“H-huh, where am I?” the woman said as she slowly rose from the floor. She was still groggy from whatever chemicals put her under, but her vision was returning to her as she woke. She found herself in what appeared to be a filming studio filled up almost entirely by a model city. It stretched out 30x40 feet and was intricately detailed, accurately depicting a bustling metropolis down to the tiniest detail. The floor beneath her was the only empty space in the studio, and to her back was the only door.

With the haze clearing from her mind, her memories rushed back into her consciousness. She was Fujiko Mine, a legendary thief and femme fatale, and she had infiltrated a private laboratory to steal an incredibly valuable diamond. It should have been a simple job for a thief of her talents, but she got careless and breathed in a noxious gas that knocked her out. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in this strange studio. There were no signs anyone had harmed her, and she still had on the same clothes she wore during the heist: a white buttom-up blouse with the top three buttons undone, a pair of tight, grey slacks, and black high-heels.

Her senses restored, Fujiko went straight for the door. It was locked.

“Figures.” She turned back towards the city. “What is this place?” As if in response to her question, a loudspeaker in the ceiling started up.

“Welcome, Fujiko Mine,” the loudspeaker projected, “Feeling well-rested?” The voice was being run through a sophisticated modulator making it impossible to discern the speaker’s age or gender. “Before you ask any more questions, allow me to introduce myself and this space. I am the owner of the lab you brazenly attempted to burgle, and you can consider this room your temporary holding cell. Now, I have every right to contact the police and have you arrested, but I’m willing to strike you a deal.” Next to the door, a panel in the wall slid upwards, revealing a massive diamond encased within the wall. Fujiko stared at the object of her desires and instinctively began plotting out how she could break into the jewel’s case. “If you follow my commands to a T, then I’ll let you walk away free with my diamond.”

“Alright, what are your demands?” Fujiko asked, figuring she’d hear the stranger out before inevitably betraying them.

“Before you lies a perfect replica of a major, modern city. Everything is exactly to scale and built from state of the art materials to replicate the feel and density of the real thing.” Fujiko scanned the outer limits of the city, impressed with how lifelike it was. Peering into the buildings, each room was fully furnished and there were even tiny model people throughout the city. It was as if she had grown 100 feet. “I implore you, pick up one of the tiny models.” Fujiko did as she was asked and grabbed a little man off the sidewalk. It was barely even an inch tall and sat motionless between her fingers, but it felt just like a real person.

“How is this possible?” she asked, her defiance giving way to awe.

“After many years, I have completed this perfect replica. The people can even move and behave based on my commands.” Suddenly, the tiny in her fingers began to squirm. She could feel it’s movement, heartbeat and breathing. Shocked, she dropped the tiny and watched it splat as it hit the ground. “Relax, it may seem like a real person from the inside out, but they are advanced animatronics developed by myself. They use highly advanced biomaterials. They’re even edible.”

“Great, so what’s the point of all this?”

“I want you to destroy it.” Fujiko didn’t understand what they were saying. “I want to watch you rampage throughout my miniature city and witness this replicated civilization be effortlessly demolished by your body.”

“But isn’t this your life’s work? You just want me to trash it all?”

“Yes! It has all been for this moment. Please, Fujiko, do this and the diamond is yours.”

Fujiko thought about it for a moment, wondering what events in her life brought her to this. “So, you just want me to play Godzilla for a bit?” she sighed, “Alright. I guess I’ve done weirder things for treasure.”

“Excellent. And please, enjoy yourself.” The loudspeaker died down as the city turned on. What was once an urban replica transformed into a tiny society; lights turned on within the buildings, cars and trains began moving, and the people, completely still a moment prior, were now walking around as if they had been living another day of their lives. The ambient noises of downtown filled Fujiko’s ears as she thought how to approach the situation. There was an open street with enough room for her to fit between the buildings. She took a step into the miniature city, her heel making a loud clack as it collided with the road. The buildings in this area reached up to her waistline.

As soon as she was within city limits, the tiny model people entered panic mode, screaming and running from Fujiko as if she were a giant monster. She walked down the street and watched as the miniatures attempted to flee. Many were too slow to avoid the bottom of her shoes, and she managed to pulverize a few cars unfortunate enough to drive under her as well.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a monster flick. I wonder what I’m supposed to do.” She stopped at an intersection and reached down to grab a frightened tiny. “Monsters usually eat people, right?” She dangled the man over her mouth and stretched out her tongue. The little guy flailed helplessly as he dropped onto her soft tongue. Fujiko sucked on the guy, nearly drowning him in saliva as his body was forced from one cheek to another. “Woah, these things are tasty! Is this really what little people would taste like?” After being sucked on for long enough, the tiny fell onto her molars and met a quick end between her teeth, simulated blood squirting out from his corpse. “Mmmmmm! I’ll have more of that.”

Fujiko found a school bus idling beside her foot and picked it up. She peeled off the bus’s backside with her fingernail and shook it over her mouth to get at the yummy contents within. Some passengers landed on the front of her teeth while others slid down her tongue unable to grip onto her slimy tastebuds. One tiny replicant bounced off her lower lip and landed on her chin. Fujiko brushed over her teeth with her tongue, knocking any remaining tinies to the back of her throat, and swallowed the lot whole. As she tilted her head forward, the one tiny rolled off her chin and fell into her cleavage. Feeling it squirm, Fujiko gazed down at her chest.

“Aren’t you a lucky one,” she goaded “Try not to suffocate in there. I might be too much for you to handle.” She pressed down on him with her index finger, pushing him deeper into her cleavage. After some time, she stopped feeling any movement from him.

Next, she squatted down in front of an office building and watched all the people panicking through the windows. Her ginormous ass hung an inch above the hapless pedestrians below. She waved and smiled at the office workers, amused at how powerless they all were before her. “Let’s see how durable you made these.” She stood up and lifted her right foot above the building. With only a small amount of effort, her leg came crashing through all ten stories of the building, crushing many of the inhabitants. “Wow, that was even weaker than I thought.” She lifted her foot out of the building and noticed a tiny hanging onto her pant leg. Without even addressing it, she plucked it off and smashed it between her fingers. “If these things can’t withstand my foot, I can’t imagine they can hold the rest of me.” She walked over to another building and sat down on it. It creaked and buckled under her weight, but for a moment it seemed like it would stay standing. Then, the whole thing fell flat beneath her. Fujiko laughed as she sat in the rubble; this all seemed so strange at first, but she was beginning to enjoy being a giantess monster.

She slowly made her way towards the city center, stepping on and eating people along the way. The further into the model, the taller the buildings got with some stretching up to Fujiko’s chest. She came to a stop when she noticed the beads of sweat forming all over her body (the tiny population noticed these a lot sooner as the falling droplets washed them away). The studio had gotten warmer since she started. “This must be your way of telling me to strip,” she quipped. She unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and took off her pants revealing her extra skimpy, purple bra and panties. She draped her clothing over a nearby rooftop and left her heels on the side of the road.

Fujiko stretched her arms over her head; her sweaty body glistened under the studio lights. The screaming died down around her with the tinies becoming too distracted to panic. Fujiko breathed a heavy sigh and dropped to her knees. She lied down on her belly, filling the street with her body, and rested her head on her hands. She could feel tiny bodies squirm all across her frontside, sandwiched between her and the road. The bodies under her breasts lay still though, having been utterly flattened under their weight.

“Hey, Prof. Whoever-you-are, can you order your bots to give me a foot rub?” Without delay, the tiny replicants booted out of panic mode and into service mode. A group of them climbed onto her feet and began rubbing all over her soles. They tried their best to lick off the sweat and dirt, some even wriggling their way between her toes. Other tinies climbed elsewhere along her body: on her legs, across her back, in her bra. There were a couple tinies trying to bounce on her butt cheeks like they were mattresses. After a while, Fujiko rose off the floor, sending tinies spiraling off her body, and returned to her destructive duties.

She approached the tallest building in the city which reached up to her chin and wrapped her arms around it. The windows cracked as her breasts pushed into them. She pressed her crotch into it and began grinding up and down alongside the building. Windows shattered and structural supports gave way as the giantess pleasured herself. It felt like a magnitude 10 earthquake to the people inside, most of which had no means of escape. After a few strokes, the building gave in, collapsing between the pressure of her thighs and tits. When Fujiko released the tower from her grip, what remained was unrecognizable; it looked more like a crumpled soda can than a skyscraper. Not yet satisfied, Fujiko grabbed a handful of tinies off the ground and shoved them into her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of the power trip and proceeded to stomp around the city. Buildings, highways, and people all fell before her awesome might.

It wasn’t long before the entire model city was just a pile of rubble and all the tiny people were either stains on the pavement or inside Fujiko’s stomach. The giantess sauntered through the debris hunting down any remaining tinies. After some searching, she found one left at the edge of the city. It stood there in wait wearing a familiar red jacket.

“Lupin!” she cried giddily. Fujiko picked up the fake Lupin by his jacket and held him in front of her face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” The tiny Lupin tried speaking to Fujiko, but she couldn’t make out anything he said. “What was that? You’re too small. I can’t hear you.” Though she couldn’t understand his words, she recognized the lustful look he had in his eyes. Realizing speech was futile, the tiny Lupin resorted to action. He dove out of his clothes and made straight for Fujiko’s mountains. Fujiko squealed as the gentleman thief wiggled his way into her cleavage. “Hey! That tickles!” She slid her hand between her breasts and felt around for the little guy, eventually pulling him out. “Have your fun? Well, I know a spot you’ll really enjoy, lover.” She pulled at the front of her panties while dangling Lupin above them. The master thief’s eyes nearly bulged out his head as she presented her treasure to him. She dropped Lupin into her underwear and let the elastic snap back to her groin. A mischievous smile grew across her face as her lover got to work. With that, the replica and its inhabitants had been completely wiped out.

“Thank you, Fujiko, you were magnificent,” the loudspeaker projected. “As promised here is your reward.” The glass casing slid open revealing the diamond, and the studio door unlocked itself. Fujiko put her clothes back on and took her prize.

“Thanks, doc. If you ever have something else you want stolen, don’t hesitate to call.”

            Fujiko Mine woke up in a large, familiar looking filming studio. The walls and floors were all painted black, the white ceiling was dotted with bright fluorescent lights, and the only entrance/exit, a black, wooden door, stood locked behind her. Once the grogginess cleared from her head, she immediately recognized the strange room.

            “This again?” Fujiko cried out. “But I haven’t stolen anything from you.” Months ago, Fujiko had been kidnapped by a mad scientist after a failed heist. But instead of punishing her, the scientist gave her a chance to atone by fulfilling their greatest fantasy: destroying a lifelike model city filled with miniature, humanoid robots. It was a weird request, but Fujiko wound up enjoying herself. At the very least, it beat going to prison or dealing with any of the more dire consequences she had come to expect from her profession. Like last time, she was unharmed and still had all her clothes on. She was wearing an orange, ruffled tube top, tight, leather pants, and a pair of biker heels. Looking around the studio, she was surprised to find it empty. Where once had been a miniature metropolitan was an empty space. There was nothing in the room save for the confused woman and a loudspeaker in the ceiling corner.

            “Hello, Miss Fujiko,” a voice said from the loudspeaker. It was heavily modulated, but clearly coming from the same individual that had gleefully watched Fujiko destroy their life’s work. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Sorry for bringing you back here so abruptly.”

            “You should be. You could’ve called, given me a heads up before you snatched me against my will.” She crossed her arms and pouted.

            “I understand, but the matter was urgent. I couldn’t risk you rejecting my next request.” Fujiko turned up her head in protest. Sure, she enjoyed destroying this weirdo’s toys last time, but if she acted out the fantasies of every pervert that kidnapped her, then the trouble would never end. “Of course, you will be fairly compensated.” The wall behind her slid open, revealing an ornate dress, brilliant jewelry, and matching accessories behind a bulletproof glass encasing. The outfit was encrusted in silver and obsidian and shined a brilliant hue. “This is the Wedding Set of Persephone, an ancient relic from the Aegean Sea. It’s in pristine condition and valued at five million dollars.” Fujiko stared at the dress with a lust she held only for treasure.

            “Alright, what do you want me to do this time?” she asked. The speaker died down and a rumbling rose up from the floor. A large panel in the floor, about 30x40 feet in size, slid open, revealing a brand new replica. This wasn’t like the last one, though. It wasn’t one city but several spread across rolling, grassy plains. They were beyond tiny, the tallest buildings stretching the length of Fujiko’s pinky finger. To Fujiko, it was like looking down at a topographic map of the countryside. The models were too small to make out any details from where she stood. She bent down and gazed over one of the models, her boundless face eclipsing the city’s sky. There was something moving in them, some featureless dots moving through puny streets. The loudspeaker whirred back to life.

            “Perhaps this may be of some use?” A magnifying glass popped out of the floor, allowing Fujiko to get a closer look at the model. Peering through the glass, she was amazed at how realistic it all was, as if an actual city was shrunk down to a miniscule size. What were featureless dots to the naked eye were actually lifelike human automatons. “Impressed?” the voice said. “They’re exact copies of the previous model at 1/100th of the size. Their taste, texture, and AI are as sophisticated as the larger version, though most of that will be difficult for you to perceive while you rampage.”

            “So, same deal as last time?” she said with a sigh. “It doesn’t look like these will hold out as long, so I’ll have to savor them.” Fujiko stood up and took a step onto the artificial grass. As her boot touch downed next to a city, the tiny citizens toggled to panic mode. Minute screaming rang out all throughout the town as the little automatons ran around in a craze. Fujiko barely noticed their changed behavior as they were now nothing more than formless specks at her feet. In one, simple motion, she brought the toe of her boot off the ground and lowered it onto the suburbs below. She had only moved her toes an inch, but in doing so flattened entire blocks. Scores of houses and people were wiped out in an instant with no chance of escape. They were so small, she felt no resistance under her sole as if they weren’t even there. “That’s a bummer,” she thought aloud. “How can I enjoy all this power if I can’t even feel it?” She took off her footwear and bore down on more of the city with her bare foot. It was subtle, but she could feel thousands of lives extinguish beneath the ball of her sole. “Much better,” she said with a grin, grinding her foot into what remained of the suburbs.

            Fujiko laid down on her stomach, her face suspended over a miniature downtown. Flat-roofed buildings the size of sugar-cubes sat helplessly beneath her visage. She brought her pursed lips down on them, demolishing the entire district with a kiss of death. Anyone fortunate enough to have been kissed by Fujiko Mine would have described her lips as extraordinarily soft and pillowy, but to the tiny replicants they were devastating weapons of mass destruction. As she pulled back, she chuckled at the red stain her lipstick left on the debris.

            There were only a couple skyscrapers left in the city, four towers that stood no taller than Fujiko’s pinky. She laid her head down on its side to glance inside them. She could barely make out the crowds gathered by the windows. All the tinies could do was observe the decimation surrounding them. They were capable of praying, of holding onto the slimmest hope that they could be spared, but doing so was pointless. Their logic told them annihilation was inevitable; it told them the rubble, once teeming with life, and the gorgeous goddess responsible for snuffing it out, would be the last things they ever saw.

            Fujiko thought about what to do with these last skyscrapers. Since she was already bent over them, she figured it be easiest just to eat them. But they’re made of metal, right? she thought. That can’t be good for my figure. Her nose hovered right above the towers, and Fujiko was sure she smelled something sweet coming from them. She licked one, nearly snapping it in two with the force of her tongue. The tiny inhabitants jumped back at the massive tastebuds filling up their view of the outside as they scraped across the windows. “It’s so sweet!” she exclaimed.

            “I made everything out of edible materials,” the voice said from the loudspeaker, “and laced them with sugar and other ingredients. Each building has its own flavor in case you needed something to snack on.” Fujiko licked the other tower. The first one tasted like strawberry, the second was green apple. The two structures were close enough together that Fujiko could wrap her whole mouth around them. Her open maw descended on the towers, enveloping the tiny inhabitants in darkness. Closing her jaw, her incisors tore the buildings from their foundations, and with her tongue, she brought them careening onto her molars. The skyscrapers put up no resistance as the woman’s teeth clenched down on them, killing nearly everyone inside. Chewing on them felt similar to eating wafer cookies, even having the same, subtle metallic flavor that comes from baking powder.

            With one city toasted, Fujiko stood up and approached her next victims a few feet away. She stood along the next city’s edge, her toes bordering the area like a round, fleshy mountain range. “What should I do with you?” she pondered, tapping her finger against her chin. “Maybe I’ll take a seat and think it over.” Turning around, Fujiko let the city folk gape at the moon hanging over them before dropping it out of the sky. Hopping into the air, she plummeted butt-first with the force of a meteorite. Her leather-clad ass pulverized everything caught beneath it, leaving two round craters in the dirt. “Ow, maybe I overdid it a little,” she said wincing. The cushioning provided by her fat cheeks softened some of the impact, but she still felt a tinge of pain on her landing. “And I got my pants dirty too.” She examined her muddied backside, not even acknowledging the millions it just crushed. “You owe me a new pair, you know,” she shouted to her voyeur. She slid off her pants and tossed them aside, revealing the dark red G-string she was wearing.

            “Of course,” the voice responded. “Anything you want.” Fujiko could tell the person was breathing heavy, clearly enjoying the show she put on. She looked down at her half-naked body.

            “Guess there isn’t much point in keeping this on,” she said, pulling off her tube top. Her voluptuous breasts hung freely in all their glory, no longer restrained by any fabric. She stretched her back and arms, letting the world beneath her take in her beautiful figure before jaunting over to the next city. Fujiko got onto her hands and knees and held her chest over the mini metropolis. Her boobs hung over the hundred thousand pedestrians like guillotines primed for execution. She swayed her chest from side to side, knocking over skyscrapers with her nipples. After enough teasing, she lowered her chest onto the city, smothering it beneath her fat tits. The woman laughed maniacally as she ground the tiny civilization into the dirt. It was quite the sight, the nearly naked woman bent over, ass wagging in the air as she rubbed her breasts into a hive of human bugs. Her voyeur was beside themself.

            They had played back the recordings of Fujiko’s prior rampage hundreds of times. With each tiny replicant recording their view of the events, along with hidden cameras scattered throughout the model city and studio, they could watch the action from every conceivable angle. This time was no different, though only a select amount of tinies were recording to save on data storage space. They viewed their monitors fervently as Fujiko crushed city after city, but it wasn’t enough. Even with the advanced practical effects, the screen was still a barrier impeding true immersion. They needed to be there, to see their goddess in the flesh.

            “Wait one moment, Fujiko,” the voice called out. Fujiko had stood back up and was brushing the dirt off her tits. “I want to show you something before you continue.” The thief was intrigued and obeyed the request. The studio door unlocked and a petit, twenty-year old woman walked through. She had black hair in a straight bob and wore large circular glasses over her bright blue eyes. She was over a foot shorter than Fujiko, her eyes sitting at the level of the older woman’s chest. Her figure was very slim with a flat chest and small hips. She wore nothing but a skimpy green bikini. The elastic on the front of her bottoms was worn down, likely from shoving her hand inside too much.

            “And you are?” Fujiko asked, not expecting a young woman to walk in on her.

            “Dr. Elizabeth Micro,” she replied, too nervous to look Fujiko in the eye. “Just call me Liz. I’m the one who created all this.”

            “You?” Fujiko gasped. She eyed the young girl up and down. “I figured it was a pervy geezer on the other side of the speaker, not a cute little thing like yourself.” Dr. Micro blushed at the off-hand compliment. Her face only got redder as Fujiko approached her, the woman’s breasts poking out an inch away from her face. “You come to get in on the fun?” The young doctor had to crane her neck to meet Fujiko’s gaze. The lady thief was experienced at seducing all walks of people, but the young, innocent types were her favorites. They were so fun to tease and so easy to manipulate.

            “Y-yeah. I’m still recording it all, but I wanted to get a closer view.” She fidgeted with her fingers, trying her hardest not to stare at Fujiko’s perfect body. “You can carry on. I’ll just observe from here.”

            “You’re just going to sit on the sidelines while I do all the hard work? Nuh-uh, you’re coming with me, young lady.” She grabbed Liz’s arm and brought her to the far side of the model. The layout of the cities grew denser the farther in with the far edge being a sea of buildings akin to megalopolises like Tokyo or Shanghai. Walking through the model felt surreal to Liz. This wasn’t her first time towering over the tinies, she created them after all, but walking behind Fujiko, watching her casually stomp through the miniscule masses, set her heart aflutter. She was a macrophile and normally didn’t get much pleasure from the thought of being big, but being with Fujiko, letting her take the lead, broadened her perspective and opened up new routes to derive pleasure from. Besides, the recordings of this were going to be killer.

            Fujiko bent down and dug her hand into the dirt, scooping up a few city blocks into her palm. Holding it up to her chest, the tinies were lifted miles above what they considered the ground. They ran around in a panic, terrified of the amused faces looming over them. Fujiko tore a building off its foundations and tossed it into her mouth. “Mmm, you really outdid yourself with these. Go on, try one.” She held out the suburb to Liz. The young doctor already knew what her creations tasted like, but obliged anyway, picking up a few houses with her fingers and dropping them into her mouth. Giggling, she held out her tongue to show Fujiko the tiny residents crawling around their new neighborhood. Fujiko lightly poked a group of tinies, catching them on her finger before sucking them into her own mouth. She then closed her palm tightly, squeezing the life out of what remained of the crumbling suburb. Both women laughed at their victims as they swallowed, high on the superiority they had over the meager specks.

            At the other end of the studio, the puny buildings were so densely packed that it was impossible to step around them. The women stood at the edge of the cityscape, Fujiko goading Liz to take the first step. She lowered the tips of her toes into the concrete jungle. A feeling of exhilaration rushed through her as the buildings crumbled under what little pressure she applied. Fujiko placed her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders and leaned up against her back. “No, no. Not like that,” she said with a devious grin. “Watch how it’s done.” She crossed her left leg over Liz’s and stomped down next to her foot, obliterating everything beneath it in a single blow. Liz followed her lead, lowering her sole with all her might and extinguishing thousands of lives. The area beneath them quickly evened out as the two playfully performed a deadly dance. 

            With the megalopolis sprawled out before them, Fujiko laid down on her back, making a cot of the smushed debris beneath her body and sending rolling clouds of dust and dirt past the buildings surrounding her frame. She looked like a giantess centerfold laying mostly naked on top of the metropolitan. Her hair coursed through the streets and over rooftops like overgrown vines. Her arms steamrolled blocks as she moved them comfortably under the back of her head. Liz could do nothing but stare, awestruck at how perfectly this woman pushed all her buttons.

            Fujiko uprooted some buildings between her fingers and flung their contents into her belly button. Her navel quickly filled up with thousands of bodies before beckoning her partner to get closer. Liz knelt down between Fujiko’s legs and watched her trace a line from her crotch to her navel with her finger. Liz’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to leap out of her throat. She bent down and dragged her tongue across Fujiko’s lower abdomen, licking up to her belly button and scooping hundreds of tinies into her mouth. The little bugs squirmed helplessly on her tongue before drowning in her saliva. Without swallowing, Liz planted her lips on Fujiko’s belly and sucked up the remaining tinies, scooping up what remained with her tongue and downing the whole mass in one gulp.

            Fujiko sat up. Detritus rained from her back, falling into the imprint her body left behind. Liz was still kneeling before her when Fujiko wrapped her legs around her. Fujiko grabbed a skyscraper, popped the top off with her thumb, and shook it over her waiting maw, pouring hundreds of tinies onto her tongue. They piled up across the wet muscle until they reached the edges on either side. As the pile grew, scores of people rolled off either side and fell for miles until crash landing onto the woman’s ample chest. Fujiko’s tongue shivered in anticipation as it held up the pile of tiny, squirming bodies. She placed her hands along the back of Liz’s neck and pulled her forward. Liz opened her mouth, her heavy breathing knocking a few more tinies off the side, and slid it around Fujiko’s tongue. Her movements were slow and steady; nerves mixed with excitement froze her in place, anxious of embracing the woman she idolized. Fujiko pushed forward, planting her lips around Liz’s and banishing the doctor’s doubts with the heat of their fervor. The two passionately made out, eviscerating the people caught between their tongues. Fujiko’s legs wrapped tightly around the young woman, her massive breasts pressed against her flat chest, and her tongue maneuvered deftly within the other’s mouth, overwhelming Liz with her sexual expertise. Dr. Micro forgot all about her miniature creations as the two collapsed to the ground and rolled around the megalopolis. Every part of their body, from their backs to their butts to their legs and heels, participated in the city’s devastation. The world shook for the puny automatons as everything they knew was decimated by the giantess’ lovemaking.

            Fujiko pinned the younger woman to the floor. With one hand, she scooped up several buildings, picking up hundreds of pedestrians along the way, and slid them into Liz’s panties. Her fingers penetrated her vagina, shoving the replicants and their homes into the damp, endless cavern. Those that didn’t drown were pulverized against the pussy’s walls as Fujiko bent and twirled her fingers inside. Any composure Dr. Micro had vanished in an instant as she succumbed to Fujiko’s dominion over her.

            By the time Liz climaxed, most of the model country had been wiped out. Only a few buildings were left standing, along with a few hundred replicants, but they were too insignificant to count. With her job done, Fujiko stood up and walked to where she left her clothes, leaving Liz lying on the ground exhausted. The studio door unlocked and the glass casing surrounding the antique dress opened up. “Miss Doctor,” Fujiko called out, “would you be a dear and pack that up for me?”

            “Yes, ma’am,” she replied between breaths. “I’ll do anything for you.”

            “Good girl.”

            After exiting the elevator, Fujiko Mine sauntered through the luxury apartment’s stark white hallway. The clack of her heels echoed through the building as she made her way towards one of the penthouse suites. She had secured an invitation to a high-class soiree put on by the world’s elite and had dressed to impress. She wore a tan, pearlescent, spaghetti-strap dress and a pair of brown stiletto heels; the dress did the bare minimum in covering her always impressive breasts, and the skirt’s split rid up her right leg all the way to her waist. She was prepared to turn heads so far they wouldn’t notice all the money she planned to siphon from them.

            The party attendees were some of the richest, and most corrupt, people in the world. Some were bosses of actual criminal empires, others were politicians and royals who dipped into public funds for their own indulgence, and quite a few were CEOs pilfering off the hard work of their underpaid employees. They were the perfect targets for the professional thief and femme fatale: hedonistic egotists who’d drain their vaults for the company of a beautiful woman like her. As Fujiko liked to put it, “Steal from the rich to give to the more deserving: namely myself.” She didn’t plan on stealing much tonight. Some jewelry here and some cash there, whatever she could fit in her purse. The main goal was to make connections, network a little, so she could eventually slink straight into each partygoer’s offshore bank account.

            Fujiko reached the suite door, and after checking her hair and makeup in a hand mirror, walked on in. To her surprise, the place was empty. The extravagant, multi-room apartment was clearly prepared for a party, fanciful foods and overpriced beverages were scattered throughout, but there wasn’t a soul to be found. “Something’s not right,” she thought aloud. “I’m never the first to arrive.” There were supposed to be upward of fifty guests attending, but as far as she could tell, she was the only one to arrive. Not even the hosts appeared to be present. Fujiko walked through the entryway into the parlor, her heels clacking against the marble floor. She immediately spotted the security cameras dotted throughout the interior, though it wasn’t clear if anyone was currently watching her through them. “Guess I better be careful with what I take.”

            What she didn’t notice were the miniscule specks on the floor beneath her. Fujiko was in fact the last guest to arrive. All the billionaires in attendance had shrunk down to a millimeter tall and were scattered throughout the apartment. Many were on the floor, some on the tables, countertops and furniture, and a few found themselves in more interesting locations. The tinies in her path froze with their mouths agape at the sight of the curvaceous woman towering far above them. To Fujiko, the act of walking across the room was a simple one, requiring no direct thought from her; but to the people below, it was a nightmare. Their entire world shook as the woman’s slender legs rose skyward and came crashing down with the force of meteors. The puny bodies of billionaires were pulverized under the toes of Fujiko’s heels. Flattened in an instant, the tinies at least received a quick, excruciating death. The ones lucky enough to avoid her gait looked on in horror at the paper thin remains of their companions dotting the floor.

            Fujiko was oblivious to the lives she just stole with her feet, still wondering where everyone could be. The parlor was a large room surrounded by windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The view of the city, soaked in the rays of the freshly setting sun, was almost as gorgeous as Fujiko herself. She was a little bitter that no one was there to appreciate the work she put into dolling herself up. Within the parlor was an L-shaped sofa and decorative coffee table facing a 65” flatscreen; on the other side of the room, past a lit fireplace, was an in-house bar complete with a countertop, barstools, and drink rack. “I could go for a drink.”

            Fujiko approached the bar, leaving a trail of carnage in her wake, and sat down on a stool. She didn’t realize that seat was already taken by a miniaturized woman. “Look down here, you stupid bimbo!” the woman shouted, her harsh words travelling nowhere near far enough to reach Fujiko’s ears. “This isn’t right! We run this world! You should be under our heels, not the other way around,” she cried, having never faced a problem that she couldn’t solve with money. The last thing she saw was the full moon hanging over her before crumpling under the weight of Fujiko’s ass. A man on the counter tried to get the giantess’ attention.  He jumped and waved and shouted, but none of it mattered. A bent elbow came plummeting down on top of him as Fujiko rested her head against her hand. The man, a multi-billionaire who used every trick in the book to amass his absurd wealth, was so insignificant that she didn’t even feel his guts splash against the back of her arm. Not far from him was another shrunken attendee, an oil baron with a penchant for womanizing. He felt no remorse for the victims around him as he was too enamored by the massive pair of tits suspended in front of him. His only concern was formulating a strategy to get between the soft mountains.

            Fujiko noticed a bottle of champagne on the other side of the counter and reached over to grab it. Her chest pressed into the countertop as she stretched herself over it to grab the bottle and a glass. The oil baron got far more than he bargained for, buckling under her boob as it ground him into the surface. Fujiko poured herself a drink, failing to notice the four people trapped at the bottom of the glass. The cascading alcohol pushed down on the tinies, keeping them pinned to the glass and drowning one of them. The other three surfaced, given the briefest respite as they caught their breath, before the glass they found themselves in started tilting. A pillowy upper lip stretched across their only exit Fujiko took a sip of her drink. The man closest to Fujiko’s mouth, a record setting athlete whose greatest feat was dodging drug tests, swam with all his might, but quickly found himself sliding down the woman’s tongue into her throat. Perhaps drowning in overpriced champagne wasn’t so bad a fate, at least compared to being sucked down the woman’s gullet and landing in a lake of searing stomach acid.

            Along with drinks, the bar also had hors d’oeuvres, including caviar. Fujiko pulled the platter of fish roe over to her. A group of tinies were feasting on the supersized delicacy, themselves being no bigger than the eggs they were biting into. Fujiko plopped a spoonful onto the back of her hand, catching a few partygoers in the process, and scooped it off with her tongue. She pressed the roe against the roof of her mouth, crushing both the eggs and the people and releasing their delicate flavors throughout her mouth. She snacked on hors d’oeuvres and sipped on champagne for a while, waiting for anyone to show up.

            Eventually, she decided she had enough. “This is ridiculous. I’ve wasted enough time here.” She leapt off the stool, crushing a pleading woman under the heel of her stiletto. “I’ll just find something nice to take and be on my way.” Fujiko walked all over the suite, stepping on countless tinies as she went room to room in search of valuables. There were plenty of rare artifacts, books, and art pieces throughout, but nothing caught her eye. She wanted a big gemstone or an intricate piece of jewelry, something that felt good to have without needing any historical context to enjoy it. By the time she reached the master bedroom, she gave up. “Ugh, tonight just sucks!” A miniature man and woman were on the deluxe king size bed getting down and dirty. They were so into it, they hadn’t even realized they shrunk. Frustrated with her lack of results, Fujiko flung herself onto the bed. As her bare back collided with the couple, the two became one as their bodies were smashed together and their lives snuffed out.

            Fujiko returned to the parlor so she could leave. By this point, most of the guests had been stepped on, swallowed, or otherwise killed by the unaware femme fatale. The few survivors were cowering underneath furniture, praying to gods they didn’t believe in that they’d reform themselves if they made it out alive. With so many deaths under her shoes, it became impossible not to notice the viscera dotting the floor. “Weird. Where these wine stains always here?” Fujiko didn’t give the matter much thought, though she was upset at the red goo plastered along the bottom of her expensive heels. “Well, I was drinking white wine, so it’s not my fault.”

            On her way out, Fujiko turned towards the security camera. She pulled her lower eyelid down, stuck her tongue out and gave it the middle finger before leaving in a huff. 

            The Malachite Plaza Hotel, established in 1926, was a jewel among luxury resorts. Located on a tropical beachfront in French Polynesia, the hotel offered all the expected amenities: gorgeous vistas, pristine pools with crystal clear waters, restaurants and walking trails surrounded by lush vegetation, and world class service. The resort was kept in perfect working order at all times, never once letting a single blemish mar a guest's stay. Inside Room 402 was another story.

            In contrast to the tidy hallways and impeccable lobby, Room 402 was littered in wine bottles, gadgets, gizmos, food containers, ammo boxes, beer cans, plastic wrappers, cigarette butts, whiskey bottles, used chopsticks, and everything else one would expect to find in a master thief's temporary hideout. 

            Three such gentlemen sat around a table in the main room: a gunslinger polishing his revolver, a samurai meditating with his sword in hand, and the grandson of a legendary thief tinkering with a strange device in his hands.

            “What the hell even is that thing, Lupin?” Jigen asked, holstering his gun to light up another crooked, half-spent cigarette.

            “This is a Recombobulator. Remember that mad scientist in Iceland? I nabbed it from his collection before his secret lair went the way of the dinosaur.” The man in a striking red jacket held the device out for the others to see. It was a black metal semi-sphere dotted with blinking lights and an assortment of switches, small enough to fit snugly in the palm of one’s hand.

            “The dinosaurs were killed by a meteor, not a volcano,” Goemon corrected without so much as opening his eyes, recalling in vivid detail how their last heist erupted in their faces.

            “That doesn’t matter! What matters is that this mamajama is our ticket into the royal palace.”

            “And how's that?” Jigen asked, blowing a puff of smoke. “The place is teeming with guards, surveillance cameras, motion detectors, the works.”

            Lupin fiddled with the device, using a needle and tweezers to tweak its circuit board. “That's exactly what this thing was made for. Supposedly, it can temporarily transform living people into inanimate objects, long enough to infiltrate even the most secure locations. Now, I don't fully understand the science, but the idea is that it uses subliminal messaging to convince you that you’re something else entirely, and then it uses matter conversion tech straight out of a sci-fi flick to reconstruct your body into that object. You retain all your senses, but you can't move or speak, and it's impossible to distinguish the person from an actual object with even the most sophisticated technology.”

            “That doesn't sound safe. Or possible.” Goemon eyed a half-full bottle of sake on the table and considered ending his meditation early.

            “Lupin, this is insane!” Jigen shouted dismissively.

            “It is. And so was the man who invented it. Honestly, it makes about as much sense as the forecast predicting a high chance of raining frogs, but if this works likes it's supposed to, we'll be rolling in dough in no time.”

            “Can we choose what we turn into?” Goemon asked. “I want to be a sozu.”

            “How are you going to sneak into a palace as a bamboo fountain!?” Lupin shouted before taking a deep breath and resuming tinkering. “That’s what I'm trying to figure out. We need to be something mundane Fujiko can wear to get us past security.”

            “Hold on, you're involving Fujiko in this?” The venom in Jigen's voice at the mention of Fujiko was palpable.

            “I'm leaving.” Goemon stood up off his chair and turned to face the exit.

            “Come on, guys! Someone's got to carry us in. And who's more likely to be invited into a royal palace, a busty brunette or a bearded old fart?” Goemon sneered and Jigen grumbled something under his breath, but that seemed to convince them for now.

            “So, what? This hunk of junk turns us into her outfit?” Jigen asked, snuffing out his cigarette butt and adding it to the pile that had long consumed the ash tray. “I'm not getting worn by Fujiko. She uses us enough as it is.”

            “You two are so sensitive, you know that? Relax, you'll be something simple she can easily take off. Earrings or a necklace, maybe. I won't make you into a pair of shoes, though you wouldn't hear me complaining.” An all-too-familiar expression appeared over Lupin's face as lecherous fantasies took reign over his imagination. “Personally, I can't decide between a bra or panties.”

            Goemon shook his head and stepped towards the exit, but a bright flash of light stopped him in his tracks. The device whirred to life in Lupin's hand, random bobs blinking and beeping, before enveloping the room in blinding light.

…

            Lupin awoke in a white room. “Awoke” wasn't the accurate term; it wasn't like his eyes opened after a long slumber. It was more like his consciousness dipped out for a second before returning to new surroundings, all in an instant with no awareness of the space between.

            Looking around, it was clear he was in a bathroom, specifically the bathroom of Room 402. It was much tidier than the rest of the room, having gone yet untouched during the thieves’ brief stay. But “looking” wasn't the right term either. Lupin saw his surroundings clear as day, but not in the way one peers through their eyes. Visual information appeared seamlessly in his mind as if it were absorbed by his body. But “body” wasn't quite right either.

            A bright red bath sponge sat on the corner of the porcelain tub, ready and waiting for a guest to wash off with. Lupin couldn't move, he couldn't speak, and his thoughts came to him in a jumbled mess in what he could only imagine it felt like to dream. But it didn’t take much thought to deduce his predicament: the device had turned him into a sponge.

            Oh, great. I guess that makes me Loofah the Third, he thought, taking the reins over his scrambled intelligence. He felt the holes dotting his porous new form but felt no pain, the air flowing through them like they were nostrils. As a fresh sponge, his fibers were dry and stiff, practically begging to suck up any liquid in proximity. I'm glad no one's around to have heard that.

            A rack on the wall held several towels of varying sizes, all white save for a large black bath towel. Jigen took longer in reining in his consciousness, his thoughts a cacophony of curses, but over time the foul language grew deliberate and targeted toward a particular thief until Jigen assumed control over his senses.

            A reusable razor sat on the counter by the sink. It had a fancy bamboo handle that greatly resembled the hilt of the Zantetsuken always at Goemon’s side. Forced to remain still, able to do naught but think, Goemon continued his meditation in his new form, confident Lupin would find a way out of the mess he caused.

            If I read the instructions right, Lupin thought, the transformation only lasts a short while. It would be nice to know a precise time limit, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to find out. And so, “Operation: Wait Patiently to Revert Back to Normal” was well underway. The three thieves idled in silence, some more patiently than others, until they each heard the bathroom door open.

            “Ooh, this place is a pigsty! Don’t those boys know to clean up before inviting a lady over?” A sexy brunette with thick, wavy hair trudged into the hotel bathroom, her high heels clacking against the tile floor. She glanced around, surprised to find no signs of life. “At least this room went unscathed. Where did those three run off to anyway?”

            Fujiko?!

            The waiting game ended almost as soon as it began as the gang’s fourth, unfaithful member strutted into the bathroom. Whether her arrival was a sign of hope or an omen of onset disaster was as unclear as it ever was.

            “Might as well wash up in the meantime,” Fujiko mumbled to herself. “Lord knows how long they’ll keep me waiting.” She stepped towards the mirror and untucked her blouse from her skirt, pulling her top off over her head without a shred of insecurity. In seconds, the curvaceous beauty was in her underwear, tossing her discarded garments to the floor and displaying her voluptuous assets to her unknown audience.

            Goemon, ever the polite one, tried averting his gaze, but his lack of eyes meant he could not direct his vision elsewhere. His consciousness was forced to take in all surrounding details, especially the enticing curves looming over his spot on the counter.

            Jigen, ever the ornery one, tried closing his eyes, preferring a long nap to sharing a bathroom with Fujiko, but he had no lids to cut off his sights. Worse yet, he had no brimmed hat to block his vision and no hands to tip it forward with. Like the samurai on the counter, he remained ever waking, forced to imprint Fujiko's heavenly backside onto his mind.

            Lupin wouldn't have blinked even if he could. He absorbed every detail of her splendid physique like the sponge he was. The thief combed through each individual pore, strand of hair, and drop of sweat to complete a portrait worthy of the great Da Vinci. 

            Fujiko unhooked her bra, unleashing her generous jugs from their restraints. If Lupin still had eyes, they would have bulged out from their sockets. She then slipped out of her panties which hadn't covered much up to begin with. If Goemon still had blood, he'd be blushing redder than Lupin’s jacket resting in direct view of the femme fatale's secret weapon.

            Fujiko smiled at herself in the mirror and walked over to the tub, leaning over the porcelain edge to start the water. As enamored as he was with the gargantuan tits hanging just above him, Lupin also suffered from profound grief upon the realization he couldn't reach out and grope them, like a starving Tantalus denied the succulent fruit suspended just out of reach.

            Low-pressure water shot out from the shower head, crashing onto the tub's floor and spritzing a fine mist into the air. Fujiko dipped her hand into the stream and waited as the temperature gradually increased. She bent forward with her other hand resting on her knee, a surprisingly sultry pose that Lupin had never seen from such an opportune angle below. 

            Once the water was to her liking, Fujiko stepped over the porcelain rim into the tub. Directly beneath her, Lupin was beside himself with perverse enthusiasm. Her towering figure was already a sight to behold, but as she got into the shower, both of Fujiko’s glory holes and the taint connecting them were on full display for the horny sponge. The unwitting flashing put all other up-skirt shots to shame.

            Standing in the shower, Fujiko let the water cascade down her flawless skin, coursing down in more directions than a babbling brook. She closed the curtain, blocking Jigen and Goemon from having to witness any further exhibition and limiting the show to the one man who wanted it.

            Fujiko dipped her head under the shower and closed her eyes, her wavy hair matting as water coursed through and soaked into it. Even seemingly by herself, the lady thief carried herself with inhuman grace, standing straight and tall as water poured down her. Lupin was at a loss for words, not that he could speak, but even his clever mind failed to function in the face of unparallelled beauty. Of all the wonders in the world, Fujiko Mine was the one treasure he could never possess. A songbird too brilliant to be caged.

            Sufficiently wet, Fujiko bent over and grabbed the red sponge in one hand. Her fingers wrapped around him, warm to the touch, and lightly squeezed him, his new body deforming around her digits. It felt akin to a giant hug, her palm planted on one side of him, though the water soaking into his absorbent body was an experience entirely novel.

            With her free hand, Fujiko nabbed a travel size bottle of body wash offered complimentary on a rack hanging from the shower head. She wasted no time in canvassing the sponge in aromatic suds. The scent of eucalyptus wafted through Lupin’s pores, briefly overtaking his senses before wrestling control back. And he did so just in time.

            Fujiko started with her arms, running the sponge down the length of her smooth as silk skin. Her body's musk clashed with the soap’s eucalyptus aroma to concoct a pleasant blend of odors. Lupin practically shivered as short, invisible hairs brushed along his spongy exterior. He caressed every inch of her arm admittedly gentler than he'd prefer, but it had been so long since he last got this far with Fujiko that a simple touch from his crown jewel was enough to make him swoon.

            After lathering both arms, Fujiko moved to her back, bathing her shoulders in suds. She lifted her drenched hair to get behind her neck. The last time Lupin touched her nape was when he presented her with a diamond necklace he stole from the collection of a corrupt oil baron. The sparkling jewelry almost matched the shine in her radiant eyes.

            Lupin traveled across Fujiko's back as she reached what she could. There was a spot between her shoulder blades she didn't realize she missed, and as much as Lupin wanted to help her out, there was only so much an inanimate sponge could do. The massive distraction to the south wasn't doing him any favors either. Lupin grew ever giddier the closer he got to the woman's impressive derriere. But just as it seemed he'd be crossing the small to the other side, his bath partner pulled him up and away.

            No! Lupin shouted in his mind. Dammit! I was so clo-

            Before he could complain any further, Lupin was mashed into skin softer than the clouds of Heaven. He felt his foundations bounce as he was pushed against the fleshy cushions, the perfect crossing between firm and pliant. They were every man's dream. Even the man who never dreams has spent countless nights haunted by their ethereal image.

            Fujiko scrubbed her chest thoroughly, fenagling the sponge around every curve of her breasts. Over, under, between, Lupin grazed every delectable inch of the femme fatale's killer tits from perky nipple to plump base. Lupin was downright rhapsodic riding the river of milk and honey. Fujicakes’ bad boys were always enormous, but now they utterly overwhelmed the thief's new pocket-sized body. She could flatten me with these things, was the one thought his mind was still coherent enough to form. But as her nipple got caught on one of Lupin's pores, all sense of sanity drained from the sponge.

            “Aye-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!” 

            Fujiko froze. She glanced around, unsure of where that noise came from. The one thing she was certain of was how familiar it sounded. “Lupin?”

            The sponge remained silent, as sponges should. Lupin still couldn’t speak, but it appeared Fujiko aroused him enough to do the impossible. Love finds a way.

            Believing she must’ve been hearing things, Fujiko returned to scrubbing, lathering what was left of her other breast.

            “Nehehehehehehehehe!”

            She stopped again and pulled back the shower curtain. “Lupin! Are you watching me?” 

            No response. This wasn't like him. He was a pervert but not a creep. He wouldn't peep on Fujiko silently from the shadows; he'd be barging into the bathtub to join her.

            “That man must be driving me mad,” Fujiko told herself as she closed her shower curtains. She looked at the sponge in her hand and smiled, its red hue reminding her of a certain someone's jacket. “I suppose it has been a while since we last …” 

            Absentmindedly, Fujiko lowered the sponge across her abdomen, sliding it down her tummy towards her groin. Upon reaching her crotch, she rubbed it gently against her vulva, fiddling her bean with each deliberate stroke. She was barely aware of what she was doing, visions of Lupin flooding her head. The hot water streaming on her was working wonders, building her up to a point where she wished the gentleman thief was there to burst into the bathroom and steal her away.

            “Ara-araararararara!” Lupin couldn't contain himself, letting forth another outburst. If he still had the parts, Fujiko would be in need of a second shower. She snapped out of her stupor, slightly disturbed at the thought of losing her grip on reality by Lupin of all people, and proceeded with her shower. 

            Ready to get out of there, Fujiko quickly washed her legs, dragging Lupin across her thighs and calves. She grabbed her foot in one hand and turned it upward to scrub it with the other. She scraped off a thin layer of dirt from her heel, grinded Lupin's spongy body into her arch, buffered the ball clean, squeezed his corners between each toe, cleared her webbing of any jam, and repeated the process on the other sole.

            Finally, Fujiko brought Lupin back to her bum and used him to clean all over her juicy peach. She washed each cheek and in between, burying the sponge deep within the mounds. As she cleaned her crevice, Lupin let out one last outburst, and with that, the lady thief got her use out of the sponge. She placed it back on the tub's edge where she found it, and then grabbed a small bottle of shampoo from the showerhead rack. Lupin's job was done, and though he desperately missed Fujiko's touch, the strawberry scented shampoo offered a soothing denouement to his loofah duties.

            Once her hair was clean, Fujiko turned off the faucet, opened the curtain, and stepped out of the tub. To the gunman’s chagrin, the black towel, his new body, was the closest to the sopping wet woman. She grabbed Jigen and pressed him to her chest, soaking up the water that gathered around her incredible breasts.

            Friggin’ Lupin and his friggin’ toys and friggin’ Fujiko and this friggin’ heist can all go to friggin’ Hell! It humiliated Jigen to be a towel, wiping off Fujiko’s breasts and abdomen, dragged against her nethers and thighs, tucked into every nook and cranny and wrapped around every extremity all to get her dry. The only caveat was that the only two people that knew about this were in the same boat as him. The disgruntled old man was grateful for Fujiko’s cluelessness, appalled by the thought of her lording this over him, but knowing that pervy red sponge probably got his rocks off in the shower only fueled the black towel’s spite further.

            Fujiko rubbed Jigen into her armpits, his bristles scratching her sensitive skin with a satisfying friction. The black towel soaked up water and sweat alike, performing its purpose with unwilling effectiveness. She lowered him behind her waist and wiped him across her supple ass. The fat of her cheeks pinched part of him against the backside of her thighs, digging him into her taint to dry where the sun don’t shine.

            A couple minutes and a lot of inaudible grumbling later, Fujiko was clean and dry, only her hair retaining its moisture. She laid Jigen out on the floor, draping him over the tub’s edge. She walked all over him as she approached the rack on the wall, grabbing another towel to wrap around her wet hair. His body was thoroughly damp, holding the water that once covered Fujiko head to toe, and it felt delightfully cool on the woman’s bare feet as she stepped over to the counter. She nabbed the bamboo-hilted razor and a jar of shaving cream and walked back to the shower tub, sitting down where she draped Jigen over it and pinning him to the porcelain under the weight of her ass.

            Goemon snapped out of his meditation, rattled by the nimble fingers ensnaring his new body. He could feel her pulse through her skin, and it filled his inanimate form with life. Enveloped in her warmth, the samurai would have transcended beyond the mortal plane were her embrace not so flustering.

            Fujiko applied the shaving cream to her legs, spreading it evenly across her fair skin. Then she brought Goemon’s blade to her ankle and gently led him up her calf. The razor cut through the short, fine hairs easier than a knife through soba. There was not a hint of drag; Goemon glided up her leg facing zero resistance, no obstacle capable of standing in the path of the steel cleaving blade.

            “What brand is this razor?” Fujiko asked herself in amazement. “I've never had a shave this smooth.”

            Once again, I am forced to cut a worthless object. Goemon sliced through hairs up to Fujiko's thigh, destroying them at the root and carving a clear path up her immaculate leg. As a master swordsman first, bathroom razor second, Goemon did not leave a single scratch or mark on Fujiko's skin, cutting only what he willed and nothing more. 

            Between strokes, Fujiko rinsed the razor off with the tub's faucet, keeping the blades pristine. The shaving cream smelled a subtle blend of vanilla and lavender, and though he'd never admit it, Goemon enjoyed the sensation of traveling up Fujiko's slender leg.

            Before long, both legs were clean shaved, neither baring a trace that hair once grew there. Fujiko moved onto her arms, applying the cream and sending Goemon on his merry way. The experience was much the same on the upper limbs: worthless sprouts of hair fell victim to Goemon’s peerless blade, never once putting up the resistance deserving of his skill. Once the arms were done, his job seemed finished.

            “I wouldn't normally use a hotel razor for this,” Fujiko thought aloud, “but this one is so high-quality. I just might have to keep it.” Her legs parted, revealing the stubble gathered around her pubic area. As she lowered the razor, Goemon lost all sense of tranquility. He wanted to be nowhere near the woman’s privates, but he had no means of keeping his distance, his inanimate body at Fujiko’s mercy.

            The femme fatale spread shaving cream above and around her axe wound and forced Goemon to do what he did best. He cleaved through the stubble like a reaper harvesting souls. The groin was much softer than the woman's slim extremities, the skin more cushioned and not as taught. Still, Goemon glided over it with the precision expected from a samurai of his caliber, eliminating unwanted hairs without leaving a single nick.

            After her groin, Fujiko moved onto the inner thigh. Joining the cream's vanilla lavender was a distinctly tangy scent wafting from the cavernous womanhood Goemon was uncomfortably close to. Even after cleaning herself off, Fujiko was still affected by those wandering thoughts of Lupin. The closer Goemon inched towards those imposing gates, the stronger it intensified. The anxiety was enough to make the noble samurai nauseous had he the organs needed to feel sick. 

            Fujiko was extra delicate trimming around her flower. She didn't need to know the blade in her hand could cut through steel to recognize the importance of handling sharp objects with care down there. Goemon artfully carved around the sensitive area, framing it in skin smooth and marless as porcelain.

            “Oh, I'm definitely keeping this. I doubt the Zantetsuken itself could do as fine a job.” Fujiko placed the razor back on the counter for the time being, making a mental note to sneak it into her purse before she left.

            If Goemon had lungs, he'd breathe a sigh of relief, his trial finally come to an end. At the height of dejection, it would take a year's worth of secluded training to restore his spirits.

            Feeling refreshed, Fujiko sauntered over to the bathroom door and pulled down a cotton bathrobe hanging off it. She slipped her arms through its downy sleeves and wrapped the waistband around her loosely, covering up the bare necessities while displaying enough skin to tantalize any would-be voyeurs. 

            Lupin concentrated hard on the bathrobe, hoping by some miracle he could transfer his consciousness into it. But despite his best efforts, he remained a used sponge and nothing more. At least the sight of Fujiko stepping out of the bathroom left him with a pleasant view.

            Back in the main room, Fujiko traipsed around the cluttered floor towards the hotel room's kitchenette. On the counter she found a sealed bottle of chardonnay, and so pulled out a glass and bottle opener from a nearby cabinet. Fujiko hummed to herself as she screwed the opener into the cork.

            Pop!

            Just as she opened the bottle, a loud clattering erupted from the bathroom. Fujiko set the wine down and rushed over towards the source of the noise.

            Inside the bathroom, Goemon sat cross-legged on the counter, Jigen was on the floor leaning back against the tub, and Lupin laid inside, neck against the floor with his limbs pointed in all directions as if he had slipped and fell. All three of them were blushing varying shades of red.

            “What? How did you guys get in here?” Fujiko asked from the doorway.

            “Oh, you know. We love to make an entrance.” Lupin straightened himself out and sat up in the tub.

            “You sure love to keep a girl waiting too. We planning this job or what?” Fujiko huffed as she returned to the living room. The men stayed behind, none too quick to follow.

            “We speak of this to no one,” Jigen grumbled, brushing Fujiko’s loose shavings off his clothes.

            “Hey, don't be such a wet rag about this,” Lupin said with an annoying told-you-so cadence. “I had a whale of a time.”

            “Better a wet rag than a sponge.” Jigen stood up and adjusted his hat on his head.

            “I am many things, but a bum isn't one of them.” Lupin got up and stretched, cracking what sounded like every bone in his body.

            “I didn't call you a bum! I called you a sponge!”

            “I agree with Jigen,” Goemon interrupted, hopping off the counter. “I am glad this ordeal is over with and wish to forget it ever occurred.”

            “Think of it this way, guys.” Lupin followed the other two out of the bathroom back into the living room. “That was good practice for the heist. Now we have some experience under our belts to help work the kinks out with.”

            In the living room, Fujiko was sitting by the table with the device on it, sipping from a glass of wine. “What's this thingamajig do?” she asked innocently. 

            Without warning, Jigen pulled out his revolver and shot the blasted thing, sending it hurtling into the air. Within the span of a second, Goemon drew his sword, slashed the air twice, and sheathed it. The machine split into a hundred pieces, the metal peeling apart into ribbons.

            Fujiko shrieked, sitting there wide eyed with her knees pressed to her chest. Despite her shock, she didn't spill a single drop of wine.

            “Guys! What the hell?!” Lupin shouted. He fell to the floor and attempted to wedge the pieces back together, but the device was beyond repair. Not even the madman who made it could fix it were he alive.

            “Change of plans.” Jigen slumped on the couch and cracked open a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “We're working this job the old-fashioned way.” Goemon sat down beside him, nodding in silent agreement.

            “You two really are no fun.”