I don’t think I can say what’s real anymore. Yesterday I think I had an idea, at least in the reality of my adoptive family’s home. That was before everything I believed about what could be possible was split asunder.

            My father was in the kitchen, shouting at my mother and sister, knocking jars and boxes over to the floor and threatening to show them the back of his hand. He’d already done so many times before. I could never fully understand what riled him up so high to think of using physical violence against two of the most peaceful women I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing in my life. I could do my best to protect them when I was around, but I wasn’t always around, and that’s when my mother and sister paid the price.

            This occasion, the day before today, was the last straw for me. There was no more standing by.

            I’d been stealing away time at the laboratory on my off-hours, just mixing and concocting, trying to devise a way to even the odds. Anything to protect my mother and sister. I’d only just put the last polish on what I’ve only come to call The Giga Pill. According to my year-long calculations, it should have increased their muscle and overall body mass. It should have stretched their biological geometry out like a rubber band, granting them six-foot-tall bodies and the necessary power to protect themselves from the fury of men under their own roof. It should have imbued them with an emboldened confidence and emotional centeredness necessary to overcome adversity. It should have simply made them a little bigger and a little stronger, just above average.

            It should have, but it didn’t. It did so much more.

            And now, today, as I stand upon the laboratory office roof downtown and watch my mother Nicole and my sister Brandy, in their birthday suits, towering above the town at what I can assume to be no less than a mile high, all of reality comes crashing down on me. It’s a sight I can scarcely convince myself to believe. I want to think my eyes are lying to me. But every time I blink, pinch myself, and look back up, there they are: my beloved middle-aged mother and beautiful twenty-year-old sister, their gorgeous dark skin against the backdrop of the clear blue sky, their black, flowing hair stretching toward the stratosphere. If today hadn’t been so clear, I doubt I would’ve even seen their faces through the haze of clouds.

            But I can see them, so there’s no denying who it is, what’s happened, and who’s responsible. My pulse quickens.

            It was only good I wasn’t home when the effect took place, or I’d probably be dead now. I’d simply snuck a pill each into the my mother and sister’s breakfast orange juice and then I’d hit the road for work, hoping to come home and find them both better equipped to defend themselves against my father and his uncontrollable rage.

            Technically, they did become better equipped to defend themselves. But I didn’t have to come home to discover this, because I noticed from the laboratory office out the high rise window. Though they’re so far off, still in the suburbs, they might as well be standing in the same room as me by the forced perspective of their dark, blinking eyes and gentle fingers caressing in wonderment over their newfound giant bodies.

            I can’t think either to rejoice that they’re now safe from my father, or despair to realize that I’ve probably inadvertently murdered the entire neighborhoods my mother and sister’s smooth bare feet now cover, with a mess of houses crumbled into the wrinkles of their soft soles. There cannot be feeling inside me for something so magnanimous and near-cosmic as this; I simply have to watch them. In fact, I can barely tear my sight away long enough to blink regularly.

            And hell, are they ever a sight to behold.

            “What’s going on, Mom?” my sister Brandy asks our parent, entirely understandably. Her voice shakes.

            “I don’t know, dear,” my mother Nicole answers earnestly. Their voices boom across the land, echoing over every dip in the geology.

            “What the hell happened to us?”

            “It must be a dream.”

            “Do you think? Everything feels so real, like the wind on my skin. If this is a dream, how are you here too, Mom?”

            “I’m trying to decide the same thing.”

            “But nothing like this can exist, right? There’s no possible way. Everything is so small, so far away. All I remember is… sitting in the kitchen, maybe? Then maybe taking a nap, and…”

            “So maybe we are asleep!”

            “Let’s find out,” Brandy concludes. She stoops down to her knees, clutching an arm across her mountainous breasts, and looms above what remains of the suburbs she and Mom destroyed simply by growing to their initial height and holding still.

            “What are you going to do?”

            “I’m going to see if the world reacts the way it should, if this were real,” Brandy explains. She takes a deep breath, her flat, athletic stomach inflating all the way as she sucks in air. And then she lets it out.

            All I can do is flinch at the sight. It’s distant, barely distinct, but I can tell what’s happening. The wind of Brandy’s blown, cold breath shoots through the neighborhoods. In an instant, the houses are plucked from the ground and scattered across the green fields like scraps of tissue paper and pebbles. They don’t stand a chance; no structure is able to keep standing for even a second as her mighty gale force breath rips through each and every suburban block. Houses, mansions, and entire communities scatter like ashes into the air. They come down upon the hills, in fields, some into the reservoirs and ponds beyond.

            I should consider myself and the urban sprawl lucky; if she’d happened to face this way before she blew, then probably one hundred houses would have fired into the series of buildings where I’m standing now, knocking many of them down like dominoes.

            In a single breath, my sister has destroyed three entire neighborhoods. All by simply bending over and blowing.

“Brandy, what have you done?” my mother cries.

            “I… blew them away,” my sister answers tenderly, though her voice is still a hearty echo in my ears. Almost painfully loud. She’s still clutching her breast, and though they’re far away, Brandy is tall and prominent enough in her mass that I can see what she’s doing.      

            She’s tweaking her left nipple, absent-mindedly, with her fingertips. Massaging the heft of her breast and weighing it in her palm.

            It’s also at this moment I take notice for the first time how their bodies have developed noticeable curves. Before, well, not to be blunt, but my mother and sister aren’t exactly the most rounded of women. To be generous, they were like flat boards. But now, their breasts are pert and perky; their asses hang out in a shelf of glute muscle and jiggling flesh. Their biologies have changed, as well, at the genetic level, it seems. Not that I can’t complain; I’ve always found my mother and especially my sister beautiful, sexy even, but it’s not until now I can stare at them and realize I’m, for better or worse, lusting over their monstrous mile-size bodies.

            “Yes you did, dear,” my mother answers Brandy. “It was… impressive, what you did, but what did it accomplish?” She sounds less horrified than she did at first; in fact, she sounds genuinely awed to have watched her beautiful daughter spray entire neighborhoods across the ecosystem with a simple puff of air from her lungs.

            My mother and sister, risen back to their full mile-high height, take a step toward one another. I feel the ground rumble beneath them. They’re creating seismic activity in the city merely by walking. Down below, in one of the buildings, I hear panes of glass shatter from the vibration.

            “I just had to see. If it was real,” Brandy admits.

            “And what do you think now?” my mother asks.

            “I don’t know,” she breathes, then continues speaking, “I don’t know if… if I care whether or not it’s real.”

            “Why is that?”

            “Because that… what I just did… felt… amazing,” Brandy whispers. “And I have to do something like it again, because…”

            “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, dear,” my ravishing mother says. Her own hands have traveled up to her breasts, her fingers careening over the staggering dunes of her naked tits. She, too, teases her nipples, the dark-birch areolas rising like skyscraper tips, and then her hand descends below between her legs, to her labia. While still staring straight at my giant sister with the same conviction, she slides her fingers into her cunt and begins to flex her hand.

            I’m standing on this rooftop, watching my mile-tall mother masturbate with hardly a second thought, after my sister murdered probably three hundred people by blowing through the valley of the streets and suburban roads. And by the glint in their dark eyes, I can tell they’re going to do something else now. Something worse.

            Both of them bend down now, their feet stretching back for half a mile and wiping out another three neighborhoods in the process, entire houses and road chunks containing city blocks clenched between their toes. But neither seems to notice.

            Instead, their attentions have become focused on the space ahead of them. Where the suburbs give way to the outskirts of town, surrounded by small businesses, gas stations, and grocery stores, both Brandy and Nicole have lowered themselves toward the ground for closer examination.

            I use my phone to telescope as close as I can to the scene so far away. Though difficult to make out, I can tell the streets have flooded with people. Throngs of them have sprinted out into the roads for a real-life look at the gorgeous mile-high African American mother and daughter, looking like a pair of naked, wingless angels. At least, angels may be the first image in the minds of the people for the first instant, just before my mother and sister open their mouths.

            “Come here, little people!” Brandy sings.

            What happens next, I can hardly bear to see but through fingers caged over my face. I watch Brandy, first, stretch her long, pink tongue out from her jaws and flatten it to the street. She rakes her rubbery muscle up an entire block, bulldozing through literal dozens upon dozens of screaming people who make their best attempt to run, but are no match for the oncoming calamity of my sister’s tongue. Those that aren’t crushed in the mayhem and secondary weapon of her low-hanging chin are instead swept up on the sticky, wide platform of her tongue. She must have hundreds of people spilling into her mouth by the time she finally slurps her tongue back inside, wiping her mouth of a few remaining unlucky civilians who became glued to her lips.

            “Mmmmm… oh, Mom!” Brandy moans with satisfied delight, her mouth still full of screaming people. “You have to taste them!”

            “Don’t mind if I do,” Nicole says with a wink.

            My mother follows suit. Her path is different, though, as she instead uses her tongue to begin plowing through the buildings. They come down as easily as small towers of stacked rice, and indeed, the low buildings can’t be much stronger to my mother’s mighty tongue than little pieces of sushi. Nicole squares her 1500-foot-wide shoulders and begins using her tongue to shove through the tops of buildings, collecting rubble and human beings along the way. Each time, she raises her head back up like an anteater and uses her tongue to scoop more helpless citizens into her giant jowls.

            I slump back against the doorway leading to the roof, dumbfounded, unable to explain the majesty and horror I’m witnessing. My mother and sister, the kindest people I’ve ever known, who home-cook meals every weekend and remember my birthday each year with a party, just murdered several hundred people by swiping their tongues through the streets, even when they admit they’re not sure whether this is real or not.

            I suppose I ought to blame myself. I created the pill which transformed them. And yet I can’t explain their misuse of the power and strength they’ve been accidentally granted.

            Then I recall. The side-effects of the pill intended to increase confidence and emotional durability. They must have risen in tandem with the exponential increase of size; thus, my mother and sister, kind as I knew them to be at their size of below six feet, have become so bold and filled with personal drive that they no longer care what happens to the people below them. It’s a horrid effect of altered brain chemistry, but there’s nothing that can be done now; I’ve turned my mother and sister into unsympathetic leviathans.

            “Can you hear my stomach growl, Mom?” Brandy giggles.

            “Yes, I can, dear.”

            So can I as well.

            “I need more. I have to have more, Mom.”

            As I watch them lean back down to lick up a different street and collect several hundred more bodies into their lips to be slurped down like grains of human sand, I’m unable to watch directly any longer. I rush down the stairs of the laboratory building. Already people are in a mad panic, some hiding under their desks, others running for the fire escapes and emergency exits. I hear a news channel in someone’s office blaring about the incredible phenomenon of the giant women and their sudden murderous meal of the suburbs and small town square.

            I’m thinking as fast as I can while I sprint for my office. Perhaps there’s something I can do, at least to slow the effect. Some chemical agent I missed in my research. Because if they’ve grown this high, who’s to say they can’t grow larger, and do more damage? This must be contained as soon as possible; that much I know. No matter how much I love my mother and sister, and want them to be safe, I also owe it to the world to keep them protected from my mother and sister just as well.

            I imagine the military must already be gathering their forces in answer at the base on the outskirts of town. If they attack, Nicole and Brandy may not stand a chance, and what remains after the assault may just devastate the entire urban area as well. I can’t allow that to happen without trying to help.

            As I run for the laboratory, bypassing screaming, panicked coworkers, I whip out my phone and pull up a local news feed. Understandably, everyone is in a frenzy.

            “Yes, you’re hearing me right,” the shell-shocked news anchor says. “The two women, whom we now believe to be mother and daughter, have just finished licking the streets on the western quadrant of the city. They’ve since taken to actually eating the buildings, in their entirety, taking entire houses and offices into their mouths and swallowing. Early estimates suggest a thousand dead or missing in the carnage. We’ll keep you posted as we receive more… what’s that? I’m getting word that the situation is changing. The women have stood up now. It seems they’ve… grown. Much larger.”

            Just as I suspected. The pill is designed to operate along with the users’ metabolism; my mother and sister, existing at a mile in height before, would have such insanely powerful digestive systems and corresponding energy requirements, that eating just about anything could unsettle the chemical balance and cause them to grow again. This only just now occurs to me, and it’s probably already too late to stop them.

            Reaching the laboratory, I switch from the news to social media and find some amateur snapshots taken seconds ago from down below. Though you can’t see their heads now in the sky, it’s obvious even in the blurry photo that my mother and sister have indeed swelled significantly in size. I’d bet they’re close to three miles high now, if not a little more. A single one of their smooth, brown toes is able to knock out an entire street in one well-placed pad of skin.

            I’ve got to work fast. Rummaging through my workstation, I collect the materials used to create the original pills. I have the research necessary to try and reverse-engineer a solution, possibly to shrink them down, but I have no idea how I’d get it to them without being killed myself in the destruction. Clearly my mother and sister have no qualms about what they’re doing, and while they might spare me if they see me first, that won’t do any good if they aren’t even aware they’ve just licked me up, too.

            More pictures and video appear on social media. These next accounts at first cause me to believe I’m looking at masterful photoshop jobs thrown together in the last few seconds, but they’re not. I realize now what I’m looking at is just as real as the mile-high women I saw eat their way through a suburb like hungry hippos before.

            My mother and sister are kissing. Not just kissing in the manner of a parent and child, but kissing. As in, their tongues have entered each other’s mouths. Undoubtedly, hundreds of tiny shredded corpses still cling to the pink, riveted flesh of those muscular tongues. Probably my mother and sister are trading saliva now as their kissing becomes more passionate, spilling those tiny people and chunks of buildings between them from mouth to mouth in a foamy rampage.

            And then their hands are in motion again. Where before Nicole had been fingering herself while Brandy played with her nipples, they’ve now taken to doing the same for each other. My mother digs her hand into my sister’s labia lips, mashing and caressing for all she’s worth; meanwhile, my sister’s hands have taken hold of our forty-five-year-old mother’s breasts, squeezing and clamping. Both of my family members huff and puff, coming closer to orgasm, and then each explosively climax in the same few seconds.

The giantess’ ejaculate splatters down to the earth below, flooding the destroyed streets they previously licked for size-granting foodstuff. It’s like watching a dam burst, allowing syrup instead of water to run steadily into the remains. If anyone is down there still and alive, they’re surely about to drown in the cum of my mother and sister.

            I’ve switched back to the live feed on the news; the cameraman seems too stunned to consider that he’s showing sexually explicit material right on TV for all to see. As my mother and sister complete their French-kissing and fingering session, cum-drenched fingers emerging and rubbing along nipples, another change takes place. Another kind of growth. Not in their physical height, but in their womanly curves.

            I can’t help but slam my hands against the desk of the workspace. How could I have not see it? Of course this is happening, as well. Just as there’s a side effect to explain their overworked metabolism causing them to grow exponentially by eating, there’s a similar effect in play regarding their hormones. Their estrogen is in a state of mad flux now; by creating a regular flow of it in their bodies, their hormones are actually increasing those feminine areas of their bodies which benefit from the production of it. In effect, my mother and sister can cause their breasts, ass, and thighs to enlarge by engaging in sexual activities: like puberty on steroids, lasting so long as the supply holds up. And thanks to that massive confidence boost they’ve received from the pills, clouding their normal rationale, they obviously have intentions to engage sexually frequently and without mercy for those below.

            With my kit of scientific materials, I’m dashing for the exit from the building now. Most everyone else with a brain in their head has evacuated. On my news feed, I can see cars and trucks from the local army base already rolling out into the streets. Indeed, as I exit the building and hit the sidewalk, I can see them passing by. Helicopters, trucks, even a tank or two. They’re going prepared.

            It won’t be nearly enough.

            Not to take down two three-mile-high women. My mother’s nipple is about the size of the army base now; what do they expect to accomplish?

            Nevertheless, I have to get in contact with someone of authority. Someone who can help me get the reverse-engineering materials to my mother and sister and hopefully shrink them back down to normal before more damage is done. Maybe a commander or a general? I wave my arms desperately, but no trucks or tanks stop for me. Not that they would.

            I race for my car in the back parking lot. Many of the vehicles are filling in the streets now, getting in the way of the advancing army as they charge toward the edge of town where my mother and sister have paused to catch their breath post-orgasm. Nevertheless, with some aggressive driving, I manage to make it past my panicked coworkers in traffic and drive out onto the sidewalk; there’s no time to obey the laws now. If I, and the rest of us, don’t get out of this downtown area soon, we’re not going to survive.

            Switching my GPS-TV on my car dashboard to a news channel, I watch the unfolding events through live footage from a news helicopter while driving down the sidewalk.

            My mother and sister have advanced further on the town. City blocks are going down beneath their toes, creating a dust cloud that fogs up much of the road below. However, it’s not difficult to realize there are hundreds of panicked civilians getting trapped beneath the massive weight of those digits or getting caught in the fleshy crevices between their toes. My sister leans down again, blowing through the smoke and in the process knocking down some more buildings with her breath. Then, even from the fuzzy news footage in the helicopter buzzing as close as they dare to the dangerous giants, I can see that glint in my sister’s eye. Her creative side.

            I’m driving as fast as I can now. If I crash into something I’m going to die, but I’m also going to die if I hit the brakes and wait for them.

            It’s coming. There’s no escape.

            Brandy puffs up her smooth cheeks, hocks in her throat, and begins to swish her cheeks back and forth. Then, just as she and my mother stand over the valiantly quaking skyscrapers at the center of downtown, my sister opens her lips. An unbelievable geyser of spit comes flowing out, down toward the building. Within that stream of saliva is contained smudges of phlegm from her throat and other particles from licking through the streets. Like Niagara Falls to the nth degree, my sister’s spit cascades down onto the buildings. That single stream of saliva takes out an entire four-block radius. Though I don’t believe it at first, I can see a skyscraper crumbling down like a wet cracker beneath the sheer weight of my sister’s spit.

            “Good one, Brandy!” my mother cheers. She claps her hand, causing another seismic rumble. I don’t have to hear their voices through the news channel, though; they’re so loud, I can hear them perfectly clearly, even though I’m still miles away.

            “Thanks, Mom!” my sister laughs. She tosses her luscious black hair over her shoulders, and gives her breasts another cradle. “You have to soften these little buildings up first so they can go down easier, you know?”

            “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

            My mother and sister dip back down. More buildings come down as their hands spread easily out across the landscape, wiping out hundreds of lives and hundreds of millions in property damage. The smoke and flame are rising so high, most people in the streets wouldn’t even be able to see the giant women currently causing their doom. However, the news helicopter on my GPS still can, and it’s not a pretty sight.

My mom and sister are feeding again. They’ve grown enough that they can put away much more of the cityscape into their mouths with a single gulp. Buildings and skyscrapers, those miraculously not yet brought down by the force of their landing feet or the crushing waterfall of spit, are broken apart by my family’s white wall-like teeth and then collected by their slurping tongues and lapping lips. In a few bites, Nicole and Brandy have devoured much of the downtown area, because with each bite, their size is increasing rapidly by thousands of feet a second.

            Though I can’t be sure, through the footage, I recognize the part of central downtown where my building was located. It explodes upon my sister’s tongue, which is probably now about five times as long as my entire place of work is tall, and the stone practically melts into her sea of taste buds. Had I stayed inside, hoping to catch my family’s attention, my sister would’ve eaten me in half a bite without ever knowing.

            I’m nearly out of the city now, reaching the interstate roads. I can only silently pray and apologize to all the lost souls still in the urban destruction zone at the mercy of my mother and sister’s appetites both for food and sexual energy. Nicole and Brandy are so large now, where they originally entered the city and had to walk across its length to reach the more distant buildings, perhaps the length of a kitchen table to them, now, the cityscape is smaller than their entire bodies.

            Though impossible to know for sure, I have to assume my sister and mother have tripled in size again. Their previous size of three miles is a meager thought now; my mother and sister are probably ten miles tall. A single one of their feet covers the entire span of everything they’ve destroyed, eaten, or drowned in spit and cum so far. I hear their laughter through the news camera as they come back together, lips pursed for another make-out session. My sister thrusts her fingers into our mother’s cunt; Nicole, in the passion of the moment flings a hand out and smacks the helicopter aside like a gnat. As soon as my mother’s fingernail makes contact with the helicopter, the feed is cut on my GPS.

            Whenever I look behind in the mirror, all I see left of the city is a cloud of smoke six miles high; at the top of that cloud, I can make out my mother and sister disappearing into the high blue of the stratosphere. Their faces are impossible to see from here. I’m not sure I want to.

            It’s not long I’ve driven down the road before I run into an army encampment who quickly realized they were in over their heads. The tanks and helicopters sent into the city before were so ineffectual, I doubt my mother and sister even noticed they were being “attacked.” The tiny fighting force would’ve been kicked several miles away by rumbling earth and swinging toes as the girls took steps; just as easily, they could’ve been sucked into the vortex of wind, or simply drowned in my sister’s spit flowing through the streets like a raging river.

            There’s no need to repeat the screamed argument which ensued between me and the army forces assembled this far out from the city outskirts. I’m embarrassed for it myself. Suffice to say, after intel came in confirming that the women did, in fact, appear to be my adopted mother and sister, it was agreed to bring me along as a consultant in the operation to bring them down. I hadn’t mentioned my pill yet, for fear they’d simply kill me right on the spot for creating these beasts destroying civilization. I’d have to bring that up gently later, ashamed as I was, if anything good was to come of this.

            So here I am, in a high-altitude VTOL army vehicle; I hadn’t even believed such things were existent and combat-capable now. It resembled something out of a science fiction movie to me, yet the pilots and soldiers explained as we flew that it would allow us to rise high enough in the atmosphere and even above, if such a thing was required, toward the very bounds of outer space itself. Indeed, if my mother and sister continue growing, I know that particular feature is going to be required just to get a good look at them.

            I’m strapped in to a seatbelt in the high-tech VTOL, terrified for myself, the human race, and somehow, despite it all, my mother and sister, as they’re only victims of science and their own distorted minds here. A call comes in over the radio from another command base. Apparently, my mother and sister, having finished destroying the entire hometown and urban area with the combined force of their kicking feet and smashing toes, plus flattening palms and dribbling spit, have moved on. The radio doesn’t sound sure yet of what’s coming next, but we’re given coordinates to the location of my wandering mother and sister as they stalk across the land. And off we go.

            An hour later, I hear them mention the VTOL is clearing through the cloud layer and crossing closer to the edge of the atmosphere. I crawl toward a porthole from my seat, squint out the side, and can hardly believe what it is I’m seeing now. I have to rub my eyes just to convince myself I haven’t fallen asleep onboard and allowed the nightmare to sink deeper without my knowledge.

            There they are: Nicole and Brandy, my beloved mother and sister, having the time of their lives racing one another from one coastal ridge to the other. Fists pump athletically through the air at their sides, churning up gale force wind and tornadoes. Their feet splash through ocean depths, kicking up millions of gallons of water and churning the waves into tsunamis around their lovely ankles. I can spot what I assume to be a literal hurricane raging up and over the edge of the earthen crust. They’ve obviously grown much larger now, probably tripling in size again, and then again. I could hardly begin to imagine just how far they’ve grown, but they must be nearly one hundred miles tall now each. A truly unfathomable size. I wonder if they’d even be able to see the military vehicle now; it would be less than a grain of wheat to them now.

Brandy, being the younger and fitter of the two sexy goddesses, wins the footrace. My mother is quick behind her, though, her thighs firmer and meatier than ever thanks to their continued hormonal imbalances. With their adrenaline clearly raised to cosmic proportions now, my sister suddenly pile-drives my mother around the waist, moving easily into a classic wrestling stance, and they each fall backward several dozen miles deeper into the ocean.

            The seismic reaction to their fall is stupendous. There’s no scientific measure by which to judge the rumble which erupts through the land and, I’d be willing to bet, the entire earth. There are probably people on the opposite side of the poor planet who felt the aftershock of those twin bodies, together weighing literally billions of tons. Though we’re safe up in the VTOL, a visible shockwave flashes over the seascape, as though the sound barrier was just shattered.

            Nicole and Brandy roll about in the water, wrestling and churning up more and more hurricanes upon the surrounding coastlines. Anyone who had the lottery odds to survive before is surely eaten up in the ensuing chaos. Entire islands are thrust up miles into the air with rocket force. All the while, the earth continues to crack at the fault lines, as though every country within a one hundred mile radius were just struck by a category fourteen earthquake. Just as suddenly as they began, then, my mother and sister rise back up, as Nicole has pinned Brandy down to the earth with her knee: a winning move. They both laugh, the deep rumble creating an ominous backdrop as they continue ravaging an entire seaboard.

            “Victory!” Nicole booms.

            “No fair!” my sister whines playfully.

            Then the race recommences. This time, obstacles are incorporated. I watch Brandy’s foot bounce from the water, where it creates three-mile wide whirlpools, and launch so high into the air I can almost see her pink sole crash against the tidal waves. She lands upon the nearest coastline, possibly Canada’s, which proceeds to dip low into the earth beneath her weight. Surely she managed to bury multiple provinces all at the same time, hundreds of thousands of innocents melded into her dark skin cells and gentle foot wrinkles; however, if any managed to avoid the carnage, against the odds, the weight of her towering body ensures there are no survivors, as the entire sixty-mile stretch of land sinks directly into the ocean. Nicole sprints ahead of my sister, her black hair whipping in the wind like an Olympian spirit. She, too, brings down entire provinces in a single destructive footstep, and all for the joy of the game with my sister.

            “You’ll never catch me!” Brandy cries.

            “We’ll just see!” my mother bellows.

            At the finish line of the second race, as their heels sink into the coast and probably murder many more thousands in a single splash of a mile-high tidal wave, my mother and sister lock lips again. Tongues wrestling now. This time, they each begin fingering one another in a mad frenzy, with ejaculate dripping almost instantly down their legs in seeping rivers of viscous goo. I can only imagine what it must smell like on the coastline as the poor citizens watch an entire lake’s worth of sweet-and-sour female cum splashing down into the destruction.

            They orgasm again, screaming with delight such that the winds are dispersed, the coastlines rattled and scattered back, and then their curves inflate yet again. It’s like watching hot air balloons the size of small countries which constitute the breasts of my mother and sister, and the same for their rear ends. Satisfied, and probably fiending for more to fill their stomachs after the last growth spurt, my giant family stoop down into the water and begin to slurp.

            Water siphons into their lips at an alarming rate; I can actually see the ocean level dipping, revealing small mountains at the ocean’s floor which probably haven’t seen the light of day in thousands or millions of years. Literally, Brandy and Nicole have begun reshaping the geometry of the earth itself.

            There’s an explosion somewhere amidst the whirling storm clouds and kicked-up tidal waves. A bloom of mushroom-shaped fire curls out from my mother Nicole’s back. She barely seems to notice it, simply wiping her knuckle against her skin and continue drinking up the ocean. At first I assume the explosion was the fault of my mother and sister, somehow or other, bending whatever laws of nature they haven’t yet broken. However, after a moment of pause, I realize it was the army, firing a devastating missile payload, probably a nuclear bomb, right at my immaculately huge mother. She shrugged it off like a mosquito bite.

            The army guys up in the front of the VTOL are in a frantic whispered argument with someone on the radio. It’s my guess they have no idea what move to make next, and really, how could anyone blame them? There’s no earthly precedent for a pair of giant, beautiful women growing to the size of entire nations and proceeding to feed and fuck their way into global destruction. If a nuke doesn’t end a threat, there’s little else that could.

            Because, really, what we’re witnessing now is the only outcome, if something isn’t done. My sister and mother are going to destroy the world. I understand that now. And so I know we’ve got to do something.

            I rise from my seat and explain to the military personnel what I have in my supply bag and how, just maybe, I could reverse-engineer something to stop all this. They throw me on the metallic floor of the VTOL and put a boot to my neck, demanding to know why I’ve withheld the information for so long. After some terse negotiations, though, I’m allowed to keep my head long enough to get to work with my scientific instruments and chemical agents. I still don’t know for sure what I can do, but after seeing that nuke flicked off of my mother’s miles-long back, I’ve got to try something.          

When next I look up out the window of the VTOL, my mother and sister have left the area. Probably wandered off to some other continental portion of the globe, and from the size of the bare footprints I can see printed into the ocean floor, they’ve grown again, and considerably. They must be at least one thousand miles tall now. Thus, the seascape is abandoned. Or what remains of it, anyway; they managed to drink most of the ocean. Only a meager spread of water forms “puddles” of ponds and lakes in what was once among the deepest bodies of water on the entire vulnerable blue planet. All of it contained now in their powerful stomachs.

            The military vehicle receives new coordinates and is soon taking off again with extreme urgency. I’m making some progress on my antidote to the pill, which we could possibly disperse as an aerosol into the air supply of my mother and sister, assuming they even still utilize air; it occurs to me that their heads now exist outside of the bubble of oxygen surrounding earth. Yet they’re still moving. Meaning their mighty bodies have evolved fast enough to avoid such necessity of humans. Truly, they are gods now, not merely women who adopted the size of them, but actual deities, and all the gifts inherent therein.

            Weather patterns become frighteningly sporadic. It’s difficult to tell from so high up now, as we skirt the very rim of space inside earth’s atmosphere, but I get the impression my mother and sister haven’t merely passed these land structures and islands by, in all their growing malice. Nothing of earth’s geography that I recognize remains; my parent and sibling have kicked, clawed, and sucked their way through everything that stood in their path, and then some. It’s like looking down at an entirely different celestial body. From our height, I can just barely make out the newly formed mountain ranges caused by their enormous fingers digging into earth for handfuls of rock and hillock.

            When we find my mother and sister again after several more hours of flight, crouching down again such that we can actually see their faces below the clouds, they’ve chosen to set up camp around what remains of Europe and Africa. Judging by the missing chunks of coastline, as well as the actual clumps of land and geology clenched in the hands of my family, I realize they’ve actually torn chunks of continents off with their bare hands, rather than just stamping them all into the ocean. They’ve grown high enough that the effort of tearing off a corner of a country as though it was a piece of crumbly cookie is possible now.

            Evidently, that comparison to baked goods isn’t too far off from the thoughts of my lovely mother and gorgeous sister, as they’ve taken to shoving into their mouths the handfuls of green and brown land mass full of entire cities consisting of millions of people. Their lips and teeth make a real mess of the topography and nations alike, as though they were messily eating juicy steak without a knife and fork, but simply ripping into it with their jowls. I watch an entire country disappear into my mother’s mouth, then hear it crunched loudly, even over the whipping of the wind outside; her clamping teeth and sigh of satisfaction at the flavor is loud enough to reach me.

            My sister, too, finds her own method of intaking the meal of entire countries. She scoops up thousands of inhabited islands in the water in her cupped palms, and draws them to her lips. And she drinks them, meaning the entire islands and thousands of citizens, with a single watery gulp down her throat. I can see her neck bulging as countries, cities, and villages alike all collide together in the tunnel of her gullet.

            As can be grimly predicted now, all of this feeding, especially in such concentrated amounts, brings the requisite growth spurt. My mother and sister, crouching before, might as well have been standing up at full height before the “snack” they made of Europe, but now, they’ve easily crossed the distance.

            I lack the mathematical prowess to even come into a ballpark of their height now. They fill up too much space to even conceive. We don’t possess the correct vocabulary to describe it. Five hundred miles? One thousand miles? Size practically has no meaning anymore, now that my mother and sister have redefined it by their existence and needs.

            There’s no time for philosophizing on scale, only answers, and fast. I’ve got something put together with the materials in my knapsack from the lab. It isn’t much, but it’s a chance. The plan now is to use the VTOL’s state-of-the-art dispersal field for the spreading of chemical agents across entire landscapes and countries; right now, it might just barely be enough to cover my mother and sister, if we don’t get swatted aside or accidentally inhaled into their nostrils on the way.

            Nicole and Brandy are making their way north now, somehow out of sight and past the clouds. The remains of Europe and Africa lie in flames and rocky disarray, half of it underwater or eaten. Seeing the wake of their cackling, feminine destruction reminds me of just how much land and water my parent and sister have ingested; their bodies must be filling up now. I just manage to get a signal on my phone thanks to the military receiver in the VTOL and find a guerilla tape recording from some other godforsaken nation who managed to send a military plane up high enough for footage.

            The video was obviously filmed on the opposite side of the continent, though despite this distance, my mother and sister appear at roughly the same size as they did to me, which is to say, so close up they might have been in the same room, except when I pinch myself again as a reminder that they’re actually hundreds of miles away from the VTOL.

            In the video, I can see my mother ripping out the highest peak of a European mountain range which she can fit into her hands, and then in her squeezed palms and slender fingers, the shape of the mountain is winnowed down into a cylindrical, smooth tube of rock. She’s so strong and capable at this point, she can transform a jagged, mountainous pyramid into a shape similar to a cucumber, at least that’s my first thought.

            When I see what she’s doing with it as she kneels down again by Brandy in the video, I realize the actual purpose of her new toy.

The smoothed, cylindrical mountain chunk, gripped on the end in my mother’s fist, is teased and twisted at the lips of my sister’s pulsing labia. Sure enough, the mountain just manages to squeeze through the miles-wide opening of my sister’s pussy. I have to admit, my mouth is watering at the very sight of it, however inappropriate given the circumstances we find ourselves in.

            During the proceeding seconds of the video feed, I watch my mother gently fuck my sister’s cunt using an actual mountain chunk; all the while, my mother, spreading a mulched handful of island nations, creates a lubricant around Brandy’s nipples and begins a hard, vigorous massage. The moist dance of fingers and destruction upon my sister’s body obviously is too much for her, because she writhes with joy, screams, and violently orgasms against the mountain range and my mother’s fingers. Another seismic quake rips apart a few more fault lines on the helpless planet. My sister’s breasts inflate beneath Nicole’s shivering hands, and the padding of her growing derriere pressing them nearer together.

            I throw my phone down at my feet, unable to watch any longer, as I’m far too frightened and aroused to think straight about the task at hand. My notes and findings are locked back into my pack. I’ve already passed on my chemical agent to the crew members and soldiers, and all I can do now is press my nose to the glass of the porthole and await the next sighting of my giant family.

            So we had north, following another trail of destruction. The journey lasts several more hours. The oceans sink ever-lower as my mother and sister must’ve stopped for another drink to quench their insatiable thirst, and slurped up another few straits and major waterways leading to the sea. What unlucky islands dot the land, or may have once done so, are gone.

            The air outside the VTOL is growing colder now, the wind and skies flecked by white and winter. We’re very far north now. Perhaps almost to the top of the world; I’ve lost count, with how far across the globe I’ve travelled today in fruitless pursuit of my mother and sister. I never imagined I’d actually get to see the Arctic with my own eyes, though to be sure, the circumstances under which this dream vacation has taken place are much more akin to a night terror.

            This next location may be our last chance; if they manage to eat much more, thus growing taller into the reaches of outer space, there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop them from crunching the entire world to dust.

            Through the whipping air currents of snow, as well as the ice flaked on the porthole of the VTOL, I can just make them out now, hundreds of miles ahead, but there. My mother and sister’s majestic bodies, highlighted easily against the backdrop of ivory slush and glaciers beyond. It would be a truly beautiful, breathtaking sight, if it wasn’t for the fact that they’ve come here simply to destroy and smash what remains of life they haven’t yet taken.

            I watch them, standing two abreast, their bodies stretching so high above that I can only see up to their stomachs; the rest of them is literally outside the bounds of the ozone layer now, and perhaps only just barely reachable by this vehicle. That, even, maybe be a stretch of a miracle. Their stomachs bulge with ocean water and the entire countries they’ve consumed, even as their continued growth has constantly allowed them to take in more; finally, it seems, the call of nature has caught up to them.

            It’s a bewildering visage I’m now witnessing, one I hardly think I can relate, but I have to do my best for posterity. I’m actually watching Nicole and Brandy squatting over the polar ice caps of the Arctic, urinating into the continental mass of snow and ice.

            With thunderous golden streams constituting millions upon billions of gallons of water they’ve drunk today, their piss fires out into the land of ice without remorse. As the VTOL draws nearer, I begin to watch the glaciers shifting. Icy mountains soaked in yellow fall by the wayside, crashing into one another, and setting out adrift on the water. Steam rises into the heavens. I realize the sheer, scalding heat of my mother and sister’s combined pee streams spurting out from their crotches is actually melting the glaciers.

            Global warming, clearly, has nothing on my family.

            What Nicole and Brandy have just accomplished, by simply urinating upon the northernmost continent of planet earth, laughing all the while, might’ve taken all of the human race another five decades to complete. I’ve truly never seen anything like it, which is saying something, because I’ve seen the sum total of all human experience good and terrible on this surreal day.

            Empty, then, of liquid waste, the twin goddesses have already abandoned another freshly ruined continent. They march for the closest land mass containing humanity; at least, I can surmise this as Nicole waves her hand and points a mountainous index finger in the opposite direction for Brandy to look. My sister nods, and they recommence the death march. Their fingers come together in a loving gesture of intent for the next sexual conquest of one another upon the ruins of humanity.

            I hear the chatter up by the front of the VTOL. Enough is enough; there’s no more time to survey the “enemy,” and we must act now or there will be nothing left to save. I strap myself in and prepare for whatever’s to come.

            This vehicle can move faster than I was giving it credit for prior to this moment. We zoom in like a stealth jet across the expanse of white and blue which keeps us from the evil giants who once were my kind-hearted mother and sweet sister. Every time I peek out the porthole, their bodies are closer, and I’m sure we’re about to crash, when in fact, we’re still dozens of miles away from their bodies. A sense of scale is shattered in my mind’s eye. I can actually see the hexagonal cells of their skin through the window as we approach my valkyrie-like adoptive family members. It’s like I’ve pressed a microscope up against my sister’s breast, the very epicenter of her tit, for an inspection of the atomic bodies which devise her form.

            And I’m just about out of words for it.

            The VTOL is rising higher now, cresting through Earth’s atmosphere. If it weren’t for the advanced military hardware of the vehicle, we’d be frozen and popped like pressurized balloons up in the vacuum of space. Still, I can hardly deign to allow myself breath, with all that lies at stake now. We navigate between the thick ropes of black hair which stream down from my sister’s crown; each strand of hair is so thick now, it’s as if tunnels of sheer keratin and midnight-black stone are careening and crisscrossing on the ascent. Somehow, after close to an hour of careful dodging, the VTOL arrives at eye level with my mother and sister.

            They’re growing again, incredibly; odds are, they’ve been growing this entire time we’ve been trying to climb high enough in the plane to reach their mouths for dispersing the anti-pill. How large they are now, I could never say, but it’s got to be in the neighborhood of four thousand miles tall, give or take a few hundred. Earth’s core, surely, is being rattled and compressed by the mere weight of their curvy, plump hourglass bodies standing still on the crust.

            I hear the military personnel screaming at the operators to disperse the agent. I cross my fingers, still with my unblinking eyes pressed to the bulletproof glass: the only layer of pathetic, useless protection keeping us from being destroyed by my mother and sister. All it would take is a misplaced gust of an exhalation from Nicole’s lips, a chaotic flip of Brandy’s hair, a stray glob of spit, or a brush of a drifting fingertip. And we’d be pulverized at a molecular level within a half second.

            The chemical agent is spraying with a vengeance out the back of the VTOL. My brainchild, and our only hope to stop the destruction of the planet. I can’t believe that’s what it’s come to, where a matter of hours before, it seemed we might’ve contained the carnage to the loss of a single city. How naïve I was to believe. Had I know what was coming then, I might’ve simply dived off the rooftop so I wouldn’t have to witness what came next.

            My mother and sister are so large now, they’re not so much people as concepts, too large for my comprehension or grasp. I’m seeing the beautiful brown iris of my mother through the window, so wide that nations could fit through the portal of her pupil. I’m seeing my sister’s mouth spread apart in a toothy grin, her fingers brushing up against the bridge of her mountain nose as she speaks to my parent. Their voices have reached such enormous volumes and such low octaves, I literally can’t understand what they’re saying any longer; it only registers as a deafening hum in my ears.

            I can see, or at least I think I can see, the dispersed clouds floating toward the general coordinates of my sister and mother’s nostrils. Air currents easily consume the chemical storm-cloud in a single inhalation, without having ever noticed the white cloud or the comparatively microscopic military vehicle which delivered it.

            And we wait. With the weight of humanity on our shoulders, we hold position.

            If it’s working, it’s certainly not taking effect as instantaneously as the Giga Pill, because my mother and sister are just as giant and beyond understanding as before. They exist in a new plane of being now, it seems, above the minds of humanity or even the terrestrial orb upon which they now stand and apply their weight such that he very crust of the earth is splitting. There is nothing but them and the world.

            And probably, soon, no us, either.

            A gust of tremendous wind sends the VTOL spinning backward several miles upward, higher into space. I wonder if this is the moment our luck finally runs out and our vehicle tears open like a puny tin can in the harsh environment above earth. But we don’t, at least not yet. We’re still here, floating, without power and gravity, simply clinging to the cold steel of the seats and watching wide-eyed and in hollow disbelief at the final stage of my mother and sister’s domination of our fair planet.

            We can see the curvature of the earth now, from up here, surrounded by the spiraling whisps of hurricanes, tornadoes, and tsunamis the world over, which plague the remaining countries my family hasn’t yet used for food or orgasm. Brandy and Nicole stretch toward the heavens, arms spread wide, their breasts perkier and more stimulated than ever by the ascension. By now, their growth has become constant; there are no more spurts. They simply are growing. Becoming larger is their state of being, forever. I watch their bodies extend and cover more of the earth than not.

            A hairline crack like a thunderbolt splits down the center of the very planet itself. Fire and magma as nothing ever glimpsed comes spilling out from the center like a splintered gumball. And all the while, my mother and sister, hardly distracted by the loss of their home world, roll about contentedly, alternately wrapping their legs around in the fashion of horny cobras and pressing their lips together so hard they might be on the verge of eating one another’s ravenous tongues.

            What I watch next enters my brain in static images as our oxygen runs lower and lower. I no longer have the strength of will to process what I’m seeing. I’m only taking it into my brain and recognizing it as the truth, and nothing more or less.

            I watch the planet earth become two separate bodies of rock, in dialectic to the two wondrous female bodies which drape across them like archangels.

            I watch my mother and sister outgrow their shards of rock in short order, their legs and hands hanging lazily over the sides and dipping into the velvety dark of the cosmos.

            I watch them kiss a final time, looping their fingertips into one another’s miraculously titanic pussies, and then separate again.

            I watch my mother and sister, now each larger than the earth ever was, swim in every direction of their formless being like drunken ballet dancers suspended by streamers over the stage of all creation.

            I watch their jaws open back up as they circle around toward the now comparatively miniscule shards of the broken planet, tongues wagging, and deep, cavernous mouths gawping to receive.

            I watch the planet fade into the blackness of their humble lips and slurped into oblivion below, punctuated by victorious laughter and moans of undying sexual gratitude.

            And now, I believe, as the life fades out of my body in our vehicular grave, I can feel confident my mother and sister, for better or for worse, will be safe forever for all that may come to harm them in existence.

            A small victory, but I count it nonetheless.