The morning briefing started right on schedule.
We all walked into the sterile briefing room and sat down on comfortable leather chairs. Tommy sat down next to me and gave me a nudge with his elbow and winked at me.
"Did you pull last night or something?" he asked with a chirpy smile on his face. "You've got a grin on you the size of the Blackwall Tunnel."
I smirked to myself.
The dream I'd had last night had been so vivid and so satisfying that when I'd woken up this morning I'd ached for more. I'd tried to revisit the erotic nature of that tiny man fantasy, but no matter what I tried or imagined, it just wasn't the same, and so I in the end I had to be content with the memories of the three tiny men making love to my naked body.
"I was just remembering a dream from last night," I said.
"I don't suppose I was in it?" Joked Tommy.
Oh how I would have loved you to have been part of that particular dream Tommy, I thought to myself.
I frowned. What a strange thing to think. I always fantasised that Tommy was strong and gallant. He was my knight in shining armour who would come and save me from all the evils of the world. I'd never before thought that it would be lovely if he was some tiny plaything. Weird.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her ladyship walking confidently out to the front of the briefing room. The DCI looked as imposing as ever in her designer trouser suit which was cut to accentuate her slim athletic physique, a complete contrast to my more well developed hourglass figure. I crossed my legs and Tommy leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear. I nearly didn't hear what he said I was that excited that his mouth was so close to me. As he spoke his minty breath meandered through my hair and caressed my ear.
"I don't think I've ever seen you wear a skirt," he whispered.
And he was right. I never wore skirts whilst on duty, but this morning it had just felt right. I'd substituted my trousers for a skirt that showed off my relatively long legs and even gone as far as to wear black nylon holdups and shoes with a slight heel on them.
"Okay team, we've got an extremely busy day ahead of us," said the DCI. "This is what we know so far."
The DCI picked up a remote control and stepped to one side of the large interactive whiteboard that was mounted to the wall behind her. With a click the whiteboard sprung to life revealing a large photograph of a man in his thirties. Well groomed, tanned and smiling happily at the camera, James Taunton had no idea what the world had in store for him when that photo had been taken.
"As you've probably all guessed, we are ninety nine percent sure that this is our first victim, James Taunton," said the DCI. "The lab boys and girls are still running further tests but it would seem that this man's DNA is all over the house and in the car that's parked in the garage which is also registered to a James Taunton. The DNA from the remains found in the kitchen also match the DNA found in the house and the car. The house is in his name and several of the neighbours have confirmed that Mr Taunton lived there. Luckily his top set of teeth were still intact and so his dental records, which will be with us this morning, should give us the final confirmation that we need."
God this was going to be a long briefing, I thought to myself. I'd forgotten how thorough the DCI always was.
There was a click and the next image appeared on the screen. It was a photograph of my phone.
"The killer made contact with DC Stewart shortly after we arrived at the scene," said the DCI with a slight snort.
It was obvious that she was far from impressed that it was me who the killer had contacted and not her.
"The phone the killer used belonged to James Taunton," said the DCI. "We have no idea how he managed to get hold of DC Stewart's phone number but I have a few theories. DC Stewart's phone now has a wire tap on it. Any further calls made to this phone will be logged, recorded and traced."
The whole room was now looking in my direction. I felt myself go red from all the attention. Was everybody thinking the same thing that I was thinking? Was the DCI implying that I knew James Taunton and that's how the killer had got hold of my number, because it was in James Taunton's mobile phone? I suddenly felt so angry. How dare she? I wanted to speak out and just as I felt my mouth open and my tongue wind itself up to deliver a scathing attack on the DCI I felt Tommy lightly touch my arm.
I turned and looked at Tommy who was shaking his head subtly.
I closed my mouth and returned my gaze to the front of the room.
"We think this is our second victim," said the DCI quietly.
She hesitated for a few seconds before pressing the remote control.
Click.
The volume of the room rose suddenly.
"Fuckin' hell," said DS Rioch from behind me. "It's Frank. Oh sweet fuckin' Jesus."
Frank?
"Okay keep quiet please," said the DCI.
She didn't need to say it twice. The room fell into a morbid hush.
"I'm afraid the remains in the second house have been positively identified as belonging to Frank Castleton."
"Not Frank," said DS Rioch under his breath, his voice betraying his true emotions for once.
I turned to Tommy and frowned. Tommy just sat there staring at the image of Frank Castleton. Piercing steel blue eyes, set in a square head with a thuggish jaw stared back at us from the screen.
"As you all know, Frank was an outstanding police officer," said the DCI, "and it certainly doesn't feel like four years ago that he retired from the our department, but I'm afraid the records we have for him match the remains at 43 Acacia Avenue."
"But I thought Frank had retired to the south coast," said DS Rioch. "Bournemouth or somewhere?"
The DCI paused.
"He had," said the DCI. "We have no idea what Frank Castleton was doing at 43 Acacia Avenue. To further complicate things we have been unable to locate the owner of the house."
Click.
A stunning woman in her early twenties looked out at us. She had stylishly cut medium length brown hair, large brown eyes and full sensuous lips that gave her a look of a young Brigitte Bardot.
"This is Stephanie DuPont," said the DCI. "The house belongs to her and this is her driving licence photograph. She's a French national living here in London and at this precise moment she is possibly the only link we have to the two killings."
"Must have a rich Daddy to own a house like that," snorted DS Rioch. "Or a sugar Daddy."
There would be no shortage of volunteers to locate Miss DuPont, I thought to myself as the DCI continued to talk to us and show us various images of the crime scenes.
"And then we have the bizarre mock up of the tiny footprints at each scene," concluded the DCI. "Obviously some kind of calling card but I'm getting a psychologist in later today to analyse what this might say about our killer."
There was a knock at the door and Sergeant Lyle's bald head poked around the edge of the door as he opened it.
"Uniform are all ready ma'am once you've finished here," he said.
The DCI nodded at the Sergeant and then looked down at her clipboard. One by one we were given our allotted assignments.
DS Rioch was to go back to the first crime scene and sweep the area with uniform to ensure no stone had been left unturned.
DC Taylor, a young police officer with scruffy blonde hair and boyish looks was to go back to the second crime scene with uniform and follow up any leads generated.
DC Thompson was to focus on contacting any family that Frank Castleton had and locating Stephanie DuPont.
And me?
I watched my colleagues exit the room one by one leaving me alone with the DCI. She looked at me the way a lioness sizes up its prey before attacking.
"I don't like you Stewart," said the DCI without even blinking.
And there it was out in the open. No subtlety whatsoever. No disguise. Just plain and simple.
I didn't respond. The only thing I could have said would have been "I'm sorry to hear that", but I wasn't sorry to hear it because I couldn't stand her either.
"But I've read your report and you might just prove useful on this investigation, but I need to ask you something first."
I didn't even give her the satisfaction of asking the obvious.
"No I didn't know James Taunton ma'am," I said. "I have absolutely no idea how the killer got hold of my mobile phone number."
The DCI perched on the edge of the desk next to the interactive whiteboard and nodded slowly. She opened the desk drawer and handed me back my mobile phone.
"Keep this on you at all time," she said. "If you take a shower, put it in a plastic bag and take it in the shower with you. Take it everywhere. If the killer rings you again we need you to answer it."
I took the phone from her long slender fingers and placed it in my jacket pocket.
"We've got the PCs from both houses," said the DCI. "The technical boffins have disabled all passwords and all that other rubbish. Go through each PC and try and find a link between James Taunton and Stephanie DuPont."
I died inside. Everybody else was out in the field doing proper investigative work and the bitch had stuck me inside doing an analyst's job.
"Isn't that a job for an analyst," I said. "I'd be far better..."
The DCI held her finger up the way a teacher holds her finger up to tell a naughty child to stop talking.
She leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
"You're meant to be the clever serial killer expert with all your fancy degrees," she said quietly. "So let's see if you can catch this one."
I looked her straight in the eye. I was angry but I was determined to prove her wrong, and if that meant doing the job of an analyst and trolling through reams of information, then so be it. I was not going to let this bitch beat me.
Nodding politely I left the briefing room and walked over to my desk which was conveniently placed next to the water cooler on the far side of the large office. There were six desks altogether and apart from mine they were all vacant. The two laptops were balanced on top of each other on my desk complete with leads.
"Bloody brilliant," I muttered to myself as I sat down on my desk and positioned both laptops in front of me. They were clearly labelled 'James Taunton' and 'Stephanie Dupont'. Power leads connected, lids open, power buttons pushed both laptops burst into life and I began to search through the two people's lives. I looked up at the clock and sighed. It was now nine thirty in the morning.
Ten thirty. Nothing found in the personal documents section.
Eleven thirty. Nothing significant found amongst the photographs that were stored on both laptops.
At eleven forty five I stopped looking at the computers and turned my attention to the large pile of crime scene photographs that were also on my desk. I flicked through them the way one flicks through a pack of cards. A bloody smear on a kitchen floor and the remains of a skeleton also on a kitchen floor. At least the killer was consistent when it came to choosing a room to kill in. I rubbed my eyes and turned my focus back to the laptops.
"Right, let's see if we can find what you've both been looking at on the internet," I said. "You first Mr Taunton."
I looked in his favourites list first. There was nothing particularly unusual saved there as I glanced down the web names.
"Let's have a look at history," I said clicking on the tab.
There were lots of entries for Google and Yahoo and a few for Facebook. I kept looking down amongst the myriad of website names that were displayed in front of me. My eyes were beginning to feel tired. I placed a finger on the screen to try and help me focus. My eyes followed the tip of my finger ever downwards. Car searches. Big boobs, surprise, surprise.
And there it was.
Totally innocent in its own right but given the crime scenes it had to be a link.
I looked carefully at the words Giantess City Forum.
I crossed my fingers and clicked on the link.
The webpage burst into life. Luckily James Taunton was an impatient man and had ticked the 'log me on automatically each visit' box.
"What the hell is this?" I muttered under my breath.
It was an entire web site dedicated to size fetishes. Shrinking men and women, giant women. Mega, whatever that was. Story sections. Image sections. I looked up to make sure I was still alone. The office was completely quiet. It was just me on my own about to enter the world of...giant women? Shrinking men?
I looked at his username. JamesTShrink it said.
My mouse pointer hovered over the different headings on the site, trying to find something relevant to click on. And there it was. A heading entitled 'my posts'.
"Okay Mr Taunton," I said. "Let's see what your interests were."
His tastes were fairly obvious from the topic headings. I clicked on each one in turn. A photograph of a woman with a tiny naked man under her foot popped up. The next one depicted a woman showing her shoe the camera. The bloody remains of a tiny man had been photo shopped onto the underside of her shoe. Each picture I clicked showed a similar image. Some of the images were very well manipulated whereas some looked extremely obvious they were cut and pasted together in a matter of minutes. Image, after image, after image I looked at. It was all so fascinating. James Taunton's comments on each post had been fairly standard and it was obvious that his big turn on was the thought of being shrunk down to the size of a pen lid and then squashed underfoot by a dominant woman.
And that's exactly how he'd died. Smeared all over his kitchen floor like strawberry jam.
I clicked onto his messages.
There were about thirty messages in his inbox and all of them had already been opened. I looked at the username of the person who had sent them all - 'Mademoiselle Stephanie'.
"Hello Stephanie DuPont," I said. "So, you knew James Taunton. Let's see what else you knew."
The first message was an erotic description of what this woman wanted to do to James. I read it slowly and carefully.

"I'd love to find you in my bedroom spying on me. You'd only be a few inches tall and you'd be hiding in one of my shoes, my black leather shoes with the four inch heels. As you watched me getting dressed you'd think that you were perfectly hidden, not knowing that I'd already spotted you out of the corner of my eye. You'd watch me slip my black panties on, ever so slowly pulling them up over my long tanned legs. You'd be desperate to see between my legs but I'd be positioned so you could only see my profile, silhouetted by a red bedside lamp behind me. Next you'd watch me put on my suspender belt and then slide my fishnet stockings up each leg, attaching each stocking to my suspender belt. How you'd long to climb up my legs, to use my stockings like a ladder so you could get closer to me but you're so far away, hiding in my shoe little man. Next I'd put on my bra and my tight fitting mini skirt to really show off my legs which must look like skyscrapers to you. Finally I'd slip on my slim fit blouse, taking my time to do up each button, fully knowing that you're watching my every move. And now for my shoes. I'd walk towards you. Each footstep would echo across the floor and into your hiding place. You'd feel my full power as I got nearer and nearer. Imagine the shadow I'd cast over you as I stood next to my shoes looking down at you little man. I'd slide my enormous foot into the shoe next to you. The shear scale of my foot would be enough to take your breath away. And then you'd realise that my other foot needs to slide into the shoe you are hiding in. You'd shout out to me and wave your arms to attract my attention and I'd see you and smile. It would be so strange to be looking up at me towering above you, my face peering down at you. And as I mouthed the words 'goodbye little man', you'd start to scream. My foot would come sliding into my shoe forcing you down into space between the end of my toes and the inside of my shoe. You would only have a tiny space in which to lie curled up. I'd keep you in there all day as I went shopping and met my friends for drinks. I would be having a wonderfully normal day, all the time knowing you were trapped in my shoe just beyond my toes. And then when I got home I'd slide my foot out of my shoe and tip you out onto the floor. Slowly, I'd place my shoe back on my foot and then hold my foot above you. I'd watch you squirm and beg for mercy and plead with me but it would all be to no avail. I'd stamp on your tiny body and it would burst from the force of my enormous foot. You would become just a smear on the underside of my shoe. A mere stain that I would look at for a day or two before cleaning you off with a piece of rag - love Stephie xxx"

I sat back in my chair and looked at the words. I tried to imagine the feeling of power you would have over somebody if they were tiny. I felt myself smiling because it felt good. I held my hand out in front of me, palm face up. I imagined her ladyship standing on the palm of my hand. She was about the height of a pen. I thought for a second or so and she grew smaller and smaller until she was no taller than my little finger. I imagined her on her knees begging for her life. Begging me to spare her, begging me to return her to her normal size. I imagined picking her up by the scruff of her shirt so she dangled helplessly from my closed finger and thumb. I imagined what it would be like to hold her like that, to have total power over her and I loved it. I imagined placing the DCI on the floor between my feet and watching her scurry like a little bug on the floor. And then I imagined placing my foot on her tiny body, watching her looking up at me as her head poked out just beyond the end of my shoe. And then finally I imagined what it would feel like to press down on her tiny body. To feel it give way beneath my foot. To feel her ladyship's bones crunch beneath my foot. To....
I shook my head and gasped.
"What the hell is happening to me," I muttered. "Get back on track now Lisa."
I cleared the crush fantasies from my head with a long drink of water and then clicked on the second message in James Taunton's inbox. It was more of the same. Detailed descriptions of how she would love to shrink him and then crush him. Each message I opened was more and more erotic, more frantic, more personal and more violent. I could sense some sort of relationship building up between James and Stephanie within this fantasy cyber world of theirs. The last message in the inbox that I opened was short, sweet and somewhat unexpected.

"That sounds great. Here's my mobile telephone number - 07796125898754. Call me - love Stephie xxx"

I looked at James Taunton's sent messages area. Again there were about thirty messages and I was pretty sure that as I opened each one, it would be a response to the ones in his inbox. Just to make sure I opened up all the messages and I was right. Over the space of thirty messages or so these two had become very intense and close. Was that even possible, I thought to myself. The last message that James Taunton had sent, matched up perfectly with Stephanie DuPont's last reply.

"You live in London. I live in London. Let's meet up! Sorry. Don't mean to be stalkerish. I won't be at all offended if you think it's a bad idea, which it probably is seeing as you don't really know much about me - love James"

But she had thought it was a good idea and given him her telephone number and from thereon the telephone had become their main form of communication.
I clicked back to the board index and wondered what to look at next.
"Videos should be interesting," I said to myself. "Let's see what we have here."
My eye was immediately drawn to the newest posts on the video section. Two new posts posted in the early hours of this morning.
Two new video postings by Mademoiselle Stephanie.
I opened the first one. As it played I had to place my hand on my mouth to stop myself from screaming out loud. I looked long and hard but no matter how much I wanted to deny it, it was right there in front of me.
I re-read the title of the video, and as I read, the words came out of my mouth out loud.
"Kitchen crush," I said flatly.
This video was filmed in James Taunton's kitchen. I recognized the floor, the layout, the worktops. The camera was focused on Stephanie Dupont. It was definitely her. She was wearing exactly what she had described in her first message to James Taunton. She wriggled around the kitchen, teasing the camera with every part of her body. The camera panned to the kitchen floor and there was a tiny man looking up in awe at Stephanie. She giggled and pouted and then crouched down so she could be closer to the tiny man on the floor.
"Aww look," she said, her French accent oozing sensuality. "There's a tiny man in my kitchen."
The acting was terrible, but this femme fatale knew how to move her body. She stood back up and then the camera cut to a view of her looking down into the camera lens. She spoke in soft tones.
"You can't escape little man," she said. "I'm going to really enjoy squashing you under my foot."
Now the camera was back at head height. It panned round Stephanie's head and then down onto the floor where the tiny man was running this way and that but every time he made a move Stephanie would place her foot in front of him and then laugh.
"When did amateur special effects become so good," I said to myself as I leaned closer to the laptop screen. The tiny man on the floor was so realistic. So real. So...
I could feel my heart thumping away in my chest. Time seemed to slow down as the camera panned from Stephanie's face, down past her ample cleavage, down her flat stomach, down her midriff, along her incredibly long legs and down to her feet. The tiny man who was standing at Stephanie's feet was a really good actor. The camera panned behind the tiny man showing a shot of him standing between Stephanie's feet. He was looking up at her, shouting and screaming something totally inaudible, but whatever it was, it was very convincing. He sounded genuinely terrified. The tiny man turned round and everything turned to slow motion. I watched him run towards the camera. His tiny eyes bulging with fear, his mouth wide open, screaming. He came closer and closer and closer.
It was James Taunton.
His tiny fists were now banging against the camera lens and in the background I could see Stephanie's out of focus right foot menacingly lift up from the kitchen floor like some gargantuan prehistoric monster emerging from a swamp.
The camera panned back again and James Taunton spun round and looked up. He raised his arms and screamed except it sounded so weird as if the sound had been slowed down along with the images. I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Stephanie's black high heeled shoe came into view. It moved slowly from the top of the PC screen downwards in one beautiful flowing movement. James Taunton looked as if he was holding up Stephanie's shoe at one point before it became obvious that his tiny body was being subjected to the full downward force of this woman's foot. I watched James Taunton's head disappear into his shoulders which moved closer to his waist as his legs buckled beneath him. There was a sickening crunch of bones, which sounded even worse in slow motion, as Stephanie's foot finally came to rest on the unforgiving kitchen floor.
I wasn't expecting the wipe.
Stephanie wiped her foot across the floor, smearing the squished remains of James Taunton beneath the sole of her shoe.
Now the camera was looking down from Stephanie's perspective. It was the same shot but this time it hadn't been slowed down.
I could see Stephanie laughing a she lifted her foot up. James screamed something and then .....squish. He was just a stain on the floor.
As the film ends a logo appeared on the screen.
Mademoiselle Productions the logo said and from the last letter 's' little tiny footprints appeared across the screen.
I stared at the screen wondering what I had just witnessed. The best produced special effects that video could offer...or something else?
My hand hesitated over the mouse just for a moment before moving the pointer to the second video posting. I double clicked and once again I was within the fantasy world of Giantess.
"Kitchen feast," I whispered to myself.
It was Stephanie Dupont again. This time she was in her own kitchen, the scene of the second murder. She was dressed in the same style of clothes but in different colours this time. She looked into the camera and smiled and then licked her lips.
"I'm really going to enjoy eating you up little man," she said, the word little pronounced liddle because of her French accent. The camera panned down to her chest and there in her clenched fist was a tiny man. He was struggling to get out of her hand but he had no chance. Stephanie held him tightly. The camera panned down beneath him so we were now looking up at Stephanie from just behind the little man. Her breasts were huge from this viewpoint and you could see her face staring over the top of them and down at the little man who was certainly naked from the waist up. He was an older man than James Taunton and I was already guessing that this was Frank Castleton who was starring in this particular video. Stephanie lifted Frank up closer to her face and the camera followed her hand so now we were looking at Stephanie's huge face. Frank pummelled his fists against Stephanie's huge hand but she just giggled. She opened her mouth wide, giving us a view of her perfectly white teeth and her luscious pink tongue. She leaned forward and kissed Frank on his face.
"Aww poor little man," said Stephanie, "you look so yummy."
She reached across with her other hand and grabbed Frank's right arm between her finger and thumb. He screamed out in pain as she lifted him out of her grip and held him dangling by his arm which was being held firmly between Stephanie's finger and thumb.
The audio for the little man was a lot better in this film. His screams could clearly be heard.
She lifted him up beyond her head and tilted her head back and opened her mouth. The camera panned closer to a side profile of Stephanie looking up at Frank dangling from her fingers. As he kicked and struggled it became very obvious that he was naked.
"No!" Screamed Frank as Stephanie stuck out her moist pink tongue and licked his feet.
"Mmmmh, you taste good little man."
Frank's next words were barely audible but they sounded something like "I've changed my mind".
I watched in disbelief as Stephanie opened up her finger and thumb and dropped Frank into her mouth. His cries were immediately cut off as she clamped her mouth shut. Stephanie closed her eyes and started to swallow. She reached down for a glass of water and then opened her mouth to the camera which zoomed into the back of her throat. I could just make out Frank's face frozen in fear. His hands were stretched out before him, desperately trying to gain hold of something, anything to stop him from sliding down this woman's throat into her stomach. His hands slid over her tongue as he started to slip further and further down her throat.
"Goodbye Frank," said a female voice off camera shot.
Stephanie took a huge gulp of water and the camera moved away from her mouth and focused on her throat.
"Bloody hell how the hell do they do that special effect?" I gasped as I watched the small bulge that was Frank move slowly down Stephanie's throat.
"Mmmh I love eating little men," said Stephanie licking her lips and then blowing a kiss into the camera.
Mademoiselle Productions.
The End.
I clicked back onto the messages heading. Grabbing my notepad and a pen I started to list all the dates of the messages that James Taunton and Stephanie DuPont had sent to each other.
Then, as I clicked the mouse button, the words on the screen suddenly screamed out at me.
1 New Message.
I clicked on the icon and looked at the name of the sender of the new message.
Mademoiselle Stephanie.
I double clicked on the message and it opened up in front of me.
The message was simple and straight to the point.
'Join us Detective Constable Stewart'.