Circe loomed thirty-two feet tall; her strappy high heels added nearly another two feet. She was taller than nearly all of the buildings around her in the town square, save for the local hotel and the statue of Barlomie's founder -- the awed women and men who stood beneath her only came halfway up her shins.

Her legs and arms were bare: she was clothed in a simple, form-fitting one-piece dress that ended mid-thigh -- everyone in Barlomie would be short enough to see up her skirt to the orange-and-white-striped panties she had on -- and wore a tasteful, varied assortment of necklaces and bracelets and anklets that jingled as she moved, the shining gold set off by her dark brown complexion.

Ahead of her, Circe saw a street lined with the excited Barlomie townsfolk; between the rows marched the band that heralded her arrival. Directly before her was the mayor of the town and his council -- the supposedly elected who were -- by no coincidence, Circe ruminated -- the most affluent business owners in the community. Circe quickly scanned their faces and frowned. They were all above average in height, but not notably so. There seemed to be someone missing from their ranks, a man she'd heard about who was nearly half as tall as her -- well, no matter; he'd be easy to spot, no doubt.

The towering woman grew impatient as the mayor, who was a stooping older man maybe eight feet tall, droned on about what an honor it was for her to have chosen Barlomie as the site for her expansive mansion at the edge of town, and how many jobs the project created, and how her wealth would no doubt help transform Barlomie into the modern suburban center it so badly wanted to be. Money and jobs; Circe scoffed. She didn't care about either, but both were useful to make fools out of people, and to control them.

Circe swung one leg forward and ignored the startled cries of the knee-high council as they dove to the side to avoid her huge foot. Circe just barely saw how one woman in a formal blue dress with frizzy red hair had to press herself flat to the ground lest she be kicked, and that the sharp heel of her shoe cut the woman's billowing garment as it passed dangerously close over her -- then the smaller woman was out of Circe's sight as the giant's long limbs carried her forward.

Circe had been walking gingerly before; she didn't bother now. She steadied herself as the heel of her shoe sank down into the pavement of the street, and then the flat area of her high-heel beneath the ball of her foot and her toes slammed down with a crash. When her foot lifted up, the road was potholed and ruined in her wake -- she left a series of shoeprints.

Panicked shouts rose up from the crowd as Circe sauntered down mainstreet, tearing it up as she stomped after her band. Cars rocked on their tires and creaked; vehicle alarms went off. Most of the band continued cranking out their raucous tune -- the brave little players -- but the rearmost musicians were shaken from their feet, their instruments clattering to the ground. They had to scramble like bugs to get out of the way of Circe as she walked forward. She finally came to a stop in the middle of her band; the music abruptly cut off, and all that was left was panic.

Circe pretended not to notice any of it.

"What a quaint little town this is," Circe called out, as if she was simply strolling down the street with a friend window shopping, and not ruining the street with her heels. She stopped and approached what looked like a pharmacy with its name spelled out on a tall, vertical sign; the crowd out in front of it dispersed to either side of her. Just the nearness of Circe's feet sinking into the ground put enough stress on the foundation of the store that its windows exploded outward -- the glimmering shards sluiced off of Circe's bright orange nails like a flow of diamonds.

The giant woman gazed down at the store, which was waist-high; she smiled down at the crowd around her as if she might be speaking to the owner. "Do you know how dirty your roof is? I can tell I'm the first really tall person that's ever visited Barlomie: the town looks pretty gross from up here. And this sign," Circe swiped her hand casually in front of her, backhanding the sign and sending the top half of it crashing down into the street to a chorus of smashing metal and plastic, and screams.

"No, this simply won't do. Barlomie, we really need to talk about this. Especially if I'm to feel at home here."

Circe turned then and started walking down the street once more. Everyone ran from her: the a band she'd hire to play, the half-dozen police officers who had been patrolling up and down the sidewalks to make sure the street was clear, the townsfolk, the city council. They all ran until they thought they were safe from her, and then they stopped and looked up at her: their curiosity about this giant woman was simply too strong.

"Oh, and these cars!" Circe complained facetiously and brought her foot down onto a white sedan parked on the side of the street; the front underside of her high-heeled shoe covered the hood and windshield of the vehicle. "Why, they're everywhere! Constantly underfoot," she whined, pressing her foot down with a squeal of twisting metal and an outward explosion of glass. Circe dark toes went pale as she forced the front of the car flat beneath her.

"Things are going to have to change around here, Barlomie," Circe stated in a tut-tut tone. "That much is certain."

The roar of a car -- louder than any of the automobiles down at her feet could muster -- drew Circe's attention and she whirled around; she smirked at what she saw. A garish red convertible -- smushed in from its sides -- had pulled up and the large man in its cockpit was revving the engine, as if to drown Circe out. The car was tall, coming up to Circe's mid-thigh.

She had to admit: it worked. That car sure was loud, even if it looked ridiculous.

Circe approached the vehicle, eyeing up the slick businessman sitting at the wheel, and the attractive little blond in his lap. The giant stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish, but like a child with a new toy, the man pumped the accelerator with amusement that seemed like it would never end.

Until, finally, it did.

An uneasy silence settled over the the pair. All eyes were on Circe and this newcomer; he must be the town's council member who was absent, she mused -- formerly the tallest person in Barlomie.

"And who might-"

Circe's sentence was clipped off as Brock once more went to working the accelerator, drowning out any chance for conversation with the roar of his roadster's engine.

The giant rolled her eyes. "Compensating, much?" Circe asked lightly. "Let me help you with that," she said.

The giant woman lifted a leg and, in one smooth motion, kicked down at the hood of the car, driving the hard spike of her shoe through the metal and into the guts of the machine. The roar of the engine abruptly died as oil bubbled up out of the wound; when Brock worked the accelerator all the car could manage was a limp gurgle.

The relatively tall man behind the wheel looked at the oil bubbling out of the hood with disbelief; his face turned as red as his car's paint. He scrambled from his seat -- nearly sending the woman who sat in his lap tumbling to the pavement -- and charged around the front of his car to square off with the giant, who stood over twice as tall as he did.

"Now listen here, you bitch," Brock began, wagging a finger up at Circe.

"Language," Circe murmured, her lips pursed.

"You think you can just stroll in here like you own the place. Well think again, sister!"

"Tone," Circe warned.

"I oughtta knock your fuckin' block off-"

Circe grinned. She stooped down in the street, lowering her face down to where Brock could reach it. "Go ahead, sweetie," she said. "I'll give you the first swing."

Brock's eyes bulged. He looked around at all the expectant faces -- and Marybelle, off to the side, with her hands raised and balled in front of her mouth -- and then back at Circe's large, looming head, and her delighted smirk. Brock screamed and rushed, swinging his fist as hard as he could: he hit Circe's mouth, hoping to knock a tooth loose, but the woman pursed her lips and absorbed the blow without even flinching.

Brock's voice wavered as he shouted, "Barlomie's our town! You're not welcome!"

Circe rose back up before Brock could swing again; she cocked her own arm and then brought it downward, striking Brock in the head with her fist. Brock crumpled to the pavement, his body limp, blood pouring out of his nose. The flesh around his eye and cheek was hot and red, fading quickly to a bruised purple and yellow. His mouth hung open and Circe saw that the fallen man was missing a tooth.

She grinned and looked around, seeing the scared little blond -- who backed away into the gathered townsfolk -- and then to a stooped old man, the mayor, who was trying his best, Circe mused, to look bold.

"Young lady, you just, you just, you just can't do this!" The tiny mayor's legs shook more and more as Circe's gaze lingered on him.

"I can, and I will, and I already did," Circe retorted, the smile never leaving her face. For a moment she looked down at the man strewn at her feet, as if waiting for him to rise.

When he didn't, Circe straightened and looked around the crowd, locking eyes with all the little people. "But why -- why did I do it? That's the important thing. You're all invited. All of you. Young and old. Rich and poor. I'm having a party tonight at my mansion; it's almost finished. If I destroyed your store, if I crushed your car, if I tore up your road -- well, come and see me. I'll make everything right. For any and all of you."

Circe caught the eyes of one startled little woman in the crowd; she was shorter than average and had a sweet look to her -- she wore an outfit like a fast food employee. Circe smiled widely at the little woman, and winked. "Come and see me."

Then the giant woman grinned like a devil and swept her eyes around the crowd again. "I've got big plans, little Barlomie, and stuff like this," Circe said swinging her arm lazily to the side and punching her fist through a billboard on top of a store next to her, "is part of the old Barlomie. I'm here, now, and nothing will ever be the same."

With a haughty laugh Circe turned away from the crowd and stomped off, leaving shoeprints in the street as her sauntering form headed toward the looming mansion that was nearly finished at the edge of town. It was the new largest structure in Barlomie, and could be seen from anywhere in town.

###


Bethany walked behind Len and the two other cooks who usually worked her shift, Daniel and Steven, as the four of them shuffled through the wide-open gate that marked the edge of Circe's property; her elaborate mansion loomed ahead of them.

Outside the mansion's big double doors were the makings of the kind of grand gathering that Bethany had only seen in movies: there were tents set up, covering long tables heaped high with food and drink. The throng of townsfolk that Bethany walked as a part of spread out across the grounds, gravitating toward whatever food looked delicious, or drink that enticed. Closest to the door, Bethany saw, was the mayor and his ever-present circle of council members, though Brock was notably absent again.

Len whistled. "Well will you look at all this. I hope they don't ask for any of us to help foot the bill." He picked up a small plate that had bits of seafood skewered on toothpicks, and plucked up one that held a bacon-wrapped scallop. "Lord, I haven't had a scallop in forever."

"Christ, look at this thing," Daniel said, reaching for a fancy cocktail: the generous pour of liquid was a brilliant blue, and there we a pineapple wedge hanging off the rim of the rim.

"I bet that won't stop you from drinking it," Len quipped.

Daniel laughed, already raising the glass. "Hell no. Damn, it's strong, too. Delicious."

Bethany reached for a plate of seafood of her own and ate while she chatted with the others. She'd never had an oyster before, yet here one was, waiting for her raw and finely shucked without a hint of grit. She found out that she really liked oysters.

"People pay good money for this kind of grub," Len said.

"And drinks," Bethany said, picking up a cocktail in a martini glass that was the color of chocolate.

Steven was already on his second plate, and spoke around a full mouth of food with barbeque sauce on his lip. "Hell, I bought ol' Brock mother-fucking Biggs has parties like this all the time. But he's never invited me to 'em."

"You gotta be rich," Len said.

"Or agree to be that evening's piece of meat."

Daniel raised his glass a little at Bethany, looking a little watery-eyed already. His speech was a little loose, but Bethany could tell he was trying to say something he really meant. "I've always admired that about you, Bethie. Guy like Brock would lavish you with gifts if you put out, but you never have. Not for him, I mean. Um."

Bethany laughed. "Uh, thanks, Daniel. Brock's a fucking pig. I don't care what kinda happiness his money could buy."

A sudden hush fell over the crowd and Bethany, Len, Daniel, and Steven all looked toward the silence to see the two huge front doors of the mansion pulling inward.

There stood Circe, who Bethany thought towered even a little taller than she had before. The giant woman wore a simple, flowing white toga that was cut in a way that made it look modern to Bethany's eye and also to hang off Circe's curves in a way that didn't obscure then; Circe also wore a thin wreath in her long black hair -- which flowed about her face and over her shoulders -- like a tiara, and had on a pair of gladiator sandals, with gold ropes tied up her tan lower legs.

Circe smiled widely around as she stepped out from the mansion and onto the grass of her yard, not even bothering to stop or look at the mayor and his group; the comparatively tiny entourage glowered as she passed, but there was nothing they could do to stop her.

"Well, hello, hello, hello!" Circe called to people as she passed.

It was impossible for Bethany to take her eyes off the giant woman. Of course, part of it was a jealous wish to swap lives with the lumbering woman, but there was also a warmth that Circe radiated that Bethany found alluring; she was so friendly to the people she stooped to greet. As much as Circe clearly enjoyed all the attention, she didn't seem like a vapid, fawning celebrity walking down a red carpet. At several points Bethany saw Circe completely stop to talk to someone, even lifting a few people up; something which made Bethany chew her lip when she saw it.

Tiny Bethany couldn't take her eyes off of Circe's as the giant walked around, mingling, meeting and greeting. It seemed her path would bring her right to Bethany, but that seemed impossible -- would someone like Circe really notice her? She heard Len and the other cooks talking, vaguely, somewhere else, as if she'd slipped into another dimension on her own and was the only one in it -- her and Circe. And then all at once the giant was right above Bethany, who found her legs shaking. It wasn't from fear; she was just that excited.

Before her with Circe's huge brown feet in their gold sandals, toenails painted purple with intricate patterns done in white -- each longer than Bethany was tall. A pleasant, fruity scent called at Bethany's nostrils; a foot lotion, perhaps, and Bethany found the aroma alluring. Circe's toes wiggled and Bethany blushed; it was as if they were wiggling at her. Then she looked up, up, up Circe's long legs and her flowing toga and to her gorgeous face, and she very nearly yelped when she saw the giant was looking straight at her.

"Hello, there," Circe said.

The giant woman gracefully lowered herself down and reached a hand toward Bethany. The tiny woman was embarrassed to find her drink falling from her fingers, but Circe's smile was knowing and amused. "Just keep still," she said, and wrapped her large fingers around Bethany, cradling her and lifting her from the ground. Bethany felt weightless and light-headed as she rushed up through the air and Circe straightened. She held Bethany in front of her large face and grinned at her, looking her over.

"Hello, doll," the giant said.

Bethany blushed. It wasn't like when Brock hit on her, making his size a part of it: Bethany liked being complemented by Circe, she found, and hoped for more.

"What's your name," Circe asked.

"Bethany. Uh, or Beth, or Bethie; whatever you prefer." Bethany could feel how hot her cheeks were; they must have been red enough to glow, even in the dim light of the evening.

Circe chuckled. Her voice was deep and resonant, and had a power to it; Bethany had never been this close to a giant before, and found it enthralling. Circe's gleaming white teeth flashed as she grinned. "Hello, Bethie; I'm Circe."

The small woman was at a loss of what to say but felt that she had to say something. "I know," Bethany said meekly, and instantly felt stupid. "I... It's good to meet you!"

"Likewise," Circe said, and her eyes widened a little and light flashed across her pupils. Then a shiver of pleasure spread out across Bethany's body in waves: Circe was rubbing up alongside of Bethany's body with her thumb. "I'm glad you came today. Are you enjoying the food? The drinks?"

"I... I am!"

"Good, Bethie. Very good. I have to say, it's always a worrying thing, moving to a new town, but seeing that people like you are here -- well -- I'm a little less worried now."

"What," Bethany asked. She couldn't believe that this giant woman was coming on so strong. Circe's thumb stroking her felt so good, so right. She didn't want Circe to put her down. She wanted to stay in Circe's large, warm, soft, strong hand all night. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Circe said, and brought Bethany's small body up toward her face: "That I want to get to know you, Bethie. I want to be friends." Circe arched an eyebrow. "And I hope you do, too?"

"Oh, yes," Bethie breathed.

"Tell me, are you happy here?"

Bethany didn't know what to say. The answer, of course, was no she was not. She definitely was not happy living in Barlomie, and never had been. Circe was new to town, however, and just spent a lot of money to build a colossal mansion there -- even for a giant like her. Bethany felt pressure to lie to Circe and tell her that Barlomie was a great place to live. Really, with the money the giant had, it probably would be -- with that kind of money, anywhere must have been great, Bethany ruminated.

Circe smirked. "You hate it here. It's written all over your face."

Bethany gazed back; she couldn't say anything, she was horrified.

"It's okay," Circe cooed, and her thumb continued to pet Bethany. "Stick with me, little one; there are going to be changes around here. Big changes. But I promise: I'll take care of you."

Bethany didn't know how to act, or feel. She couldn't believe where reality had taken her. She didn't want it to end, or to be anywhere else. It took everything she had not to whimper.

But it was to end, it seemed: with a friend smile, Circe was lowering her back down to the ground at her feet. And then the giant woman's fingers, so invitingly warm, left her for the cool air of the evening, and Circe was straightening.

"Come and see me again sometime," the giant ordered, and turned, and strolled off.

Bethany nearly fainted. Len and the cooks rushed around her, and Len in particular grinned. "Well, seems like you and her really hit it off. Pays to have friends in high places, huh? Didn't really peg you for someone good at rubbing elbows, but the way she was smiling-"

And then Bethany did faint. Len's voice spiraled off into nothingness as she sank downward. She vaguely felt their hands on her, trying to support her and ease her fall. When she came to Len was cradling her head, and Daniel and Steven were looking down at her with worry; Daniel held a glass of water and offered it to her.

Len grinned. "There you are. Hey, there; hey, now. That was quite the sinking spell that just took hold of you, missy."

Bethany's cheeks felt hot. "Oh god, I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Len said, and chuckled. "Everyone's too busy having a good time; or too drunk."

"Circe," Bethany murmured.

"She's done her rounds," Len said. "I think this party's almost over."

Bethany found the giant with her eyes. Circe stood tall, hands on her hips, a smirk on her face, with all eyes on her. A hush came over the crowd, and everyone waited for her to speak.

"I have a deal to offer you, Barlomie. I've decided to make this town my home. All of it. The town's kind of in the way, I mean." Circe grinned around, and her dark eyes looked right at Bethany. "The choice is yours whether you want to stay with me, or not. If you do, that's great: I'm building a new Barlomie, one that'll be better than ever, and you're welcome to live there. The only catch is, you've got to give me everything." Circe's eyes moved on, then, sweeping around; her voice was deep and throaty: "and I mean everything."

The townsfolk collectively gasped, even Bethany. She knew what the word "everything" implied, of course, but she didn't have a lot to give: what could she possibly offer someone like Circe?

As if reading her mind, the giant continued: "In return, I'll reward you. You give me your land, your house -- which of course I'll demolish -- your car -- which I'll scrap -- and all of your possessions and cash -- as meager as they are -- and I'll take care of you. You'll never go wanting. You'll live here with me, in New Barlomie, and you'll never have to work again, save for the work we'll do together as a community. You'll have no mortgage or rent to pay, no bills, no nothing: I want to turn Barlomie into a paradise, a utopia, a place that'll be the envy of the world."

Circe paused as an excited hum of conversation bubbled up. Could it really be true? No more labor? No more bills to pay. Len and Bethany looked at one another in surprise; it sounded like a dream come true; it sounded like the escape they'd always talked about.

"So, who is with me, Barlomie?" Circe's voice boomed happily, drawing their eyes once more. "What do you all say? Do you want to change the world with me?"

A collective cheer was Circe's response from the people. Even Bethany found herself throwing her arm in the air and crying out happily, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.