. “Y-yes, that’s the United States Flag. Why do you need to know, all of a sudden?”

“You don’t ask me anything, lil’ bug!” She twisted her graceful  hand in the air, and one of her pillows sprang up into flight, then plopped on top of the SWAT operative entirely. “I gotta come up with somethin’ patriotic! Show them how proud I am to be an American!”

Drummond questioned whether she knew what that meant, but wisely kept his tongue to himself. Likewise, he decided he’d be safest if he stopped struggling against the enormous bedsheets and simply hid under the pillow for a while. It was peaceful there, dark and soft and warm, with all the sound muted…

That only lasted about a minute, before the young goddess whipped the pillow away. “Ta-da, Drummond! Whaddya think?”

The officer picked himself up and sat on the edge of the mattress, the hardwood floor an impressive distance below him. As for his captor’s apparel, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

Mari stood before him, her fists on her hips, a broad smile across her face. She somehow found an old pair of combat boots her size; her lean legs were sheathed in gartered thigh-high stockings, the right one in thin red-and-white stripes, the left in bolder weathered blue-and-white paneling. She had somehow fashioned an outfit from of more blue-and-white fabric, fashioning both an incredibly short skirt, secured with a WWI ammo belt, and a bikini-tied shirt. The shirt was unbuttoned and sleeveless, and it looked as though it might shred and explode at any moment from the tension of Mari’s enormous, heavy breasts; similarly, her short skirt covered very little at all, from her powerful thighs to her large, bouncy butt. In fact, Drummond could just make out a swatch of American flag serving as the front panel of her thong, where the hem of her skirt easily cleared it. And topping it all off…

“My goddess,” he stammered, “pardon the question, please, but is that a section of battleship you’re wearing for a hat?”

“It’s the forward guns o’ the HMS Queen Elizabeth!” She saluted him sharply, then thrust her hips to the side and preened, radiant as the sun. “I got them for you ‘cause you’re in the military! How do I look?”

Knowing better than to tell her that was a British ship, he only said, “I have never seen anything so glamorous or gorgeous in my life, my goddess. You are the most spectacular vision on seven continents.” He saluted her back, and she giggled and clapped.

“I knew you’d love it! I wanted to do somethin’ special for your country, to celebrate your… independence!” She rubbed her hands together rapidly and created a small crystal, placing it gently beside him on the sheets. “Use this to control the clairvoyance. No buttons: it’ll figure out what’cher tryin’ to do.”

He reached out to pick up the crystal, then looked up as she spun around and started trotting out of the room. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Sorry you can’t come!” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back before dinner! Or somethin’!” Her boots clomped through the magic study, clopped down the stairs, and stomped around the lower level until she slammed the door behind her. Outside, he knew, she’d blow up to her desired height and teleport wherever she wanted to go.

Sighing, Drummond turned the crystal over in his hand. Odds were that Mari’s exploits would be picked up by some major network back home.

“Is she gone?” a thin voice called from the miniature library across the room. The teen came out, still in his oversized clothes, still a secret from the witchy giantess.

Drummond stared through the bedroom door at the large magic table. He could just barely make the outline of a large shape atop it, but he decided this wasn’t the best time to explore. “She’s gone,” he called back. “You done cleaning up the cathedral?”

The teen nodded. “I want to watch TV with you.”

“You finish up with city hall?”

“Yes, all the chairs are stacked, and I filed away the papers in the three offices you said.” He rubbed his elbow shyly. “There’s a small stack of papers, I don’t know where they go. You gotta look at them. They look official.”

“How about the bank?”

The teen looked back at the bank and shuddered. Locked in its air-tight vault were a couple dozen dead bodies weeks into decomposition. “You didn’t say anything about the bank! Please don’t make me go in there.”

Drummond stared hard at the boy, then laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Hop up on the tea table, but you absolutely have to hide when I tell you to. No arguments.”

The teen’s face lit up. Just like Drummond showed him to, he sprinted toward the table, quickly hopped up onto a book left strategically in place, then kicked away as hard as he could. With his momentum and diminished mass, he soared through the air to what would have been a fantastic height on his own world. Here, however, it was just enough to clear the edge of the table; he recovered well and seated himself on another book, grinning like an idiot at the officer.

Drummond nodded at him, then turned to the images on Mari’s wall, raising the crystal overhead in the hopes this would do something. He felt a tingling in his head, and then the images started changing very naturally, like flipping through channels.

*   *   *

In Washington DC, back on Earth, a group of several middle-aged women and men in dark suits and military dress glared at each other over a long, mahogany table. The lighting was sufficient and the ventilation maintained the atmosphere comfortably, five levels below the Pentagon, but the tension was thick enough to slice with a good knife.

“You’re sure this will work?” said Vice President Morton Vetter.

Secretary of Homeland Security Viva Saucier drew a long breath. “Sure? Of course not. We’re only hedging our bets against a completely random and unpredictable enemy. General Colburn?”

A grizzled veteran in dress greens and five rows of medals cleared his throat. “We have deployed three divisions of joint military forces to secure three cities which, in our estimation, present the likeliest targets.”

“And if not the likeliest,” amended Secretary Saucier, “then the three most populous, the three with the most to lose.”

General Colburn nodded grimly, and indicated an illuminated map of the United States on the table before them. “New York City, of course, and Los Angeles, and”—he reached to tap the center—”Chicago. At each, we are placing all the Army’s eggs in three baskets with all our mechanized infantry and air assault divisions, plus anything the other branches feel they can spare.” He cast a withering glance at Secretary of Veterans Affairs Jaime Drake. “We recognize the Navy may feel a bit… at sea… in this situation, but we are truly dismayed that the Marines fail to appreciate the gravity of this threat.” Secretary Drake looked like he was about to retort, then thought better of it.

Vice President Vetter cast his eyes about the map. “We’re not doing anything for Houston? They’re about as large as Chicago, at last count.” He had to advocate for his hometown.

“With all due respect, Mr. Vice President,” rumbled the general, “if Texas is so all-fired anxious to secede from the nation, maybe they should get a taste of what it’s like to cut themselves off from federal protection.”

Secretary of the Interior Margie Padilla interrupted. “Gentlemen! We’re getting off track.” She glared into each man’s eyes, daring them to continue their petty squabble; when they backed down, she continued. “The primary concern is that none of these tens of millions of innocent, loyal, tax-paying citizens are injured at all, and I believe some recognition is merited for our Herculean effort at evacuating everyone in these three cities.” This was met with a respectable round of congratulations. “As a result, when the giantess appears, there will be zero civilian casualties within the greater metro areas.” Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Only catastrophic infrastructure devastation… to an unprecedented order of magnitude…”

Secretary of Health and Human Services Milan Fairbanks rubbed her shoulder. “Can’t win ‘em all. You still did something remarkable, history will remember that.”

The vice president was about to speak again when a telephone behind General Colburn rang, one with a prominent red LED light that stabbed through the fluorescent overhead glow. The old military bear turned slightly and picked up the receiver, his brow furrowed as he listened. No one else in the room so much as twitched a finger.

“Victor-Two-Fife, this is Papa-Niner-Niner. Message received. Stand by for instructions.” He covered the handset and hung his head, deliberately not making eye contact with anyone. “Victor-Two-Fife, this is Papa-Niner-Niner. Division One and Division Three: stand down. Division Two, you are hot. I say again: Division Two is hot. Confirm, Victor-Two-Fife.” When the away station repeated his message, the general signed out and hung up the phone.

He heaved a massive, wearied sigh and stretched out one arm to plant a thick fingertip upon Chicago. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said drily, “it’s showtime.”

Secretary Padilla covered her mouth, and the vice president pursed his lips and looked away.

After a long, silent moment the Secretary of State, Senator Randy Hamilton, soberly ushered everyone out of the room and killed the lights. He’d wanted to invoke the famous “may God have mercy on their souls” line but choked on the very notion.

The Goddess was here, and there was no such thing as mercy.

*   *   *

A tremendous explosion shredded the air around Cook County, Illinois, when Lovely Mari displaced all the air a mile-high young woman could occupy. She loved the ripple of the shockwaves over her skin, as though a thousand strong fingers were massaging her briefly, all up and down her body. Her breasts danced joyously with the concussion, and she swung her hips in a flirty little greeting to the city. Her enormous combat boots smote the heart of Calumet City, directly south of Chicago on the shore of Lake Michigan.

“I remember this place!” chirped Mari, looking across the water. “I tried to drink you!” She laughed, swung back her boot, and gouged a tremendous divot out of the ground as she kicked an entire neighborhood into the lake. Houses, sections of street, and hundreds of people sailed through the air in a perfect arc, though none of the matter made it as far as the Indiana shoreline.

Shrugging, Mari skipped gaily through the atmosphere, rippling the landscape in earthquakes as she made her way up toward the downtown area. With every boot-fall, the terrain rolled in beautiful, ever-widening circles, as though it were a blanket Mari were shaking out to straighten on a bed. She laughed, her hair bouncing in the sunshine, to watch this beautiful pattern across the land, and when it reached the lake it generated sheets of cute little whitecaps that spread across the blue water.

Mesmerized, the witchy goddess slowly turned to the northeast. She deliberately stomped as hard as she could with every step, flinging out her tremendous, weathered combat boots and smacking them into the lithosphere with astonishing power. She drew her knee up, red and white stripes straining against her skin, then flooded her thigh and hip with power and down came her shin and heel, and the earth blasted apart like so much sand and dust. The noise from the eruptions were pleasant, she thought, but nothing compared to the terrible peal she created every time she simply appeared on the scene. And when she thought about it, she could feel all the chilly, terrified souls rising off the ground like steam and melting into her powerful calves, flowing into her bloodstream for her greater glory.

Up went her left knee, dark blue stripes fading with the elasticity, and down came her heel in a targeted strike, caving in the middle of what looked like a long, straight, artificial river between Calumet Avenue and Highway 20. She thought it looked stupid, anyway: she much preferred the winding, snakey rivers everywhere else. What function was this supposed to serve, anyway? Shrugging off the question, she pummeled the earth beneath her feet and slowly made her way toward a small appendix of land sticking out into the water, one covered with an enticing network of railroad tracks.

*   *   *

The President, VP Vetter, and Secretaries Hamilton and Padilla were watching the fiasco on a widescreen TV in the Oval Office.

The President swiveled in his sleek black chair to face his staff. “She’s not going to Chicago at all. Look at this, she’s heading to Lake Michigan.”

“What’s the collateral damage so far, Mr. Secretary?” Vetter asked.

Hamilton consulted his tablet, canceling a dozen windows and bubbles that emerged incessantly. “The giantess has veered into Indiana, triggering mag. 5 earthquakes from Calumet City to Whiting and East Chicago, Indiana. Reports are still coming in, but we’re estimating…” The senator looked up, confused. “Nearly 100,000 civilian casualties in under five minutes. That can’t be right.”

The President rubbed his temples. “Madam Secretary, it was my understanding you had taken precautions to prevent precisely this sort of outcome.”

“Mr. President,” stammered Padilla, “it was nothing short of a miracle that the giantess chose one of the three cities we prepared for. There is no way we can guide her, force her to the target! You’ve seen her: by all reports she’s absolutely uncontrollable. All we can do is…” She faltered and glanced at the senator’s tablet.

“Yes?” demanded the President.

“All we can do is hope she gets bored.”

*   *   *

As if on cue, the glorious young goddess tossed back a wave of luscious locks over her left shoulder, thrust her mammoth breasts toward the northwest, and pulled one soggy combat boot out of the Indiana Harbor where mechanical and coal firms used to center their shipping. Lake Michigan rushed to fill the void, from where hundreds of twisted, mangled railroad tracks curved hideously out of the water and onto the land. Nothing would be shipped into or out of this area for a very, very long time, and the countryside would suffer for it, especially as their ability to recover from a sequence of powerful earthquakes was effectively disabled.

Singing a song to herself, Lovely Mari skipped up Highway 20 to where it became Interstate 90, crossing back into Illinois. Passing the East Side neighborhood, she stamped her left boot into the Calumet River, to match the right boot print she left in the Lake George Canal. She crumpled the dozens of lines of railway as she went, much like a small child would step onto the scrims of ice that form on small puddles by the road, deep in winter, and with as much delight in doing so. They lacked the satisfying crick-crack that a sheet of ice gives, but the keening whine of twisted steel was still a fun little noise to cause, she felt.

The grid of darling little houses coating the Calumet Heights neighborhood just begged to be flattened! Cheerily, the beautiful giantess leaped up into the air and landed with a strong, A-frame stance, arms akimbo. “I’m here, stupid bugs!” she sang across the landscape. “Get ready to worship me, because you ain’t seen something this beautiful in your miserable lives!”

Belting out a rousing Sousa number at the top of her lungs, Lovely Mari thrust her considerable chest forward, pumped her knees up high, and marched very thoroughly across the east numbered streets, driving everything between South Stony Island Avenue and South Lake Shore Drive well into the ground. Her tremendous breasts bounced, heaving left and right, to the tune she sang (mostly on key), and the shirt tied around them truly strained with their astonishing mass. The tops of her breasts gleamed in the bold sunlight, as she watched block after block disappear beneath her heaving bosom… and that, of course, gave her an idea.

Lovely Mari fell to all fours, hands and knees over Interstate 90, and bent her elbows sharply. Her tremendous breasts swung pendulously beneath her, her poor shirt impossibly remaining intact, as she lowered her chest to the ground and crawled across the landscape in this fashion. Her stockinged knees tore tremendous grooves into the neighborhoods and the toes of her boots hammered and punctured the land, as she dragged her breasts closer and closer to South Chicago.

She laughed to see the highway and avenues disappear between her shuddering flesh, to see the large piles of earth her tits began to shove in front of them. Her hands pummeled into a park, a high school, and countless cute, one-story houses all along her way. For a moment, she thought of her pronounced buttocks, sticking straight up into the sky, but she didn’t really care about that: anyone who could possibly see that naughty little view was due to perish from the earth any minute now.

*   *   *

“What the hell is she doing?” asked the teen, staring at the images on Mari’s bedroom wall.

“I have no freakin’ clue,” muttered Drummond. Once the news had come in that the Goddess of Destruction had reappeared in Chicago, he managed to guide the crystal to pick up some TV stations local to that area. They had all scrambled to cover the event, but a military cordon blocked all land-based vehicles and teams from entering the area. But the media had discovered that, for the time being, the Air Force was not keeping their helicopters away, so a couple channels hovered about the marauding giantess. They didn’t need to be very close to get good footage of her, either, as she stood a mile tall today. All other news outlets simply borrowed their feed, and the entire nation was glued to their sets as the scantily clad goddess bobbled her way back into the collective imagination.

One ‘copter ventured closer than the others. When the young goddess bent down in that ridiculous position, the news crew wheeled around and approached her from behind. Certain networks and online streaming channels were therefore granted unrestricted access to Lovely Mari’s voluptuous buttocks. Her skimpy little skirt hid nothing, especially at this angle, and viewers were treated to the large garters that held up her tights and ran over her hips. Sections of the nation gawked at the thin strip of red, white, and blue that peeked from between her nearly perfectly spherical buttocks, miraculously covering the most-private portions of her womanhood.

Drummond happened to have tuned into one of those networks. His eyes were wide as he studied the projection: the ‘copter was executing some first-rate cinematography, panning around Mari’s wide hips in a slow, graceful arc. It perfectly captured the rocking of her hips as she drew one powerful thigh, then the other, up from South Chicago to South Shore.

“She’s too fat for me,” opined the teen. “I like ‘em−”

Drummond spun around on Mari’s mattress. “I don’t give two meters of contrail from a flying fuck how you like them, you punk-ass scrub,” he barked. “Back in the library. Now.”

The teen started to protest, but when the SWAT operative sprang into a prone three-point position—palpably two seconds from closing the distance between them—he instead mumbled an apology and scrambled to hop down from the tea table. He only cast a couple glances over his shoulder on his way to the collected city, but never slowed his stride until the library doors closed behind him.

And Drummond’s sharp eyes never left the kid until he was inside the building. Only then did he allow himself to relax and return to gaping at the astounding images on the wall.

“She’s not fat at all, you goddamned corporate-weaned maggot,” he fumed to himself. “She is perfection. She is a goddamned goddess.”

The room was getting warm, somehow, so he removed his BDU shirt but nothing more.

*   *   *

When Mari tired of this little game, she rose to her knees and stretched out her shoulders. As strong as she was, her body and her chest combined to put a lot of weight on the joints of her shoulders, so she swung her huge arms around in enormous circles. She flexed the aching muscles until she felt healing blood going back into them, the swung her arms once more for good measure.

Across the country, people tuned into that certain network watched as, nearly in slow motion, her dainty fist in a dark blue fingerless glove, rose above Bryn Mawr train station on the Metra Electric Line, sailed through the air and then rushed straight into their view. Behind her back, Mari planted her fist into the sole brave news helicopter that dared to stare at her butt. The other ‘copters filmed it as the three-man crew vanished in a ball of flame.

Surprised, Mari brought her arm forward and examined her hand. She was sure she’d felt something, but the skin was perfectly clear and her glove showed no smears or anything. The giantess shrugged her milky shoulders and slammed her tremendous ass into the ground.

The earth rumbled all around, shattering the South Shore Cultural Center and disrupting the tranquility of Oak Woods Cemetery. Mari swung her long, strong legs around and dug the heels of her combat boots deep into the crust of the earth. Before she leaned back on her arms, however, she noticed something amiss with her outfit.

While the miraculous shirt still somehow—impossibly—restrained her gargantuan breasts, there was just enough give to have scooped up a variety of houses between East 87th Street and East 71st Street. Tiny dwellings, no bigger than specks, piled up in her cleavage and ran down the exquisite curvature of her boobs like confectioner’s sugar. Lovely Mari’s sensual lips parted in wonder as she watched the residences settle and adjust. They disappeared into the plunging abyss between her boobs, they sifted all around her much-strained fabric and, particle by particle, worked their way over her broad, tan areolae and became lodged in the wrinkles around her engorged and hardened nipples. The mere thought of this delighted the capricious witch, and she ran her nails over the marble-like mounds poking beneath her sorely taxed bikini top. Which made them harder, which made more room for the little houses to flow, and the cycle continued.

Very briefly, Mari wondered what it would be like to live in a tiny little house like that, to be scooped up by a tremendous bra, and to look out your windows as yards and yards of sweet, smooth girl-flesh ran past your windows. She envisioned a sole house, perched on the jutting ledge of her huge nipple, the wind whistling past it… That seemed peaceful. She hoped, distantly, that one of these houses got to enjoy such a romantic setting.

But back to more important matters! Flinging her arms behind her, Lovely Mari arched her back and placed all her weight upon the heels of her palms and of her feet, and she crab-walked northwest toward the University of Chicago. The layers of tilled earth pulled the back of her inadequate skirt up to her belt, as her massive thighs churned and her titanic buttocks carved wide, sweeping gouges into the landscape.

The young goddess cackled uproariously at the awkwardness of this maneuver! She hadn’t done this in ages, and it made her feel like a child again, racing along in this ridiculous posture. With her body mostly reclining before her, her large and powerful thighs blocked her view straight ahead, and her massive mammaries heaved and rolled before her chin, cutting off her line of sight for nearly everything else, but she went with it joyously. What must have been a hundred yards of topsoil was little more than a light powder for her butt, and it tickled her skin to feel it part and slide beneath her. Certainly, she was lodging new neighborhoods and cute little houses up into a brand-new area…

Craning her head to the side, she more or less accurately steered herself along. She chose to steer around Jackson Park, figuring not as many people would be there (indeed, it looked just about deserted), finished tearing up Oak Woods Cemetery with her left boot (another ghastly mess for the city to clean up), and hooked a right around the corner of East 67th Street and South Stony Island Avenue. Her left buttock wobbled and shuddered as it pushed sheer tonnage of earth aside, and if anyone had been waiting at the 67th Street Metra station, the last thing they would have seen was a vast belt of red, white, and blue thong descending upon them, maybe some fine hairs poking out of supple, peach-hued butt cheek before they were lost in the deep crevasse.

From there, it was simple business to wipe out South Woodlawn Avenue and scoot on over to South Cottage Grove Avenue, bringing the destruction with every shake of her hips. Quite literally: Mari perched herself precariously upon four limbs and lowered her ample buttocks to the earth until she could only just feel the ground, and the inadequate shelters that covered it, against her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she then shook her hips and swung her tremendous buttocks left and right, gaining perilous momentum, and the Woodlawn neighborhood did nothing to resist her blows. Her left buttock hung and swung and blasted the ground away, and her right one came after, digging the furrow a little deeper. After a couple rounds of this Mari carefully lurched forward, palms smacking and heels blasting craters into the earth, and her enormous bottom descended once again upon the sleepy homes south of the Midway Plaisance.

*   *   *

The President and members of his cabinet stared at the TV in disbelief.

“Who the fuck even is this?” said the President at last. “Is the greatest superpower in the world seriously under attack by an oversexed monstrosity with the mentality of a five-year-old?” He looked at each person’s face: all eyes were glazed, all jaws were slack.

The President stood up and stared out his bay windows. “This can’t be how we end. We didn’t create the greatest global communications network, we didn’t put a man on the Moon just to be rubbed out under a young woman’s pert and rosy bottom! What the hell is going on here?”

Messages popped up on Senator Hamilton’s tablet too quickly to be managed. It began to overheat with all the reports coming in, so he set it aside, then promptly covered his lap with it, crossing his legs.

The Secretary of the Interior glared at him. “Randy? Do you seriously have an erection right now?”

The Vice President also crossed his legs, and the President wouldn’t turn away from the windows.

Secretary Padilla leaped from her chair. “For fuck’s sake! If the greatest nation in the world is being run by a bunch of goddamned horny teenagers, I guess we get what we deserve!” She kicked her chair over, stormed out to the hallway, and shouted, “Bring it on, giantess! I’m glad you’re here! Wipe this fucking mistake of a country off the map!” Immediately she was surrounded by press and staffers, through whom she had to fight her way back to her office.

Vice President Vetter looked at the Secretary of State. “She has a pretty nice ass, though.”

“Phenomenal,” declared the President of the United States.

*   *   *

After Mari lodged the Rockefeller Memorial Chapel and Oriental Institute Museum deep between her butt cheeks, just because she could, she got up and danced a very stompy, thorough dance all over the rest of campus. There was an awful lot, and while her feet were huge, they were only so big… but she did have a lot of time on her hands.

The news ‘copters kept their respectful distance as they recorded the absolute and total devastation of the University of Chicago. Anchors recited the buildings that were being destroyed beneath the boots of the “Sexy-Patriot Giantess”, as she was branded over social media. All of this slipped beneath her notice as she made a project of pulverizing everything that lay between the I-94 Express and the Lake Michigan shoreline. It took concentration and dedication, but Bronzeville resembled South Side and Washington Park, in that they were nothing but a long, flat field of gray, brown, and black. No more roads and railways, no more houses or buildings.

In fact, this was all too easy for her. Granted, Lovely Mari was an indomitable, invulnerable goddess and a vastly powerful witch, but even so, this widespread chaos struck her as… uneventful.

Lovely Mari froze in her tracks, a mile-high testament to both primal destruction and explosive sexuality. Her crimson eyes narrowed, her heart-shaped pupils constricted, as wheels began to turn in her head. The forward guns of the HMS Queen Elizabeth began to warm up in the sunshine, sloping a little heavily to one side of her skull…

Guns! The beautiful giantess’s eyes sprang wide open. She turned about, focusing her glare upon the landscape around her, scrutinizing it for detail from her astounding height. And she looked south, over her wake of ruin, and she looked north, where she had not been yet…

“Where the fuck is everybody?” she cried aloud. This was wrong! All this time, she’d been rolling over homes and businesses and institutions of education and leadership, and there was nobody even in them? There were no droves of panicked citizens creating traffic jams in their hare-brained flight. There were no ridiculous squads of angry men in green or black or blue, or any color, firing at her with their pathetic little pea-shooters.

It was a little creepy, she realized. Everyone was gone. She’d visited alien planets where no life existed, and that was reasonable, but Earth was bustling with life. It was covered in stupid bugs building stupid buildings and crying over their losses when she blessed them with her presence. Yet there was no one here at all.

She thought hard: when she first appeared, yes, she felt some souls flow into her when she stomped up to the harbor, but when did that stop? Mari bit her finger and hummed in concentration.

“Is this a trick?” she yelled, her powerful volume disabling one of the news ‘copters and sending it spinning into the lake. “Are you tryin’ to trick me, stupid bugs? Where the heck are ya?”

Out came her fat bottom lip in a sad pout. She made fists in her fingerless gloves and planted them on her hips. After all the time and effort she put into this incredibly sexy outfit! And this is the thanks she got? It was almost enough… to make a gigantic, beautiful goddess cry…

But she wouldn’t! Crying was for stupid bugs after she devastated their cities. Goddesses like her were never defeated: they only set their sights on something bigger.

She turned north. Mari’s sweet pink lips curled into a cunning smile. “Fine, if that’s how ya want it.” She walked up to the waterfront and scraped the train tracks next to Highway 41 away. “Go ahead, hide away like stupid, burrowing worms. That’s fine.” She strode back to the interstate and ground the Institute of Technology into dust beneath one combat boot. “You can hide and wait for me to be gone before you come back. I guess it’s my job to make sure there ain’t nothin’ here for you to come back to.”

Throwing back her head in laughter, she stomped a series of magnitude 7 earthquakes all the way across Chinatown and South Loop and Printer’s Town, heading unerringly into the center of Chicago proper.

*   *   *

“Are we ready?” hissed the anchor. “Check your batteries.”

“Fully charged,” hissed the cameraman. “Camera, mic, all green. Check your mic.”

The anchor tapped the foam head of his mic and glanced at the mixer, doubling up on transmission. The mixer checked his levels and nodded silently.

“Let me know when we’re live,” hissed the anchor. The mixer stared at his smartphone, then raised his hand silently, gesturing four… three… two… and pointed at the anchor.

The anchor stood by a window and spoke clearly at the cameraman. “This is WGN field reporter Terrell Palmer, coming at you live from abandoned Lower Beaubien Court. Doubtlessly you’ve been watching the big story of the day: a gigantic woman, estimated to be around five thousand feet tall, has been tearing her way up from south Chicago to downtown proper.

“Your intrepid news team has penetrated the military cordon in place and”—Terrell made a big show of looking out the window—”I can confirm visual ID of the Sexy-Patriot Giantess! I see her… wow… upper body over Grant Park, coming at us from Chinatown.” He motioned at the cameraman, and the visual feed scrambled from a comfortable Millennium Park Plaza apartment to the shaky footage of Lovely Mari’s torso, far in the distance yet rising far overhead Prairie District.

From off-camera Terrell concluded his broadcast with the promise of updates as events warrant. The mixer hissed, “A-a-a-and you’re off the air. Station says they’ll return to us in two minutes.” He looked up from his phone. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Terrell sneered at the young man. “This is award-winning journalism, bitch. This is history in the making. If you wanted to stay safe, you should’ve stuck to MMD giantess videos in your mom’s goddamn basement.” He straightened his tie and pressed his cheek to the window. “Goddamn, look at those titties. I could get lost in those for weeks.” He turned, laughing to the cameraman. “You know? Don’t even call the National Guard! Just leave me alone! Let me die in that wilderness!”

The cameraman traded glances with the mixer. They concurred on the anchor’s intelligence, and they were pretty sure they were going to die.

Michigan Avenue is a long, wide street, even by a giantess’s standards. When Lovely Mari approached it, she knew this was the best place to start her official parade.

Her abs, muscular and ample, tensed as she drew two deep lungfuls of air and thrust her impressive rack into the lower atmosphere. Arms straight at her sides, heels together in battered combat boots, the witchy goddess thrust her chin forward and belted out the first bars of “Stars and Stripes Forever” in an earnest, enthusiastic a cappella at the top of her lungs.

It wasn’t good, but it was earnest and enthusiastic. With every punishing stomp of her boots up Michigan Avenue, her tremendous thighs rippled impressively with incalculable power. Her huge, round bottom danced and shivered in time to her song, swaying and jumping with each impact. She saluted no one, or the entire city, in her fingerless gloves, swinging her head left and right to take in all of downtown Chicago’s achievements, even as her earthquakes crumbled the stronger buildings and shattered the lesser ones.

That was the moment the Second Division flooded from around the corners, pouring in from Wacker and Lake and Randolph. With precision and utmost skill, the mechanized infantry assumed their positions to the north of the giantess and promptly lit her up. Howitzers blazed, mortars pounded, and tens of thousands of troops flooded every square foot of the pavement and washed around her boots.

In a moment of surprise, Lovely Mari paused and stood stock-still, taking in the miniature scene. The soldiers, the seamen, the airmen and Marines were mere particles she could only perceive if she strained her superior vision. Here were the bugs she was waiting for, and they hauled out all their little toys, even if they were pathetically useless. Mari’s head tilted to one side and she grinned warmly at the miserable wretches; her heart spread with warmth at the realization she had not been forgotten or ignored. Chicago was only saving up a surprise for her!

She wished the city were a big, tall man she could hug in gratitude, in that moment. This was such a sweet surprise, just when she had been feeling like the ugly girl at the dance! Chicago loved her after all, and she loved it back.

And this was how she showed that love. One huge combat boot lifted into the air, hovered over the troops pouring out of their transport vehicles, and hammered them into a thin layer of liquid and dirt in a single instant. They didn’t even have time to register the pain: they were there one second, and then they weren’t.

Armaments fired upon her shins, only thinly protected by her red- or blue-striped tights. The tights weathered it much worse than her legs did: the artillery warmed, heated, then melted spots in her stockings. As the fabric melted, it cauterized in large circles, so at least her stockings didn’t run, but still! Mari searched for those things for at least five minutes, and the Army had the gall to ruin them?

That just meant they had to be taught a lesson. Even if, historically, they never learned from the many, many other lessons she’d endeavored to teach them. Very well!

*   *   *

Drummond stared at the images in disbelief. That news crew was committing suicide. Did they know that? He watched their vantage perspective, following the assault of joint military forces upon his beautiful goddess. Even though he knew, or largely surmised, that she was completely invulnerable to their best attacks, he still had a sick knot in his stomach at witnessing the tremendous firepower they were unleashing.

And what was the federal government thinking? This was larger than a SWAT/SpecOps co-op. This was a concerted effort… Drummond squinted his eyes and hissed. What did this mean? Were they actually−

“Can I come out yet?” cried the teen’s plaintive voice.

Without looking, Drummond whipped his .45 out of holster and fired behind himself once, in the general direction of the stolen Cleveland library.

*   *   *

Lovely Mari condescended to kneel, only long enough to pummel the military onslaught with her hands. Her laughter echoed against the buildings as her arms shot out in all directions, slamming the tanks and transports into scrap metal, her palms smearing the 0.07” soldiers into delicate red streaks across the pavement. They were impossible to see! Mari had to trust they were even there! And she did, lashing out and laughing, wasting hundreds of troops whose loss Secretary Drake would have to account for later.

“Take that!” she cackled, punching the ground with semi-naked fists (but for those fingerless gloves she found in the back of her armoire). “Take that, and that! Hi-i-i-i yah!” She shaped her fingers and fists into various configurations: punching the soldiers with fists, punching them with bent knuckles, stabbing at them with extended fingers, chopping at them stylistically with the edge of her extended hand. However she did it, the results were always the same: staggering losses of enlisted fathers, brothers, husbands, pulped into jelly and coating Michigan Avenue.

Then the Air Force and Navy joined in the chorus of their own destruction, as wave upon wave of fighter jets swooped down upon her. Many fired useless rounds of ammo into her, anti-tank and anti-personnel. These were acceptable expenditures by Secretary Saucier’s estimation: in her own way, the gorgeous young giantess was stimulating the economy by necessitating the revitalization of domestic armaments like the United States would have in a conventional war.

Others launched missiles against her, all sorts of missiles, just everything they had lying around. Branches of government viewed Lovely Mari as an opportunity to blow through their old inventory, frankly, firing things they knew could have no effect, just to get them out of storage. Branches of government were lazy and cynical, it should be known.

Mari giggled her way through the smaller jets, the scramblers, the dinky little birds that shot things at her, and she swatted her way through them. Even kneeling, her upper body extended well above the tallest skyscrapers in Chicago, so the aircraft could approach her from every direction they wished. She took her time, she weighted her shots, and every second or third time she hurled a massive, slender arm through the lower atmosphere, her palm or an errant finger collided with an aircraft and flattened it in mid-air. Sometimes the pilot ejected before impact; most times he didn’t. It was pathetically anticlimactic every time. She might as well have been swinging at random, instead of her calculated, timed strikes, for all the glory these fighters met with. One caught her palm broadside and flattened against the number seven shaped by the wrinkles in her palm. Another was torn in half by the fingernail of her ring finger, when she drew back after swiping at nothing. Accidents, intentional hits, they were all the same: the young goddess swatted the annoying little bugs out of the air, even as they unloaded everything they had at her.

And she only laughed. They dumped hundreds of thousands of rounds at her belly, they targeted her tremendous boobs with missiles, and Mari never stopped laughing during the entire assault. They never stopped firing at her, their ricochets and misfires devastating the Atlantic Bank, the Michigan Galleries, the downtown branch of the Illinois State University. It’s just that their devastation took much longer, was a much more tedious process than Mari’s efficient and elegant mauling of the metro area. How many hundreds of thousands of dollars was the United States government dumping into leveling their own major city, with no effect upon the giantess threat, when the capricious witch could have done a better, quicker, more thorough job for free?

But they never asked her. The gorgeous and all-powerful giantess tried not to feel hurt about that. If the government wanted to lay waste to their major metropolitan centers—as they were clearly doing right this second—she likely would have volunteered, but they never asked her. Well, this is what they got instead: second-rate devastation for the top dollar.

Lovely Mari had just sniffed in disgust at the last of the fighter jets, one of which got stuck under her fingernail, when the bombers came in. Now things got a little serious: missiles and high-caliber rounds were one thing (a very useless thing), but bombers could haul much larger packages of disruption, and a fleet of bombers could level an entire nation. Not the United States, of course, but many of the smaller nations throughout Africa or even Eastern Europe. All these bombs were being deployed upon Lovely Mari, as she knelt deep into Michigan Avenue.

*   *   *

“Are you catching this?” Terrell hissed desperately at his cameraman, who was very obviously catching all of it. They had kicked out a window of their appropriated executive apartment, and the young man was leaning nearly halfway out of the building to point his camera at Mari’s shoulder blades as she raked the sky clean of swarming fighter jets. He would have leaned out farther, but in no way did he trust the anchor’s judgment or grip.

“When are we back on?”

The mixer checked his phone. “Ninety seconds. I’ll signal you.”

Terrell shot him a disgusted look. He clearly believed himself to be the only competent person on the forward team of WGN, sneaking an incredibly illegal and foolhardy photo op of the disaster unfolding—nay, blossoming—in downtown Chicago. “I can’t believe the size of that booty,” Terrell uttered irreverently. “I’m telling you, all I need is a weekend alone with that bitch, and I’d show her who’s the boss.”

The cameraman closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. The mixer shook his head and sucked all his words back in. They secretly hoped the Sexy-Patriot Giantess would kill them sooner rather than later, if for no other reason than to shut Terrell up.

*   *   *

The bombs came, as the secret WGN crew watched and, with them, the rest of the nation.

There were those in the United States who detested the marauding giantess and hoped this sortie of bombers would be the end of her.

There were others, mostly men of all ages, who wanted to see more (much more) of the young goddess and hoped she would survive this round. They forgot she’d survived much worse than this because they were used to serial programming and had a hard time differentiating the real world from reality television. Even though Mari was under no threat now, they assumed that because she was appearing in a later “episode”, the threat was somehow escalated. It was certainly an impressive pyrotechnic display, yes, as the federal government authorized the disposal of  unwanted munitions upon the giantess, but it had as much destructive effect upon her as a light back massage. They should have known this, the sizable population of horny and undereducated males, but they forgot, and they were on the edge of their seats, following the action as reported by the soon-to-be-doomed WGN forward crew.

Lovely Mari was unaware of all of these, and if anyone had the faculty to point these out to her, she couldn’t have cared any less. The beautiful young goddess was in her element: planes were swarming around her, tanks were poofing their little sparks of flame at her, soldiers were presumably rushing up at her and stabbing or shooting or whatever they felt they could do, and it was all useless. She laughed, the lovely witch did, she canted her head back and her throat rippled with hard, exuberant laughter as the idiotic bugs did their best and it was nowhere near good enough.

Until she felt some light taps against her scalp. That was entirely unfamiliar, while she was in this realm. Tapping? No one had the ability to do that. She reached one fingerless-gloved hand behind her head and felt a spot of warmth; a triangular-shaped plane zipped past her head and pulled a hard right away from her.

What was this? The Tinies… they couldn’t have actually designed something she would even notice, could they? Mari’s brow furrowed and she bit her upper lip, pausing her own action to think about this.

And while she thought, the next sortie swooped in and dropped heavy, nonnuclear bombs upon her shoulders. Two strayed around her neck and deposited themselves between her breasts, and the sensation was mildly pleasant, but one bomb went far off course and struck just in front of her ear.

Lovely Mari blinked twice, hard. Her fingertips flew to the side of her head, where the bomb struck. She took a deep breath, and moisture began to form in her panties, the thong fashioned from American flags.

The bomb had detonated in one of her… private spots. And now she was in a mood.

*   *   *

The secret WGN forward team asked a question. Drummond, watching their feed, asked himself the same question. The Secretary of State, the Vice President, and the President himself also asked this question, merely wondering aloud rather than expecting a definitive answer. They all shared the same state of disbelief, on the wave of realization.

“Is the giantess blushing?”

*   *   *

On the ground, the remaining soldiers had broken into two camps. No news crew picked up on this, and it was not called in to DC just yet, and it was happening entirely outside of the witchy goddess’s perception.

Among the joint military forces between the Army, Navy, Air Force, and what few troops the Marines could spare, there was nearly an even split in allegiance. On the one side were the hardcore, dedicated troops with unquestioning loyalty to their nation. They unloaded everything they had at the Sexy-Patriot Giantess, emptying their magazines, reloading their tanks. They targeted and fired; they adjusted and fired. They were going to defend their homeland to the last man, the last round.

Amid them an insurgence welled up. These were the hot-blooded men and women who had seen the glory of this magnificent giantess and sided with her. Some of them believed she was the superior force and would command the day, and they wanted to be on the winning side. By and large, however, they had seen how her boobs overshadowed two Chicago blocks, and they had peeked up between her overwhelmingly powerful thighs, into the depths of her crotch, and that was what they dedicated themselves to. That salacious, prurient beauty commanded their hearts and minds, and within one hot second they turned against their fellow man. They took over Humvees, they commandeered tanks, they took on the Infantry with their bare fists in defense of the triumphant monument of roiling sexuality that Lovely Mari represented to them.

And while the nationalists may have had equipment on their side, they were overpowered by the heart of the sybarites.

Far below Lovely Mari’s jutting breasts, well below her skimpy little skirt and bulging thighs, there was another war waging on Michigan Avenue. It baffled the viewers of WGN, it nearly defeated the viewer in the Pentagon and the White House, and it entirely escaped the notice of the capricious and voluptuous young giantess.

It was just another funny thing that happened on this peculiar day.

*   *   *

But the relentless throbbing of bombs bursting on her scalp and shoulders did have a cumulative effect. They wouldn’t stop, as wave after wave of bombers brought increasingly powerful explosions. The government had nearly cleaned out their cache of WWII munitions and was breaking into the newer stuff, even some experimental bombs. That meant they didn’t always work, but usually they did.

And when they worked, they felt comfortable. Mari liked the bombs that did their job… maybe not to their fullest intended capacity, but as the bombs got stronger, her shoulders and upper body flowed with a pleasant warmth. More and more, it felt like friendly fists kneading at the tension between her shoulder blades, or firm fingertips soothing the stress out of her scalp. Yes, it was soothing and even sensual, and Mari grinned to herself at the delightful effect of the United States’ escalating assault.

If this kept up, she might not…

Mari laughed. No, nothing would stop her from methodically destroying the entire United States. Not even this lovely massage.

To give the bombers better access to the knotted muscles lining her spine, she once again fell to all fours, arching northward along Michigan Avenue. This motivated the warring forces beneath her to polarize their encampments even further: the Mari-worshipers scrambled to assault all the nationalists, who had mockingly trained all their weapons upon the giantess’s pendulous breasts, which now swung not that far overhead. “Mockingly”, because at this point the military forces realized their assault had no effect on the giantess, and they were merely firing to deplete their inventory of ammunition, which used a lot of fuel to transport from site to site. They would have hell to pay when they got back to the rear, of course, having to justify the tremendous expenditure of munitions, but odds were they wouldn’t survive long enough to face their superiors anyway.

They were slightly mistaken in their assessment, however: the barrage could, when properly trained, administer a slightly stimulating effect upon the giantess’s 100’-wide areolae, which they could hardly miss. And as it amused them to do so, they focused a cross-fire upon her nipples, and the steady pounding of explosions did slowly suffuse into her tender tissues and coax her nipples into an aroused state. So they weren’t entirely useless.

In fact, this set the stage for the next wave of assault, dispatched by Washington DC, so many hundreds of miles away. It seemed that vehicles and launchers were being airlifted to Interstate 90. Safely deployed, they roared up West Congress Parkway and banked north on Michigan Avenue, engaging the giantess from behind.

These large, long, dark green flatbeds bore munitions of the nuclear variety. As Mari knelt over the divided factions of joint military forces, swinging her boobs over their best vehicles and troops, large trailers positioned themselves to take the burden of navigation off the missile controllers. And all of these were pointed directly at Lovely Mari’s pronounced rear end.

*   *   *

Terrell stared in amazement. “That’s some serious ammo they’re going to shoot up their ass.”

The mixer glanced at the cameraman. “Uh, how serious are we talking about?”

The cameraman lifted his camera from the treacherous, treasonous infighting troops and angled it past the giantess’s gorgeous hips. He stared into his view screen in disbelief, then looked up at his team. Speaking very slowly and clearly, he said, “If the giantess doesn’t kill us, our own government is about to.”

*   *   *

Drummond followed the cameraman’s trajectory from Mari’s bedroom. He was stunned to see the enlisted personnel turning against each other for no apparent reason (he had a guess but didn’t want to discredit the nation’s fighting forces so easily), but when the scene lifted to catch the missile carriers, his blood turned cold.

He knew his goddess was remarkable. He knew she was capable of many amazing things, in defiance of all known laws of physics. Some of that was magic, and some of it was the nature of her awesome presence. But the missiles being wheeled in now, large and black and nested in honeycombs that raised, adjusted, and aimed right up where the beautiful woman’s thighs met...

He used the crystal to flip through channels but they all showed the same thing, just from worse angles than WGN had illegally managed to secure.

“Come back to me,” Drummond whispered to the images on her wall.

*   *   *

Mari grinned at the ridiculous little soldiers. It required a lot of focus to train her vision upon the eensy-weensie little specks, but she could see little guys hopping out of tanks and staging fist-fights in the street. Some of them stood still, waving their arms and trying to reason with their peers; others went straight to violence, picking up objects or even using their own rifles against each other, causing groups of them to scatter for cover behind their own military vehicles, their tanks and HMMWVs and Blazers, and return fire.

There was absolutely no way to tell who was firing upon whom, whether the nationalists had started it or the Mari-worshippers had taken the initiative. But all of this was happening in the nighttime formed by the witchy goddess’s body blocking out the sun for blocks around. So huge was her torso, rising so many yards and spreading so wide, sunlight couldn’t even reflect off the buildings and reach the troops. So the benighted soldiers labored on, fighting against each other, launching heavier artillery up at Mari’s tremendously spherical breasts.

This felt wonderful to her. More than the thrill of puny little explosives setting off tingling sensations up and down her cleavage and all around her diamond-tipped nipples, there was now the thrill of her mere presence setting the population at odds with itself. She could sense their conflicting motivations: waves of would-be heroes trying in vain to defend their country, and stronger, hotter waves of horny young men who wanted nothing as badly as the pleasure of Mari’s intimate company and were willing to kill anyone who stood in their way, even their own brothers.

The conflict warmed her like the embers of a small fire waiting for the least provocation to explode into an inferno. And the dull, red glow of this conflict only glistened against Lovely Mari’s pearly teeth, as she smiled upon them. It reflected in her crimson eyes, and it sparkled in the tip of her tongue as she slowly licked her lips. All those bombs, they were really warming her up: she felt a delicious shiver of pleasure run down her spine, from her tingling scalp to the velvety comfort spreading throughout her hips.

She was not aware of the entire city, things going on around her elsewhere. Any other time, she might have been: her wisdom was great and her senses were heightened, but when she focused on something, the witchy goddess tended to block everything else out. And right now she was being entertained by the tiny, hateful specks warring among themselves, just below her enormous swinging breasts. She laughed at them, sometimes she urged them on—not wishing for either side to prevail, but just for more fighting, more conflict, greater struggle. It made her laugh, to see these pathetic, weak, insignificant things caring so much about concepts so far beyond their grasp: they couldn’t defend the nation, and they couldn’t earn the love of this goddess.

Lovely Mari only watched her breasts swaying above the tiny fighting dots as they migrated to one area, then shifted to another part of the street, like particles of dust being moved by slight gusts of wind. But her breasts were much more interesting, both to her and to the combatants, the loyalists and traitors. Mari shifted her right shoulder toward the dark and glassy building hosting Argosy University, and her massive breasts broke through the air to shatter levels five through twelve. With its modern construction, it bore the brunt of Mari’s massive mammary and stood, deeply caved in, professional offices exposed, lights flickering and failing, the air foggy with teensy paperwork and processing orders.

She threw her weight to her left arm, and her huge left tit took out the historic Carbide and Carbon Building. As this was structured only to hold the floors above it, it went down like a stack of cards, crumpling in the middle in slow motion both to her and the awestruck troops beneath her left boob. Some of them turned and fled, very few of them; the rest gaped in shock, watching the voluptuous breast roll like a planet into the vintage architecture, hearing the solid stone blocks cry out with abuse, then watching all the upper floors tilt, slide, and float horribly down to the earth upon them.

They didn’t even move, Mari noted. Maybe a dozen quick-thinking soldiers started to retreat to the east side of the street, but they were far too small and far too slow, and the chunky masonry caught them quickly. But most of them just stood there, as though they were tiny splotches of ink on the canvas of the street. Mari wondered why they didn’t even try to flee. It was pointless, of course, but weren’t they scared? What could they have been thinking, as the upper floors of business offices and the huge stone blocks that framed them came raining from the sky, crushing their vehicles like flimsy tin cans and wiping out the minuscule soldiers like nothing?

Mari only tilted her fine head with curiosity, watching the platoons disappear beneath the building. Her golden hair spilled over one shoulder, and her enormous boobs slowed down in their pendulous swinging while she observed the disaster with a little confusion. But just a little.

To test a theory, Mari inched forward, northward up Michigan Avenue, where fresh and untouched buildings awaited. She did the same thing: lowering her chest to let her powerful nipples brush just above the military vehicles, then swinging her boobs into a large, mirrored building under construction on her right. Glass shattered into powder, raining upon the tiny specks below her tit, and some of them fled and others didn’t. Maybe they were dead already… or maybe they held their ground like the other stupid specks before them. This was so strange! What were they thinking?

Mari looked to her left, judging where next to introduce her indomitable boob, when a flood of warmth and excitement spread all over the backs of her thighs, her huge and firm butt cheeks, and… deep into her private and sacred womanhood. Outrage counterbalanced intense pleasure at this unexpected sensation, fighting like the insignificant dust beneath her glorious bosom, and all of this was heightened by her surprise. What just happened? There wasn’t enough room for her to crane her head back and look: it was all she could do to sink to her elbows and pant, gasping for air with the intense sensation of pleasure that overtook her.

*   *   *

The rest of the country knew. Anyone tuning in to WGN’s trespassing news team saw the olive drab flatbeds suddenly engulfed in smoke and bright fire, as series of missiles launched and tore away with real anger through the air. They leaped out of their cages like hornets, and they raced straight and true into the witchy goddess’s tender womanhood. The rogue news team tracked it from their position, just over Mari’s right shoulder and past her supple hip: they caught all the military fury that shot the missiles up into her.

What was the logic behind this, wondered Drummond, staring at his image feed in horror. This was at the very least profoundly unprofessional… The terms flooded through his head: conduct unbecoming. The most powerful euphemism the military had to offer, a mild phrase that barely hinted at the most egregious offenses, from a drunk soldier beating up an old woman to the rape and pillaging of Asian villages. “Conduct unbecoming” covered a multitude of illnesses.

Another was “lacking military bearing”. The military had so much pride in itself, so much pride in its legacy and achievements. But in practice, in close examination, the larger victories were a distraction from the tiny offenses like this. Focusing their firepower at a gigantic woman, specifically aiming for her vulva, puffy labia beneath an innocent pair of panties, no matter the size… this was an insult. This was some sick bastard’s idea of a joke. It was conduct unbecoming a disciplined soldier, and it lacked military bearing. Drummond’s fists clenched his goddess’s bedsheets until his white knuckles threatened to burst through his skin.

*   *   *

The WGN cameraman caught the mile-long giantess’s expression, as well as the explosions that went off. It’s to his credit, that he had the clarity of mind to document the violence and then swivel and refocus to record Mari’s reaction. This created a combined image, a juxtaposition that would capture the American imagination for weeks afterward.

The image was this, from the mostly steady cameraman’s vantage point.

The long and overly beautiful body of the giantess was arched over Michigan Avenue, with her scanty clothing showing off her succulent, large breasts and her ample, rounded hips. Her powerful thigh drove into the pavement, and a perfectly sculpted calf stretched behind her, as her leg tucked into gargantuan combat boots on the sidewalk.

At least two flatbed trucks, from the camera’s perspective, positioned themselves behind her enormous feet, and the launchers they hauled woke up from their sleep and focused, almost magnetically, on the young giantess’s ass. The viewership across the nation was shocked by this: sure, Mari was an unstoppable force of nature, ruining the greatest works of mankind without a second thought (or even a first, sometimes), but to train devastating military ordinance upon the private parts of a woman was… disgraceful.

Some were into it. Some wanted to see where this was going.

Others were shocked at the overtly sexual display, imagining some corpulent general somewhere gripping his cock and jacking off to his own orders.

The rest were horrified and disappointed that the defenders of the nation would lower themselves, cheapen themselves to this point. A few expected it, the military was mostly oversexed boys straight out of high school, and the career soldiers saw no reason to grow beyond that stage of development as it represented youth and excitement to them. But to show it off like this…

The American people wished they had the strength to turn off their TVs, but they had to see how this was going to pan out.

The launchers raised, fire blossomed from their rears, and dozens of angry needles flew out and disappeared behind Mari’s hips, her skimpy little skirts.

There were explosions. There were furious and devastating explosions, and they erupted from beneath the giantess’s skirt. It seemed that the missiles detonated and attempted to rip through reality as they usually did, but were reflected back by Mari’s pert bottom. The explosions, instead of shredding her skin, turned back and melted the flatbed trucks and the people running them. Her combat boots were unharmed, but the sidewalk fused into glass and the street evaporated with an energy that resembled vengeance. Flames shot up in a frightening column that reached toward the sky, but ultimately fizzled out somewhere just south of Mari’s butt.

This was when the cameraman panned just slightly to the right, the center of his image refocusing on her curvaceous hip, her trim waist, her gently rounded shoulder, and then the cute expression of surprise that lit up on her face. It wasn’t horror, it wasn’t even pain: her sculpted eyebrows lifted with adorable gentleness, her eyes widened cartoonishly, and her sweet, pink lips pursed into a nearly perfect O.

She was only startled. The mile-long giantess who had attacked Green Bay, Detroit, Cleveland, and the Four Corners Monument, was only mildly startled by the torrent of nuclear warheads.

But the camera kept rolling, focused on Lovely Mari’s tremendous face. Her head was much larger than a house, larger even than small buildings in the area. It was only because the illegal news crew was far enough away that they could pull back and capture the entirety of the beautiful young giantess’s visage.

After she was done being surprised, her eyelids sagged heavily, a rosy blush emerged in her cheeks, and her mouth opened. From her mouth, a huge, glistening pink tongue poured out and weighed upon her swollen bottom lip, and the giantess began to pant heavily. Her shoulders heaved, and her alert posture sagged between her upper arms, as her gargantuan body started to rock back and forth with her breath. Deep gusts of wind raced back and forth as Mari’s breath roared up and down Michigan Avenue, the buildings echoing with her heavy breathing.

*   *   *

“The fuck is that?” wondered Terrell. “Is that some kind of… self-defense mechanism? Is she recharging?”

The cameraman rolled his eyes at the news anchor.

The mixer laughed and looked up for one second, only to explain: “I think she’s aroused.”

*   *   *

Drummond couldn’t believe his eyes. That barrage would have taken out a tank, a squadron of tanks, any block in the city, and all it did was arouse her.

Just look at her, blushing and panting like that… the camera zeroing in on her sensual and sleepy eyes, her sweet mouth, her moist, pink tongue, so cutely shaped in a perfect half-circle… her tongue throbbing, her throat flexing to gulp down the air…

And now Drummond was aroused. He knew that mouth, he knew the scent of her breath. His eyes grew wider as he leaned toward the images on Mari’s bedroom wall, and his manhood stiffened in his black BDU pants. His goddess was an entire world away from him, but… he could watch this. He reclined upon Mari’s mattress, kicked Mari’s sheets away with his tiny legs, and slowly undid his belt buckle, unbuttoning his pants, while staring intently at the face of his goddess.

*   *   *

“Oh, my gosh… what did you do,” Mari muttered quietly.

Whatever the specks did, it changed all the thoughts in her head. She was testing the structural integrity of the buildings lining the avenue, when suddenly it felt like some very skilled and gentle fingers reached down between her thighs and… played with her… very sensitively.

All other thoughts drained out of her head. Her vision narrowed until it was hard even to see the joint military forces beneath her huge breasts… Warmth flooded her entire body; it was like lava coursing through her veins, but a good lava, one that carried a very different kind of energy… an energy that generated between her thighs...

“I can’t… I have to do this, right now,” she gasped. While the camera rolled, the mile-long witchy goddess twisted herself in space and threw her back to the avenue.

It was an impressive sight, so much agility in something so massive. Mari merely tucked her left arm sharply under her right, and when her shoulders twisted she straightened out her left leg and dumped all her weight into her right. The momentum carried throughout her entire body: she spun counter-clockwise in the low atmosphere, and there was maybe a second of weightlessness as she rotated and adjusted with expert coordination.

Then her shoulders slammed into Michigan Avenue, and these completely wiped out all the joint military forces that had massed up from East Lake Street and streamed down to come get her. All of them, every last man and vehicle, every last nationalist and Mari-worshipper: they were all much less than a little humidity in the shirt that strained so valiantly to contain her rebellious and voluptuous boobs.

She twisted at the waist, and her lower back slammed into the street, taking care of any wandering vehicles or troops that strayed too far south. The impact ground through the buildings on both sides, finishing off the ruined constructions and inviting terrible new disasters to the surrounding real estate. Gas lines ruptured and exploded; electrical fires sparked and spread rapidly; huge, heavy things fell upon and into other huge, heavy things. Everywhere on either side of Mari’s washboard abs was wanton destruction and mayhem, getting worse by the minute.

And even as her tremendous breasts swung upward toward the sky, punishing the tied shirt that restrained them, even as they heaved their weight up and rocked sensually upon her chest, it was Lovely Mari’s glorious ass that may have done the most damage. Once her shoulders had settled, and right after her back aligned and flattened the avenue, her hips and proud buttocks and powerful thighs descended upon the soldiers and the formerly lethal flatbed trucks they ran. Each swelling cheek throbbed with the impact, pounding two tremendous craters into the street and ruining all the sewers and fiber optic cable that ran beneath it. Her thighs settled upon the flatbed trucks and flattened them into thin layers of pressed metal, completely unrecognizable from what they were mere seconds before. All the people were of course gone, there was no question of this. The only people in the area, the only survivors were, of course…

*   *   *

Terrell ordered the cameraman to tighten up on the giantess’s hips. He could see something was going to happen there, the way her two hands drifted over her belly and plucked at the hem of her teeny-tiny skirt. But he could also see from the mixer’s monitor that the cameraman was having trouble raising his shot past her tremendous left boob. It dominated the screen, and the high resolution faithfully captured every single rolling motion, every shudder, every heave as it rose and fell with the giantess’s breath.

Terrell was furious, as he’d been working on a small script to announce the scene to his audience, but as he stared at Mari’s absolutely perfect breast, all coherent thought fled his mind.

*   *   *

Drummond jerked off. That is all.

*   *   *

Members of the cabinet were doing the same. The President ordered guards to keep everyone, especially the Secretaries of the Interior and of Homeland Security, out of the Oval Office no matter what. The Secretary of State had thrown up WGN’s news feed from his tablet to a widescreen TV and he, the President, and the Vice President were wordlessly taking care of business.

*   *   *

Mari gasped and licked her lips, panting heavily. Her right hand tugged savagely at her tiny little skirt, then disappeared between her massive thighs; her left hand undertook the insurmountable task of heaving her left boob out of her shirt and attempting to hold it and please it at the same time. It took most of her arm to hoist the large, round beast up, and most of her hand and fingers to knead at her nipple, stroke her areola, and clutch at the monstrously huge boob the rest of the time.

“Oh boy…” Mari murmured. “This is gonna be a big one. What did you… stupid little Tinies do to me…”

Her thighs tensed and bulged, lifting her knees toward the skies and above any of the remaining buildings in her area. The heels of her combat boots raised, then dug violently into the ground, plowing through yards of pavement. Mari bit her lip with large, perfect teeth, her shoulders nestling into the accommodating pavement of what used to be Michigan Avenue, and the fingertips of her right hand plucked her red, white, and blue panties to one side.

*   *   *

The camera crew picked all this up. Nobody cut their feed, as the entire nation was glued to their screens now.

“Are you getting this,” asked Terrell repeatedly, breathlessly. It was a reflex and nobody answered him, because of-fucking-course they were getting this. What else was there to see?

All three WGN staff were rock hard, as well. They couldn’t tend to their erections, as badly as they wanted to, because they were equally hypnotized into documenting this once-in-a-lifetime sensation. When would they ever get the chance to watch an incredibly gorgeous giantess masturbate herself right in the open like this? Who’d ever heard of anything like this?

The three men watched silently: the cameraman with his camera, the mixer with his monitor, and Terrell Palmer with his bare eyes. “Are you getting this,” he asked for the hundredth time.

They watched her huge breasts rock back and forth, both from her left hand kneading one desperately, and from her tremendous body writhing in mounting pleasure.

They watched her right hand glistening in the sun, the few times it came up, and they were even able to capture the sound of her wet slurping when her hand plunged between her thighs, over and over.

They caught the sound of the giantess gasping, “This isn’t enough… I need something more, something inside me,” and they recorded her huge left hand detaching from her planetary boob and flying toward the only intact building in the area, the Millennium Park Plaza.

Mari’s palm grew wider, spreading over their entire view, flying straight at the camera crew with splayed and hungry fingers.

And then the WGN feed went dark.

*   *   *

An hour later, Lovely Mari’s combat boots clomped up the staircase of her little house in the woods. “I’m ho-o-o-ome!” she hollered, loving the fact there was someone to shout this to. She bounded through the door of her bedroom and flung her arms wide.

“It was awesome! I held a parade, and there were trucks and soldiers and fireworks and everything!” She laughed and kicked off her combat boots, then threw herself onto the foot of her bed to flex her cute toes and air her feet out. “Did you see me, Drummond?”

The little SWAT officer sat in the middle of her bed, his clothes rumpled and his face flushed. He pulled up the sheets over his legs when she sat on the bed.

Mari’s heart-shaped pupils expanded in concern. “Are you okay, lil’ buddy? Somethin’ happen to you while I was gone?” She reached out to press the back of her index finger to his forehead. But all he saw was her enormous breast swinging toward him, with the blue shirt tied under her boobs, stretched to capacity.

“I, uh,” Drummond said. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, lil’ SWAT guy, what’s up?” The giantess grabbed a fistful of bedsheets and snatched them away. She discovered the tiny little man was only wearing his shirt and jacket, and had removed his pants, socks and boots for some reason. He quickly covered himself with tiny little hands. “What the heck is this, Drummond? Where are the rest o’ yer clothes?”

He blushed deeply, but the officer explained to her—with great reluctance—that he had been watching her on the news. There was one news team that snuck in to cover her, and it had a very good view of her, and she was being sexy, and it pained him to admit this but “I had to take care of a certain need, my goddess.” He couldn’t even look up at her, so embarrassed was he.

But Mari only laughed like chiming bells. “Aw, Drummond! You think I’m pretty, doncha?”

The naivete of her question made him laugh a little.

“That’s okay, lil’ guy. If you think I’m sexy, you can go ahead and enjoy yourself.” She hefted each of her boobs in her hands, admiring them as though she’d never seen them before. “I know I’m a hot lil’ piece of fluff! There’s no shame in losin’ control to someone who looks as good as me.” She grinned at him, licking her teeth saucily.

He sighed. “I just wasn’t able to… finish it, my goddess. I’m a little wound up right now.”

“Well, why not?”

“The news feed I was watching, you destroyed it.” He looked up into her bright and merry face. “You had just thrown yourself to the ground, and you were beginning to… you know.”

She nodded slowly, her golden locks shimmering around her face. “Yeah, I was feelin’ kinda warmed up. Did you see the whole thing?”

“No, my goddess.” Drummond’s brow furrowed. “I just said, you took out the news crew I was watching. They were the only channel filming you.”

The giantess stared at him for a moment, then threw back her head and laughed. “Drummond! Where’s that crystal I gave you?” She rummaged through the bed sheets and hoisted the SWAT operative by one leg, looking around until she located the small piece. “This thing lets you look around everywhere! You don’t just have to look at television, remember? You can swoop around and fly into anything and look at anything, if you control it right.” She laid him flat on the bed and leaned over him, smiling toothily at his half-naked body. “I showed you, remember?”

Drummond could only stare up at her in shock. Of course this was true, she demonstrated it this morning while they rested in bed. He had been envious of its capability. How on earth had he forgotten? “But that means… I could have…” All the blood drained from his face. “While you were… I could have…” His mind raced with the possibilities.

Lovely Mari only tsk-tsk’ed at him. “Yeah, you coulda, you naughty lil’ guy. But now that I’m back, you don’t need this anymore.” With that, she pinched the crystal between her thumb and forefinger, and it exploded into fine dust. She hopped off the bed and started peeling off the skin-tight outfit she’d worn all day, experiencing the welcome relief of climbing out of those restricting clothes and slipping into her comfy cornflower robe.

Drummond only cast a mournful glance at the crystal dust all around him, still covering his frustrated arousal with both hands, trying very hard not to cry.

One fine late-summer day, Lovely Mari decided to pay a visit on a friend. She dressed up in her very best riding frocks and selected a large backpack for any books she might like to borrow. She skipped down the forest trail until she found the domicile of her acquaintance, and as they happened to be out of town on a vacation, she jimmied open a window and piled herself inside. By some coincidence, surely, she ended up in this person’s private library, and at that point there was nothing else for it but to scan the shelves for any likely reading material.

Busy at her task, she overheard people walking down the trail outside this particular location, so she paused for a moment to listen for anything interesting.

What she heard was interesting, indeed, for two young women were talking about matters directly relevant to Mari’s interests.

“Sometimes, I can’t believe it myself,” said one woman loudly. “So much natural talent! Such mastery of witchcraft! Like, how can someone be so powerful? Have you ever seen such raw, creative energy in one witch before?” The two women chuckled.

Mari beamed with pride, for surely they were talking about her! She crept to the windowsill to steal-… to borrow a better glance at the visitors. Without wanting to give away her position, she was able to peek up enough to spot a tall, thin woman with long, red hair and a shorter woman with pale blonde hair in a tousled bob, striding along in white frocks, a broad blue skirt and stylish granny boots.

The blonde was the one speaking: “Yes, I must truly be the single-most powerful witch in the entire realm. Perhaps in all known worlds!” She grinned at her friend winningly.

The tall redhead spoke quietly, too quietly for Mari to make out at her distance.

The brassy blonde cackled. “Don’t be ridiculous! Her? I could mop up the floor with her! And do you know,” she leaned in intimately to her friend, “she’s not even a natural-born magician! She has to work twice, no, four times as hard… just to be a fifth, no, a twentieth as good as me!”

Mari’s eyes bugged in their sockets, and her jaw hung slack.

“And what’s more,” she went on, momentum building, “she thinks she’s so big? Ooh, one mile high! Ten miles high! Pff! Pff!” The blonde puffed out her chest. “I’ve been practicing so well at enlarging myself, I could squeeze this entire planet between my boobs! That nincompoop would just stand there, barely visible on a continent, watching my cleavage consume her and her pathetic height!”

The two women continued on their way, chatting and laughing in the sunshine. Mari, however, was absolutely livid. She needed a few moments to recover from this shock at the audacity of this unknown upstart. As she packed up a few more books to borrow, for good measure, and fled out the window like a rocket, there was only one question on her mind.

* * *

“Who’s that horrible woman?!” Mari stormed back and forth across the library floor of Scarlet Devil Mansion. “That nerve! Who th’ hell does she think she is? She’s lucky I didn’t just tear her idiot tongue out of her head and shove it up her-”

Patchouli Knowledge gave a very slight cough to cut her friend off. Hovering a few feet above the Turkish rugs covering the ancient hardwood floor, the slight young woman in a purple nightgown drifted over to where Lovely Mari stalked and stomped. “These rugs are quite delicate, my friend, and if you were to march a rut into them…” She adjusted her large eyeglasses and sighed.

Mari exploded. “Are you even listening to me?!”

“I am, my lovely friend,” insisted Patchy, “but you need to explain exactly what’s going on here. I’ve been watching you pace for half an hour and I haven’t gotten one single reasonable word out of you. Now,” she said, candlelight glinting off the large crescent moon on her bonnet, “what seems to be the matter?”

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter!” Mari’s red eyes glowed with dark hearts at their centers. “So, I’m over at… never mind where… and I’m borrowing… never mind what I’m doing there…”

Patchy sighed gently and raised an eyebrow at the excitable young witchy.

“Well, just listen to this! Some blonde piece of fluff comes strutting down the road, shootin’ her mouth off to her friend about how she’s the most powerful witch, and how she’s the tallest giantess! She don’t know nothin’ from nothin’! Who the hell does she think she is? I’ve never heard such outrageous nonsense, and such out-and-out bullshit!” Mari clenched her fists and growled. “I shoulda clocked her one, right then and there.”

Young Mistress Knowledge hummed to herself, her large eyes picking out line after line in the oversized tome spread across her folded legs.

Mari glared at her friend. “Well? Aincha got nothin’ to say about that? What’re we gonna do? She can’t go stompin’ around like some jackass, smack-talkin’ about me! Ooh! Ooh!”

“What did you say she looked like,” asked Patchy quietly, turning a page.

Mari described the white lace shawl about her shoulders, the broad sky-blue skirt trimmed in red ribbons, “an’ this stupid just-woke-up mop o’ hair!”

“Blonde, you said?”

“Yeah, blonde! Why”

Patchy said nothing, but only turned another page, then another. “And can you recall anything she said, word for word?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?!” Mari shrieked. Was the whole world going insane?

But the sleepy young woman in the purple nightgown only sighed. “Humor me, my friend.”

Mari blew out a long stream of hot air, then focused. She was able to remember a couple lines quite clearly, it turned out, and even repeat them with an inflection pretty close to that of the arrogant blonde hussy. Patchouli thanked her and closed her eyes for a moment, then turned several pages to a particular passage in her book. “Yes… I think I have it,” she murmured enigmatically. Drifting higher to a tall shelf, she replaced her oversized tome and floated to where the scrolls were stored.

Mari stared at her, shifting from foot to foot and frowning. “So what’s that all about, huh? What’re you doing with all this knowledge, Knowledge?” This was one of her favorite little jokes.

Withdrawing a long scroll in a boar hide case, Patchouli explained the importance of how people express themselves. “Whether through their outfits or their verbal patterns, most people will give away their distinct identification, unmistakable with anyone else in the world.” She coughed once into her sleeve before unsnapping the case and magicking the scroll to unfurl itself before her eyes.

“So you think you know who she is?” Mari cried. “Can we go hunt her down?”

Patchouli peeked around the scroll, smiling gently. “We can do even better than that, my lovely friend.”

* * *

The brazen blonde witch swept a few unruly locks out of her eyes and squinted at the heavy card in her hand. The print read:

THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY IS REQUESTED

BY THE ELEGANT AND LOVELY MARISA KIRISAME

PLEASE PACK SUCH PROVISIONS AS YOU REQUIRE

FOR A WEEKLONG JOURNEY THROUGH ROUGH TERRAIN

AND MAKE SUCH PREPARATIONS AS NECESSARY

FOR A DEMONSTRATION OF YOUR MAGICAL MIGHT

She turned the card over and over again in her hand. What the freak was this supposed to represent? The cardstock was an iridescent indigo with exciting gold illumination around the edges. The witch’s name, Marisa Kirisame, stood out proudly embossed in the header, while the rest of the invitation was deeply impressed into the thick paper. There were further instructions as well, a common ritual that used this card to transport the bearer to a pocket dimension. Doubtlessly this was where this Marisa-person kept her secret fortress, or something equally as risible.

“Very well.” She smirked, tugging her hair out of her eyes for the umpteenth time this day. “If this little rabble-rouser wants a demonstration of arcane prowess… so mote it be!” And she set to packing up for the short trip, already forming in her mind an impressive display.

* * *

At the day and hour designated on the card, the saucy witch with tousled blonde hair cast the teleportation ritual and whisked herself and her provisions to the isolated dimension she’d been directed to.

It didn’t look like much, honestly. She stood there with her cumbersome baggage and ample kitchen stores heaped around her, all packed upon sorely exerted large and powerful dolls she’d animated for the heavy lifting, in a very plain and incomprehensible environment. Her granny boots rested upon packed soil, and she stood in the shadow of a large, slightly curved land form she couldn’t quite identify. It was tremendous, and it swept up from the ground far before her, arcing very gently as it rose toward the heavens.

The brassy blonde witch smirked. “Is this meant to impress me? Child’s play,” she muttered, opening a large trunk beside her. It held a leather-bound tome, painted in multiple hues, with her own name tooled into its cover. Grinning, she flipped through its pages until she found an appropriate spell. “I was hoping to save this for later, but I guess it won’t hurt to spoil the surprise.”

She cast the spell, which cost more energy than she liked to admit, and immediately she and all her possessions and mystically animated entourage escalated to tremendous dimensions. This was her latest spell, the one that made the planets in the heavens look like mere baubles about her. She had been hoping to unleash its might at the last moment, perhaps during dinner or the evening’s entertainment she was anticipating, if Marisa Kirisame was any kind of suitable hostess, but necessity called for it right now.

As a reward for her efforts, however, not much was made clearer. The rosy, arching structure before her was only slightly reduced, though now it looked like it ran up to a cliff face. That was something, at least. Whipping her huge and powerful dolls into activity, she guided her team straight up the side of the leathery, peach-hued cliff, two of the largest dolls cradling her up to the top.

The ascent took quite a long time. When they reached the summit, however, not much was made clearer. She saw that she now stood upon a massive peak, the first of a row of five that stretched off into the distance. Through the haze of the atmosphere, she could dimly perceive another five mounds far, far off to the side.

“What the hell is this stupid place?” she exclaimed. “There’s no trees, no rivers, no buildings, nothing! If they think they’ve trapped me in some kind of wasteland, boy-oh-boy, I’ll make ‘em regret their stupidity!” But the only thing to do was to scale down the other side of the tremendous mound, which looked for all the world like a vast, glossy plate of carmine. This was harder to navigate, as it was so slick and smooth. One moaning doll lost its footing and skidded all the way down, luggage and food tumbling through space to the bottom, wherever that was.

The audacious little blonde witch was outraged. “That was my dessert selection! That was supposed to last me for two days!” And hours later, when they finally crawled down the ridge from the carmine plate to the tough, pinkish landscape, they found the shattered doll lying among the wreckage of leather cases, wicker baskets, and a countless supply of cakes and pastries. The witch brushed the hair out of her eyes and kicked the carcass with the sharp toes of her granny boots, then ushered everyone along to the next stage of the journey.

This appeared to be a curving ridge that stretched interminably off into the distance. The air was clear, but the humidity made everything hazy after a quarter mile or so. “What the flippin’-flip kinda landscape is this?” the witch wondered. None of this was making any sense: no signposts, no trails, just this tough, spongy landscape that went up, down, then off into the horizon. “This must be some kind of surreal wizard’s test.” She nodded, heartening. “Yes, I’ve seen this before! The challenger sticks the hero in a sequence of bizarre tests that are meant to scare off the weaker, lesser contestants. Well, I’m not scared at all. I can maintain this tremendous size for a whole week, I’m sure, and when this loser sees me striding across the horizon for her…” She chuckled, then kicked her brutish dolls into marching order, heading off the only apparent way. Slowly, the rising monolith of strange terrain disappeared behind her, with its crowning ridge of five mounds, tipped in carmine for no apparent reason.

On and on they traveled. If one of the tests was how outrageously long it took to get anywhere, it was a very good one. It was only at the end of the first day (she sensed, in this parallel realm with an invisible sun) that they stopped to camp. They had come upon a tremendous hillock, matching the rest of the terrain but a little more wrinkled, slightly rosier than the rest of the landscape. It seemed like a reasonable rise upon which to set up a base, in case anything would sneak up upon them in the middle of the night. The brassy little witch’s concerns were for naught, however: absolutely nothing came upon them in the darkness, exactly as there was nothing to see in the daylight. No, she was just on this rosy little hill, as an empty and slate-gray sky encompassed the landscape from tremendous distance. As the light from the sun they couldn’t see crested their hill, the witch ordered her dolls to strike camp and move on promptly, for she intended to make some good distance today.

“If I show up late for this event,” she mused, “I’ll be mortified. It wouldn’t do for someone of my stature to come trudging in after the fact.”

But even as they increased the tempo of their march, the load-bearing dolls didn’t seem to make tremendous progress. The terrain had widened and lost a little of its curve, heading away from the hillock and into the hazy distance. After a few hours of forced march, however, the landscape flattened out even more and features began to take shape on her left. There, landscape rose up and spread out before them, and the proud blonde witch realized that there was another long, flat ridge over there, mirroring the same one she’d been crossing all morning. It seemed that these two broad stretches rose up together and met at the start of a vast plain. Were they entering a desert now?

Frowning, the witch scoped the land spreading out around her for any noteworthy features. There seemed to be another hill where the two broad ridges met. It wasn’t nearly as large as the one they’d camped out on, but it was still higher than anything else in the area, so they made for it and settled down for an early lunch.

Now the brassy witch studied the ground a little more closely. It didn’t make any sense: if it was this pale orange or light tan color, it should’ve been sand or some other type of soil. But it wasn’t. It was only this soft, smooth material running off in all directions. That is, it was soft to the touch, but neither their tent stakes nor the hands of her dolls could pierce it in the least way. It only stretched and gave beneath their touch, until its toughness halted their exertion. And just as the light of this realm came from an invisible source, somewhere up above, the whole landscape seemed to radiate with a gentle heat. Was it absorbing the heat of the unknown light source? Was it some kind of trap? She pouted her fat bottom lip out and checked herself for radiation poisoning.

Suddenly there was a loud braying cry. Startled, the witch spun around just in time to see a dim-witted doll sliding down the slope of their little hill. He must have wandered too far over the edge, and gravity began working against him. He clawed the tough, smooth terrain with useless claws as his massive, muscular body slowly disappeared down the hillside, into the murky valley between the two broad ridges. The witch only frowned at him disapprovingly, making no move to help… until he happened to grab a cargo rope, which was lashed around a small stack of spell casting materials.

“No, you idiot!” she shrieked at him, running over to yank the rope back. The spongy nature of the landscape made it very difficult for her to stay upright in her granny boots. “Not that! Let go of the rope, you dolt from another world!”

But it was too late. The hapless doll dropped into the empty space between the massy ridges, its howls echoing as it went, and it never released the rope that dragged her supplies, sliding over the edge and into the blackness. Before the witch could do anything, they were all gone, leaving nothing but the quiet echo of materials being destroyed against the valley walls.

Furious, the witch took up another rope, one lashed to a larger, more secure pile of crates, and slowly lowered herself down the far side of the hill. If there was any chance of salvaging anything, she figured, she’d better take it, especially if these oafish dolls insisted on destroying themselves and diminishing her supplies. But the excursion provided nothing useful: the bottom of the valley was plunged into shadows too dark to penetrate. The hill itself sloped down into a wall that split with a deep cleft. Picking her granny boots down one leathery side, she lowered herself as far as her rope permitted. Deep in the cleft she could just catch the glint of moisture, as if some subterranean stream was exposed briefly in the small chasm. Bafflingly, the cleft emitted a scent that somehow reminded her of the ocean: was the moisture here coming from a thin channel of seawater? This theory made no sense, as there didn’t seem to be any sign of bodies of water anywhere. The air was a little more hot and humid, sure, down in this valley, but up above on the surface everything was uniformly warm and dry.

She grumbled to herself very darkly as she climbed back up and ordered the dolls of burden to pack everything up again and head off, better than double-speed, across the spreading desert before them. They made no complaint but only followed their orders promptly and efficiently, though not enough to their mistress’s liking.

Heading in the direction the smarmy witch called “north”, for sake of argument, they trudged across the featureless, flat terrain of this unlikely world. After some time, however, they encountered a strange divot in the land. Without sand or dirt or anything, a large round pit appeared before them, just a dent that pressed down into the ground.

Expecting something to go wrong, somehow, the witch combed her mussy hair aside and ordered her pack-dolls to give it wide berth. They wound around the hole in the ground and made their way up to much less interesting landscape. It was nearing nightfall, in fact, when they finally encountered the mountains.

They spotted these massive peaks long, long before they got anywhere near them. They rose up from the ground in nearly perfect spheres, as though two small planets had fallen from orbit and drifted daintily to the landscape, resting perfectly intact. Yet these also were made of, or at least coated with, the same tough, spongy, leathery material as the rest of this world seemed composed of.

“You know what,” said the witch wearily, “I don’t even care about a lookout tonight. Those mountains are too bloody huge to even think about climbing.” She cast a disparaging eye about her magical helpers. “And I don’t trust a single one of you to navigate them safely, without further ruining what was supposed to be a dramatic presentation for this stupid, upstart witch, whoever this Kirisame-gal is.”

And so they set up between the twin peaks, establishing themselves in the deep and profound valley they formed. As settlements go, it wasn’t that terrible: they could only be attacked from the north and south, in fact, in a narrow channel that gave them the advantage. It could’ve been much worse. The brassy blonde witch set out her sleeping pallet and drifted off to sleep in the intensified warmth of this strange valley, dreaming of amazing conquests and her astonishing apprehension of the mystic arts.

It was only the activity of her magical dolls that told her it was morning and time to move out. The invisible sun cast no light in the deep valley they’d embedded themselves within, but the cocky and immodest witch felt quite rested when they struck camp, loaded up, and continued north between the ungodly large mountains.

Progress was surely being made. There was another tall cliff before them, an angular peak with a flat rise facing them. After picking their way along a treacherous, narrow ridge (over the side of which yet another lunk-headed doll plummeted, with a small cache of spellbooks), they ascended the sheer cliff and reached its crest in well under an hour.

Before them, the landscape exploded in contours and features like never before. Far, far off in the distance was a vast spill of alien, golden foliage, a spiraling forest of thick vines and large whorls of gold-colored lashings. Closer were two more depressions below ridges of bristly undergrowth of a slightly darker golden hue; the depressions dropped down into slight mounds, fringed in dense, black bristles. Centered below these was a large cavern with two entrances, from which gusted hot and humid gases that didn’t smell like anything in particular… though it clearly wasn’t breathable, she learned. And before this, between the inky, symmetrical caverns and herself was a swollen split in the landscape, running east to west. This was one of the few times the landscape changed color, turning a very rosy red before curving down into another fissure from which the hot, moist gases blew.

“This must be a volcanic region,” the bold witch thought. “These channels are spewing exhaust from deep within the earth, and there’s more evidence of moisture…” She pulled the hair out of her eyes and scanned the new surroundings. “No lava, though, no fires, so that’s good. I’ve never seen such strange forests, though. This Kirisame-gal sure picked a weird place to set up her secret lair.”

They skirted the rosy fissure in the land. Despite her best efforts, one abysmally stupid doll managed to slip and fall inside, plaintively crying out as it rested in the fissure’s floor with one day’s change of wardrobe. The increasingly less-daring witch peered down at it, kneeling at one corner of the fissure: the opening was lined with gleaming, sharp ridges of ivory, and right behind these roiled some massive, florid beast. She might have thought it a dragon, but that it was much fatter and she couldn’t see it limbs. “Some kind of subterranean monster-slug, I suppose. Good luck with that, you useless heap!” Her voice echoed down to her mystical servant, at the bottom of this damp, steaming cavern.

The party picked their way down a sloping hill, where the terrain was even softer and spongier than normal. This made for a treacherous descent, but the remaining entourage navigated it successfully. They entered a small grove of the bizarre, spiraling golden forest, deep within which was the final cavern of their destination. The landscape spun and folded into great whorls of pale orange, pale rose, milky white or whatever, and in the center of these graceful curves lay the cave her directions led her to. Beyond this, of course, must lay the secret hideout of the inept witch she was supposed to confront.

The tousled witch smoothed out her broad, blue skirt and untangled the long, red ribbons trimming it. “Last leg, guys, try not to lose anything.” She cast a withering glance at the last few surviving members of her cargo team. They hefted their loads upon broad shoulders and followed her down to the cave.

Inside, they found a young woman dressed in a soft, purple nightgown. Glowing orbs around the cave illuminated the walls and floor here, and they shone off the gold crescent moon in her bonnet. “Welcome to the celebration,” she said, addressing her visitor by name. “My name is Patchouli Knowledge, and I greet you on behalf of Lovely Mari. I hope the journey wasn’t too hazardous for you?”

The frizzy blonde witch gestured for her hard-working dolls to rest their cargo. “It seemed needlessly arduous, to me,” she sniffed. “Why wouldn’t your teleportation invite just take me right here?”

Patchy grinned softly. “Of course, one might rush to the end of a good novel. But then what’s learned? We found it more important for you to be impressed by the landscape, for the purposes of this celebration. What did you think?”

“Think?!” The visiting witch spluttered. “Think of what? Nothing but this strange pale landscape stretching off in all directions, without anything to look at! And what celebration are you talking about? Where’s the castle where this so-called celebration is supposed to happen? I thought this was going to be a witches contest!”

Patchy tastefully covered her slight laughter with her fingertips. “A contest! Really? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Your card! That card you sent me, the, uh…” She racked her brain. “The demonstration of magical might, something like that. What was that supposed to mean?” A nagging doubt had only begun to form in the witch’s mind, and if given a few quiet moments it would finally occur to her to ask how this Knowledge chick was as large as she was.

“Oh, nothing much. Just some kind of performance that shows us what it is you’re capable of. After all, you did have some kind of opinions about your advanced prowess, did you not, in contrast with Lovely Mari’s capabilities?”

The brassy witch narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about? Were you spying on me? How did she hear about that?”

Patchouli Knowledge smiled and raised one thin, pale arm overhead. The orbs of light flew to her palm like eager pets. “My dear, I assure you Lovely Mari can hear everything we’re saying. In fact,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “you’re standing in her ear.”

The intrusive witch’s eyes widened. Her tousled mane swung side to side, as she stared at the cavern, which was harder to make out now that the woman in the purple nightgown had reclaimed the light sources.

“I only hope we haven’t… irritated her,” said Patchy quietly, before she faded into the darkness.

The witch’s voice came out as a dry rasp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she coughed out, before slowly turning to look behind her. The remaining light in the cavern dimmed, blocked out by the end of the most tremendous cotton swab she had ever seen in her life. It turned ponderously through space, its thick, white fibers sweeping over then picking up her cargo, snagging her massive dolls, then finally catching on her own dress and snatching her up, shrieking, in its cleansing sweep.

* * *

Lovely Mari nonchalantly tossed the Q-Tip in a trash bin. “Did I miss anything during my nap?”

Patchy giggled behind her hand. “It really wasn’t much of a contest, was it? I’m sorry, my dear.”

Mari shrugged and sipped at her tea, in the living room of her own cabin in the Forest of Magic. Her friend hovered above the couch, legs crossed. “So, you think she knows who’s the best at magic now?”

“I’m sure she’s overwhelmed with your ability, at this point.” Patchy dunked a ginger snap in her own cup of tea, floating nearby.

“And you think she knows who’s the biggest giantess of all?”

Patchy only raised her eyebrow and smirked.

Mari’s fair brow furrowed briefly. “We didn’t really… you know, hurt her? Did we? I don’t mind kicking her ass, but I didn’t really want anything terrible to happen to her.”

“She’s perfectly fine, not a hair on her silly head was injured.” Patchy bit the corner of her lip. “Although it will be several weeks before she can wash the odor of earwax out of her clothes. Oh, I got you something!”

The lovely and playful witchy sat up in her chair. “Ooh! What is it? Somethin’ to eat?”

Ms. Knowledge laughed and extended her pale hand; Mari reached out and caught what she dropped in it. It looked like a single earring, a French hook that led to a fine chain, at the end of which hung what looked like a small spellbook. The rainbow-colored cover opened and everything, though the words were far too small to read. Grinning, Mari excitedly lanced it through her left ear, the one that needed cleaning.

“Just a little something to commemorate the occasion.” Patchouli’s eyes beamed at her lovely friend.

Mari smiled broadly and toasted her with a pretty teacup. The sun shone in through the window, the birds were singing, and everything felt quite cozy. These were good times to be a powerful witch.

"Drummond!" Lovely Mari woke up yelling, a flurry of bed sheets, swinging limbs, and tousled golden hair "Drummond, I had a dream! It was so real!" She flung her shapely legs out of the bed and hit the floorboards running. Her calves flexed beneath her uncharacteristically modest cornflower sleeping gown, and she sprang up to clear the tea table in the center of her bedroom. In one more step she pounced upon her bookcase and began tearing large, leather-bound tomes from the shelves, searching for something!

In the corner of her room, where small buildings from various nations and human eras piled up like unwanted toys, two tiny eyes peered from a cathedral. The Teen had taken to wrapping himself up in a brocade runner from the abandoned altar, toting a heavy Bible under one arm. He never read it: these props, in this location, were his protection from the storm of chaos that the hypersexualized giantess represented. Keeping well in the shadows, the Teen nonetheless tracked her activity as she pored through the books.

"Not here," she grumbled, savagely rifling through parchment pages. "Right country, wrong year… dammit! Drummond, I need your help! Where th' hell are ya?" She yelped as something squirmed within her abundant bosom, a tiny dark blur emerging from within her plunging cleavage. "Oh, there y'are, ya lil' wiggle-worm! What th' heck were ya doin' in there? On second thought, don't tell me! I don't wanna hear about it!"

Her huge face leered at Drummond, large heart-shaped pupils glowing like neon signs, before she threw back her head and laughed heartily at her own joke. The bedraggled SWAT Operator bobbed and surged between her heaving boobs. "You jammed me here last night, Goddess," he croaked up at her. "I was reading A Wrinkle in Time to you. You liked it right up until the point you released that explosive torrent you call 'snoring'."

"I do not snore!" Outraged, she shimmied her shoulders, swinging the tiny stowaway back and forth, crushing him between twin colliding planets. "Anyway, shut the fuck up, you gotta help me with something. Have you ever heard of pirates?"

He clutched his spinning head and affirmed that he had.

"They were from your stupid planet, like, a long time ago."

"Yes, they flourished around the 16th and 17th centuries. What does this have to−"

"An' I don't mean in the movies." Lovely Mari licked her thumb and turned some more pages. "I mean, like the actual ones."

"Okay, so, like Irish laborers, French privateers, Dutch fortune-hunters, mutinied British sailors, and teenaged conscripts from the Caribbean? Why do you−"

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. One slim hand plunged between her breasts and fished around, yanking her little man out like a fish. "No, real pirates, y' idiot! Swords an' cannons an' sexy women an' booze! Doncha know anything?" She tossed him to a bookshelf, and he had to duck and roll quickly to avoid a row of collapsing tomes.

He sat upon the edge of the shelf, shirtless and well-muscled. He'd slept in his BDU pants, supposing that the rest of his outfit was scattered unevenly between the shire of her bed, the landscape of her bedroom, and anywhere upon (and within) her titanic person. He swung his bare feet above the sheer drop-off to the floor and looked up at the underside of her book and her breasts. "I don't have access to your head, my Goddess, as handy as that would be." He shuddered at the thought. "Please walk me backward through the events that brought you here."

Without looking up from her research, she recited: "All right, I was dreamin' about pirates, see, and I was a pirate, an' I was hangin' out with other pirates, and we did pirate-things. Are ya followin' me so far?" She glanced at him; he nodded, lips pursed. "So then I woke up, an' I had t' find out more about pirates, so I went to my bookcase an' started lookin' up pirate-stuff, an' then you started bein' an annoyin' pest who doesn't know enna-thin', an' I gotta do all th' work around here like always!" She slammed the book with deafening force and gritted her teeth, lunging at him.

Drummond noted the exits. Straight down, it looked like, unless he could scurry behind a book.

"Aw, ya know I love ya!" Her broad lips puckered up into a vortex of glistening pink and rammed into his chest like a VW Bug. He let her bowl him over, falling back to the shelf while she slathered him in playful licks.

Beneath her shimmering waves of flaxen hair, a strange, new earring he'd never seen before commanded his attention. It looked like a large, rainbow-colored book, swinging heavily from her ear lobe by a white gold filigreed chain. It was sealed with a very serious lock. The lock, and the way it grudgingly turned through space, told him this wasn't flimsy jewelry. He was quite convinced he had never seen it before, and he had studied much of her property during her frequent outings, so where had this come from? Wheels turned in his head while the goofy giantess lapped and snorted at him.

"Anyway, so that's what I gotta do today." She straightened up, tossed a book over her shoulder and took up another one. The discarded tome arced through space but halted inches before striking the floor. It hovered, closed itself properly, then landed with careful grace upon a tidy stack of other books.

Drummond sat up and wiped a thick coat of saliva out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, what do you gotta do today?"

She shook her head and laughed. Her hair glistened and sparkled around her in a supernatural mane. "Baka, you don't listen to a word I say, do ya? I gotta find a sexy pirate costume!"

There's only a million of those on my world, he thought dourly. "I'm sorry I'm being slow, my Goddess, I just woke up and nearly drowned. Why, exactly, do you need to find a sexy pirate costume? Are you going to a party?"

She giggle-snorted, making her immense breasts dance beneath her nightgown. "I guess y' could say that. Except I'm about three-hundred years too late, ain't I? Ah, perfect!" She whipped out a J-pop magazine that had, for no reason, been inserted into a thick, dusty volume of historical records. Presenting him with a glossy page for her little tactical officer's perusal for all of two seconds, she dropped the magazine and darted off to her armoire to plunder its goods as well.

He regarded the magazine from his height, then slid off the shelf and dangled from it for a second, swinging down to the next level. He repeated this until he was safely on the ground. His bare feet made no sound as he walked over to the magazine, laboriously dragging thick pages over until he found the image that inspired her. It was a heavily stylized manga illustration of a woman in pirate garb. Her lithe body twisted like a snake, for no better reason than to thrust her chest out and jam her hips back. The clothes were unrealistic, with an exaggeratedly tall and wide pirate captain's hat like a huge black bowl, and a rib-crunching bustier that exposed the midriff and jammed the woman's modest goods up like a soup on high boil. Shreds of billowing blouse hovered around the shoulders and fluttered around the sides, beginning and ending nowhere, and a thick leather-and-gold belt hung at a jaunty slope to suspend a highly improbable sword. Drummond snorted derisively, walking around the image to pick apart every flaw, every gaffe, every creative liberty taken in an illustration whose point he couldn't readily detect.

But damned if Lovely Mari hadn't found every last garment in her armoire. Damned if she hadn't arrayed it all perfectly upon her own unlikely body. "How do I look?" she bellowed down at him, striking a pose in tall boots with tall heels.

The fact was that she looked delicious. Despite the liability of her outrageous proportions and a costume completely impractical for combat, much less for deceiving anyone from the intended period, the healthy, vibrant giantess looked like she was made of sexual candy, and every fiber in his body craved to dive in and start eating.

"Beautiful as always, my esteemed Goddess," he called up to her. "Knock 'em dead." The capricious witchy preened, blew him noisy kisses, and danced out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the cabin to teleport backward through time. Drummond only stood in place for a minute, forcibly calming himself down. There's still a job to do, man. You have new information: act on it. It took several more minutes to scale his mistress's bed and collect most of his clothes and weapons. This day, he declined to burrow into Mari's panties and gratify himself, opting instead to use this electric energy to motivate him through the hard work ahead of him.

From his vantage point, the Teen watched the black-clad Operator hop to the bedroom floor, sprint past the tea table, and take a running leap inside the insane giantess's armoire. It looked like his leg had healed well; the Teen wondered if the giantess had used her chaotic magic to facilitate that. And he shuddered as Drummond passed the dark brown stain in the floor, a mess neither the Operator nor his whore-goddess had bothered to scrub up. This was the grim memorial to Pavla, whose voice haunted the Teen in the darkened corridors of the cathedral. He squeezed the Bible against his chest and went to look for his shoes.

*   *   *

Boot heels scuffed over wooden planks in the shadowy Brass Monkey tavern in the center of Nassau, New Providence Island. Men and women laughed over the clank of metal tankards, and sailors traded stories at the bar. The air was less dusty in here, the balmy sun blocked, but the humidity found its way everywhere.

A man with sandy hair and a sharp smile turned a piece of parchment over in his hands, shaking his head slowly. His two companions smirked and adjusted their over-sized jackets. They both wore kerchiefs, tying up brown or flame-red hair.

"Can you believe it, Andy? One year ago, we asked for King George's pardon." He held up the parchment, chuckling. "And we got it. His Majesty forgave us all our previous crimes and let us start anew."

"Too bad you weren't as lucky with the Spanish commission." Andy punched him in the shoulder and took a long pull of cheap ale.

The sandy-haired man shrugged. "You win some, you lose some. I think we're going to make up for lost time, though. I feel pretty damn confident about that." His grinned returned with a wink. "Mark? You ready?"

"Been ready a long time, Jack." The darker conspirator nodded, and their chairs groaned over the floor as they stood. Mark slammed a pewter mug hard upon their table.

"Avast ye!" Jack's voice rang out clearly over the grumble of indolent pirates and laborers slowly getting drunk. "Looking for eight strong, hungry men to go on the account! Any of you blaggards here between jobs, don't mind a bit of hard work, with the promise of rich reward?"

From the back of the room a gruff voice barked, "Is that what you promise?"

"I promise nothing!" The room guffawed. "But you're like to make more with me than sitting on your arse, emptying your purse for grog and bumboo! Who's with me?"

"And who the hell are you?" The owner of the gruff voice rose. He was a mound of muscle and fat and fur, it seemed, missing an eye and some teeth. His meaty palm rested on the pommel of a cutlass at his hip. The men sitting with him eyed the loudmouth, anxious to see what came next.

"Who am I? Who am I, indeed." Jack looked at his companions, who shrugged at him. He shrugged back and walked around the table. His threadbare captain's jacket was common enough, but even in the dimness of this watering-hole, the bold colors of his expensive striped pantaloons leaped out and caught all eyes. "Maybe you know Henry Jennings, who taught me everything I know while we put the Spanish in their place."

The room grew quiet. The burly man shifted on his feet.

"Or maybe you know Captain Charles Vane? The son-of-a-biscuit I sent to hell, straight into a hurricane?"

A few grizzled old salts raised their mugs; the burly man cleared his throat and sat down.

"I have his ship, you know, the Ranger. I can walk you to it, if you're curious." Jack slowly made his way to the center of the room. Mark and Andy merely folded their arms and made a show of keeping their eyes on everyone. "But obviously we can't take that ship. It's too well known, it's too obvious. Governor Rogers has his men drifting around it like flies on shit, as we speak. The only thing I could grab from it was my flag." So saying, he dug into his jacket and pulled out a large black cloth. Crudely stitched to it was a dirty white skull, grinning over crossed swords. "There's another ship I have my eye on, however, and we sail within the hour. Who's with me?"

At that, men knocked back their drinks and got up to shake his hand and join his team. "I'm your man, Calico Jack!" they said, grinning hideously. "I'm with you, Rackham!"

Mark set the new crew up with a round of beer while Andy counted heads. "There's only seven, Jack. I thought you wanted one more."

Calico Jack rubbed his stubbly jaw, glancing at the burly oaf in the corner: he and his associates kept their heads down, their backs turned. "Well, blow. Guess we gotta hit up another bar." Mark rattled their coin purse dismally. There were only so many more rounds they could front.

Abruptly the front door to the Brass Monkey burst in, shattering beneath a long, 18-hole-laced boot. The bartender roared with disapproval, hushing up as soon as he saw the person clambering through the splintered boards. The leg wearing the boot was long, strong, and clean-scrubbed, leading to a plump, round rear that struggled to fight its way inside. Fancy fabrics of curious cut but superior stitching bound up heaving, bobbling breasts, each larger than a man's head. The young woman in possession of all these strange gifts thrust her fists on her hips and grinned winningly at the desperate, tired, dirty wretches who stared at her in wonder.

"Ahoy, ye scurvy land-lubbers!" belted out Lovely Mari. "Whose face does a saucy wench gotta sit on to get a grog around here?" Calico Jack and Andy could only blink and stammer, so it was up to Mark to approach and persuade this remarkable personage.

Drummond easily scaled Mari's tights, where they hung in her armoire. Maintaining his physical regimen was useful both for getting around and retaining a firm grasp of his sanity in the deranged world he found himself in. His fists clutched loose folds of fabric as he hauled himself up, but as the white-and-purple striped tights passed by he couldn't help but think about how these thigh-highs fit on the erratic giantess's beautiful legs. It was almost stimulating to be here, in her clothing, even without her. Almost.

The only sour note on the experience was feeling the doleful teenager's eyes on him as he scaled. He yelled down at him, "Spit it out, kid. What do you want?"

"What do you think you're doing?" came the thin, unconfident voice from far below.

"None of your concern. Go back to moping in the church."

The wretched youth clutched the velvet runner closer to his shoulders. "This is her private property. The psychopathic giantess. You're digging through her personal clothing. You shouldn't be here."

"Didn't ask your opinion."

Frowning, the Teen set the large Bible down and took a running leap into the base of the armoire. The velvet runner trailed behind him dramatically, in contrast with his mundane, secondhand clothes. "She's going to be pissed if she finds out you've been in here. She does horrible things when she's pissed."

"Then you'd better not tell her." Drummond was nearing the elastic bands at the top of the leggings. He could scramble up to the hanger to which they were clamped, then run up to the clothing rod, but that wouldn't get him to the shelf above the hanging garments. He could shoot his way through the bottom of the shelf, perhaps, but that would be a dead giveaway he'd been here.

The Teen milled around the floor of the armoire, pacing past large platform boots, spiky high heeled shoes: the varied collection of Lovely Mari's footwear was like a small town all by itself. "I don't have to tell her. She has a way of knowing. She's dangerous and you're in trouble."

Drummond muttered darkly about the annoyance this boy presented. He accessed the thigh-highs' opening, pulled himself up easily by the chrome clip holding them, and wrapped his arms around the end of the wooden hanger. Perhaps the clothing rod wasn't the answer. With the little weight he possessed, he began swinging to heave the hanger's considerable weight, exploiting his marginal advantage of being as far from the fulcrum point as possible. Slowly, the other hangers began to clatter like gossipers as his own gained momentum.

"You're going to make a mess," the Teen called up. "You're going to fall and hurt yourself."

"Not your concern!"

"Then you won't be useful to her, and you know what she does to things that don't have any purpose in her life."

That shot cold electricity down the SWAT Operator's spine. There was no arguing that point, and it was dangerous to dismiss. Without breaking his momentum, he barked down, "That's why I have to get this right in one shot. So shut the fuck up before I come down there and shut you up."

"She has you under her spell." The Teen's voice wandered in and out among the muffling clothing that hung between them. "You're not thinking right. You have fucked up thoughts about what you should do, because she's gotten to you."

It wasn't clear how much the Teen actually knew and how much of this screed was him talking for the sake of making noise. Drummond noticed the kid's retreat within, performing all his tasks silently, speaking up only when Drummond went off on his own or worked on something the Teen didn't know anything about. And as Drummond investigated how the hell to get out of this world, there were more and more of those instances all the time.

"I can't hear you," Drummond whispered. He kicked his legs toward the downward swing of the hanger, scrambled atop it at its lowest point, then rode the momentum up. As sharply as he could, he kicked away from the polished wooden hanger and stretched his arms upward. He lost some of the hanger's propulsion, booting it away like that, but he was light and strong enough to compensate for the neutralized force, and his iron-talon fingers only just grabbed the edge of the upper shelf. He let himself hang there, coming to a rest (and hopefully giving that annoying goddamned kid a moment's scare), then pulled himself up as easily as if tugged by a string.

The Teen was saying something, but his voice was muted by dresses, tights, and a thick wooden shelf. The Operator walked over to a large velvet box trimmed in gaudy brass. It was closed with a simple latch: Drummond kicked it open and laboriously hove the lid up. His urban assault boots balanced on a narrow ledge of hammered brass as he perched, arms akimbo, and surveyed a dragon's hoard of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, piled carelessly in a velvet-lined depression. He only moved once he saw the object he was after: the rainbow-bound tome at the end of a gold French hook and chain. Inching his way around the jewelry, to disturb as little as possible, he knelt within the jewelry chest and took up the tome with black gloved hands.

He was surprised to be able to read the script on the cover—The Grimoire of Alice—and noted the ornate, heavy latch that locked this book shut. From his chest pocket he extracted a gunmetal-gray cylinder, what he called his "tactical pen." One end unscrewed to reveal a chamber of slim metal shims, and with three of these he easily picked the lock.

It looked like a spell book, written in a young woman's hand: portentous words with extra loops and hearts over the I's, but his experiences with the maniacal spell-wielding giantess warned him not to blow this off. With the Teen's mosquito-whinge spooling in the far, far distance, Drummond flipped through the pages. Every second or third page was headed with an outrageous-sounding phrase, heralding spells for firepower, defense, and recovery. A couple surveillance spells interested him, but he didn't stop rifling through the tome until he found one that presented itself as a universal translator.

*   *   *

"He what?!" roared Nicholas Lawes, Governor of Jamaica. Parchment rattled between his thick fingers.

His hapless valet gulped hard and repeated the missive his superior clutched. "Received King George's pardon, m'lud, and a letter of marque from Governor Rogers of New Providence. Then promptly turned right back to piracy. Stole the William from Capt. John Ham."

"What sort of ship is Capt. Ham's William?" Lawes's jowls trembled with rage. His small, piggish eyes began to twitch in calculation.

"Small but light, m'lud. Four guns, reportedly, and crewed by a dozen at most." Inwardly the valet admired the audacity of such a small group, but this wasn't the company in which to share such a sentiment. He consulted his notes: "Er, two of them, m'lud, Anne Bonny and Mary Read, have been declared Enemies to the Crown of Great Britain."

The governor let that one roll around in his skull. "Women, no less. Enemies to the Crown, roaming the seas on a stolen vessel with the conniving bastard who threw Capt. Vane over for the Ranger two years ago." Lawes's fat tongue roiled between his thick lips. "Unbelievable. It's like His Majesty is daring them to misbehave, eh? This whole 'privateer' gambit, giving them permission to pick off those French and Spanish bastards. A leopard doesn't change its spots, does it?" His valet agreed but the governor was only musing aloud. "Damn and blast. And it's just a matter of time before the scallywag squeezes past Guantanamo and plagues Port Royal…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and scowled. "No. Not this time, not ever again. You there, you dish-faced yip, take a letter!" He swiveled toward the glowing drapes of his office, silhouetting a globe of the world with the Caribbean Sea turned toward him. The valet scraped a small stool to the governor's escritoire and stabbed a quill in an inkwell. "Standard felicitations and greetings to Captain Jonathan Barnet, blah-blah-blah. Like my predecessor, Lord Hamilton, with these presents I hereby commission thee for one more year of counter-adventure and retribution on behalf of His Majesty, King George, the interests and livelihood of England, and blah-blah-blah."

Lawes sighed deeply, raising an ache in his heavy ribs. "Bloody privateers. That's a rum racket, I should say. Anyway, and be thee so noticed as of this writing to pursue, hunt down, and bring to justice John Rackham of England, vulgarly known as 'Calico Jack,' currently in lawless possession of the William to the end of gainful transgressions against the crown, blah-blah-blah." The next sentence writhed in his mind like a scorpion in his palm, hoping against hope it wouldn't turn to sting himself. "To these ends, you are required to enjoin and employ Mr. Jean Bonadvis of the Bennet, conferring upon this commission to privateer as well. May God speed your blah-blah-blah, and where'd I hide that brandy." He poked noisily through the drawers of his large desk as the valet finished the letter, sanded it, blotted it, and sealed it for delivery.

"Will that be all, m'lud?" asked the valet.

Lawes turned one bleary eye up to the gangly young man. "Good Lord in Heaven, son, isn't that more than enough? On wi' ye." With a salute, the valet darted from the room, and the governor rubbed his scalp ruefully. "Treacherous bastards, the lot of them."

*   *   *

Lovely Mari leaned over the side of the William, salty winds blowing her spun-gold mane wildly about her cute grin. "Woo-hoo!" she shouted at the whitecaps. "Pirates! Fuckin' A!" She turned and danced in place, grinning hugely at the men on the ship, laboring at its maintenance, getting acquainted with its layout. Mari trotted over to the ship's carpenter, Harland Daggett and slugged him on the shoulder, causing him to drop his bucket of mop water. "Come on, we're fuckin' pirates! Yo-ho-ho and shit!"

Daggett tried to scowl at her, tried to swear, but his eyes were magnetically attracted to the crevasse between her plump and glistening boobs, each dancing with lives of their own, and the words died in his throat. Mari looked around at the sailors climbing the Jacob's ladder, swabbing the deck, scurrying hither and yon with the purposeful determination of so many ants. "Goddamn it! Why ain'tcha singin' and dancin'? What kinda pirates are ya, anyway?" She threw her arms up in frustration and turned to the poop deck, where "Calico Jack" Rackham stood with the pilot. "Where's the fuckin' rum, for cryin' out loud?"

Rackham glared down at the new recruit. "The feck have we got ourselves into," he muttered, not outside his attendants' sharp ears.

"What she lacks in practical experience," mused Mark, hands thrust deep in jacket pockets, "she amply makes up for in sporting her dairy to the crew's morale. That can't be denied." Andy only stared at the voluptuous young woman, now rubbing herself fruitlessly against young master Mascheck Nicholass, the ship's boatswain, as he hustled around to perform inventory. Rather than agreeing or ignoring, Rackham coughed once and withdrew to his personal quarters.

Mark looked at Andy warily. "What's up his arse?"

"I'm afraid he's a bit jealous."

"Jealous? Of what, that costume-jewelried doxy down there?"

Andy sighed and smiled coyly. "Of you, actually. We need to talk, if you're not otherwise engaged." Mark shrugged and the pair slunk below decks, past the cannons and below the forecastle, to a private cabin.

Mark leaned against wall and watched Andy get comfortable, perching on a barrel head. "Tell me what's going on. Why in the blue blazes would John be jealous of me?"

"He's likely seen my eye following you around, to be quite honest." Andy's jacket slipped off and bunched on the floorboards. "There's something you should know. It's a secret from the crew, but John's been helping me with it. I think you'll understand it comes in handy around here. I'm… not actually a man." Andy smiled up at Mark and pulled her linen shirt over her head. Her chest was bound with cloth, which she loosened for her audience. She closed her eyes, massaging her sore breasts. She tugged her kerchief off and let her long, coppery hair flow over her shoulders, giving it an enticing shake before looking up at the other pirate.

"You're young," Mark said quietly.

"Don't confuse that with inexperience, to your peril." She started to rise, but Mark placed a hand on her shoulder and drove her back down to her seat.

"I wouldn't dare," said Mark. "When I was your age, I was running a tavern in the Netherlands, and that, after fighting the French with the British. I was on my way to the West Indies when an entirely different set of British sea dogs commandeered our ship, and I joined them. Not at all unlike you."

"Anne Bonny, proud child of Ireland," the flame-haired woman said, taking Mark's hand from her shoulder and sliding it down her chest.

Mark politely withdrew and said, "Well, if you can keep a secret," and lifted up her own shirt, exposing her own bound chest. "Mary Read, citizen of the seas."

The two women stared at each other, then burst out laughing. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I cannot get a fecking break!" Bonny cursed and pounded the wall. "At least John'll be happy to know I'm not quiffing you behind his back."

Read arched an eyebrow and stretched her long leg over Bonny's lap, straddling her. "Don't speak so hastily, my short-heeled lass."

Bonny placed her hands on the other woman's hips and gently pushed her back. "I'm not really, uh… that way."

Read only snorted and shrugged. "Sure, for now. Do be sure and let me know if you change your mind." She straightened out her billowing jacket and tied Bonny's kerchief back on, then strode past the cannoneers to return to the deck.

Bonny bit her lip, closed the cabin door with her boot, and looked around the unfurnished room for anything useful. She settled upon the rounded, polished butt of her flintlock pistol, grinding it slowly into the crotch of her pants, trying to bring to mind some of her last few conquests at the Brass Monkey, right before she met Rackham. She had nearly focused on one when the image of that clown Mari intruded on her imagination. Those huge breasts, those unmanageable hips, all trying to squeeze through the splintery mess of a door… "Goddamn it!" Bonny stomped a couple times in frustration before angrily getting dressed and storming upstairs again.

Immediately she found a half-circle of men, their backs shielding her from some activity in the center of the deck. "What's going on?" she demanded, shoving sailors aside. When they realized who she was they cleared a path for her, and she found Mari growling and clenching her fists. Read stood nearby, her arm wrapped around the neck of the rigger, Miller, holding him firmly at an angle where he struggled to find his footing. She also held a pistol to the side of the man's head.

"She wanted it," Miller croaked. "Ask her yourself, she wanted it!" His hooded eyes scanned over his crewmates, who shifted from foot to foot and grumbled.

"The feck is this all about?" Bonny reached for her own pistol, blushed lightly, and pulled out her machete instead. "What've you done to our guest?"

"If you'd let me up, I could explain," he whimpered, but Read remained steely-eyed and held him fast. "You all saw how Mari was dancing around, grinding up against us while we're trying to do our work, right? Everyone saw that! Well, I just thought I'd pull her aside for a little fun, seeing as how she was in the mood for it."

"I didn't give ya permission to touch me there!" Mari yelled, kicking one of the man's legs out from under him. He staggered and gagged within Read's elbow. "You don't just walk up and grab whatever ya want! I'm not a fuckin'… candy store or somethin'!"

Bonny glared at Mari, who'd been showing herself off like a dog in heat for the past week. But she was right, no one on this ship was going to just grab her like they owned her. There was no way for the rigger to know that Bonny had gutted another young man with a kitchen knife for the same thing: some confident suitor who tried to go a little too far with her, before marriage.

But she looked at Read, as well, who'd come up to her and all but shoved her head in her crotch, not a candle's inch ago. Bonny grimaced, wound up over secrets and boiling over with tension, and she packed all that frustration into her fist as she hauled back and cracked Miller across the chops. Read released him and he sank to the deck like a sack of flour. Gratified, Bonny shook out her hand and smiled darkly at the heap of man.

Lovely Mari cheered, hopping on one leg and clapping. "My hero! That's real pirates standin' up for each other!" Before Bonny could react, Mari threw her arms around her shoulders and hugged her tightly, her enormous boobs rising to suffocate the pirate.

Read only arched her eyebrow and shooed the onlookers back to their tasks.

"How can you touch her?" The Teen walked a slow circle around Drummond. "How can you even want that monster? She's gross! She's disgusting! You saw what she did to Pavla and her friends!"

Drummond sighed and slammed the Grimoire shut. He unfolded his legs and rose, stomping over to confront the Teen. "So that's what this is about, huh? You have one romantic interest, and now you're bent on revenge? You didn't know anything about her, punk." He jabbed the heavy tome in the youth's chest, making him stagger back a couple steps. "They broke in here regularly, stealing food and crap. This is an entirely different world than Earth, kid. What makes them different from a bunch of rats?"

The Teen's face grew red, and his hands bunched into little fists where they clutched the velvet runner around his shoulders. Drummond smirked to see the empty rage in the boy. "Don't go flying off the handle. I'm just messing with you. I know what's up, but what you need to get through your head is that when you find a superior opponent like this, you don't throw yourself at it, fists swinging, guns blazing. That kind of shitheadedness gets you killed quickly." He held up the Grimoire. "You need to study the enemy first, understand how they think, look for any weaknesses. And if there aren't any? You build yourself up, look for resources, strengthen your position, all while lulling your opponent into a false sense of security."

The Teen regarded him dubiously. "That's what you think you're doing? Making the giantess think you're her friend?"

"I can get a lot more done around here if she thinks I'm her friend, yes. More than if she thought I was planning on ruining whatever game she's got going on around here."

"So that's your plan. Sit next to her ear, moaning yes, Goddess and no, Goddess. Squirming between her tits, jacking yourself off while she stomps little people flat." The Teen narrowed his eyes. "While she chews them in half and shoves them up her ass! You just sit there, giggling and cooing at her while she decides who lives and who dies! Like some kind of… fucking lapdog!"

Drummond's hand flew sharply up over his opposite shoulder, a split-second from backhanding the impertinent youth. He himself was surprised that he didn't follow through. It wasn't the immature fury on the kid's face or his tear-streaked cheeks that stopped him. "Pathetic," he muttered, lowering his arm. "You don't understand a goddamned thing. You think it's noble to get yourself killed, right off the bat? Fine, good luck to you. But listen to me." Before the Teen could dart away, he snatched up a fistful of his shirt and drew him close to his face. The kid smelled like a teenage boy who hadn't showered in a week. "If you fuck up my game, what I'm trying to accomplish, I'll twist your head off without a second thought. Try me, if you think I'm lying." He shoved the kid back and stared him down for a long minute, before turning his back and sitting down to study the Grimoire some more.

The Teen was hiccoughing with fright, struggling to stifle the embarrassing noise. "What's your game, then? What are you trying to do?"

The Operator stuck an index finger on the line he was reading and slowly turned around to face him. "I'm trying to find a way home," he said quietly.

*   *   *

There was a respectful yet firm rap on the captain's door. "Cap'n? It's Nicholass, sir. If'n yer curious, it were a success." Pause. "The Spanish ship, sir, the merchants. Smooth as silk, as you said: 50 rolls o' tobacco, nine sacks o' pimento, maybe 20 pounds o' raw sugar, an' two hogsheads of… we dunno what it is, but it taste like rum." Pause. "The crew call it chinguirito, won't say where they got it."

The William rocked heavily from side to side, the Caribbean Sea sloshing against the hull with an especial laziness. "So, uh, the crew's fittin' to celebrate a bit, if'n yer not busy," the boatswain hinted hopefully.

Rackham's head burst from the crevasse of Lovely Mari's cleavage, gasping for breath against the advances of her joyfully bouncy spheres. "What's he going on about?" he hissed.

Bonny, with her mouth full, could only grunt at her companion. Read stage-whispered around where Mari kneeled over the captain like a coffee table: "Just tell him that'll be all, we'll be up anon!" Her own arm was wrapped mostly around Mari's outsized hips, thrusting the butt of Bonny's beloved flintlock pistol deep inside the fiery flower of Mari's womanhood. She laughed as Mari spattered intermittently over Bonny's beautiful flame-red hair.

"Well and good, bo'sun!" he barked, struggling to paddle Mari's abundant bosom out of his face; she only laughed and attempted to smother him. "That'll be all! We'll be up anon!" Nicholass muttered very good, cap'n and his boots tromped off and ran upstairs to the festivities already in progress.

"Is that a party?" Mari left off trying to suffocate the captain. "Did he say they're havin' a party upstairs?"

"Aren't we having a party down here?" Read said, slapping Mari sharply across her pronounced buttocks. Mari purred and nuzzled her hips into Read's tender ministrations. Rackham merely called out to a deity as Bonny slurped him down, wrenching her fine hand around the base of his cock, until his entire body tensed and shuddered. He dug his head into the pillows and drew a breath to cry out, when Mari seized fistfuls of his hair and pulled him possessively into her cleavage, muffling him almost completely.

"But I wanna party with the pirates!" Mari whined, rolling to her back. Read hauled Rackham off the mattress and perched upon her face, squirming until she felt the strange woman's nose rubbing against her butthole. She gestured for Bonny to proffer her hips, which she did: it took some awkward angling, but Bonny stood on the bed, bent over like an A-frame, with her face shoved deeply between Mari's sopping thighs. Her own hips she presented to Read, who took her sweet time, flickering her hot tongue around her blushing labia or teasing her anus.

From the floor, Rackham cleaned himself off and gazed with some wonder at the assemblage, watching it shudder, threaten to collapse, then miraculously find its balance again as the three women dug into each other. "Anything I can do to help out?" he asked plaintively.

"You're lucky we don't charge you to watch," grumbled Read, returning to lap the shy honey out of her partner. While she enjoyed Mari's own squirming tongue inside her, she struggled to spread her knees wide enough to encompass the new recruit's ample bosom.

Later, exhausted and sweaty, Mari, Rackham, and "Mark" and "Andy" limped their way to the main deck. The sun had set and a fog was rolling in from the sea to the shores of the Bahamas. One of the looted barrels was opened and the sailors were in an advanced state of hilarity. Lovely Mari charged at them, popping a man in the jaw (by strange coincidence, Miller the rigger) to clear a path to the rum, which she scooped up with two hands to gulp down messily.

Rackham smoothed his hair back and nudged Bonny. "Usually it's after a few glasses of the fire-water that I start seeing double."

Bonny nodded. "It's not you, John: our crew indeed seem to have doubled in size. Ahoy, sea dogs! Where the fuck y'all come from?"

One of the powder-monkeys piped up. "It's a group of Englishmen, sirs! Found 'em fishing for turtles off Negril! Asked 'em if they wanted in on the rum-party, they climbed aboard! Seem a good lot."

Read drew a long breath through her nostrils and looked meaningfully at Bonny. Missing this, Rackham laughed and joined the crew for a ladle of the mysterious new drink that had fallen into their possession.

"This is what I'm talkin' about!" cheered Lovely Mari. "Hey, don'cha got some kinda music-box or somethin' ta play with?" The quartermaster, Phillpotts, produced a concertina and lurched his way through a shanty that struck her in the right way. "Fuckin' A! Pirates, woo-hoo!" She hooked her elbow through the nearest arm, which happened to be rigger Miller's, who flinched and cowered as she swung him around in wider circles. The other pirates cheered her on, stomping to the music and passing their ladle around.

"Is this the best place to be doing this?" Bonny asked Read. "Right off the coast of Jamaica? We've been ravaging the north side of this island for a week. This is more than lazy: this is irresponsible."

Read frowned. "Agreed. Guessing John didn't feel like dealing with this kind of strategy when he put us in charge." She watched the gaudily dressed "captain" whooping it up with the crew. "Tomorrow we'll clear out. We've got supplies to get us to Trinidad, I reckon, and then we'll sail around the coast and cool off in Havana−" The two pirates ducked as a shot rang out. "The feck was that?!"

Lovely Mari stood in the center of the group. The crew and their new passengers were cheering her on. Her arm was raised to the night sky, with someone's pistol in her hand. She eyed the sky and pouted. "Dammit, I think it flew away. Can someone reload this?"

*   *   *

Not far to the north, two ships drifted silently past Bloody Bay, one of the westernmost points of Jamaica. A man on the smaller ship leaned over the side, waving a lantern to attract the attention of an officer on the poop deck of the much, much larger ship. "You 'ear zis, mon capitaine?"

Peering into the soupy mists, Captain Jonathan Barnet nodded. "If you don't mind, Monsieur Bonadvis, bear south toward Negril. Examine Coral Beach and report with anything you find amiss. We'll be right behind you." As the Bennet sailed off, he ordered his First Mate to alert the Master Gunner to get warmed up, but held the man from running off just yet. Slim muscles along his jaw clenched briefly, and his eyes narrowed. "And make the rounds with the bo'sun," he added, "to extinguish as many lanterns as is practicable."

*   *   *

A large, glowing cube hung in the air above an ebony bowl. Slowly it spun, faster and then slower, erratically turning to all directions without any pattern Drummond could tell. "You've seen her use this before?" he asked the Teen sternly.

"A couple times. I don't know how she uses it." The kid stared at the cube, backing up unconsciously. "She laughs and says things I don't understand, and then all sorts of crazy shit happens."

"Shit happens?"

"Ghosts and shit. I don't know. They talk to her and she sends them off. I guess they could be demons."

"They're yōkai. She fights them."

The Teen rubbed his nose. "Didn't look like fighting to me." Drummond urged him to continue. "I don't know! She usually pulls out one of her huge-ass books and reads it, activates that thing, and that's when stuff happens."

Drummond nodded and seized the kid around the waist. He dropped the heavy Bible, and before he could retrieve it the SWAT officer had pitched them both off of Lovely Mari's work table. The velvet runner flapped stiffly through the air as they descended to the floor.

"Go into the hotel behind the library. You'll find two large, black roller suitcases−"

"Why should I do anything you say," the kid said sullenly. "You're in league with the witch."

Drummond took a long breath. "Get the two roller suitcases and wheel them into the library."

"I'm sick of taking orders from you! All you do is boss me around! What's the point of this? Tell me to clean up this, file those away, while you crawl up into bed and try to fuck a huge psychopath!"

It would be so easy, Drummond knew, to sink his fist into the Teen's midsection, right up to brushing his knuckles against his spine. There would be no resistance whatsoever. He wondered if the kid had any inkling what was running through Drummond's head, when he stared him down like this. "Take the suitcases to the chief librarian's office. The door is locked; the key is−"

"Could you taste Andon? That was his name, you know. He had a name."

Drummond blinked. "What are you talking about?"

The Teen raised his chin. "Your insane goddess shoved Andon up her ass, after she broke every bone in his body. He died inside her ass. So when you shove your entire head up the witch's gigantic ass and eat her shit, can you taste−"

Nothing stopped Drummond's arm this time. The Teen was blown off his feet, twisting in midair before he collapsed to the floor, some distance away. Drummond bent and jerked the velvet altar runner roughly from the limp body, hurling it contemptuously aside. Sorely wishing to ram his boot into the kid's soft, unprotected guts, he instead trotted off to the hotel to start the work that only he, apparently, could do.

"Yer not so bad, are ya, Miller?" asked Lovely Mari, burying the drunken man's face in her cleavage. His arms draped around her waist as she stroked his hair and cooed into his ear. "You jus' needed a lil' calmin' down, didncha? Atta boy, jus' relax." His whiskers tickled her breasts, and it amused her to see a grown man melt in her embrace like this. Beyond them, the Englishmen were teaching the powder-monkey a dirty song about elephants. Rackham, Phillpotts, and Nicholass debated the merits of breaking into one of the rolls of tobacco—"There's so bleedin' much of it, ain't there?"—as an incentive to the crew.

"Naw, naw," slurred Rackham. "They're good men 'n' all, but… I think this rum-party's enough for 'em. Don' want 'em gettin' all spoilt." His perch upon a barrel looked none too steady. "You spoil yer crew, an' they're no good fer nothin'. Turn on ya like a cur, and I should know."

"But perhaps just to shave a little off," urged the quartermaster. "Unroll it, trim some out of the core. Not too much, not to get greedy, but how could that harm anything?"

Anne Bonny regarded Rackham from the poop deck, getting slurrier and droopier with every inch of the candle. "Maybe I should lead him back to his cabin," she said. "Keep him out of trouble before a fight starts. The way they're drinking…"

Mary Read snorted. "Yes, a fight. I'm sure that's your foremost concern regarding John and his drunken state. You ever heard of whiskey-dick?"

Bonny was about to ask about this when she stiffened. "Ship ahoy, Mary. An armed sloop. I can't see the flag."

Read spun about and spotted the long, dark shape emerging from the mists. It wasn't overtly threatening, positioning itself to fire, but it was a highly unpleasant surprise nonetheless. "Go fetch Rackham. I'll hold them off if needs be." The young woman's coppery hair flowed beneath her kerchief as she plunged into the pogied sailors and hauled her prey out. Read extended a glass and tried to make out the crew of the new vessel. Only six or seven were visible on the sloop, with who knew how many below decks, and one man grinning and waving a lantern at them.

"Bonsoir, mes amis!" he cried. "Hail! What goes zees evening?"

Read hailed him back. "Who'm I talking to? Am I wrong in thinking that's Captain Napin's ship?"

The man laughed brightly, ringing falsely through the gloomy night. "You recognize ze Bennet! Très bien, c'est très net! As it 'appens, I in'erited zees lovely ship from my old friend, Captain 'Ornigold. She now thrives under my keep, je crois."

The skin began to crawl up Read's spine. She had been in Nassau three years ago and remembered when Hornigold's Bennet pulled in to dock. Their surgeon, John Howell, had been relieved of duty and was attempting to relax in a tavern where Read had been recruiting: she'd recently accepted the King's pardon and was gearing up to hunt pirates on behalf of New Providence, distasteful as this was. She remembered exchanging wry glances with a Captain Barnet as he reluctantly renounced his pirating days as well, not long before raiding Spanish wrecks in violation of the pardon.

With less drama than the overtly buxom Mari's entrance, a certain Frenchman burst into the bar with his men, searching for his own surgeon and uninterested in waiting for volunteers. Howell narrowly escaped and took shelter with a merchant in Nassau, William Pindar, who hid him away until pressure from the Frenchman led him to seek out a pirate recruiter by the name of Richard Noland, formerly of Hornigold's crew. After a long and heated discussion with Noland and Hornigold himself, Howell admitted—with the profoundest reluctance—he'd rather serve the English than side with the French, if he had any choice at all. The Frenchman still attempted to steal Howell away, but Hornigold kept him on the Bennet.

A sick feeling rose in Read's stomach: how was it that the Frenchman was now in possession of Hornigold's ship?

Clopping and shuffling on her left gave her a start: it was only Bonny struggling to haul a badly cup-shot Rackham up the stairs to the poop. "Who's this asshole?" chirped a voice on her right. She flinched and found herself face-to-décolletage with Lovely Mari, her golden hair and slender arms glowing in the night, her boobs as inflated as ever.

"He's, uh," started Read, struggling. "What was his name?"

"Belle dame, que Dieu vous bénisse!" he called out across the water, bowing. "Are you 'aving a leetle party over there? 'Ave you room for a few more!" He laughed, and not at all in a cheery way.

Lovely Mari's beautiful countenance darkened. "Somethin' 'bout him rubs me the wrong way," she growled, looking around for something to throw. Mounted on the rail directly behind the ship's wheel was a light cannon. Squealing delightedly, she pounced upon it and turned it around, looking for the trigger.

"Help me with him!" Bonny yelled at Read, who snapped out of her reverie and grabbed Rackham by the underarms, dragging him upon the deck. The younger woman followed, panting and swearing. "So what'd you find out?"

"I know him from Nassau, but I can't quite place him." Read glanced nervously at the Bennet. "Do you remember Hornigold pulling in and that trouble with the surgeon?"

"You told me about that. That was a year before James and I arrived. Is that Hornigold?" If it were possible in the dim light, the already-fair Bonny paled slightly.

"No, Hornigold died last year, but his ship belongs to… what the hell are you doing?" Read barked at Mari, who had dismantled the light cannon and, amazingly, was cradling the heavy little beast in both arms. It peeked pertly from beneath one mammoth breast.

"I'm doin' pirate shit, since you're all fuckin' around with drunk guys!" Frustrated with the impenetrable mysteries of the gun's operation, the alluring witchy quietly muttered an incantation, her milky back turned to the other women. A radiant spark formed upon her fingertip, illuminating the miniature vent and breach around the rear of it, and then she spotted the little portal known as the pan. "This's gotta be where the action happens," she murmured, shrugging, and as best as she could estimate she leveled the cannon at the bowsprit of the Bennet.

"Attends une minute, s'il vous plait," started the Frenchman, signaling furtively to his crew.

Read snapped her fingers and gaped at Bonny. "Bonadvis! That's Captain Jean Bonadvis, he's one of Barnet's privateers!" Before Bonny could even swear in response, Mari touched the spark to the pan, setting off a deafening roar of noise, like three competing choruses bellowing at each other. A brilliant bolt of multihued light blasted from the little cannon, slicing the bowsprit clean off the Bennet and knocking Bonadvis on his ass. The beam shot into the fog, illuminating great clouds of red and yellow and green as it raced to the horizon.

"Yo ho ho, ass-munch!" screamed Mari. "Come over here so I can kick your tummies!" Read and Bonny gaped at her, then at each other.

"What the feck was that," gasped "Calico Jack" Rackham, sitting bolt upright and instantly sober.

*   *   *

He's not wrong, thought Drummond. He's annoying, he's filthy, he has no discipline, but you've got to be honest with yourself. The key slid with a metallic rasp from the door jamb, and he let himself into the administrative office of the library, wheeling the large suitcases behind him one at a time.

Why is she sexy? She's not sexy, she's grotesque. This whole thing is unreasonable. He laid a suitcase upon a desk, then opened the desk drawers, exposing hundreds of thousands of dollars in tidy stacks. If she were your size, she'd look like a fuck-doll, that's it. You couldn't take her seriously, you wouldn't even look twice at her. Except maybe in morbid curiosity, like, how could someone do that to herself.

He pulled out the top layer of bills and quickly transferred them from the drawer to the first suitcase. And she's crazy. She's fucking nuts, don't forget that. At any moment, she could reach down and pinch my head like popping a zit. I don't know why she doesn't, honestly. She gets mad, she has a temper, and she's totally unhinged. I really don't know why I'm still alive.

When the first suitcase was full, he zipped it up, hauled it off the desk with a grunt, and moved to another desk to repeat the same routine. But there's something about her, still. I don't know what. Maybe it's the effect of being stuck in this lunatic world, where nothing makes sense. Feral bands of tiny people? What the fuck was that about? He shuddered, reliving (yet again) the executions of Andon, Mecho, and Pavla. Hideous deaths worse than nearly anything he'd ever seen. And she enjoyed it. She laughed… no, she didn't even laugh. It was a mild amusement to her. The way she crushed those guys under her tit…

What irritated him the most about that was how badly it had turned him on. Staring,  watching from her bare shoulder as she arrayed the two helpless men before her, picked up one immense breast with both hands—and it was too much for both hands!—and just let it drop. Bam. Up, then down, without a shudder of resistance. Drummond couldn't even imagine what those little guys had experienced, though he tried. He envisioned the scene from their perspective, watching the enormous planet of woman-flesh rising above them, that tense second as she struggled to hold it, right before release… I'm sick. I'm fucked in the head, that's all there is to it, I'm broken. What 17 years in SWAT couldn't do to me, a month in this nut-house has finally achieved. Has it even been a month?

The former officer paused and looked up. There was a clock, but it had been broken in the relocation. The desks had desk calendars, but no one had kept them up and he had no idea what the date should even be. Days? Weeks? Months? He really should have been marking these down somewhere. The sloppiness shouldn't have surprised him, he reasoned, if he was truly broken by this insane goddess.

And still I want her. He looked at his hands: they were strong and steady. I can't help it. When I climb her chest, like a huge, soft hillside, and when I lie down… and, better, when she just picks me up with those young fingers of hers, and she places me where she wants me… He closed his eyes and moaned quietly, aroused and ashamed. Goddamn me to hell. What am I doing?

Drummond punched the desk. It boomed in the dead-silent library office, the drawers rattled hollowly for a moment. He looked around, reflexively, but there was absolutely no one around at all. And there we are. I didn't communicate with my wife, and she left. Now that I need to talk shit out with someone, there's no one here. The Teen was inappropriate to discuss matters with, and upon penalty of death he didn't dare confess his inner workings to the giantess. Isn't this what I wanted, keeping everyone away? Aren't I finally comfortable?

He finished loading the second suitcase and wheeled them out of the library, beginning the long slog across the sexy witchy's bedroom.

"We've got to get the fuck out of here," said Rackham, surveying his crew. "Is anyone here suitable to drive?"

It was to Read's credit she didn't paste him a clean shot across his chops. "No, John, everyone here got shitfaced as fast as they could, and now they're useless." She watched the queasy rigger pulling himself up to the sails, looking like he was about to lose his grip and come crashing down to the deck any second. The carpenter staggered around, trying to help other sailors with odd jobs but unable to focus on any task for very long. And so, after the Bennet heaved to and raced back to report, they were barely prepared to sail off when a very large, very dark shape emerged from the thick fog and pulled up beside them. Had it been at all lit up, they might have noticed it long before.

"Ahoy," called out a bold British man's voice. "Identify yourselves."

Before Bonny could stop him, her lover called out "John Rackham of Cuba!" She hissed at him, demanding to know what he was thinking, but he shrugged her off.

On the much longer ship, one light went on as Capt. Barnet recognized this name as prominently placed on his to-do list. He waved to the First Mate, who waved to a sailor by the stairs, who waved to the Master Gunner, who carefully lined up one cannon to the William's stern.

"An' who're you, ya big jackass?" hollered Lovely Mari up to the dark shapes overhead.

Bonny cuffed her ear. "You idiot! What're you doing?"

"Well, who's this guy think he is? We're just havin' a nice lil' party to ourselves, he doesn't gotta piss all over it!"

Bonny went to seize Mari's collars, but there was hardly any three inches of her garment that didn't lead to something obscene. "We're pirates, buffoon! These seas are thick with assholes like this one, making careers of hunting people like us down!" Suddenly, the crash of wooden planks seized her attention. "Mary, John! We're being boarded! Nicholass, get us out of here!" She grabbed the ship's wheel herself and began to steer the William out of the bay and into the deep fog.

Sharp cracks rang out in the night. The deck splintered and burst around Mari's feet, and she glared up resentfully at the other ship: she could only just make out the shapes of men moving around, lining up shots with personal firearms, laughing and picking them off like rodents. She turned to see the drunken revelers scurrying a lot like rats themselves, scrabbling to dive below and hide in their cabins.

"You bastards!" Read yanked her beloved pistol from her belt and swiped Rackham's as well. She ran to the desk and stood before the portal. "If there's a man among you," she called into it, "you'll get your ass up here and fight like the man you're supposed to be!" When no one responded, she swore and fired a shot at the first writhing body she could make out, and she was drawing a bead on another when she heard conversation behind her.

"We can take them," Bonny was saying, impatience in her voice. "There's nearly 20 of us, and about as many of them. What, you think a couple dozen angry veterans couldn't hold off some royal pantywaists?"

But Rackham raised his hands placatingly and backed away from her. "It's not wise, I don't like it. Look, they've got us this time, but if we don't cause too much fuss−"

Read's jaw dropped. "You son-of-a-biscuit!" Her arm leveled at him like iron to a magnet, and had not the William taken a bad lurch at that moment, she might have done better than pierce his arm. Rackham collapsed and rolled behind the balustrade of the upper deck, shielding himself from her.

The Tyger easily kept pace with the smaller sloop, and Capt. Barnet's voice bellowed, "Stay and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire upon you!"

"Quarter! I request quarter!" yelled Rackham.

Bonny glared down at the flashy man who'd allured her for so long. "You pathetic little ass-munch," she said, drawing her leg back and swiftly booting him in the guts. "You and me, Read! It's always been you and me!" She stormed down the steps, pulled out her machete and flintlock, and awaited the British soldiers. Read finished reloading her pistols and stood beside her friend yet again.

"All those damned rats fled downstairs," Read growled. A cannon belched and the William's main sail was shredded.

Bonny stumbled and recovered as the Tyger blew the William's rudder into toothpicks. They'd been expertly disabled and drifted dead in the water. "I notice our posh new guest has fled the scene as well."

"That festooned doxy?" Read glanced around. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Have at you, dogs!" They charged the steadily creeping crew invading their ship, staving them off at two points. The British soldiers were taken aback by the fighting prowess of these two women (believing them to be men), while Rackham struggled to protect his arm and avoid detection during the fight, waiting for a proper captain to surrender to.

The ocean roared and boiled around both ships. The William surged and ground against the Tyger; the larger ship made a much more impressive display of lurching and becoming unstable. Some of the British soldiers managed to leap back onto their own vessel, while the stragglers stayed on the William to get hacked apart by Read and Bonny or tumble into the ocean.

"The feck is this?" yelled Bonny over the roar of the waves. She'd never seen such a tumult, as though a volcano were erupting directly beneath them. The Tyger looked like it was in great distress, for all its stoutness. The William canted badly, and the women leaped backward to grab their main mast, watching the earth upheave.

"We're too close to shore for this to be a whale!" Read smirked at the terrified cries of the men downstairs. "Rackham! Are you with us yet?" She couldn't see the craven sailor behind the railing or the wheel, but what she saw instead gave her a start. Wordlessly, she pointed her pistol behind Bonny's shoulder. The red-haired woman spun around and scanned the horizon.

The horizon was entirely blocked by a massive structure, larger than a house. Water ran down its sides, leaving enormous spills of spun gold flowing to the left and the right, as the gigantic thing emerged from the sea aport the William. It entirely occluded any view of Negril, as well as the rolling hills and jungles of Jamaica altogether. Below the waterfalls of gold, two huge disks of red blinked at them, with pupils formed into hearts, a feature neither Bonny nor Read had ever noticed in Mari's face before.

But now that Mari's face was a dozen yards wide and high, every detail was laid clear to them, from her fine, mischievous eyebrows to the hideously long grin that rose over the railings and above the mast. Her chin flew past, dripping buckets of seawater upon the pair of fighters, and then her long and graceful neck, leading down to the foothills of her bare shoulders, and then…

The William rocked, creaked resentfully, then turned and slid over the mountainous slopes of Lovely Mari's gargantuan boobs. These were truly colossal now, glistening in the moonlight as they rose above the fog, nestling the piratical sloop deep within her abundant cleavage. Read and Bonny could only gape at each other in a mixture of horror and wonder as Mari "sported her dairy" in a manner previously unimaginable. The William groaned as it settled between the tremendous, heaving breasts, eliciting despairing wails from below decks. Each breast rose above port and starboard, reaching far beyond what the two women could see; the aft of their ship broke apart and crumbled down the giantess's bared sternum like so much cookie, but the bow dipped toward the horizon. Between the literal hillsides of the gigantic witchy's breasts, the two pirates could see the fog coating the ocean like an eiderdown upon a mattress, perhaps, reduced in size and far, far below them.

"Holy feck, Mary, she's going to toss us into the drink!" Bonny gasped, struggling to remain upright as the floorboards beneath her feet rose and twisted restlessly.

Read stared up at the huge jaw sheltering them. The main sail was sundered, laying wetly against the immense woman's cheek. "I don't think so, Anne. Just hold on tight, I think this damp lass has something else planned."

What crew remained on the Tyger stared up in horror as nothing less than an ancient goddess arose from the Caribbean Sea. Captain Jonathan Barnet, for all his experience and worldliness, was struck dumb to see the immense, nude woman rising up and up and up, endlessly above them. The poor bastards in the William were nowhere to be seen, doubtlessly shattered by the unconscious force of this giantess. The First Mate screamed somewhere behind him, giving frenzied orders to the crew to recover the ship amid oaths to the god he believed in to save him or otherwise intervene. Good men, hardened soldiers ran back and forth, manning the lines, dodging barrels and crates as they skidded like projectiles across the decks, doing their level best to withstand the abrupt storm that assailed them.

Far, far above, two pale, fleshy planets swung back and forth, raining water upon the men as densely as any thunderhead. His mind struggled to liken this being to anything familiar, but every time it drew up an analogy to a woman, something defied the comparison. There was her navel, sure, but half his crew could have hidden in it like a cave. The twin planets could have been her breasts, but everything he knew about physics insisted they should have crashed upon him, and while the 90-ton snow easily outclassed Rackham's 20-ton sloop, the giantess's bosom impressed Capt. Barnet with how consummately frail his craft was.

A river of water flowed around the giantess's navel and gushed over the hilly slopes of her sexuality. Decency demanded that Capt. Barnet look chastely away, yet he could not in this supernatural moment forsake the vision that presented itself to him. Lights of the distant town of Negril glinted between the goddess's soaking thighs, immense pillars that planted imperiously in the rough seas to support her astounding structure. He almost… the captain almost wanted to… leap overboard, and…

His crew screamed like banshees, pointing overhead. Capt. Barnet looked as well and saw one of the giantess's hands placing itself gracefully upon her impossibly massive breasts, and one slender, frighteningly powerful arm reaching across the night sky. The Caribbean Sea dripped off her bicep, showering the Tyger, as her paradoxically dainty hand wrapped around the entirety of the Bennet, far behind them.

*   *   *

The cube spun radiantly above them, faster and faster, whistling with mass against the air. The Teen, upon waking, gingerly prodded the side of his head and stared at the brilliant shape before coming to his senses and seeking out the SWAT Operator. He found him kneeling before a large book, an immense book, huge enough to crush both people in it like houseflies. Yet Drummond stood there, beside two large, black suitcases, staring intently at the swirling symbols and reading aloud words the Teen couldn't recognize.

"What are you doing!" the Teen yelled over the cube's noise. Drummond didn't respond. The Teen sat up, looking for his Bible and the velvet runner he'd appropriated as vestments: they were nowhere to be found, and he recalled with alarm that he hadn't been on the magic work table when Drummond knocked him out. He crept away from the man, then, and gave the frenzied cube wide berth as he checked out the perimeter of the table. From where he was able to go, without getting too close to his abuser, he couldn't spot his property anywhere.

A noise like a large steam valve erupted, making the Teen look around with alarm. From where he stood, the spinning cube and the large bowl above which it hovered more or less blocked his view of Drummond, and probably vice-versa. But to his right, beside the book and on the side of the table overlooking the rest of the room, a mist began to form. It was itself a spinning little mass, whorls of purple with sparks of shocking crimson, but it didn't whirr like the cube, like it was about to explode. Instead, this looked like a pot of boiling water, just without the pot or stove. It roiled a couple feet above the table, slowly growing larger as Drummond read on.

The Teen forgot himself in the face of incomprehensible stimuli. "Drummond! What the hell is going on?" He started to run around the bowl, then double-backed from the churning fumes and ran behind it, unable to guess what was going on with the swirling mass. Then he found himself behind Drummond, to his surprise, and the officer didn't seem to have noticed him. He only stood straight, arms spread and slightly raised, as he belted out the strange words.

The Teen felt like he was about to puke, as he slowly crept up behind the officer. The Teen was clad in slightly baggy jeans and a t-shirt; Drummond crackled with power and authority in his SWAT gear, purposeful-looking straps and pockets, and several visible weapons. "No way," the Teen muttered, slowly creeping behind him, "no way." And yet in seconds, there he was right behind Drummond, the bully, the sex-toy to the insane goddess. What now?

There was the officer's pistol, securely strapped to a black web belt by means of a black nylon holster, cradling the firearm with something like a tailored fit. A single cloth strap reached behind the pistol's grip, with a solid-looking brass snap to the holster. The Teen stared at it, trying to detect if there was anything else, some other trick, but he was unable to find anything.

His next idea was to stare at the holster and the snap, pantomiming with his fingers to replicate simply reaching out, flicking the snap open, and slipping the pistol out with quickness. But his fingers trembled and frequently he forgot to breathe, standing rock-still behind the scary, military-trained man. If he screwed this up, Drummond could probably kill him a dozen ways with just his bare hands. He seemed like the living embodiment of the badasses so many other guys claimed to be, except Drummond never bragged about it. He simply was a badass.

The Teen wondered if this was a bad idea. He stood there and watched Drummond, trying to figure out what he was doing. At his boot was a small rainbow-colored book, more reasonably sized for both of them. Through the top of its spine ran a large gold hoop, and from this ran a short length of gold chain to a huge, oddly shaped hook. Drummond didn't even look at this as he read, picking out the scrawls and glyphs on the vast pages. And he was waving his arms, too, wiggling his fingers around as he emphasized certain sounds and combinations of sounds. He seemed unaware of the swirling mass beside the book, the thing that was growing larger into the shape of a tall and narrow oval.

Drummond jerked and the Teen fell backward onto his ass. But the Operator only clapped his hands, pointed at the oval, and returned to writing. The oval began to stretch out into six points, an elongated hexagon of bright violet lights, surrounded by flowing red mists. Inside was a glistening sheet of black material, the Teen didn't know what, but this slowly cleared and became transparent. Beyond it was sunshine on green trees, just like existed outside of the chaotic witchy's cabin. Was it a door outside? The hexagon stretched and widened, now large enough to hold a man, and then larger than that.

The skin on the back of Drummond's head and neck was flushed, the Teen noticed, reddening and sweaty, and his arms were beginning to tremble. His words were beginning to meld, and then he held a long chord, a long and powerful note, and the Teen stepped up, flicked the clip with this thumb perfectly on the first try, and lifted out the Kimber Custom TLE II.

He stared at it in his hand, retreating once more. It was heavy, serious metal in his untried grasp, slightly warm, with an intriguingly textured grip. Wanting to study it more, he instead felt the pressure to use it, now that he'd stolen it, and so he raised it to the back of Drummond's skull and pressed the tip into his stubbly flesh, like he'd seen in the movies. He started to pull the hammer back, like in the movies, but it was strong and he wasn't sure what that would do. He didn't want to break it, and he didn't question that ridiculous notion.

Paying him no mind, Drummond continued to recite and perform as though his life depended on it. The Teen leaned around the side, catching a glimpse of his cheek shaking as he returned to pronouncing the arcane language, rivulets of sweat running down his skin. The Teen nudged him with the pistol, but Drummond stood there, strong and immovable and not open to external suggestions.

"Dammit," muttered the Teen. "I can't do anything right." He stepped back a few paces, squatted onto his haunches, and waited for the Operator to finish whatever the hell he was doing. After a minute, he decided to drag one of those wheeled suitcases over and partially hide behind that, in case it helped. He turned the gun over and over in his hand, always careful to point it away from himself and not at Drummond, either. When the spinning cube began to spit out sparks, just a few colored mini-meteors in random directions, the Teen raised the pistol and lined the center of the cube in its sights.

The Operator's hand wrapped around the barrel, holding it fast. "I wouldn't do that," said the older man wearily. The Teen yelped and tumbled backward, releasing the gun; Drummond simply put it away and fastened the clip once more. Then he leaned upon the suitcase to gasp for breath, then collapsed to his knees, holding his chest.

"Drummond?" Slowly the Teen got up and stood nearby, just out of arm's reach, but near enough to help if needed. "Are you okay? What were you doing there? Do we gotta worry about that?" He pointed at the cube, but the man didn't look up.

"Gimme a minute." Drummond's hands curled up shakily into fists, resting on his knees, as he gritted his teeth and breathed hard.

"Should I get you some water?"

"Just… give me a minute. Please."

Hearing please from the officer was more frightening than anything else. "I'm sorry about the gun. I didn't want to use it on you, I just didn't know what else to do."

Drummond shook his head. "I don't blame you. Shit's crazy right now. Time to do crazy things." It almost look like he laughed. "Help me with these."

Unquestioningly, the Teen wheeled one of the suitcases next to the glowing portal before the cube. The Teen could smell sweet air coming from the hole in space and got a better look. It was like he was looking at a TV screen of a small town, like a local news report anywhere in America. Except it emitted an actual breeze and, over the cube's buzz, he could hear light traffic.

He gaped at Drummond. "Are you serious? Is that home?"

The older man said it probably was.

Jean Bonadvis had given his crew the orders to fall back and let the Tyger do what it did best. No coward himself, Bonadvis was badly shaken by the missing section of the front of his ship. He'd examined it at a free moment, crawling over the bow with his lantern to assess the damage. The bowsprit was gone entirely, and the front of the ship bore a tremendous gouge, one that was perfectly round and smooth. He ran his hand over the timbers that hadn't been seared away by the brilliant light: more than polished, the surface felt glassy-smooth. The fact of this defied finding a seat in his mind, however, and he lay there murmuring to himself, running his hand over the intriguing surface until his First Mate yanked him away by his coat.

His question as to the intrusion was cut short by the First Mate's arm pointing upward and the expression of abject horror on his face. Bonadvis was compelled to stare in the indicated direction, and he did so just in time to see an immense bare palm reaching for his ship. Slender, powerful fingers wrapped around the sloop-of-war like the arms of a gigantic squid, as depicted in woodcuts and scrimshaw, but this was less of a struggle. In illustrations, the great squid was fierce, grappling with the ship, straining to contain and even crush the vessel. But here, the long fingers simply scooped the ship out of the water, over the Tyger, and crossing the bay in no time at all.

"Where is she taking us?" screamed the able-bodied seamen. "We're all going to die!" "What's happening? This is impossible!" The frenzy of grown men babbling like children stoked a fire in Bonadvis's chest. He struggled to climb to his feet—the deck swayed and groaned beneath him—and fired a shot into the crowd of his own crew. Nearly at once, they all froze and turned to him.

"Attend, you sons-of-moles!" he shouted over the agonized ship's structure and high winds that came out of nowhere. "We still 'ave a mission to do! You're all being paid very well by le roi George, are you not? Does not gold carry ze same weight, zees close to ze equator? Does ze rule of law no longer apply on zees far-flung islands? I think she does!" Finding the deck more or less level, Bonadvis stalked toward his crew, a mass of huge eyes and hanging jaws. He even reached up and placed his hand against the callused pad at the base of one long finger, to steady himself, doing so with deliberate nonchalance for the benefit of his audience. "You will perform your duties, you shit-sausages, and you will conduct yourselves like ze stout-hearted gentlemen I 'ired! Upon my heart, ze next fly-fucker to−... what are you all gaping at?"

"Aw, lookit th' pretty li'l bugs scamperin' around!" A young woman's voice boomed across the Bennet like thunder, but much louder and much closer than anyone was comfortable with. "Dancin' around in their pretty li'l coats!"

Slowly, Bonadvis turned from his aghast crew toward the (missing) bow of his ship and beheld the vision that transfixed his men. Lovely Mari's face hovered before them like a mountain they were about to crash into, save that she held their sloop-of-war immobile within one dainty palm. He stared into her heart-shaped pupils, and his heart threatened to freeze in his chest. Who was this goddess? What monstrosity from the deep had manifested and seized them? What was her intent with them?

Very conscious of a few dozen eyes boring into his back, Bonadvis took one unsteady step forward, and then another with more confidence. "Ma belle jeune femme," he called out, for despite its size her face was wholly endearing, "it is with no exaggeration that I entitle you the most beautiful vision these lowly eyes have been privileged to behold!" He removed his tricorn, spread his arms wide, and threw himself into a deep bow with a practiced flourish.

Rolls of flesh bunched upon the long bridge of the giantess's nose as she crinkled cutely. "Well, looka here: th' first real gentleman I've met on this entire trip! How'd y'do, there, li'l sir?"

Heartened, Bonadvis looked back at his crew with a wink. Their faces began to melt into hopeful grins. "Very well, énorme belle femme, very well indeed! I'm honored to receive your notice, vraiment! Please to be assured, ze 'umble Captain Jean Bonadvis is entirely at your service."

Broad, sculpted eyebrows rose upon the cliff of her alabaster forehead. "Izzat true? You'll do enna-thin' I say?"

"Avec un immense plaisir, jolie fille!" He flashed her his most dazzling smile.

Twin crimson irises the size of stained-glass windows rolled to the upper right. "So… if I told you do do a li'l dance, you'd have to do it?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Bonadvis's hard leather shoes clomped and skidded across the deck in a dazzling demonstration. His upper body swooped in a long coat of red velvet trimmed in gold, and his arms swung about, the bobbing lantern glowing about his person in pleasing patterns. Behind him, his crew made noises of appreciation and light applause.

"An' what if I told ya to sing at me?"

"Well, mon bébé mignon, my voice, she is not what she used to be," he said. Nonetheless he cleared his throat and belted out a passable "Taisez-vous, ma musette" to the surprise and relief of his crew.

"That was lovely! You'll, uh, pardon me if I don't clap for ya!" She giggled, and the captain's lantern flashed against her long and glistening incisors. The crew assured her it was quite all right that she did not applaud just then. "Hmm, what else? I guess I should demand ya t' have good taste!"

Bonadvis straightened up, furrowing his brow. "As you can see, ma cher, I already have ze impeccable taste in clothing, non?" He swept an arm over his finery, chuckling. "An' my 'eart, she belongs to you, so do I not have ze best taste in women?"

"Naw, that ain't what I mean," rumbled Lovely Mari, licking her teeth. Her huge tongue glittered in the lantern light. "I mean ya gotta make y'rself taste good fer me." Massive and silent as a whale beneath the waves, her other hand descended upon the Bennet. The crew quailed and retreated against the poop deck, leaving Capt. Bonadvis quite alone as her huge thumb and forefinger pinched his long velvet coat and hoisted him carelessly from the main deck. His dark shoes and white stockings kicked and flailed in the chilly night air above the heads of his men. Mari only parted her broad, pink, full lips and let the moon glow on her rows of huge, perfect teeth, widening her jaws into a chasm beneath the tiny Frenchman. Moans of fright arose from the seamen of the Bennet.

Lovely Mari closed her sweet mouth and blinked prettily at the men. "What's that all about? You don't wanna see your cap'n do a little dance on my tongue an' go singin' down my throat?" The crew cried out exhortation against these, almost as one voice. "Aww, such loyalty! None o' them wanna see you get hurt, cap'n! Ain't that sweet?"

Bonadvis, swinging freely hundreds of feet above sea level, agreed that this was a kindly sentiment.

"So let's put them all away, so's they don't hafta witness enna-thin' that'll give 'em bad dreams!" Lovely Mari puckered her sensual lips together in a throbbing kiss to the crew, and then she seemingly shot up into the heavens. The crew watched her head ascend, witnessed the William and its crew cradled securely between humongous breasts, and saw yards and yards of sweet, smooth, pale flesh spooling past their decks. Those few by the railings shouted that the ocean was nearing them, yet the giantess held them securely in her hand, seemingly without intent to drop them to the water. That was glad tidings, for surely they could not have survived the collision.

They could only stare helplessly at the vast, flat belly of the young woman, the round hip that rose and turned before them, extending to an especially pronounced buttock, flecked with what kelp and small fish that hadn't managed to flow down its grand slopes as the waters of the Caribbean returned to their source far below. Another buttock emerged as the grand, slender arm swept them around her immensity, and the crew found themselves, to their surprise and delight, staring into the shadowy cleft of the largest, most beautiful ass cheeks they could ever have imagined in their lives.

Far above the rolling fog that blanketed the sea, the exaggeratedly round rump of the giantess shone with moonlight. Her slender waist swept down from above, the indentation of her spine wound gracefully down the sheer slopes of succulent, healthy flesh, to the twin dimples above her buttocks. Between these shyly began the gentle crevice that led down between her cheeks and on into the mysteries of her femininity, on a grander scale than was easily apprehended. The crew gave a cheer to see such rampant and spreading beauty before them.

Lovely Mari giggled coquettishly, her voice echoing from far above, and she gave her butt a gentle little shake. The massive buttocks swayed with astounding mass before the crew, heaving their bulk from side to side. The dark crack of her ass careened left and right in their vision, long and slow sweeps back and forth, as her ripe and youthful buttocks danced for their pleasure. Again the crew cheered, whistling and shouting in great joy at their luck, to witness such a display.

"This part's gonna be difficult," Mari whispered to the Frenchman between her fingertips. "I'm gonna hafta put you down for a sec, y'mind?" Promptly she stuck out her tongue, long and hot pink in the moonlight, and carefully placed the tiny man upon it, near the end.

Captain Bonadvis stared up at the giantess in terror, now only able to see the unfathomable black pits of her nostrils, her prominent cheekbones jutting below her immense eyes, and the ringlets of golden hair, drying in the night's breezes at this altitude. Wind gusted around him and he threw himself flat to the bed of her taste buds, less disgusted with plastering himself in saliva than he was fearful of being swept off the monstrosity and sent free-falling to wherever the wind might carry him. At least he was spared the horrors of her throat and the threat of her teeth, as her cushioning lips wrapped tightly around the base of her tongue, leaving Bonadvis on nothing more than a fleshy ledge protruding from the giantess's beautiful face.

With her hand free, she slipped her fingers as best she could around one immense buttock, dug her fingertips deep into her flesh, and hauled the colossal bulk aside. The crew's cheers changed to gasps of confusion and shock as the moonlight shone within the shadowy crevasse to expose the gigantic woman's anus: utterly hairless and clean, it hovered in an aura of health and warmth unalike any other aspect of these privateers' existence. They stared in surprise, taking in new information they'd been curious about, wondering whether the women they'd known had contained such a secret, such a gift, when the blooming sphincter began to enlarge. Their eyes grew huge, drinking in the spectacle of deep, thin radial lines drawing down into the pulsing smooch of the giantess's anus, but only when the shadows overtook their ship did they realize what was happening. For Mari's immense buttocks spread over the port and starboard sections of the craft, slowly blocking the ambient glow of the moon, and the bow of the Bennet began to crumble and rend with godawful noise. They glimpsed the shiny, strong fingernails of her powerful fingers, straining to hold back the incalculable tonnage of one colossal buttock, as their ship advanced deeper and deeper into her crack. Powerful timbers peeled away from the structure of the ship, roaring like thunder as they sundered and snapped away, and the crew watched large segments of their vessel fly over their heads or bounce against the interior walls of Mari's butt cheeks before colliding with the ship once more.

Horrifically, the huge anus appeared to become excited with the destruction, pushing out and throbbing with anticipation, until finally a dark seam began to form within its center. The crew raised a cry of anxiety as Mari's asshole grew and swelled and expanded, embracing the fore of the ship, then contracting to crunch it into pieces, then gaping open once more. They hurled accusations against the giantess, they cursed the gods that had forsaken them, and the spreading fuchsia of tender flesh rose over them, enclosed them, and sucked them within. The cries of the men echoed within Mari's capacious rectum, then, and the last of the Bennet exploded with raw destructive force when the giantess released her buttock and let her ass fully close upon the fragile little sloop.

The crew of the Tyger, heaving upon the churning sea's surface, rocked in waves created by this gigantic young woman's bare thighs, stared up in abject terror. They scrambled to dodge the planks and cargo of the Bennet that rained all around them. The blood drained from their faces as they heard the howls of twenty men abruptly silenced, supplanted by the frivolous giggles of the goddess towering above them. Yet they could not tear their eyes away from her protruding, perfectly formed ass cheeks, quivering directly overhead, as Mari slapped her own butt with satisfaction, sprinkling the last of the Bennet from her deep and plunging ass crack.

Her huge hand floated beyond the tip of her clammy, dried tongue and she plucked up Captain Bonadvis once again. "Let no one say I ain't a goddess o' mercy," she whispered to him, her sweet breath blowing back his hair and rippling his clothes. Before the minuscule Frenchman could compose a rejoinder in her foreign tongue, Mari threw her cavernous mouth wide open once more and dropped him inside.

Bonadvis collapsed to her tongue, now moist with a thick coat of her saliva. The viscous fluid adhered him there, and his little lantern illuminated the pink and red grotto of her mouth. With a sharp clack, all her teeth collided and lined up with each other, and beyond these her lips sealed. Stricken with awe, the captain rose to his knees and swung his lantern about, staring at this remarkable environment. Ivory molars glinted on either side, huge and compelling. He tracked the narrow ridge that ran along the roof of her mouth, studying the network of her tiny blue veins with genuine fascination. Even her tongue held him rapt, and he reached down to run his fingertips through a thin coat of creamy film building up on the back of it. His palm was caked in it, the residue of meals and drinks and anything else she took into her mouth. Chuckling, he wiped it on his coat and peered at Mari's tonsils, lumpy nodes framing her throat, and the uvula that bobbed and twitched with a life of its own.

"Sacre bleu," he murmured reventially. He held up his lantern and examined the giantess's uvula: it glowed warmly with his light, pulsing slightly as she breathed. Not through her mouth, obviously, but torrential winds rushed up from her throat and down from her sinuses. His heart pounded with the excitement of personally witnessing such intimate processes! This lovely woman, this goddess had stored him in her mouth and invited him to observe the wonder of her composition! Bonadvis laughed louder, his chest swelling with gratitude for this miracle. If only there was something he could do to show her how he felt right now! This intimacy, this privacy, this rare connection she imbued him with! "Oh, ma déesse, je pense que je t'aime." He would be her partner, yes, he would, her little companion. His eyes ran over the smooth, pale boulders of her teeth: he could clean these very closely, yes, he could. It would be his pleasure to flush them out and polish them up, after every meal. And her tongue, well, it just needed a good scraping to return to a clean, healthful state, and he was the man for this job, yes, he was! He laughed again, thrilled with the confusion of emotion surging through him now. Where did this warmth come from, this affection? Was this some deep desire always lurking within him, never able to manifest until this outrageously gorgeous goddess imposed herself upon him? Ah, but what an imposition, he thought, stroking her uvula. A welcome imposition, most welcome. Allow me to dedicate myself entirely to your service, ma déesse!

He gave a bad stroke to her dangly uvula: it retracted, the curtains of her throat widened, and her tongue reared and bucked toward its ceiling. Thrown off balance, Bonadvis pitched forward helplessly, his terrified screams echoing sharply off every yard of glistening throat as he and his little lantern plummeted toward the giantess's stomach.

Finally feeling that annoying morsel slide satisfactorily down her throat, Mari hummed a welcoming tune to the fancy little Frenchman. Below her jaw, Mary Read and Anne Bonny stared in horror.

"Did she…" started Read, sinking to her knees.

Bonny had fallen back to the deck, partly to relieve the strain of craning up to look at the giantess's head, partly because her legs threatened to give out. "She ate him," she whispered. "She just gulped him down."

Rackham had nothing to say, having passed out due to blood loss, on top of the difficulty of comprehending what the fuck was going on.

Mari simply smiled beneficently upon her prized possession, lodged between her tits. She waggled her eyebrows at the two tiny women and licked her lips slowly, sensually. "I could hardly taste 'im at all," she admitted, "but it jus' feels good knowing he's inside me. Ya know?"

They didn't, but they nodded at their tremendous friend.

Mari cupped her immense boobs, raising the William and hefting it aside. "Now, as for you," she called down to the Tyger, bobbing by her leg.

"What do you think she has intended for us, captain?" hissed the First Mate to Capt. Barnet, who regarded the entire tragedy stoically. And when he spoke to his First Mate, there was no fear or weakness in his voice. Indeed, he hardly seemed human at all.

"Alert the Master Gunner," he intoned. Behind him, one monolithic thigh churned the waters, passing through the darkness to part with its companion and glide around the Tyger; Capt. Barnet gave it no notice. "To the best of our ability, to our last breath, we shall give this bitch Hell."

The Teen looked at the heavy baggage, then back through the portal to America. "Is it safe?"

Drummond smirked and folded his arms. "How badly do you want to find out?"

The Teen sighed and shifted from foot to foot, thinking. He hardly noticed the cube, large as a small house, spinning and buzzing and spitting above him. "Sometimes I wondered if this was all a dream, a long one I'm not waking up from.  The giantess, the murders, the magic stuff… that can't all exist, right?"

"All you can say is that it hasn't historically." Drummond looked around the immeasurable bedroom, appointed like anime's idea of late Renaissance. "But when you receive new information, you compromise your position by denying it. Understand? You have to face up to everything life throws at you and deal with that, not get hung up on the way life should be or any of that bullshit."

The Teen nodded, idly working the suitcase's retractable handle up and down. Drummond asked him if he was having second thoughts. "It's not that, exactly, but…" He shrugged, looking pathetic in the large t-shirt. "I want the dream to end, but I don't. When my friends and I play MMOs, we used to talk about what fantasy world we'd want to live in. They all, you know, have their downsides like monsters and demons, but they're all also amazing. Magic, gold, adventures, shit like that." He looked up at the tactical officer directly. "I feel like I haven't even started to explore this place. I don't know what happened to me. Most of the time I just wanted to leave and go back home, but now that we're about to leave, I feel like I'm missing out."

Drummond glanced at the staircase leading down. He had no idea when the crazy goddess was going to return, but the kid clearly needed to get something off his chest. But was that his responsibility? "Well, then, maybe you should've gotten your head out of your ass and looked around."

That was met with a resentful glare. "You told me to hide out in those buildings most of the time!"

"That was to protect you, from when Mari didn't know about you."

"Why didn't you protect those wild Tinies?"

Drummond sighed exasperatedly. "I tried to, but there's only so much I can do. I have to play her game to get what I want, and even then I don't get everything I want. But I always get to stay alive, and that means a chance to get more of what I want."

"So what the fuck do you want, anyway?"

They stared at each other. "I want to get back what I've lost," Drummond said slowly, quietly. The Teen, of course, wanted to know what that was. "I had a job I was good at, people who respected me. That was kind of an adventure, going in to work, waiting for an emergency to break out, going in to solve it. I guess that's as much of an adventure as you can have in our world."

"Until that crazy-ass giantess comes crashing in," muttered the Teen. "What about your family?"

"Don't have one."

"What happened?"

Drummond opened his mouth, closed it, then seized the Teen and threw him into the portal. He picked up one fully laden suitcase and hauled it in after him.

"What the hell are you doing!" cried the Teen.

"Just shut up and get along, already!"

"But this isn't my home! Where is this?"

Frowning, Drummond poked his head through the portal and looked around. "Shit. Where do you live, kid?"

"South Carolina!"

He swore and stepped out again and glanced at the huge tome, from which he had recited a spell that took about 15 or 20 minutes to complete. "There's no time!" He turned back to the Teen and pointed at the luggage. "Use that to go anywhere you need to! You're in Columbus, Ohio! You can get a bus, a plane… hell, you can take a Lyft all the way home if you want!"

The Teen picked himself up and stared back into the portal, at the older man in black, surrounded by the bedroom of an insanely cruel and horny goddess. "What are you gonna do?" But the officer only looked over the Teen's shoulder and ran out of view, and a second later, the portal shrank, closed, and disappeared.

"Drummond! Goddamn it!" Angry men's voices erupted behind the Teen, who turned to see soldiers and one man in a suit charging at him. "Where'd he go?"

"I'm not sure how to explain it," started the Teen. "He just didn't come here, that's all. I don't even know where there is."

The old man in the suit scowled deeply. "Well, you're coming with us, anyway. Specialist, take his bag." The Teen protested as a soldier stepped around and tried to pick up the suitcase by the handle, grunting and swearing instead.

"The fuck you got in here, kid?" The soldier laid the bag down and, over the Teen's protests, unzipped it. All the adults in the immediate area whistled or gasped. "Where the hell'd you get all this money?"

The Teen pounced on the bag and struggled to close it. "This is mine! I have to get back home! I'm from South Carolina!"

The old man in the suit shook his head. "Son, you're going nowhere but back with us to HQ, where we will detain you until we're satisfied you have told us everything we need to know about Major Drummond and the giantess who's been tearing up the United States like her personal playground. Don't fall in the hole."

Unable to fight the sneering soldiers who made off with his bag, the Teen glanced over at the "hole" the old man referred to. Amid a fleet of construction vehicles and law enforcement, there were streams of police tape blocking off a vast pair of craters digging into the middle of a residential area.

He thought they looked hauntingly familiar.

*   *   *

Lovely Mari's inner thighs lit up with flashes of red and yellow as two rows of cannons fired as frequently as they dared. The Master Gunner encouraged his sailors to load faster and harder, even as the guns began to emanate with a rosy inner light. His only hope was in dumping the entire load of cannonballs into their opponent.

Not that this had any effect: he, and the captain above decks, watched as the barrage of hot cast-iron ballistics roared at the massive column of milky flesh. Every single shot failed to penetrate, slowing down almost immediately against the tissues that appeared for all the world to be tender and delicate, yet proved tougher than anything they'd experienced. The hot balls barely burned into the massive inner thighs, leaving only a fading red welt before bouncing harmlessly into the waters.

"Unbelievable," murmured Capt. Barnet, witnessing the ineffectual fusillade. Behind him erupted a threatening crack, like a lightning strike. Far from surprised, he turned with casual resignation to observe the magnificent woman's fingers reach down and snap the mainmast free, as it had the other two masts. It took no effort on the giantess's part whatsoever to disable the mighty Tyger, after its storied career of high adventure and treachery. Wearily he announced,"All hands abandon ship." The First Mate glared at him uncertainly, then repeated his order. All the British Royal Navy seamen had the same moment of pause at being told to abandon their stations and flee the ship, but surely their experienced leader must have sized the situation up.

He certainly had. He had unloaded the best guns at his disposal into the supple thighs of this young woman (towering over the landscape notwithstanding) and elicited nothing more than the distressing noises of aroused cooing and giggles. Capt. Barnet knew when he was beaten, and the least he could do was save the lives of his men. The crew from below decks were just coming up from their expended cannons when the giantess shifted. Capt. Barnet watched the enormous woman's creamy thighs sloshing through the sea, waking large waves that hammered at the sides of the Tyger, and he looked up to witness what new terror should be visited upon them.

The last shreds of the Bennet sprinkled upon the decks of his ship as her monstrous rear blotted out the moon in its descent. Brave sailors cried out in fear as the young woman slipped two slender fingers like marble pillars along the perilous folds of her womanhood, digging into her own toughened flesh. "Avert your eyes, ye God-fearing men!" Barnet cried, as responsible for their immortal souls as he was for their all-too-frail flesh. Some did, trusting him implicitly, and others looked up and froze where they stood. Surely, they had never seen such a beautiful sight in their lives, as to witness the intimate massage of a robust young woman to herself.

Her nails seemed to claw into her own flesh, and the men winced, knowing from their own experience how tender was the undercarriage on either a man or a woman. But this giantess dug into herself with gusto, her powerful fingers disappearing between layers of seething tissues. "Oh, my Goddess," cried the woman who was like unto a goddess herself. Her voice echoed off the shoreline, a deep and throaty cry that weakened the knees of those able-bodied men who heard it. She moaned and she bellowed with a profound lust, rippling out from within her core and crashing like waves into the tiny men below.

"Off the ship, you fools!" Capt. Barnet roared, seizing men by their collars and hauling them to the rails. They begged for just one more minute, and some of the more audacious slapped his hands away, but there was no recourse for his outrage: any man who might have supported him and enforced his law was gazing upward, rapt at the obscenity of the young goddess squatting perilously close to them.

Closer and closer, in fact: none of the men seemed to realize what was happening, even as Capt. Barnet watched the goddess's knees quiver and spread in the churning sea, as he witnessed the thunderous spasms of immense musculature shuddering up and down her legs. "Oh, holy fuckin' Goddess," she blasphemed, plunging two fingers deep into the swollen, rosy folds of flesh. "Oh, my Goddess, I can't stop. I can't stop!" Who knows what went on in the sailors' minds, as the immense ass swelled larger and larger above them. Perhaps they were lost in the moment, as large, thick droplets of feminine liquid began to form and strike the decks about them. Perhaps they thought it was their imagination, that this goddess might be filling out and growing larger, as her lubrication spurted between her knuckles and smacked them in their faces, doused their clothing. Perhaps there was a few that knew, but didn't care, that the colossal, erotic being was slowly lowering herself to the decks, a fact undeniable once she spread her huge lips and the mainmast disappeared within it. The sailors stared, utterly entranced, as the young giantess's mighty buttocks shattered the poop deck and her labia spread abundantly upon the main deck, trapping men beneath great cakes of flesh. Capt. Barnet himself, darting hither and yon, shoving his men off the ship for their own sake, found himself in at last in the epicenter of the giantess's libido, noting only too late as vast whorls of pink, moist curtains descended upon him all-encompassingly. He looked upward, gazing into Mari's abyss, with no clever words nor cries of terror, only a stiff upper lip as her vulva expanded about him, slurped him up, and sucked him inside for keeps.

Lovely Mari plunged her arms into the water, before and behind herself, and she scooped up the Tyger, lifting the 90-ton snow as though it were a beach toy. With an unsteady, desperately hungry laughter, she ground the massive ship up into her crotch. Mammoth labia scraped up and down the decks, tearing housing over, shattering cabins, sundering support beams and walls. What few men hadn't fallen off the ship or been cast overboard were now lost within her, swimming in her boiling seas, sinking within Mari's briny depths to no end.

The lusty, monstrous goddess canted her head back, and her voluminous mane of gold scintillated in the night sky. Her jaw swung open like a drawbridge, and her throat flexed and expanded, and she released a heart-stopping roar of intense desire, pulling the Tyger into her pussy and crunching it between her irresistible thighs. Her legs shook with orgasm, trembling and shattering the war ship into pieces. Her copious cum flooded the decks, gooshed into the gun levels, burst all the doors to every cabin and filled every available space. Any hapless soul left within was instantly inundated with thick, gummy waves of salty honey and no hope of escape. Her humongous fingers curled reflexively and tore into the ship's hull as she desperately jammed it against her pussy, needing more, just a little more to push her over.

"What in God's green earth is going on down there?" Anne Bonny stared at her friend, petrified.

As the William bounced between immense, shuddering hills, Mary Read shook her head vigorously. "I'm sure neither of us really want to know the answer to that."

"Hang on!" screamed Mary Read. "Grab onto something solid!" Anne Bonny only cursed in return, clinging to one of the few mounted belaying pins to keep from zipping down the badly canted deck. "Calico Jack" John Rackham himself was sprawled against the railing of the forecastle deck, his head lolling sickly about as he faded in and out of consciousness. He was entirely unaware of the disasters going on far below, the ignoble fate of the Bennet nor the obscene demise of the Tyger. Even now, the remnants of Captain Barnet's 90-ton snow were sinking to the shallow sea floor off the coast of Negril, Jamaica, heavily impregnated with the gigantic, gorgeous witchy's ejaculate. For months afterward, this wreck would daunt treasure-seekers with the thick ooze it slowly disseminated throughout the waters, attracting new sea life following up on this novel food source.

Yet Lovely Mari did not think her task done.

"How're you guys doing?" Pressing her chin to her collarbones, she spoke as cheerfully as possible to the tiny sloop of friends. "Holy fuck, I love bein' a pirate! Wish I could do this all the time! Ain't this the best?"

Whether it was the best or not, Read and Bonny called up enthusiastic agreements to the crude and lewd giantess who held them captive within her spreading bosom.

"Now, mateys, I'm gonna need your help for this next part, okay? Because I'm way too big to do a complete job, but I got y'all backin' me up, don't I?"

They swore up and down they were here to back her up, absolutely.

"That's what I like ta hear! Fuckin' A, pirates! Woo-hoo!" She cheered her companions, then hollered look out below to no one in particular. It was just a thing to do, because she bent at the hips and rocked back on her heels, and she drove her immense and bulging ass into the shore of Negril. Stories for decades afterward would tell of the towering waves of water that flew over the jungles of western Jamaica, the midnight rainfall that brought sharks and fish several miles inland. The small fishing community that housed the locals the Englishmen had befriended in order to go hunting for turtles, in the short hour before they were invited for a rum-party aboard an armed sloop of traitorous privateers—that village was absolutely decimated. Nothing remained of it. Bodies were whisked out to sea in the flood that ran from inland to the bay, mingling with the bodies of the Royal British Navy who'd dutifully hurled themselves overboard when their good captain demanded it. And all these bodies milled about like wriggly little ants in the water as the colossal, sexy witchy cupped her massive hands beneath them and lifted them up in a small lake fringed by her palms and fingers.

"I can't let y'all go," she informed the stragglers. "It's the law of the pirates! No survivors, no pris'ners! That sounds about right."

In the rapidly warming pool in within the giantess's hands, British soldiers and absolutely befuddled Jamaican nationals tread water, staring up at the broad, thick pink lips that shimmied just above them. Many of these tiny men were beginning to lose their minds, so the sentences she tossed out meant very little to them. All they knew was that they knew nothing anymore, and a goddess was toying with them, so they watched her flashing teeth and dancing tongue and anticipated the worst.

"What are you doing?" screamed Read to Bonny, who had nodded at her companion and released her death-grip on the belaying pin. Bonny slid easily across the main deck and neatly slipped her arm around the ropes of the staysail. So hooked, she ventured to peer over the edge of the bow and assess the situation.

"Oh, heavenly days, Mary," she called back, aghast. "She's gathered a crowd of the poor blighters in her hands! Like… how do I say this?"

"Spit it out!" Read shouted.

"She's gathered a pond in her hands, the giant woman has!" Bonny's eyes flickered up, as though it suddenly occurred to her that the beguiling and sociopathic giantess might hear her. This was not the case, so she drew a deep breath and continued. "I don't know what she's… Oh, good lord, there's a lot of people I don't recognize in there. Where'd they come from?"

Before Read could compel any clarification from her companion, she watched Mari's slender hands rise beyond the bowsprit. They were indeed pressed together, and she could see glistening water flowing over the heels of her hands and down the tendons of her forearms. It was remarkable to witness the detail of a human body on this humongous giantess, noticing things she'd never spotted on her own body, or studying familiar features on a younger, exponentially more massive model.

But then her reverie was interrupted with the screams of a dozen men, as the moonlit pool of water leaped in a waterfall from her palms and into the waiting mouth of the giantess. Read and Bonny stared at the waterfall shimmering with the moon behind it, flowing from Lovely Mari's grasp and dumping into her open jaws.

"Good Lord," whispered Bonny, shaken to her boots.

"The poor bastards." Read wanted to look away but found herself unable to do so. "They don't have a fecking chance."

These were both hardened women of worldly experience, Bonny coming from a lifetime of piracy, and Read, an amply decorated combat veteran, but there was something in this sight that chilled their spirits. Perhaps it was the helplessness of the tiny figures, men they knew to be their own size but seeming as large as beetles as they tumbled from her palms, splashing through space, disappearing between the enormous, gaping grin of a woman who not only introduced new perimeters to insanity but had the unique gift of spreading it outside of herself.

Not all dove into Lovely Mari's maw. Some few of them landed badly against her fat lower lip, caroming through the air to collide with one colossal boob before sprawling upon the main deck of the William. Dazed senseless and shattered with fright, these men only lay gasping upon the floorboards. Neither of the women pirates had the heart to run them through with a blade or put their pistols to their heads. Instead, they conspired to take the man up by arms and legs, wish him luck, then give him a swinging heave back up to the giantess's mountainous breast. "Good luck!" they shouted, tossing the luckless sailor up the peach-colored hillside, warm with Lovely Mari's raging metabolism, only to watch him roll down the sensual slope like a log. Sometimes a quick-thinking victim would scrabble at her flesh, trying to seize the fine, pale hairs that glowed in the moonlight. These were never enough to support his weight, of course, and his body would drift over her smooth, creamy skin and drop away, unseen, beyond the mammoth breast's horizon. One or two might slide fortuitously toward a prominent nipple, clinging to that erotic bulge for as long as their arms could hold out, which never turned out to be very long.

Other sailors and locals rushed down Mari's vast cheek, sucked under her jaw in a flume of ocean water, raced down her neck and, before anyone knew what happened, simply vanished into the abyss between her titanic breasts. Read or Bonny would hear a shout, look up, and see a struggling man shoot past the rear of their ship like a comet, there and gone again in a second. It was presumed that these hapless souls, like those they tossed overboard, ended up in the ocean after their little adventure, and some of them might even have survived. It was impossible to know for sure.

Lovely Mari's laughter echoed across the whole of Jamaica after this. "That was amazing! Wasn't that amazing?" Read and Bonny were forced to concede they had never experienced anything like this in their lives. She laughed, her monstrous chest quaked and pounded around them, and the William groaned as though it might fall apart any second. "Aw, man! This has been th' best time o' my life, maybe. Hey, you two!"

They looked up at the immense face turning down to loom overhead, her heart-shaped pupils glowing in the night. Read got a little dizzy with the size of the witchy maiden, having to turn her head so far just to see each side of her head. Bonny called up, "What can we do for you, fellow pirate?"

"I'm just wond'rin' if y'know a good place to get drunk around here. Night's still young!"

A weak voice called up from the bow, "I don't think the ship's in any condition to move anywhere but down." John Rackham struggled to his feet, leaning on a railing. "But I bet you could carry it back up to Nassau faster than she could sail on a good day. Bring 'er in for repairs and I'll stand you a few rounds of drinks." Bonny forgot her fears and ran down the warped deck to catch him in her arms, supporting his wobbly stance. Read scowled at them but allowed it would be wise to depart Jamaica as swiftly as possible.

"Hold on ta somethin' solid, then!" Lovely Mari warned the trio, cupping her overly copious bosom with dainty hands to steady the ship. Long, lustrous incisors bit her bottom lip as she struggled to rise to her feet. Her giggles belted like thunder across the ship as she gingerly picked her way down the reef and into the deeper ocean, which foamed below her navel at its deepest points and crashed around her shins the rest of the time.

And there were tales told by confused and drunken men, awake at that hour of the night, about a goddess who visited the island of New Providence, the Bahamas, radiant with unbridled sexuality. There were tales about three pirates blessed by the goddess, who showered wealth upon the locals and drank for two days straight. There was gossip about an impromptu trial resulting in nine English fishermen were loaded aboard a Dutch merchant vessel bound for Port Royal, Jamaica, and seven hardened sea-dogs who were never seen again. But there's a lot to drink in Nassau and people spin all kinds of yarns.

*   *   *

Drummond hated how his body responded when Lovely Mari called out "Drummond!" from downstairs, ringing up the staircase. His head snapped about, as though prepared to dodge a projectile; his spine stiffened and his muscles tensed, bracing for the impact of a huge and careless hand (or foot); his cock went instantly hard. "Traitor," he muttered at his crotch while replacing the Grimoire exactly where he found it in the armoire shelf. Hearing her clomp up the stairs, he raced down her white-and-purple stripey leggings once more. Only when he reached the bottom did he discover he'd misjudged the rolls of the waistband and found himself bunched up in the toe of her stocking.

"Drummond! I'm home! Didja miss me. Pshaw, of course y' did! I'm fuckin' awesome!" The gigantic witchy was dressed once more in her exotic and blatantly slutty pirate costume. Her tall boots thundered across the floor like a stampede of well-choreographed bison. "Pirates, Drummond! Fuckin' A, pirates!" She cheered and pumped the air on her way to the city collection in the corner of the room.

For his part, Drummond could only hang there like a useless lump in her stocking. The fabric was too fine for him to easily grasp and race out of, with no folds or wrinkles to his advantage as his body stretched it out. He could easily have slit the toe open and fallen free, but his goddess would likely kill him for that, even though she could magically repair it without a trace of damage. So he could only lie there, wadded up in the foot of her stocking, watching her colossal form tromp on by like a thunderstorm, disappearing around the corner of the armoire. He heard her futzing around with something, humming pleasantly to herself.

And then: "Drummond? Where are you, ya li'l brat? I'm all home an' shit! You're s'posed ta come out prancing like a freakin' puppy ta see me!"

Blushing, he cleared his throat and called out, "I'm in here."

"What? In where?" He heard her boots go BOOM-BOOM-BOOM as she attempted to quickly spot him.

"In your armoire, my Goddess."

"Wha-a-a-at?! You better not be messin' around in my underwear, ya perv!" Her 18-hole boots presented themselves immediately, and he craned his head in his awkward predicament to look up her long thighs running into the depths of her short skirt. "I don't ba-leeve this!" She laughed and knelt outside the armoire, cranking her head around to gape at him. He struggled to raise an arm and wave at her. "I was just kiddin'! I din't think you'd actually perv out and go crawlin' around in my underwear! You really did miss me, din'cha?" She shook a finger at him. "And it looks like ya missed my feet most of all! Guess I don't blame ya, they're pretty cute damn feet. But I still gotta teach you a lesson for snoopin' around in my skivvies."

Mari wrapped a fist around the fabric just above him, trapping the SWAT Operator in a tiny sack of Lycra stocking and brought the garment over to the city. "But first, check this out, Drummond! A real-life pirate ship! Whaddya think?"

"I can't really see it from this angle, my Goddess." No sooner had he said this than she upended her stocking and dumped him upon the main deck of the Ranger. As far as he could tell, she hadn't altered its size at all: he walked up the length of the ship, studying the railing and masts with great interest. "This is truly amazing, my beautiful Goddess. Where did you get this?"

"The Bahamas," she said flatly. She pretended to examine her nails with half-lidded eyes, stifling a yawn, until she burst into excited giggles. "This was an actual, real-life pirate ship from a pirate, Drummond! His name's Calico Jack, because he dresses up so fancy! Did you know it was a crime to dress up so fancy if you weren't, like, noble-people or some shit?"

Drummond raised his eyebrows. "I thought that was just a feudal Japanese law."

"Nope! Lots o' people had that idea, I guess! Anyway, me an' a bunch of pirates partied for a couple o' months!" She blinked and sat back on her heels. "How long was I gone here?"

"A day, my Goddess." He had no idea that she could travel through time, stay away for so long, then come back right after she left. Immediately he wondered why that should surprise him: if she wanted, she could travel to the same moment in time from different points in the future (or past) and fill a room full of gorgeous witchies of slightly variant ages. He visibly flinched at the thought.

"Only a day? Jolly hockey sticks, I'm better than I thought!" With that, she swiped Drummond greedily from the restored Ranger. She hopped up and threw herself bodily into her massive, fluffy bed and cast a cantrip to unlace her elaborate boots. "That was Calico Jack's ship," she crowed, lying on her back and resting her tiny officer upon one sweaty, stinky sole. "He got that from Captain Vine, who was a real asshole, but the one time he didn't wanna go after another ship, his crew voted him out as captain, and Calico Jack booted him out to sea!" She stretched her legs as long as they would go, which was pretty long, and pinched the little man's face between her toes, laughing at his expression. "An' then he sailed to the Bahamas, and he ditched the Ranger, an' me an' him an' two other pirates—women pirates, so you know they're good!—we all stole another ship, called the William! An' then y'know what happened?"

For the rest of the evening she told him the entire story, swinging her feet in the air and making him cling to her big toe for dear life. She screeched and made all the sound effects, clapping her soles violently around the little man, knowing he could take it. She tossed her hat off in the corner, climbed out of her pirate gear, jabbering at him with half-sentences interrupting other half-sentences. Finally she wedged him in her butt and clamped him there while she changed into her favorite cornflower blue dressing gown and bonnet, and then she tugged him out of his stupid little soldier clothes, and she yanked the sheets up over the two of them. "That's pretty cool, huh, Drummond? I was so fuckin' awesome, all the pirates were wishin' they were as good as me! But I'm all, Hell no, bitches! I'm Pirate Mari an' I'm kickin' all yer asses!" And she went on, filling in the blanks where she couldn't remember all the facts, and she hugged him with her massive breasts until she couldn't see him anymore, and she hugged him harder until he stopped moving, and then she stretched him out on her pillow and covered him in her long, golden hair and kissed him everywhere she could fit her big, puffy lips and fell asleep on him, fluttering her eyelashes over his face and resting her cheek upon his body, blowing sleepy puffs of balmy wind over his cock, which loved it, and even though his own thoughts drifted to the other stuffed suitcase in the administrator's office in the library, he doubted he could ever leave this woman.