Brock marched up to Circe's mansion with his armed posse in tow, a loaded shotgun in his hands.

He'd heard when Circe attacked the mayor she was even larger than she was the day of the parade -- when she knocked him out -- but he was willing to bet that a few twelve-gauge slugs would slow her down; though he did wish he had something like an elephant gun, or a howitzer.

The man sneered at the faces looking back at him from inside their cars; he yelled at the people standing in the endless lines. "You cowards!" He'd call. Or, "You're betraying your home!" For the most part, he was ignored. One time someone called back, "Fuck you, Brock Biggs!" But the man backed down when Brock jammed his shotgun in their face.

He was feeling pretty good by the time he reached the mansion's gates.

Circe was nowhere to be seen outside, and the women and men in uniform outside wouldn't let him in. Not until Brock and his group leveled their guns at them, and Brock demanded entry. That's when Brock saw Bethany, wearing a uniform like the rest of them.

Brock's lip curled as he looked her over. "So you've let Circe dress you up like the rest of her dolls, huh?"

Bethany chuckled; she didn't look mad or hurt, which only made Brock even more angry.

"I wear whatever Goddess Circe wants me to wear," and Bethany grinned, "When she wants me to wear anything at all."

"You fucking slut," Brock said, spitting on the ground in Bethany's direction.

Still, the young woman looked unfazed. In fact, it was Brock who was fazed: he wasn't used to staring across at Bethany, now the same height as him, eye-to-eye.

"What's the matter, Brock? Were you too impatient for Circe to come and step on you like a fucking bug? You can see her now, if you like."

"Yeah," Brock said, shrugging his shoulders and looking down the sights of the shotgun he held, keeping it trained on Bethany. "I would like that.

Bethany's grinned widened. "Okay, Brock." And then she held up a phone and spoke into it. Brock heard a voice quickly reply: it was Circe, saying she'd be right down.

The man swallowed.

He tried to ignore how Circe's uniformed stooges seemed to be clearing the area around him, asking for the townsfolk who were waiting in line to back up, and to, as they cried, "Make way for Goddess Circe!"

Brock tried to ignore it all, and instead watched the front doors of the mansion. His hands tightened around his gun. "Steady, boys," he murmured to the armed men at his sides.

The doors didn't budge. Instead, Brock noticed a series of shadows stretching over him and his posse. He started to turn just in time to see the man next to him fall forward with a scream and a sickening crunch; the man was bent backward, nearly folded in half, from the force of the kick that sent him hurtling forward.

All at once his men were screaming around him; someone's gun went off.

Brock turned all the way around, but couldn't bring his gun to bear soon enough. Bethany, now three times his size, was lowering her bare sole toward him with a lazy kick -- but it was all she needed. Her foot slammed into Brock's face and snapped his head backward. Somewhere in the back of his mind Brock registered his hands dropping his shotgun, and he knew then that he was in trouble. He landed hard against the pavement of the mansion's too-large steps, and before he could get up, Bethany's was over him; she stomped her foot down on his chest and grinned down at him.

"This is a good look for you, Brock," Bethany gloated with wide, wild eyes. "I like 'em small, sugar plum!"

Brock struggled to free himself from under the foot that held him, but Bethany's foot was too heavy, and her leg was too strong. Her feet were bare and her clothes were shredded from her sudden growth, but she didn't seem to mind the exposure.

"Get off me, you dumb bitch!" Brock cried.

Bethany's grin only widened; she slid her large foot upward and pressed it down on his face, smothering it, and holding him down with a great weight on his head and chest. The humiliating scent of Bethany's sweaty sole filled Brock's every breath, and he panicked beneath her foot.

He only saw glimpses of the world beyond from underneath her long, thick toes: the double doors of the mansion were opening up, and he saw -- and felt -- Circe step forward, now at least one hundred feet tall. She was a real titan; a colossus striding amongst bugs. Bethany herself must have been almost as tall as Circe when the giant first came to town.

Brock knew he'd lost, looking at the two of them.

"Please," he whimpered beneath Bethany's foot.

"We got 'em, Goddess," Bethany said happily.

Circe grinned down, and Brock could see her dark eyes glaring at him between Bethany's toes. "Good. Thank you for being dumb enough to come armed, Brock. I'm just so afraid for my life right now. And it's totally legal for us to kill you on my property. Speaking of: bring him and dispose of the others."

"No!" Brock's shout was smothered by Bethany's sole.

Her foot lifted off of him, but before he could scramble away from her, Bethany stooped down and hoisted him up, tossing him over her shoulder like a caveman's bride. As Bethany walked up the steps leading to the doors of the mansion, Brock was forced to watch, helpless, as the other giant women who ambushed his squad, towering in their barefeet and shredded uniforms, butchered his squad.

He watched one woman raise her foot and lower it just as quickly, splattering the head of one of his men like a watermelon. Another woman waited for his man to stand, only to beat him back down with a brutal series of punches that left the man limp and lifeless on the ground. One woman took great pleasure in lifting a man up and twisting his head around until it snapped and his body hung still; the last simply rest her sole on top of the remaining man's face, keeping it there as he flopped around, fighting for breath, until he suffocated.

And then the big doors to the mansion swung shut.

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Biggs," Circe said in the sudden quiet and peace of the mansion's huge interior.

It was clearly built for someone Circe's considerable size, and even Bethany looked tiny in looming hall. On the ground, Brock saw what looked like Barlomie, but in miniature. Tiny specks roamed around its streets, and with wide eyes Brock realized that they were townspeople, now the size of ants. Even at ten feet tall, Brock could have leveled whole blocks of the toy town with each step; a part of him very badly wanted to, for how they'd all betrayed him. Bethany's large bare feet narrowly missed the structures at the edges of the facsimile of Barlomie; Circe could have flattened the whole of the town without even noticing.

"Impressive, isn't it? You know, if you had come here and begged me, Brock, maybe I would have let you live."

Bethany followed Circe up a flight of stairs; the giant woman took several with each long stride, whereas Bethany had to stretch her legs wide to manage one at a time.

"You could have lived a new life here, in New Barlomie: my tiny little toy town. Hell, maybe I would have even let you be bigger than everyone else, just like you were. But you were too stubborn, weren't you?" Circe let out a laugh. "'Brock Biggs!' Is that even your real name?"

Brock swallowed. He struggled against Bethany as she carried him, kicking and punching at her. Bethany had to stop her climb up the stairs to steady him, which gave Brock hope.

"My, my," Circe tutted, "I was going to wait until we got to the bedroom for this, but I see you're eager to get on with it. Well, okay, Brock: let me show you just how powerless you are."

"Let" -- Brock kicked -- "me" -- Brock hit Bethany's big, broad back -- "GO!"

Bethany just giggled.

"No," Circe said.

And then, Brock felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: the man was getting smaller. At first he couldn't believe his eyes -- he thought Bethany was growing underneath him -- but no: his clothes were steadily becoming loose on his body, his shoes slipped from his feet, his watch fell from over his hand with a clatter against the marble surface of the stairs.

"Oh, Brock. I could have done this at any time. I'm glad I waited. It was tempting to just shrink you down to the size of an ant and let one of your pathetic followers crush you without even knowing, but then you up and brought yourself to me."

"What the fuck is this?" Brock yelled, fighting his ever-expanding clothes. Bethany's strong hands grabbed his bare flesh, and his pants fell away; she turned him upside-down and he squirmed against the shirt that was tangled around him. "You can't do this! Don't do this!"

"It was all too easy, Brock, but I'll admit you put on a good show. You did your best to move your money as I destroyed this town's businesses, and bought up all the land. It's all mine, now, and so are the banks: I don't even need your signature. I'm not taking your money from you. I'm simply throwing it away."

"No!" Brock cried. He felt the hot wetness of tears pouring down his cheeks. "NO!"

Bethany shook him around like a doll and his shirt fell from his body; she turned him around again, holding him out before him and leering down at his dwindling form in her hands as his boxers fell off. Brock was now completely naked, and Bethany only needed one hand to hold him.

"Follow, pet," Circe ordered.

"Yes, Goddess Circe," Bethany said, and continued her climb up the stairs.

At first, Brock struggled against her grip, beating on the large fingers that wrapped around him and kicking his legs inside her fist. Bethany weathered it all with a smile, her eyes flickering between where she was going, and looking down with amusement at Brock.

She lifted the squirming man up to her face. "We're going to fuck you, Brock, and then we're going to kill you. It's over."

Brock's jaw dropped at her words. He stopped fighting her. "Bethany," he said. "Bethany, please! Don't do this! Please!" The little man started stammering: "Oh god, don't do this. This isn't you! You can still turn back. Help me, Bethany. HELP ME! Please, you don't have to kill me. I'll leave town. I won't even tell the others! Oh god. Bethany: all those times before, at the -- at the QuikBurger -- it was always just a joke. I was just kidding around. You know I have a girlfriend!"

Bethany squeezed Brock in her fist, and his pathetic pleas were pressed out of him in a rushing exhale; he let out a high-pitched whine like a dog's chew toy.

Circe walked into her bedroom and stripped off the toga-like garment she wore; she slipped her feet out of her sandals.

Then the giant woman lowered herself onto her bed, which now looked to be the right size for her. Bethany threw her prey after her goddess, and he bounced across the mattress and rolled before coming to a stop. The naked little man had no time to run: Circe's massive sole lowered down onto him, pinning him beneath a canopy of fragrant flesh.

"I want you a little bigger, pet," Circe said, picking up her phone next to her bed.

"Thank you, Goddess Circe," a now-naked Bethany said, climbing up onto the edge of the bed at Circe's feet. She stooped over and pressed her lips to the tops of Circe's feet as the woman transferred funds to the account she kept for her, and Bethany swelled even larger in size until she was a little over half of Circe's height.

Bethany slipped her hand under Circe's foot and found the small lump that was what was left of Brock: to her, he didn't seem more than an inch tall. She grinned down at him pinched between her fingers; then she lowered him between her legs and rubbed Brock against her pussy as she scooted forward on the bed.

Circe brought her long legs in, her knees rising up around Bethany; the lounging goddess played with her cock as she watched her pet with amusement.

"How may I pleasure you, Goddess Circe?"

Circe rumbled with laughter. "Please me as you please yourself, pet."

Bethany bit her lip. She closed her eyes and kneeled there for a moment, simply enjoying how it felt to mash Brock against the soft folds of her pussy lips, and to stroke her clit with his tiny body. Then she stooped forward and dropped Brock on Circe's hips, just above her cock, which stood straight up, stiff.

Circe's hands moved away -- one went up to her breasts, and she tweaked her nipple; the other drifted around behind Bethany's lowered head, and stroked the young woman's hair -- and Bethany wrapped her smaller hands around Circe's rock-hard penis. She gently pulled down on Circe's cockflesh and exposed the red, glistening head, taking as much of it as she could in her mouth and teasing Circe's slit with the tip of her tongue. Circe moaned and pushed back into her sheets; the hand behind Bethany's head moved, and Circe's fingers curled into her head; Circe's hand forced Bethany's head downward a little, pushing more of her cock into her slave's mouth.

"Mm, good girl," Circe rumbled.

Bethany's supple tongue swirled around Circe's cockhead in circles, over and over, and the smaller woman opened her eyes and looked hungrily at Brock. The tiny man was looking up at her with fear in his eyes, and disgust at the lewd act playing out before him.

"What's the matter, stud? I thought this is what you're all about."

Brock stammered something, but Bethany couldn't hear him; she didn't care. She reached the the tiny man and pressed him against the hard flesh of Circe's cock; then she rose up on the bed and straddled the giant woman, lowering herself down onto her cock.

Bethany let out a moan. She barely registered Circe reaching for her phone and making her pet a little larger, so she would be able to fit; Bethany's moaned louder as she slid herself down onto Circe's cock, which completely filled her up. And there was the bump of Brock's body along the top of Circe's dick: Bethany rose and lowered on her goddess's cock, and Brock's body was in the perfect place to press against her clit on his way in and out.

"Oh! Oh, my Goddess!"

Circe was just as lost in arousal as she held onto Bethany's hips. She kept her pet where she was as she pumped her cock in and out of the smaller woman, biting her lip and pressing her head back into her pillows.

"Oh! Oh yeah! Fuck!"

Then Circe pulled out of Bethany, and sat her down on her hips.

"Goddess," Bethany murmured, surprised and out of breath. "What's wrong?"

Circe looked up at her wickedly. "He's still too big."

Bethany's eyes widened with excitement and she crawled around atop Circe, lowering her head so she could find Brock. There he was, glued to the flesh of Circe's cock from Bethany's fluids. As Bethany gazed down on the tiny man he became even smaller, dwindling from the inch that he was to the size of a speck.

Bethany pulled her lips into her mouth and and grabbed Circe's cock with one hand; she pulled down on the flesh, exposing the head of the woman's cock; then she used the thumb of her other hand to roll Brock upward along the slick flesh.

Brock was delirious. His body ached all over. Many of his bones were broken, and even little movement brought fresh pain. Then all at once there was pressure all over him, and he found himself tumbling upward along Circe's shaft. It was Bethany's thumb, he realized: he was so small that he easily fit beneath the pad of the young woman's digit -- a person who he used to tower over, three times her size. He tried to mutter pleas, but his jaw wouldn't follow his commands. It hung limply from his cheeks, dislocated. Brock was helpless as Bethany used just her thumb to slide him up the shaft of Circe's cock, as big around as a tower.

Brock felt his body get pushed over a lip of soft flesh, and then he found himself pressed against a different texture: the landscape was cherry red, and glistening with wetness. There were milky globs around him -- liquid from Circe's cock or Bethany's pussy, he couldn't tell.

There was a great sliding sound, and Brock managed to turn his injured head enough to see a wall of flesh sliding up toward him like an avalanche in reverse. Circe's foreskin rose up over him and crushed him against the flesh of her cockhead, and he heard the giant women beyond: their voices were deep and unintelligible to him -- it sounded like mountains having a conversation.

And then there was darkness, and pressure, and Bethany's excited moaning. Fluids flooded the pocket he was in and he felt the familiar motion of the two giants fucking once more. Brock struggled for air as the viscous liquid clogged his mouth and nose.

He heard Bethany cry out with pleasure, and more hot fluid gushed all around him, and Brock passed out.

###

When Brock regained consciousness he was somewhere else: the surface around him made him think he was in a big shallow bowl of some kind made from a clear material. Even as shallow as it was, he knew there was no way he could crawl out of it.

In the distance, through the glass walls of his new prison, he could see the mountainous form of Circe, lying naked on her side; closer and smaller in size was Bethany, who was turning and lowering an arm down toward where Brock squatted in what seemed like fluffy dirt, speckled black and white. No, Brock realized: ash.

The speck-sized man's eyes shot upward as Bethany's hand lowered. For a moment he feared she might scoop him up once more, and all the small hairs on his body stuck straight out. Then he saw the way Bethany's fingers were curled, and what she held: with a near-deafening WHUMP! the woman's giant hand flicked her giant cigarette against the lip of the ashtray Brock was trapped in, and covered him with flakes of debris. A glowing cluster of embers smacked Brock's shoulder and he crumpled to the ground, screaming, writhing around in the ash and wiping at his seared flesh.

He was left there to suffer, unnoticed. There was only his pain, and the distant rumbling the giants talking and laughing. He managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, and then convulsed forward as he vomited bile and blood. It was more of a sense than anything else: of great motion high above him.

On his hands and knees Brock watched as Bethany's long arm lowered down from the sky, swinging in an arc like a pendulum. His tearful eyes found the glowing tip of her cigarette, aimed right at him. Brock screamed Bethany's name as the cinder grew larger in his vision; his call of "no" was one long, stretched out wail as he could pick out all the little details of the burning nub, circular like a sun as it soared straight down at him; Brock's voice raised in pitch as terror transmuted his wail into a wordless shriek just before a wave of searing heat washed over him, and his body was crushed downward against the hard glass under a cylinder full of fire.

In the distance, Bethany giggled at something Circe said as her huge fingers casually smooshed her cigarette into the ashtray with a twist, then bobbed it against the glass to make sure it was out. It fell away to the side as she released it, leaving a pile of ash, and Brock's mangled, naked form -- his flesh was still burning away, revealing bone and charred meat.

###

Bethany snuggled up closer to Circe, resting her head on the much larger woman's soft shoulder.

"What's next, Goddess?"

Circe chuckled in the dimly lit room. "Today, we processed the last group of people in Barlomie; that's the whole town -- well, that isn't in that silly little fort Brock's followers erect in the square."

"The last stronghold of the resistance," Bethany mocked in a silly voice.

She looked up at Circe, whose eyes glittered with malevolence.

"Indeed it is. And, tonight, we kick it down..."

Bethany squealed as Circe's strong hands clamped down on her sides and hoisted her up; she moaned as Circe's tongue found her lips and traced wet little circles around her clit.

"...And you finally get to watch, my pet."

"Oh Goddess!"