Laurel rubbed her temples and stared at the monitor through bleary eyes, numbers and figures and tables swimming before her.  Seven years.  Seven years she'd sat at this desk and entered figures into this terminal while the cubicles around her emptied and filled once again as the men and women moved on.  Really, it was mostly the men that were transferred up or promoted while she sat where she had since she graduated with distinction from state university with a degree in business administration.

Now, if rumors around the office were to be believed, Evan was going to be the next one to pass her by.  Evan, who was twenty-three by his personnel records but barely looked thirteen, was going to be getting his own office starting next week while she was left to perform the same tasks she'd efficiently carried out for her entire professional career.  It was infuriating.  It was wrong, just plain wrong, and she couldn't take it any more.

There was no chance of her actually getting her work done today.  She had to do something about this, had to at least say something or else she'd never have any peace.  That was why she abruptly pushed herself up from her desk and marched directly to her supervisor's door.  Her slender fingers curled into righteously angry fist and rapped sharply, but not rudely on the wood.  After a sharp cough and some shuffling, she heard a hasty "Uh, yes?  What is it?" from the man behind the door.

"Mister Fitch, I really need to speak to you about something," Laurel called through the door, her frustration only amplifying the customary irritation she felt when dealing with Norman Fitch.  As far as she could tell, the fat moron spent every moment of the working day locked behind that office door doing god knows what, sweating through his shirts and collecting more than twice her salary while he decided her future on a whim.

Norman cleared his throat again and called back, "Really busy.  Monday, we'll meet Monday morning."

"No!" Laurel shrieked, far louder than she intended.  The volume of her voice was startling, even to herself, and it took a deep, settling breath before she felt she could continue.  "No, I can't... it can't wait.  We need to talk now."

A few more moments went by, and the fact that Norman seemingly made no attempt to suppress his groan as he shuffled about and lumbered to the door only irritated her further.  When the door popped open and he stood before her, tie askew and hair matted by sweat on the sides of his head, she had to resist the overwhelming impulse to ask what he'd been doing and instead remained silent as he looked her over.

"Well?  Come in," he mumbled, turning away from her and moving back to his oversized desk chair, wheezing a bit as he flopped back into it.

"Mister Fitch," she started immediately, long before she even reached the little folding chair across the desk from him.  It pained her to have to address this oaf with respect, but he'd made it very clear that Norman was not a name he would answer to.  "Mister Fitch, I need to know what my prospects are with this company."

He looked a little surprised, maybe even flustered by the question, but before his mouth could finish opening to say a single word, Laurel broke into her full-fledged rant.  "I've been here seven years, Mister Fitch, and not once have I missed a deadline or taken a sick day or failed to deliver above expectations on a single project.  I work tremendously hard and I'm exceptionally good at my job and I know I deserve more..."

"Hey, listen," he broke in, and to her surprise she let him.  The sound of his raspy voice reminded her that she had no idea what she was saying or where she was going with her speech, and suddenly she found herself wishing she'd rehearsed even a little before she barged in here.

"Listen, Laura.  You do good work, it's true, and you've been a valuable member of our team..."

"Laurel!" she shrieked again in that same startlingly loud voice.  "Jesus, you really don't even know my name.  Look," she continued, taking a moment to close her eyes and press her fingers into her temples, trying to find some way to settle herself.  "I have sat at that little desk in that tiny cubicle and watched empty-headed pigs and vapid bimbos surpass me for too long.  I deserve an office and a house and a wedding, but I'll never have those things unless something changes."

She took a deep breath and looked him in his beady eyes.  "What needs to change?  What's keeping me from the next level?"

Fitch let out a long sigh before he tried to find an answer.  His eyes shifted back and forth, glancing about his messy desk and conveniently avoiding her pointed glare until he found a somewhat unremarkable box.  It was just slightly longer than it was wide or tall, comprised of dark steel, though Laurel was somewhat certain that she recognized the configuration of buttons and dials on the surface.

"Look, honey," he began, and the term of address immediately amplified the indignant rising tide of fury in Laurel's gut.  "You don't know what this is, but let me tell you..."

"That's the MARTI," she interrupted, excited for the chance to prove him wrong.  The Matter Amplifying and Reducing Transport Implement.  She'd seen the reports about its possibilities to revolutionize shipping and transportation and the explosive revenues expected from its production while reading over things she was just supposed to file, but she had no idea that the technology was already a reality.

"Right," Fitch coughed, a little taken aback by her knowledge but continuing on undeterred.  "Here's the thing.  This little puppy right here is going to change the world.  Do you really think a woman could have come up with such an incredible concept?"

"What?" Laurel snapped, but he clearly didn't expect or want an answer.  He didn't even pause and continued his speech.

"I mean, it's not your fault, of course.  The female brain just isn't wired for science and math like ours are."  He rose from his chair and started to circle around his desk, and Laurel could only sit in her chair, nails digging into her thighs as she watched him.  She wanted to do a hundred other things.  She wanted to scream every anti-discrimination slogan and statement she'd ever heard.  She wanted to slap the smug, self-confident smirk off of his smarmy thick lips.  She wanted to threaten him with every lawsuit and complaint she could imagine, but all she could do was sit and stare through the haze of red rage as he slipped up next to her and leaned back against his desk, looking down on her while he folded his arms.

"I can see how important this is to you, though."  The sudden turn in the conversation was more confusing than uplifting for Laurel.  She'd pretty much lost sight of anything besides her blinding rage at this point, forgetting why she originally knocked on Norman Fitch's door in the first place.  "I'd hate to see you leave and pursue other opportunities, especially with the job market being what it is," he continued, but she wasn't paying attention to his words anymore.  

Her eyes followed his hands as they slowly and deliberately loosened his belt.  This was happening.  He was going to do this to her.  He was going to fire her if she didn't do what he wanted.  She'd seen the videos and read the posters but these things didn't really happen in real life.  They just didn't, it was too surreal, too impossible, but still there he was with that repugnant bulge between his thick thighs.  His fly was already down; it must have been that way since he answered the door.

"There's a place for women in the world of business, Laura," he murmured in this awful, low and ugly voice.  "Especially a pretty, feisty girl like you."  He'd broken into this weird, menacing toothy grin while unbuckling his belt, like some sort of fat fucking hyena.  Laurel grit her teeth and stared up at him, wide-eyed and nostrils flaring as she took twenty panicked breaths in as many seconds.

"It's time to get out of that chair," he growled in some way that his twisted mind surely thought was somehow sexy.  "If you want to get ahead," he murmured with a soft, forced chuckle that only made Laurel think about how many times he'd said the same awful things, "you're going to have to give some."

Every inch of her was trembling, but there wasn't an ounce of fear in her body.  Laurel had walked into this room angry and every moment has simply stoked that fire into a white-hot burning blaze of furious rage.  She slowly pushed herself up out of that chair, jaw still clenched and gaze still locked with the horrid creature standing above her while she moved to the side and let him eagerly settle into her seat.

"Good," he softly and simply stated with a little smile, and it was that little bit of approval that really sent the bile rising in the back of Laurel's throat.  The fact that anything she did met with this wretched man's approval was more disgusting than any other element of this situation so far.  "Now get down on the floor and get these pants off, I've got a lunch appointment."

The situation was so inconceivable to her.  As she slowly lowered herself to her knees, Laurel thought of her parents, her graduation day, her fiance.  She thought of how everything she'd done and all the work she'd put in and all the effort and struggles and sacrifices had led her to this moment.  As she looked him in the eyes and unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down over his bulbous reddish knees, she wondered why nobody had prepared her for this.  Why hadn't she been told this was what the world was like?  Why hadn't her teachers, her dad, her friends... why hadn't they told her that her best was never going to be good enough?

Fitch wasn't going to wait for her to take her time with his briefs like she had with the pants.  He squirmed in his seat and pushed them down past his knees as well, and for just a moment Laurel's eyes dropped and caught sight of the lumpy, hairy mess surrounding his straining, chubby potato dick.  "Come on," he breathed, leaning back and smirking with delight.  "Suck my cock."

Every muscle in Laurel's neck strained.  Her eyes were bulging, her fingers clenched and her skull shuddering as she stared straight ahead and watched this vile, fat monster roll his head back on his shoulders and slowly close his eyes while he waited for her to pleasure him.  She shifted forward on her knees just a little bit more, and he chuckled the faintest bit when her dress brushed against his legs.  Her eyes lowered once again to take another look at what he wanted to put in her mouth, and she took one deep breath before looking back up at Fitch's self-assured smile.

In the next instant her hand shot forward.  She seized a ruthless handful of horrid genitals and squeezed, digging her hard nails into the hot, yielding flesh.  Norman squealed, his bulky body tumbling from the folding chair and crashing to the floor, but now it was Laurel's turn to grin, twisting and clawing and sneering while the fat man's animal shrieks resounded about the little office's walls.

She didn't say anything.  She didn't need to.  The whole event seemed like it was over so quickly, and before she knew it, Laurel was back on her feet, standing over the balled up form of her boss.  She watched him writhe about on the floor.  She heard him scream his threats of lawyers and lawsuits and prison while she picked a rumpled napkin from his desk and wiped a bit of hot red blood from her fingers.

Despite all his hasty, agony-fueled ranting, Norman was right about one thing.  Laurel had crossed a line and there was no going back.  That's why it didn't even feel like a decision to turn around and pick up the dark box from his desk.  Activating the MARTI and letting its scanners get a lock on Norman was just the next logical step, and hearing his indignant rage and profanity-laced rants turn to panicked pleas and disbelief while she adjusted the dials and punched in the commands was only an extra bit of satisfaction before his body was enveloped in a soft, spreading blue light, and then Norman Fitch was no more.

Laurel finally felt a faint sense of relief.  It hadn't occurred to her that the MARTI wouldn't work, or that she wouldn't know how to use it.  She hadn't considered anything in the form of consequences or risk, she'd just acted decisively and that was that. Now, though, she had to figure out what came next.  She had to pull herself together.  There was no way that the people outside that door hadn't heard his screams, and there were going to be questions.  If Fitch was going to disappear, everyone knew she was in here with him.  What could she say when the police came?  What answer could possibly explain why he never walked out of his office?

Of course, he hadn't actually disappeared.  Laurel's dark eyes scanned the floor and found him, and suddenly she was able to push her concerns to the back of her mind.  Everything that he had been, that large, ludicrous, disgusting man who'd held her back and threatened her and tried to rape her was now just this tiny, pathetic thing no bigger than the heel of her boot, laying on his side and clutching his mangled crotch and sobbing.

She moved towards him, the impact of her footfalls bringing forth a little shriek from the tiny man on the ground and forcing his eyes open.  So tiny.  So helpless.

There was no restraining her sudden grin.  An unexpected, exhilarating flush of heat washed over her as she stood over the tiny form of her tormenter, watching him writhe in pain and confused, abject terror on the floor at her feet.

"Oh my god," she whispered to herself, though her voice caught the tiny man's attention.  Another little thrilling shiver shot through her as she imagined what he saw when he stared all the way up at her from the ground.  "Norman, you're fucking tiny."  It was impossible to avoid stating the obvious.  Maybe she just needed to hear herself say it to make it seem more real.

It was real, though.  It was so real.  In one split second she'd wrested total and absolute control from this fat piece of filth, and it felt really, really good.

"Hey," she snapped, and the rounded toe of her black boot shoved forward and smacked into the little man's body, sending him roughly rolling across the floor a few inches.  "Hey, you're not just going to lay there, asshole."  Her confidence was growing exponentially by the second.  He used to control her job, control her future and he came so, so close to controlling her body, but now she controlled him.  She controlled his entire little life.

"Get up," she snapped, and when Fitch looked up at her he saw a completely different woman.  The slender body that had seemed so little moments ago was towering far above him, ascending towards the heavens or his office ceiling like some callous feminine colossus.  He struggled to his feet, every bit of his bulbous frame trembling as he rose.  Resisting never crossed his mind.

Laurel’s eyes narrowed to vicious slits as she watched the miserable worm quiver at her feet.  She never could have imagined hating something so much, being so intensely disgusted by one living creature.  “Now, say it again, you wretched little fuck.”

The words.  Her voice.  All of it thrilled her to the core.  She rarely cursed, but everything was happening so fast, so naturally.  It was just right in every way.  Norman stood before her, head shaking back and forth nervously, jowls flapping as he stuttered through his confusion.  “W-w-w-w-what?” he finally managed.

“Say what you wanted me to do, Norman,” she icily demanded, leaning down towards the tiny man just enough to cast him into shadow.  For Fitch, it was like the angry face of God rushing towards him from the sky.  “Say it like you fucking mean it, insect.”

Again, the words came from somewhere she didn’t understand, but every passing moment fueled the fires of thrilling, exquisite, righteous and erotic power deep inside her.  She barely waited for him to half-heartedly utter the words.  Even while he was feebly muttering the phrase, “suck my cock,” her tremendous boot was already raising from the floor, knee drawing towards her chest, and in one swift, decisive, brutal motion she brought her foot smashing down towards the gound.  There was just enough time for the shortest, shrillest tiny shriek before the unforgiving sole of her boot crashed through his fat little body and slammed to the floor.  minuscule little juicy red bits of Norman Fitch spurted and sprayed out to the side of her sole, but aside from that, he was just gone.

Crushed.

Squished to a pulp.

Pulverized and obliterated beneath her foot like an ugly little bug.  Deep in her mind, Laurel was wholly aware that she’d just killed a man, but that was so far away from the rush, the thrill of the moment.  She’d never felt anything like this, never known such satisfaction, such power…

Jesus, she’d never been so turned on.  Her eyes dropped to her foot and to the gory remains of her asshole boss, and she started to lazily twist and drag her boot through them, heart racing as she smeared the unrecognizable mess around.  A soft, unanticipated moan rose from her throat as she thought about Norman’s last moments, about how she looked to him just before she snuffed out his worthless little life.

As aroused as she was, Laurel was also still just as angry.  Neither of those emotions were going to be quick to fade, but as the haze of the last few intense moments began to retreat, rational thought began to creep back into her mind.  She’d murdered Fitch and was the last one seen with him.  The MARTI wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but it wouldn’t be hard to piece together what she’d done.

One way or another, her job was over.  God, her life might be over.  At the very least it was going to need some drastic changes.  She wasn’t to the point where she regretted what she’d done, though.  More precisely, her only regret was that it was over so swiftly, and now that sense of power was on its way to becoming more of a memory than a reality.  God, she wanted to feel that way again.  Right now, she wanted that most of all.

She needed more, and with that established as her primary focus, her analytical mind could move on to other needs.  With an attempt at a steadying breath, Laurel dragged her boot back and wiped as much of Fitch from her foot as she could.  She turned and grabbed a file folder box from the floor and dumped its contents over the reddish stain she was leaving behind, then carefully placed the MARTI inside.

With that, she took another deep breath and headed towards the door, back towards the real world.  “I quit!” she boldly declared while slamming the door behind her, and after quickly tossing enough personal belongings into that box to conceal her prize from casual sight, she hopped in her car and left her career behind.

She was going to have to leave town.  No matter how she tried to think about it, that really seemed to be the only answer.  She was just going to have to up and disappear.  Laurel worked to put together a sensible plan as she drove the twenty miles to the apartment she and her fiance Ryan shared, and the part that kept giving her trouble was how she was going to get him to understand what was going on.

Ryan loved her deeply, and he supported her as much as he could in every way she could ask.  Still, they’d had their ups and downs, and explaining how she’d almost been raped and how she’d ruthlessly murdered the man who’d attempted it by shrinking and stomping on him wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

Just thinking about that moment, though… it sent a warm wave of pleasure running through her to the point where she could barely resist closing her eyes for a moment and just letting out another shaky sigh.  She had to feel that way again, she just had to, and she had the device.  She could do it so easily, really.

What if she showed him?  What better way was there to make him understand than to share that experience with him?  Their sex life was pretty fantastic as it was, and she’d always been pretty open-minded for Ryan before.  It would still be hours until he was home from work, but she wanted him desperately and immediately.  She fumbled with her bag and dug out her phone with every intention to call him, but another thought came to mind as she set the phone on her lap.

Why was she having to give up everything she’d worked for?  What sense did it make for her to be the one who had to run, who had to disappear and give up her home and her job and maybe even more?  What about the people who’d put her in this position?  What about the people who’d stood by and done nothing?  Didn’t they deserve to pay some sort of price?

Fuck, of course they did, and she had the power to make them pay.  She had so <i>much</i> power, and she needed to use it.  A tap on her phone brought the voice commands up, and she started in on her plan.  “New e-mail, Mom.  Subject: Can you help?  Blind carbon copy all contacts.”

*****

Laurel shut and bolted the door of her apartment behind her and promptly flopped on her couch, letting out a long sigh with the impact of her body on the overstuffed cushions.  Day after day she’d done the same thing, trying to forget the last several hours of office politics and workplace demands, and today she tried the same thing but there wasn’t the first chance of forgetting a thing.

After another moment she dug through the box at her side and pulled out the MARTI, setting it in her lap and examining the incredible machine.  She’d seen enough memos about the codenamed project to be vaguely familiar with expectations surrounding the device, and as she looked over the buttons and readings, it really was apparent that it had been designed for the working man.  Such a simple object that could do such incredible things…

The doorbell rang and Laurel bolted upright immediately.  She didn’t expect anyone so quickly, but all the same, it was time for action.  She hopped over the coffee table in haste, snatched up the MARTI and started adjusting and preparing it for use.  “Who is it?” she nervously called out, her voice breaking unexpectedly in the middle of her mundane inquiry.

“It’s your mother, dear,” the voice on the other side called back, and as Laurel opened the door she saw her standing there, wringing her hands and looking back at her with all the earnest concern she could muster.

“Hi, Mom,” Laurel flatly replied.  She hadn’t been sure she’d be able to go through with it, but it was so easy to poke a few buttons and flip a switch.

“Honey, are you alright?” Laurel’s mother asked as she took a step inside.  It took a moment for the MARTI to really rev itself up, long enough for Laurel to step forward and push the door closed at least.

“No, Mom,” Laurel softly murmured as the familiar bluish light spread from the MARTI and started to envelop the woman’s body.  “I’m not alright, not even close to it,” she continued while watching that glow start to dissipate, and when it was gone so was her mother.  All that was left in her place was this tiny, wonderful shrieking thing for her to play with, and seeing it staring upwards and squealing in shock and terror brought that hot exhilarating rush flooding back through Laurel’s body.

She started to break into that weird, giddy grin as she watched her tiny mother flailing in protest at her feet.  It was all too easy to ignore everything she had to say, but Laurel wanted to shut her up all the same.  Her boot shifted forward and smacked into the tiny woman, sending her sprawling across the floor.  “You’re going to help me feel better, though, Mom.  You and everyone else.”  Laurel could still hear her mother’s voice, possibly only because it was so familiar to her.  She bent at the knees, crouching down to hear what she had to say.

“...wrong with you?  What did you do?  You can’t do this, Laurel, you just can’t!  I don’t, I don’t even...”

Laurel plucked her up from the ground, taking her entire little body up between her fingers.  It was magnificently easy, holding her own mother in her hand, and she could just as easily do whatever else she wanted.  “Look, Mom, I absolutely can.  I can do anything I want to you, don’t you see that?”

Her fingers curled around the woman in her hand, squeezing her a little more tightly.  “See, you’re <i>little</i>.  You’re so stupidly little, Mom, and that makes you powerless.  You’re totally helpless, don’t you see that?”

She pulled her mother further into the air, holding her right before her eyes so she could really relish watching her squirm.  “Yeah, I have all the power.  I could squeeze you ‘til you popped, Mom.  I could drop you on the ground, cover you with my foot and just smash you to paste.  That worked pretty well before.”

“You… killed someone?”  For some reason this seemed to horrify her more than all the thinly veiled threats of her violent demise.

“Yeah, Mom, I did.  I shrunk my boss and crushed him like a bug, and I’m going to do the absolute same thing to you and everyone else that shows up.”  She hadn’t really thought about what she’d done as killing, but suddenly and unexpectedly the thought of it seemed even more appealing.  “What do you think about that, huh?”

Laurel felt a little awkward talking to her own mother like this, but every time she squirmed a little and wailed in her grasp it helped build her confidence.  Watching her shake her head in disbelief and shudder in horror…

The doorbell brought Laurel out of her deepening desire for tormenting her tiny mother.  “Oh, hey, someone else is here!  C’mon, Mom.  Let’s see who’s going to join you.”  She popped up, grabbed the MARTI and bounded towards the door, calling out once again, “Who is it?”

“It’s James,” her brother answered back from the other side, and Laurel broke into a devious grin.  “You said to come as quick as I could, is everything okay?”

“Come in,” Laurel murmured while charging the MARTI and opening the door.  In the next minute, her collection of tiny people had doubled, and it if things continued to go well she expected it to grow exponentially over the next hour.

Laurel bounded back through the hallway to the bedroom she shared with her fiance Ryan, her head buzzing and her skin tingling with such a raw, intense energy that it overwhelmed every other thought and sense.  No less than seventeen tiny people, people that until recently she thought of as friends, neighbors and family, tumbled about at the bottom of a little cardboard box she carried.

Now they were hers.  Absolutely and completely, their little lives belonged to her.  She peeked down into the box as she opened her bedroom door, grinning with mad eagerness as she enjoyed watching them all struggle to stay upright as her body shifted and turned.  "Don't worry, guys.  I'll let you out to play soon enough," she declared with a wicked smirk.

"Laurel!" one of the tiny voices shouted out, rising above the dull tones of the others.  She scanned the minuscule forms until she found her father staring up at her.  "What have you done?  Laurel, what's happened to you?  You have to stop this, you have to..."

A fit of shrill, piercing giggles cut him off from his earnest plea.  Laurel shook her head a few times, spirals of her dark hair bouncing and whirling through the air as she struggled to get her manic laughter back under control.  Once she'd settled herself, though, she didn't immediately reply.  Instead, she settled down on the edge of her bed, bit her lower lip and carefully reached into the box, her comparatively massive fingers bowling over little things and shoving them out of the way as she grasped for her father, and just that quickly she pinched his tiny body between her fingers and dragged him up away from the rest of her little family and friends.

"Dad, don't you see that I don't have to do anything?"  He had once been so tall, so imposing, so strong.  Now, he twisted and thrashed between her fingertips like a captured worm.  "Nothing you say matters, Dad.  Nothing you ever said mattered at all."  She set the box down beside her on the bed, though her shrunken playthings still had a fair enough view of their little cohort.  Laurel dropped her father into the palm of her hand and leaned in a little closer, watching the fear and disbelief build in the little thing she held.

"I don't have to stop and I'm so not going to," she murmured softly, though her voice was still like a slow rolling thunder washing over the tiny man.  "Just like I don't have to keep my head down and work hard.  Just like I don't have to 'carry myself like a lady.'  Just like I don't have to look over my shoulder in the city or agonize over how every little thing I do is going to affect someone else's feelings or the way they see me.  Just like I don't have to lay awake at night racking my brain trying to figure out how I'm ever going to have a fucking future in this shit world of yours."

He had pulled himself up to his hands and knees now, but it didn't look like he could go any further.  He probably wanted to stand, but Laurel's hand just wasn't steady enough.  Still, she liked seeing him on all fours.  She liked the way his little body was trembling in terror, and especially liked the quivering in his voice when he tried to speak.

"Laurel, please..." he struggled to say, mouth parted and tears gathering in his tiny eyes as he desperately sought the words that would bring his daughter out of this... madness.  "Sweetie, please, whatever it is that's done this to you, I can help."

Laurel frowned faintly at that idea, and her eyes narrowed as she watched the little man do his best to verbally writhe his way out of his precarious predicament.

"We... we love you," he cried out, one hand stretching out before him and reaching for something, for anything that was in his little girl that might see what she was doing, but in the next moment the fleshy floor beneath him started to shift, started to tilt.

Laurel's voice and words were as dark and icy as they could be, each one its own flat declaration of disdain.  She watched as the tiny thing that used to call itself her dad started to slide from her hand, and as he scrabbled for anything to hold on to, anything to keep him from plummeting the unimaginable distance to the floor, the words echoed and rained down around him.

"Nobody

gives

a

fuck."

The people in the box had been largely stunned into silence, but as they watched Laurel's father tumble from her hand and swiftly vanish from view, a colletive gasp and a few faint wails rose from them.  Laurel liked that.  She liked that they'd all seen her dump him onto the floor, almost as much as she liked watching his little limbs flail through the air until he smacked into the carpeted floor and bounced once.

For a moment she just sat there, staring at him down on the ground and just grinning.  It was just so easy and so incredibly thrilling, even if she hadn't pinned down precisely what was stirring all of this exquisite excitement inside her.

Laurel bent down and started to unzip her boots, though her eyes stayed on her father's little broken body throughout.  He was still moving, and again she found herself all the more excited to know there was still something left of him to enjoy.  She wrapped her hand around the heel of her boot and slowly pulled it free, and as she dropped it to the floor with a heavy thud, her father managed to push himself onto his side and meet his daughter's lust-driven, predatory gaze.

He stared up at her unblinking, and their eyes remained locked until Laurel's immense toes gradually slid forward and blocked her from view.  There wasn't the faintest bit of hesitation in her movements, and he knew instantly that she wanted to crush him and had no reservations about doing it.  He could feel the surprising heat from her freshly freed foot radiating down on him, and as it lowered towards him, slowly cutting off light and sound and anything else from the world outside of his daughter's stark black nylon-wrapped sole, fearful screams ripped from deep in his throat, rising from some unknown reserve he thought long exhausted.

This time Laurel wasn’t distracted by driving rage or any other sort of overwhelming emotion.  Now, in the comfort of her own home, in complete control of the situation, she could take her time and relish the deeply satisfying sensations of ending a little man’s life.  She held him totally beneath her, completely trapped and overwhelmed by her sole, and as her toes started to spread the faintest bit, as her heel rose and she started to push and press, that thought was actually almost as satisfying as the slow creak and snap of his fragile little bones.

He didn’t matter.  None of them did, and nothing they’d ever said or done mattered nearly as much as how exquisite controlling and destroying them could be.  Laurel’s toes pressed forward, and her father’s body reached its breaking point.  She could feel the warm, spreading wetness signifying the transformation from man to flattened mess, and the sensations and the total awareness of her own incredible power brought forth such a long, low, soft moan.  It was still incredible, unbelievable that she could just squish someone, anyone, even her tall, strong, imposing father, and as those thoughts ran through her head Laurel’s moaning evolved into a dark and satisfied purr.  She twisted her foot slowly and deliberately, grinding her father’s pulverized remains into the carpet and letting them soak further into her stocking’s sole.

It was only after the rush of blood pounding in her ears settled that she noticed the numerous little shouts and shrieks coming from the box beside her on the bed.  Her mother’s voice was most distinctive, but she didn’t seem to be forming any sort of words at the moment.  Instead, she was more wailing and squealing, so Laurel instead decided to focus on her sister as she leaned over the box and brought her immense, faintly flushed and grinning face into view of the dozen or so odd people inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Laurel?” Abby screamed with all the force she could manage.  She was wearing some sort of designer sun dress, something her rich-ass philandering husband probably bought her to keep her quiet and content.  For whatever reason, all of her impotent rage only served to broaden Laurel’s grin just the faintest bit more.

“What did you do with Dad?” Abby continued.  “We saw him fall out of your hand, Laurel, what the fuck did you do with Dad?”

Laurel had to bite back a lusty chuckle as she continued to think about her father’s recent demise.  She flexed her toes a little, relishing the way that warm, wet spot on her nylon sole clung to her foot.  A moment later, though, her mother’s voice, far more earnest and soft, interrupted her thoughts.

“Laurel, please… tell us he’s alright.”  She looked up through tear-blurred eyes at the immense, looming countenance of her crazed daughter, pleading with the girl she remembered and prayed was still inside this colossal monster somewhere.  “Please, sweetie.  Where is your father?”

Laurel only seemed to grin all the more, and in the next moment she pushed herself back, disappearing from view for all the tiny friends and family gathered in the box on her bed.  They stood where they were, staring upwards and filled with fear and uncertainty.  One or two still tried to call out to her, but their voices were swiftly silenced by the massive, dark nylon-wrapped toes slowly sliding over the edge of the box, leaving more and more of them trembling in the shadow of her foot.

The chorus of screams told Laurel exactly when the messy wet spot on her sole came into view.  Her whole body shuddered with the exhilarating rush of knowing that all of those tiny people were seeing what was left of her father smeared into the nylon plastered to the bottom of her foot.  Now they would start to understand.  Now they grasped her incredible, undeniable power.  Let them scream and cower and wail and retch, she was God compared to them, and each of those little people had failed Her.

Laurel’s heel brushed the edge of the box just a bit as she brought the entirety of her sole into view for the tiny failures inside, and without hesitation she began to lower her foot into the box, not even leaning forward to look and see who would end up trapped beneath and who would dive to safety.  Her head rolled back on her shoulders and she let out a long, slow breath as the screams grew more intense and her toes settled on the cardboard.  She could feel bodies writhing beneath her sole, tiny hands desperately tugging and grasping at her stocking as they struggled impotently beneath her, knowing they had to be no more than a split second from being crushed to paste.

Nothing could have prepared Laurel for the experience of having a half-dozen tiny friends and family members struggling for their lives beneath her foot.  Nobody could ever have felt as amazingly powerful as she did in this moment… nobody had ever been this powerful.  She could crush the life from each of them with just an ounce of effort, just press down and smash them all to an ugly jelly.  Laurel’s foot slid forward and back the faintest bit, her gore-stained stocking sliding over all those tiny bodies as she savored the feel of them beneath her while her fingers delicately brushed aside the folds of her skirt.

Jesus, she was hot.  She was so fucking hot right now and her body was begging to be touched.  Her fingertips teased along the upper reaches of her inner thighs, but her fiance would be home any minute and she wanted him to be the one to push her over the edge.  She took a deep breath and leaned back, reaching over to grab her phone.

I hope you’re almost home, because when you get here I want you to strip down, come back to the bedroom and satisfy me.

It wasn’t the raciest thing, but they’d never been the most sexual couple.  Lovemaking was wonderful between them, sure, but it was always a quiet and sweet affair.  Laurel had never felt so passionate, never had so much desire and so much immediate and desperate need.

The struggles beneath her foot were fading, and suddenly Laurel decided she didn’t want to kill them all, at least not yet.  Much as she’d enjoy mashing whoever was beneath her heel to a pulp or just letting the lot of them slowly smother under her stockinged foot, she wanted to watch them up close.  She wanted to see them give in, submit, and obey.

Her foot slowly lifted from the box, and the wailing within slowed to a few sobs and a collective sigh of relief.  All of that was short-lived, though, as the many people inside suddenly found themselves tottering and tumbling as the cardboard beneath them shifted and rose into the air.  The world around them spun and twisted and tilted, and when it had more or less come to a stop, they lot of them stared upwards at the dark and devilishly grinning face of their once sweet daughter, sister or friend looming above.

"Ryan's going to be home any minute," Laurel casually announced to her little prisoners.  "You're going to get me ready for him."  She enjoyed how they stared up at her, how they sat in stunned silence and fear in their little box.  She had stretched out on her bed, propping her head up on a pile of pillows so she could keep an eye on her playthings, and now she was ready for them to get to work.  Another chorus of screams rose to her ears as she started to tilt the box, and Laurel couldn't help but softly laugh as the tiny people squealed and fell through the air and landed among the slky folds of her blouse, some grabbing hold where they fell and others tumbling down until they came to rest on her stomach.

"Well?" Laurel demanded of her disorganized pile of minuscule servants as they lay where they fell, stunned from the variety of traumas they'd endured over the last moments.  "Get me out of these clothes, it's not like you've never seen buttons before.  I swear to god you'll regret it if Ryan walks in to find me half-dressed."

A few of them did seem to get the message and start climbing towards the fastenings keeping her blouse and skirt on, but Laurel wasn't satisfied.  Truthfully, she probably wouldn't have been satisfied by anything they did besides the beautiful way they suffered and broke with the faintest bit of effort from her.  She grinned a little more as she reached down and plucked up her sobbing younger sister between her fingers.

"Hey, hey, Melissa, what's wrong?" Laurel softly and sweetly inquired, though her broad grin somewhat undermined her sincerity.  She scrutinized the tiny girl closely, holding her up to her eyes and looking over the graceful feminine curves that she'd been so jealous of for so many years.  Melissa had been gifted with this spectacular feminine form and the graceful girlish charm that had opened so many doors for her.  Nobody had likely ever called her scrawny and she'd never had to carefully search for bras with the best padding to fill out her form.

Laurel had been jealous, sure, but there was never any sort of deep, consuming bitterness.  Just, sitting there and holding the tiny girl between her fingertips... it was somehow kind of funny.  She started to laugh a little and after a moment more she realized she hadn't been listening to her very little sister's response to her question.

"...gone, just gone!  Just, like, a stain, and you don't even feel anything!  You can't do this, Laur, you just can't be like this, you have to stop and think about what you're doing... you can let us go, you have to!  You just, just..."

Laurel narrowed her eyes and started to squeeze her thumb and forefinger together, halting her sister's panicked rant and letting it give way to a few whimpers and squeals.  "Oh, Mel, I feel something.  I feel a whole lot of something when I look down at you writhing in my grasp or when I splattered my boss across the floor or when I felt Dad slowly squish.  I feel an incredible rush of something that no other person could ever understand without experiencing it."

She didn't really plan on killing Melissa, but it was really hard to resist the urge to just keep squeezing.  It was an exercise in delicate restraint to just add a little and then a little more pressure, pushing her thumb into her sister's side.  Something popped and Laurel could only assume it was a rib or two giving way.

"I'm a killer now, Melissa.  Maybe you think it's not your fault, but I still blame you."  It wasn't likely that the tiny girl was hearing much of what Laurel had to say at this point, but that didn't stop her from saying what she had to say.  She felt another little muted pop beneath her thumb and paused for a moment to sigh with the unexpected pleasure that breaking tiny bones brought her before she continued.

"You, Mom, Dad, teachers, friends..." Laurel continued to murmur, her voice growing softer, growing colder the more she spoke.  "They're all part of this fucked up world, and it took me this long to get it."

Melissa was really screaming now.  Every second was greater agony than the last and the merciless, crushing pressure of Laurel's fingers just slowly and horribly and inexorably smashing into her body never relented.  This was how she was going to die, with every torturously long moment more horrible than the last.  She managed to force out a "please!" among all of her wordless cries, but Laurel ignored her with tremendous ease.

"I know how to be happy now, Mel.”  Laurel’s voice was cold and terribly soft as she continued to squeeze the life from her sister.  The tiny girl’s screams were starting to fade to choking, rasping gurgles as her body started to give way, bones snapping and crunching left and right under the unbearable pressure of her sister’s fingertips.  “You have to take what you want, and not give a fuck about anyone else.”

The only sound Melissa was making by now was a faint wet gurgling and squelching.  Laurel's fingertips touched each other with only the thinnest layer of pulverized flesh and bone between them.  "Me and Ryan," she continued while starting to rub her fingertips together, smearing and squishing what was left of her sister between them while a few messy bits dribbled down and landed on her silky white blouse.  "We're just going to take and take and take, and there's nobody who can stop us."

Several of the tiny people scattered across Laurel's torso had been unable to do anything but stare and watch Melissa slowly collapse and crumple to a gory mess in the gigantic woman's grasp.  Laurel took a deep, settling breath once she realized that her sister simply was no more and looked out over her collection, sneering a little as she let the reality of what she'd just done sink in for everyone, herself included.  They were hers.  She'd made a snap decision and taken their very lives from them in an instant, just because it was something she wanted to do.  Some sort of emptyness gnawed at her insides breifly, like some reminder that all of this really shouldn't feel so good, that these people loved her or had loved her and maybe they'd really done their best for her.

Laurel had always done her best, though.  Look where it had gotten her.  "You'd so better get to work," she flatly declared to her tiny possessions, and they took her point well, going back to the buttons and closures and doing their best to free her from her garments and prepare her for her lover.

Whatever didn't make sense now would be completely clear once Ryan was here, with his sweet face hovering just above hers and his strong hands exploring the curves of her body, his wonderful cock filling her and driving her to the heights of absolute ecstasy she'd been longing for ever since her boot had splattered Norman Fitch across his office floor.

Laurel softly sighed as she wiped Melissa's remains off on the front of her blouse and watched her mother, uncle and neighbor working together to roll one of her stockings down along her leg.  Everything was going to be okay.  She was in control and everything was going to work out just fine.

Ryan slammed the car door shut behind him and twirled about, humming to himself and bounding up the stairs to the apartment he shared with the love of his life.  There was no mistaking the spring in his step as he fiddled with his keys, all too eager to get home and see the woman who was going to be his wife.

He didn't get texts like that often, that was sure.  Actually, he'd pretty much never gotten a message like that from Laurel.  The two of them were plenty passionate, of course.  Maybe not as much as when they started dating a couple years ago, but with Laurel's headaches and all the stress with planning the wedding and work, work, work they'd been falling asleep on the couch or going to bed quietly more often than not in recent days.  He kicked his shoes off before the door was even shut behind him.

"Hey, I'm home, babe!" Ryan called out after his belt was undone.  He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt while shimmying his pants down over his knees and hopping out of them.  Laurel didn't call back, but his instructions had been pretty clear.  He hustled down the hallway and pushed the door to their bedroom open, and there she was.

Laurel was as seductive as she'd ever been, spread out on their bed and staring directly into Ryan's eyes as he entered the room.  Her long dark hair was spread out, radiating from her head across the pillow.  Her blouse and bra were open and laying beneath her back, exposing her small, sweet breasts that rose and fell with her slow, even breath.  Her slender bare legs were slightly spread, inviting with one bent at the knee, her foot flat on the bed while the other stretched out towards him, toes slowly flexing as if they too were inviting him in.

"Oh my God..." Ryan softly murmured as he approached, his hand reaching out and sliding over Laurel's raised knee.

"I need you so fucking bad, Ry," Laurel whispered, her voice low and throaty and soft.  His hand glided past her knee and along her thigh as he mounted the bed, moving over her and shivering faintly when she reached out and ran her hand between his his legs, encouraging his already stirring manhood to rigid firmness in her grasp.  "Come on," she demanded, pulling him towards her.

Ryan pushed his briefs over his hips and kicked them down past his ankles as he shifted and scooted forward, letting his soon-to-be wife guide him.

"We're forever, Ryan.  No matter what, right?" Laurel murmured, the first hint of her familiar timidness creeping back into her voice.

Ryan let out a low groan as he started to slide into his lover.  She was so hot, so eagerly warm and wet and ready for him, and as his eyes drifted shut and his hips pressed into hers he whispered, "Mnn, forever, Laurel.  Forever..."

"I love you," she shakily declared as they found their rhythm and he slid and pumped within her.  Laurel took his hand, guiding it along her body, running his fingers across her red-hot flesh.

"I love you, babe," he replied, his voice almost inaudably low and smooth.  They shuddered together and moaned as his fingers meandered about the curve of her breast.  

"For.. forever.." Laurel gasped.  Her other hand moved along the back of Ryan's neck, fingers sliding through his hair while her body responded to his every touch.  His hand curled around and cradled her breast, palm brushing across its firm peak and she pulled it closer, encouraging him to grasp and squeeze like she loved.

Ryan paused, the movement of his hips slowing.  There was something under there, something that shouldn’t have been there and that in and of itself wouldn’t have concerned him much, but it was moving.

“C’mon,” Laurel murmured, her body still surging against his, desperate for his attention.  “Fuck me, Ryan,” she hoarsely demanded, pulling him firmly against her.

“No, just, there’s something…” he whispered while starting to pull his hand away, but she seized it and smashed it back to her breast, curling her fingers around his hand and squeezing.

“It’s nothing,” she purred, even as he felt the thing crumple between her tender, sensitive flesh and his hand.  “She’s nothing and she doesn’t matter,” Laurel dreamily continued, trailing into a wordless, ecstatic cry and bucking against his hips, her thighs tightening around his body as she rode out the long, breathtaking waves of her culminating pleasure.

“Laurel, what the fuck was that?” Ryan quietly questioned.  He pulled his hand away from the wetness beneath it, scrutinizing the reddish spot on his palm and the matching one on the curve of his lover’s breast.  “You called it she?”

He leaned in closer, but Laurel was still wrapped up in the fruition of her long-lasting lusts, stroking Ryan’s hair and murmuring in his ear.  “We can do anything now, Ry.  We can do anything we want to anyone at all.  Nothing’s going to stop us…”

Her eyes slowly opened and when she looked up at her love, she saw his eyes impossibly wide, head slowly shaking back and forth in evidence of his sudden terror.  He stammered as he tried to speak.  “Th-that… Jesus Christ, that’s your mom!”

Laurel reached out for him as he pulled back, leaping from the bed and backing up against the wall.  She started to rise up and a bit of that suddenly familiar reddish shade drew Ryan’s eyes to where her foot lifted from the sheets, and there were three more stains, three more tiny people she must have smothered and crushed while the two of them made love.

Ryan shrieked, frozen to the spot as he watched Laurel move towards him.  “Ryan, it’s okay,” she assured him.  Her nude form glistened in the twilight, but all he could see were those tiny splotches of red, and now that he was looking for them, Ryan could see more and more.  Two on her shirt.  One on the mattress.  Little smears on her fingertips.

“You’re a murderer,” he managed to choke out.  His fingers were grasping for something behind him, maybe something to defend himself or a doorknob to give him a way out, he wasn’t quite sure yet, but there had to be something.  “You made me kill your own mother!”

“Ryan,” she whispered, her voice still low and sultry as she slipped up against him, her fingertips gliding across his heaving chest and her warm, bare body sliding up against his own.  “They don’t matter at all.  They were little useless people that failed me.  They don’t understand what it is to have power, Ryan, but I do.  We do, don’t we?”

It was more of a declaration than a question.  Laurel was still hungry for more, more of everything, but right now she wanted more of her man.  She pressed against him, her bare thigh grinding between his legs and her eager mouth dancing along his neck, teeth grazing his skin as she panted in his ear.  Now that he knew, now that he understood what she’d done, she wanted him that much more.

The panic gradually left Ryan.  He was still horrified, still frightened, but he wasn’t paralyzed and helpless.  A fierce growl rose in his throat and he shoved Laurel away with all of his strength.  Her little frame went tumbling back from him, leaving her laying in a heap at the foot of the bed.  She looked up at the man she loved, the only person that still meant something in her life, and absolute devastation overtook her.

“This is fucked,” Ryan hastily declared, still wide-eyed and shaking his head.  “You, this, everything… just… fucking… fucked!”

“No,” Laurel whispered, her mouth parted and her lower lip trembling with terrible distress, with the fear that she was losing the last thing in her life that mattered.  “Ry, no, it’s okay, we’re okay, we can fix this!”  Hot tears gathered in her eyes as she watched him set his jaw and shake his head one more time, and they rushed down her cheeks as he resolutely turned and marched through the door.

It took a moment, but Laurel managed to push herself up and chase after him.  “Ryan, please,” she called out, but he was already fishing his phone out of the pants laying by the door.

“Ryan, don’t do this,” she wailed, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull it away from dialing the numbers.  “You said you loved me!  You said forever, no matter what.  You promised!”

He was almost twice her size, and it wasn’t hard to push her away.  The operator picked up, and though tears of his own blurred his vision when he looked Laurel in the eye, his voice didn’t break when he spoke.  “There’s a killer in my apartment.  Please send someone right away.”

Every twist and turn this day had taken had left Laurel freshly shattered; broken her time and again to the point where there was nothing left.  She had been reaching out to Ryan, pleading with him, professing her desperate love, but when he said those words everything in her simply stopped.  For a moment she even froze, arm stretched out towards him, lips still forming the shape that her next sound was going to take, but then it all just stopped.  She stared at him, really looked him over, and as frightened and horrified as Ryan was, seeing her so hollow and destroyed still tore at his heart.

“Laurel, I had to,” he whispered, but she was already turning away, already turning her back on him.  “This isn’t you, I don’t know what happened, but…”

She was already at the table, turning the knobs and flicking the switches on some strange device he’d never seen before.  It hummed to life before he could even piece together that it might have something to do with the inexplicably tiny people he’d seen.  Laurel looked up at the last moment as the gathering brilliant light started to build around her shimmering feminine form, meeting his pained stare for just a moment but not saying a word.

Then, everything exploded.

She wasn’t surrounded by complete silence, but everything was still wonderfully, beautifully quiet.  The warm glow that had surrounded Laurel started to wear away after another moment,, and as she began to feel the cool air moving across her bare flesh, her eyes slowly opened.

The world around her was gone.  Ryan.  Fitch.  Work.  Love.  Fear.  None of that existed anymore.  Laurel’s head rolled back on her shoulders and she took a deep breath, staring into the deep, clear beautiful blue that surrounded her as she wiped away her tears.  She wasn’t part of that world anymore.  Those weren’t things that mattered to her anymore.

Another deep breath steadied her somewhat, and her eyes slowly turned back down towards the ground.  That world wasn’t gone, it was all still there.  The countless minuscule matchbox houses spreading out at her feet were interspersed with a spider web of pavement that spread towards larger concrete veins and led out into the city itself, and slowly Laurel began to recognize and understand everything for what it is.  She could see the streets she drove day after day to take her to work.  She could even see the recognizable cluster of tall buildings in the distance that surrounded her workplace itself, though the smaller, squat structure where her company kept its less-important offices wasn’t visible in the shadows of those greater buildings.

Suddenly, she knew what she was going to do next.  She still had a purpose, and she was going to see it through.  First, though, she needed to do one more thing.  The apartment building she’d burst forth from as she grew and ascended into the heavens lay in ruins, more than half of it reduced to rubble from her rapid expansion.  Still, somewhere inside there were the last bits of Laurel, the timid secretary and frail little woman.  Somewhere inside there was the MARTI.  Somewhere inside there Ryan might still be alive, calling out for help or even stammering his betrayal of her love and trust to a 9-1-1 operator.

Laurel’s colossal foot slowly shifted and steadily rose from the rubble, but she didn’t have to raise it far.  There was no trace of hesitation as she began to lower it back onto the building, shifting the slightest bit to cover the entire structure.

For all the sorrow she anticipated in ending the life of the one man she had ever truly loved, Laurel was wholly unprepared for the electric rush that sent a shiver through her core and danced across her skin once she started to feel the wood and concrete crumbling and collapsing beneath her bare sole.  An entire building, more than a dozen people, she was sure, and now they were all being erased because she’d decided to just fucking step on them.

A  faint, unbidden moan passed from her lips as her heel rose and her toes spread and she twisted her foot, relishing the idea as much as the sensation of grinding everything beneath it to a pulverized mess at the bottom of a crater.  They were gone, just gone, along with Ryan and along with the old, weak, powerless Laurel.

She raised her foot after a moment more and turned it across her knee, examining the unrecognizable powder clinging to the ball of her foot.  A faint, playful chuckle erupted from her lips as she brushed what she could from her sole and set her foot back to the ground, aiming for the street and carelessly crumpling a few cars beneath it as her weight shifted forward.  Her other leg swung through the air and kicked a few more vehicles out of the way, sending the half-smashed metallic hunks and their instantly shattered occupants careening through the air and crashing into the apartment buildings lining the other side of the street.

Laurel had nothing against the cars or the people in them or really anyone who lived out here, but they did happen to be in her way.  After all, it was time to go to work.

*****

Every city and town of note had to be prepared for catastrophes, emergencies and threats.  Reports circulated swiftly, and first responders came rushing to their posts.  Sirens screeched through every corner of the city’s streets, and the choppy buzzing of several circling helicopters, both news and police, helped fill the air in the moments between the sirens’ wails.

There were no guidelines, however, that prepared anyone for the presence of a nude skyscraping goddess purposefully striding towards the metropolitan center.  Fortunately she had chosen to stick to the streets, though they weren’t nearly wide enough to accommodate her colossal feet, and casualties were starting to pile up as buildings and people unlucky enough to be trapped on the road vanished and flattened beneath each of her dispassionate steps.

Terribly few people had ever described Laurel as beautiful during her life, but now, as she towered over the insect-sized population of her hometown, there was no shortage of men that couldn’t resist staring longingly at her from the perceived safety of their windows or through the screens of their televisions.  Maybe it was the seductive sway of her hips as she placed one foot in front of another, keeping to the straight path the streets laid out before her.  Maybe it was the alluring smirk and the majestic confidence radiating from every inch of her towering form.  Maybe it was simply that she so unbelievably huge, but to many, many people that watched her move with such ease and casual grace towards the city, trampling and crushing anyone in her path while wearing nothing but a self-assured grin, she was all that was beauty and power.

When the street became narrower and the buildings a bit taller, Laurel paused at the outskirts of the city proper.  News media was still scrambling to cover the events as they unfolded, but enough stations were carrying live footage of what was being called the Giant Woman Attack that much of the nation held its breath while waiting to see what the giantess would do next.

Laurel’s eyes widened a bit more as she spotted what she was looking for, and her smirk expanded to a full-on grin as she reached out and snatched a news helicopter from the air with all the ease of a girl capturing a fat, lumbering firefly.  Collective gasps rose from in front of thousands upon thousands of television sets as the world marvelled at how something so unbelievably colossal could move so quickly.

America stared through the eyes of the camera and the woman’s face filled the screen, her bright and laughing eyes peering through the souls of every person watching.  So many leaned forward in their seats as they watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath, and when she looked back into the camera, her cold stare was nearly as startling as the way her low, soft voice rolled out through the air like a peal of feminine thunder.

“Evacuate the women and children,” the giantess declared.  “No men leave the city.”

A long, terrible pause followed before her voice filled the air once again.  “You’ve got five minutes.  Cross me and you’ll all pay.”

Despite the harsh warning, even those inside the city limits couldn’t turn their eyes away from their screens just yet.  It just simply wasn’t possible to look away from those huge, dark eyes, but after another long moment they were replaced for the briefest of instants by the sloping curve of her fingers curling in on themselves.  A trio of bloodcurdling screams rang out from the speakers of every observer’s set, but even that was quickly mitigated by the blasts of shattering glass and the screeches and groans of rending and collapsing steel.

Blackness filled the screens as the noise continued for a moment longer.  Far too many found it impossible not to give every iota of their attention to the cacophony sound pouring from their televisions, so when the vile, wet squelches started to join the noise they all experienced them together.

Whatever panic had been building grew exponentially from that moment on.  While the news stations cut away from the static, taking a moment to give their sympathies to the chopper crew’s families and promising their viewers continued live coverage, Laurel opened her hand and let the mass of bloodied, balled up steel roll from her fingers and crash through the upper floors of a small building beside her, smashing and maiming several more as she put the little object out of her mind.

Her entire body was ablaze with passionate excitement and barely restrained lust.  Thousand and thousands of tiny little lives stared up at her, trembling in terror, and perhaps millions more around the world were watching her with their own morbid fascination and fear.  She had power, so much unstoppable power, and everything in her was begging to use it.  Crushing that helicopter in her hand had brought that indescribable rush of sheer exultant satisfaction running back through her body.

Laurel’s eyes dropped to the streets.  She looked out over the cars colliding and the countless tiny people scurrying about in blind panic like so many ants.  Five minutes or fifty, it didn’t really matter.  They didn’t look to be going anywhere, and what really mattered was that she’d given them a chance.  The whole world saw it on TV, and it was going to be her words they remembered.

Besides, why should she be bothered with keeping track of time?  It wasn’t like she was wearing a watch.

Laurel couldn’t resist grinning slightly to herself at that thought, even as she stretched her arm out towards the tallest building in reach.  She didn’t know what it was, but it was prominent, taller than the other buildings in the area, and while it wasn’t rounded in any way, it struck her as rather phallic in the moment.

Wasn’t that what all skyscrapers were?  Steel and concrete dicks raised towards the sky to stroke the egos of politicians and architects and financiers?

Fuck that, she thought as her fingers dug into the side of the building.  In one fierce motion Laurel shoved with all of her strength, expecting to send the tower toppling over, but the glass and concrete and steel gave way far more easily than she expected.  Her slender arm tore most of the way through the structure before it slowed enough to catch on a broad set of beams, and from there its continued momentum simply ripped the top half of the building away and sent it careening down toward the crowded street.

Laurel watched in fascination as the tremendous mass of masonry smashed to the ground.  She’d barely had time to notice how many people were in the shadow of the shattered tower, but as she watched it crash through smaller buildings and explode across the pavement, she was sure that dozens would die, either pulverized by the impact or eventually crushed and suffocated beneath the rubble.

It was so easy, so simple to just smash something so huge and significant.  It was like this massive building that she’d stared up at so many times when driving to her miserable job was made of nothing but tiny children’s blocks, and watching it break apart at her feet was Laurel’s first real indication of just how incredibly powerful she actually was.  It was amazing.  It was incredible.

And it felt.  So.  Good.

Laurel raised her foot and let it rest on the still-settling pile of rubble.  There wasn’t going to be a rescue operation.  There weren’t going to be survivors.  Her head snapped up, dark hair swirling in the breeze as she sought out another helicopter.  Her vision locked on it, the cameras inside letting the world look into her eyes as she started to press down.

The pile of rubble crunched and shifted beneath her foot as Laurel stepped down.  She couldn’t resist biting her lower lip as the ruined mess gave way, compacting and forming itself to the shape of her tremendous sole.  She thought of the people, trapped and pinned in the darkness, and the way they were slowly being flattened and crushed beneath her.  It was so deliberate, so ruthless and cruel.

And she loved it.

It was exactly what they deserved.  She almost certainly wasn’t ending the lives of men exclusively, but all of this was what men had build, and the women who bowed to their demands and allowed everything to come to this point were nearly as bad as the men themselves.

They were all guilty.

Laurel turned from the street, the ball of her foot twisting once more on the impromptu mass grave she’d so casually created.  There was no reason to hold back, nothing to keep her from going straight for what she wanted.

Business men.  Executives.  Fat cats, middle managers, and every prick in HR.  Her toes bulldozed through a few small buildings as she took her first step towards downtown, fully intent on cutting a path straight to the heart of the city.  Nearly every person trapped in that particular church and grocer pulverized without her notice, though the sensation of buildings crumbling beneath her foot was a thrilling new experience.

Her shins smashed through city blocks as she strode forward, though Laurel was in no rush.  Her knee drove through the side of a warehouse, and she took the time to kick her leg out with all of her unimaginable force, sending an explosion of rubble and smashed human debris scattering over the buildings and streets before her.  Her fists swung as godlike hammers, crashing through any structure in her reach too large to simply topple with her legs.  Every one of her limbs smashed through the air as she pushed on, the low grunts and growls of her efforts accompanying the whirlwind of destruction raining down on everything in her path.

That’s what she was here to do.  She was here to destroy.  To break, to smash, to kill, to crush… that was all she had left, but that didn’t matter one bit.  Destruction was all that she wanted.

By the time she smashed her way through to center city, the swirling dust of the devastation began to cling to her body, the dirt obscuring the gleam of her sweat-touched flesh.  Her dusty fingers pushed through her dark, matted hair, clearing her vision as she turned to glance over her shoulder for a moment, looking with satisfaction on the brutal annihilation she’d brought.

Hundreds and hundreds were dead at the very least, smeared into pavement or splattered beneath tons of stone and steel.  Where Laurel had been, nothing was left but ruin and death, and that was only the beginning.

There was a fair amount of open space in the downtown area, at least compared to some cities.  Plenty of people were crowding the pavement, pushing and shouting and trying for all they were worth to get out of sight, get away and hide.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” Laurel declared to the swarming crowds.  She stepped from the ruined mass of construction and carefully positioned her foot over the primary street leading away from the area, letting it hover briefly over the horrified, screaming and struggling pile of humanity choking the roadway for just a moment.  Their already intense terror redoubled into a total and blind panic as the people stared upwards at the dusty curves of the giantess’s incomparable sole.

Chunks of crushed and broken rubble clinging to her fragrant toes slipped free as Laurel let them flex and wriggle slightly in anticipation of what she was about to do.  Boulder-sized bits of buildings rained down on the desperate people below, smashing into the crowd and ending the hopes of escape for some just slightly before she stepped down, extinguishing all hope for the rest.

They didn’t die instantly.  The idea of dozens of people pinned beneath her foot, struggling in vain for their lives was simply too exciting for Laurel to let it pass too quickly.  She let them writhe and scream and weep, trapped beneath her heel and arch and toes while she savored their last moments.

Finally, Laurel let her weight start to shift forward, gradually building the pressure on the many people underfoot until she felt them begin to burst, the numerous crunches and the spreading warm wetness sending a long, involuntary shudder through her entire massive being.  It took a heavy sigh to steady herself once her sole sank into the concrete, utterly smashing every thing living and otherwise that happened to be beneath it.

“Out on the street,” she firmly declared, her voice low and imperious as it rang out through the city.  “Your buildings won’t save you,” Laurel continued, pausing to drive her fist through the side of an office tower and send most of it toppling to the streets below, blocking off even more avenues of escape.  “Come out and face your judgment.”

It wasn’t easy to tell with all the swirling tides of panicked people on the ground, but when she stepped towards the next largest building within reach, again relishing the satisfying squelch of tiny persons splattering and flattening beneath her heel, she did notice streams of people pouring from the various exits.  

Good.  The little maggots were doing as they’re told.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around the corporate tower, feeling the stone start to give way and the glass windows shattering from the faintest pressure.  She had no idea that it would be so rewarding to feel these tremendous structures and buildings just… just fucking break.  Her immense leg rose and Laurel let out a soft grunt heard by millions as she smashed her knee through the side of the tower, wrenching back with her arms at the same time.

The huge office tower simply imploded in her grasp, and Laurel couldn’t resist letting out soft sigh of satisfaction as she experienced the blast of concrete chunks and powdered rubble and tiny mangled men spraying across her bare, glistening body.  This was power.  This was the power she was meant to have, and destruction--that was her purpose.

Laurel took a deep breath and looked down, pausing just a moment to drink in the devastation below her before the swung her foot through the stump of the collapsed office tower, strewing the millions of little bits that the lower floors became across a few city blocks and further filling the streets with impassable ruination.

She gathered her strength and shoved another structure slightly more than half her height onto its side, grinning as she watched it break apart and shatter when it hit the ground.  Nobody was going to escape her now.  She’d choke the streets with the smashed ruins of the very offices they’d sat in day after day.  This was her city now.  They were her people, and they were going to stay right where they were, even if she had to trap them there.

News cameras and thousands of fearful eyes followed the giant nude goddess’s every move as she swirled about downtown, flinging and kicking buildings to pieces with methodical determination.  Emergency personnel found every route into the area filled and blocked off with the mingled, pulverized rubble that had once been the city’s skyline.  Ambulances and fire trucks backed up as the paramedics and others tried to clamber through the shattered stone while the few that managed to make it that far struggled to find some way out.

Laurel looked down over the thousands she held more or less trapped, grinning slightly as she watched them all scurry away from her.  One or two might leak out through the cracks, but by this point she could tell they were staring up at her and simply, blindly fleeing for all they were worth.  People started to pile up against the mountain of rubble she’d made, as far as they could manage to get from where she stood.

Did they think they were safe?  Did they think they could get away?  Laurel sneered as she whirled about on them, striding directly for the piling mass of humanity with deadly purpose.  Her footfalls sent the earth to shuddering, hunks of stone tumbling from the tops of the the piles she’d created.  Boom.  Boom.  Five swift steps one after another.  The fear and panic drove most more ferociously, sending them clawing at each other and the rubble before them, but many couldn’t resist turning to watch.

They were the only ones to see it coming.  Laurel barely broke stride as her dusty bare foot rose into the air above the densely packed pile of people, her immense toes casting them into their looming shadow for just a moment before they smashed down, pulping through the screaming, scrambling things in an instant.  Her heel rose into the air and her lips parted as she started to twist and grind her foot into what was left of them, a huge grin of wicked delight taking hold of her while she smeared dozens of helpless people together in one huge, gory wet mess.

“Go ahead,” she purred, dragging her foot back and admiring the bloody, dirty smear she’d created.  “Run.”

They did.  At least, the ran from her as best they could.  It was so easy, the little things were so tiny and so, so simple to control.  She nudged them forward with her bloodstained, dirty toes, chuckling as the little people tumbled over one another in their haste to preserve their pathetic lives.

She circled around, smiling brightly as she herded her little people with her feet, spurring them on and occasionally experiencing the pleasing, warm sensation of a few stragglers squishing beneath her toes.  They were all as dumb as they were weak, and before long the vast majority were bunched together before her.  Some were still spiraling off from the group and making their way towards the fringes of the almost crater-like space Laurel had created, but she was satisfied with how many she’d gathered.

Hundreds of the frightened, fleeing people were flung from their feet as Laurel dropped to her knees in their midst.  Dozens were smashed deep into the pavement as her knees sank in, and those who weren't flat on the ground and struggling to pull themselves back up were busy recoiling from the ruthless feminine sky that seemed to be falling down on them.

Laurel leaned forward, firmly planting her palms in the middle of the crowd and grunting softly as her sensitive flesh felt the frail little people beneath them squelching and spreading to a smeary paste.  She lowered her head to carefully scrutinize her captives, delighted with the added details she could make out and how clearly she could hear the shrill chorus of their terrified screams at this level.

She'd almost put the fact that they were all real living people out of her mind during all of the systematic, brutal destruction she'd wrought on downtown, but now she had what she really wanted.  Of course there were all different sorts of people gathered in the area, but there was no shortage of what Laurel was looking for.

There they were.  Suits.  Ties.  Fancy stuffed shirts and slick haircuts.  They were just part of the system and the world of cruel injustice, but they were definitely the part that Laurel hated most.

"Look at you," she growled, her face hovering just above the agonized and horrified crowd, her voice crashing into their comparably tiny bodies with measurable force.  "You thought you could hold us back forever, didn't you?"

Laurel felt the indignant rage of the entire day's events rising back up within her, mingling with and even starting to overtake her righteous passion for the destruction she had caused and would continue to create.  Her gorespattered hand rose from the crowd and curled into a fist, squashed bits of businessmen and contractors and tourists alike dribbling down onto the people below before she drove her knuckles through them, spraying every little person within a radius of several yards with their instantly smashed remains.

"We won't be overlooked.  We won't be held back and held down.  We won't be abused."

Laurel spoke for a hundred generations of female suffering and oppression.  That was her purpose now: even the score, show the world... history would never forget these moments.  Nobody would ever forget her vengeance.  Her other hand raked through the swarming, sobbing crowd, ripping up a handful of people that were more or less intact.

"How does it feel?"  Her fingers slowly started to curl in on themselves.  The people writhing about in Laurel's grimy grasp had more than enough time to understand what was about to happen to them.  "I was powerless.  I was insignificant."  Laurel could feel them fighting back, struggling against the faintly yielding flesh of her fingers.  She could feel the resistance and it was easy and simple and wonderful to just squeeze through it.

She watched intently as a warm pinkish-red mess began to squelch through her fingers, grinning with dark satisfaction as she felt dozens of little lives slowly ending in her grasp, one wet crunch and pop at a time.  "I guess you know how that feels now," she mused while her fingers clenched to a tight fist, then slowly opened to reveal the gory, grimy smears that were the only remnants of those she'd just scooped up.

Laurel watched at the horrid pulp sloughed from her tilting hand and splattered over another group of victims, smashing and smothering a few more of them to death.  As the dwindling masses trembled in her shadow, she shuddered with a growing, devilishly sadistic lust that had been building throughout the afternoon with each shattered human life and crumbled city block.  Her ponderous body slowly turned as she lowered herself to the ground, hundreds more bursting and smearing their vital warmth along her skin as she rested on her side.  She drew her hand gently along her dust-caked flesh, trailing trickles of blood and shredded garments as she teased herself.  Her slightly sticky palm gently cupped a breast that others had once described as smallish, the gritty feel of obliterated remains and smashed concrete brushing across its rigid peak sending another shudder through her body and bringing forth the longest, lowest moan of the day.

"It doesn't matter how brilliant we are," she muttered, continuing to tease herself while her free hand gently raked through the dwindling crowd, batting people about with casual disinterest and shattering bones and bodies so easily that the sensations were beneath her notice.  "It doesn't matter how educated or dedicated we are, you take the power.  You take the money.  You take and take and take."

Laurel dragged her fingers towards her, pulling along a fresh pile of people to enjoy.  More than a few slipped beneath her fingertips and were smashed, or ripped to pieces as they caught on broken steel or some other destroyed piece of their city, but there were plenty left to slide along her torso.  Some stuck and struggled along the way, slipping from her fingers and finding their bodies too broken to overcome the faint stickiness of her skin's drying sweat.

The rest found themselves slowly being smashed into the soft, pliable flesh of the colossal woman's bosom as she used their struggling bodies to stoke her own's growing lustful fire.  "You even take our bodies," she breathed, her soft voice still easily carrying throughout the city.  "You've been using and violating us since the dawn of time."  Laurel couldn't resist placing a sultry emphasis on those words, squeezing and kneading and smashing people into her already bloodied breast.

"You rape us," Laurel hissed, her eyes fluttering briefly as she felt another wave of people pinned beneath the growing pressure of her palm squelch and spurt across her skin.  "You raped me, you little fucks."  Her voice once again took on a dark and vicious, angry edge, though the cameras and microphones captured that more than the wailing, terror-stricken mob.  She squeezed now, pushing her grimy palm slowly across the ultra-sensitive, firm point of her breast and finishing off the rest of the wriggling little things in her hand.

"Now it's our turn."  Laurel stretched her legs out, pushing her feet through several buildings and homes that had been small enough to escape her notice earlier as well as a number of people who had thought themselves lucky enough to break away from the towering, monstrous woman's attentions.  They were bulldozed and flattened into the ground along with everything else in the way, and Laurel was slightly more relaxed.  "It's my turn."

Laurel pulled her knees back towards her chest, curling her body around the broken bundle of humanity still before her.  Her thighs and knees shoved another number of fleeing hopeful survivors back into the group, some relatively intact, some battered and paralyzed and broken by the sheer force of her casual, thoughtless motions.  "Let's see how it feels when I'm the one raping you," she coldly suggested with an eager grin, snatching up another handful of struggling citizens.

Laurel's knees parted as her clenched hand slid down along her body, gliding across her thighs and guiding her captives towards her glistening, eager slit.  The backs of her fingers only grazed her swollen lips, bringing a sharp, soft gasp from deep in her chest that grew to a low, rumbling groan as she opened her fingers, little the little assholes spill across her blazing mound.

Laurel's body had been begging for release for hours, and just the first faintest touches captivated the giantess completely.  She had imagined drawing all of this out, putting on a display for the cameras and the remaining members of the little group she'd pulled together, but now she just wanted to use the little bastards to get herself off.  Her hand shifted, cupping herself and pressing the screaming, struggling pile of people into her as she rolled over, her soft belly and breasts smashing through the crowd, bringing a deep and earnest gasp of shocking pleasure out to echo through the city.

She continued to roll, though.  Laurel didn't give a tiny damn about the people still on the ground, she just wanted to be on her back.  Her titanic frame plowed through the men and women, squelching more beneath her ribs and hip and even more beneath her shoulderblades.  She shifted and breathed, soft and slow as she let her fingers spread slightly, their tips tracing her pink folds, pressing and smashing tiny people as she teased herself for just a moment longer.

She could feel them struggling for their very lives, some pinned beneath the small of her back, pushing and straining impotently as she, the uncaring goddess, simply smashed them without a thought.  She could feel them slipping inside her, clawing and shrieking even as her mammoth hand slid further over them.  She slowly, firmly settled the heel of her palm down on them, forcing the tiny people into her and against her and feeling them squish and struggle with such unexpected, thrilling detail.  Her hips shifted and bucked as she started to grind against her hand, letting the pressure alone stimulate and drive her surmounting euphoria along with the thoughts of all those worthless, miserable tiny suited shits suffering and choking and crushing against and inside her awesome and amazing pussy.

No.  Her womanhood.  They were helpless, insignificant little objects before her glorious, godly, almighty womanhood.  She was using them, fucking them, raping the little bastards to death with her wondrous womanhood.

Laurel gasped and groaned, and a piercing, ecstatic wail broke free from her and exploded through the air, drawing blood from the tiny ears of the minuscule portion of people she'd gathered that were still alive.  Her toes spread, her knees clenched and her back arched, her heels sinking into the shattered pavement as waves of utterly fulfilling pleasure ripped through her massive frame.  Her squeals of exquisite pleasure softened to soft, feminine grunts and growls as her hand pushed and slid against her slick sex, smashing and smothering the last remnants of the people she'd scooped up while a few more slowly ceased their struggled, drowning in her freely flowing juices.

It was over in mere minutes, the swiftest and most powerful orgasm of Laurel's young life.  Her body slumped back to the ground, legs lazily kicking out as a few more horribly unlucky individuals were instantly splattered beneath her backside without her notice.  The giantess laid where she was for a while, just panting and letting herself slowly reflect on everything that had happened and everything she had done since that morning, and despite the lingering glow of the immensely satisfying preceding moments, there was still a gnawing, hollow emptiness somewhere deep in the young woman's core.

Laurel opened her eyes. She slowly rolled her head from side to side, looking over the smoldering ruins and the huge tracts of messy gore and obliterated humanity surrounding her, seeing it for the first time from ground level.  It was incredible to think that she'd done it all herself, even impossible to consider.  If she focused and really tried, Laurel could make out recognizable remnants of downtown... a recognizable tree here and a mostly-intact deli there, but by and large, it was all just fucking gone.

This wasn't her doing.  This was the work of some inconceivable monster, something out of a terrible movie or something, perhaps, but not the stylish, softly-spoken simple girl that she was.

Laurel lifted her head, propping herself up on her elbows as her dark eyes slowly roamed along her naked, filthy, blood-caked body.  Dust and sweat matted her long, black hair to her cheeks and back, and she smelled of smoke and sex and death.

That girl was gone, obviously.  The Laurel people knew was dead, killed by the world's betrayal and oppression and abuse, and all that remained was this monster.  She was the monster, the monster the world had created, and the monster was all that Laurel had left.

She rolled slowly back onto her side, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out in a heavy, lingering sigh.  She spotted a speck of movement in the mostly pancaked and pulverized bodies stretching out before her, noticing a young man in a tattered blazer trying to drag himself through the gore.  Almost by instinct she stretched out a fingertip and squashed him into the ground, giving a little twist to ensure he became another unrecognizable part of the wretched pile of gruesome remains.

Fine.  She'd was a monster.  She could deal with that; it did feel pretty goddamn incredible to be the monster, and that's what she'd be for the rest of her life.  Maybe they really would talk about her in years to come when the conversation turned to gender issues.  Maybe all the vengeance and punishment would make a difference for girls somewhere down the line.  Probably not, but that hardly mattered.  Laurel was dead already, and it wouldn't take too long for the military or whoever to find a way to kill the monster, too.

Until then, the next city was only a few miles away.  She could be there, teaching a whole new set of misogynist shitheads a lesson in minutes flat.