Diane by Rattlehead

A young woman has a terrible morning, then takes out her frustrations on the inhabitants of a city.

Categories: Violent, Giantess, Crush, Destruction, Growing Woman Characters: None
Growth: Giga (1 mi. to 100 mi.), Mega (501 ft. to 5279 ft.)
Shrink: None
Size Roles: None
Warnings: Following story may contain inappropriate material for certain audiences
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 8 Completed: No Word count: 32453 Read: 133039 Published: September 16 2017 Updated: August 25 2018

1. Chapter 1 by Rattlehead

2. Chapter 2 by Rattlehead

3. Chapter 3 by Rattlehead

4. Chapter 4 by Rattlehead

5. Epilogue by Rattlehead

6. Chapter 5 by Rattlehead

7. Chapter 6 by Rattlehead

8. Chapter 8 by Rattlehead

Chapter 1 by Rattlehead

There was always a line at Starbucks. Every weekday morning for the past year or so since she graduated from college with a less-than-useful degree in Theatre Studies and reluctantly started her career in white collar mediocrity, Diane would ride the cramped subway train into the city, stand in line with the dozens of other commuters desperate for their first caffeine hit of the day, and then walk the remaining mile or so to the office. Today, of all days, was no different; it was a warm, humid Tuesday as she waited patiently for her turn, the swirling mass of patrons in business suits and ties pushed and jostled her as they fought for either space to sit or stand in the cramped room or to escape through the door blocked by yet more people in varying states of irritability trying to get in. 

The morning sun peeked through the tall office buildings across the road, filling the busy little coffee shop on the corner with a warm, welcoming orange glow. Diane felt anything but welcome, however; she never did surrounded by so many people who towered over her petite 5’2” frame. Most, however, would not give any indication that they noticed her at all. Customers would barge past her, knocking her or pressing her into the wooden counter with no apology or recognition of the discomfort that they had put her through. On occasion, someone might carelessly spill their hot drink on her faded white shirt as they attempted to squeeze out of this too-small coffee shop, and thus berate her for somehow being responsible for their lost beverage, before giving up and leaving her embarrassed and ashamed.

This time, as she waited, she felt something brush against her backside. She thought nothing of it, and instead tried to pass the time waiting for the baristas to finish with someone else's order by re-reading the menu on the wall for the fiftieth time. It was probably nothing, just the middle-aged guy in smart charcoal grey suit and red tie behind her shifting to get comfortable. His hand touched her shapely rear once more, but instead it lingered, then turned to clasp around a buttock and squeeze through the conservative grey skirt that covered it.

Diane tried to move away from this pervert, but there was nowhere to go except straight into the man playing with his phone immediately in front of her, who reacted by her bumping into him with little more than a brief glance and a condescending roll of his eyes. As the man behind her continued to unashamedly grope her in public, her hand gripped the side of the counter tightly and she whipped her head around, sending the brown locks that framed her round face dancing, to see her tormentor. She found herself face to face with the man's chest, seeing little more than an expensive red tie against a pale blue dress shirt, and when she looked up she saw an austere, stern face with a patrician bearing that belonged more at a country club for society's bluebloods than a mere common Starbucks groping strange women. He stared fixedly at the space above her head, though his hand continued with its sordid violation of her body.

Diane looked around and silently pleaded with everyone around her to intervene on her behalf. She imagined some noble stranger, tall, dark, and handsome, to heroically cast aside his macchiato and come to her rescue by beating the crap out of this dirty old man. But no, either no one paid enough attention or they simply didn’t care. Nobody so much looked in her direction, leaving her to suffer the indignity alone. A strong, independent woman would have raised hell, slapped him in the face, and publically exposed him for disgusting pervert he was, but she found herself frozen and incapable of action. Her cheeks flustered a deep red from the sheer embarrassment, and all she felt she could do was stand there in the line, get her coffee, then escape as quickly possible.

The line had barely moved. She peered around the oblivious man in front, still absorbed in his phone, and saw at the very end some woman in a pretty floral dress was arguing with the barista about some mix-up with her order. Judging from the growing volume of the irate lady's voice and the barista's increasingly pathetic apologies it was not likely that the issue would be resolved soon, and nor would the line advance. By now, the embarrassment was rapidly turning into anger, and inwardly a pulsing heat, like a ball, swelled within her chest, which had started to feel tight and constrained against both her bra and shirt.

Diane decided that she had had enough, and turned abruptly to face her tormentor, accidentally shoving the man in front and almost knocking his phone from his hands. Mercifully, the disgusting pervert's hand had ceased grabbing her rear, and he simply stood there looking down on her with a practiced expression of confusion as though, inexplicably, she was the one acting strangely. But when she came face to face with the man, she found herself unable to say anything. The tirades of anger that she had spent the past five minutes practicing in her head had suddenly left her mind, leaving her without any ammunition with which to bring this haughty fool down from the pedestal his presumed wealth and power had placed him upon. She let out an exasperated sigh and slipped past him, through the crowd of patrons, and back out into the welcome open air of the street.

Cheeks flushed red and her chest feeling tight and restricted she marched down the sidewalk to work, all the while her mind raced with thoughts admonishing her for her failure to stand up for herself. Despite her small stature, the pace of her walk and the profoundly pissed-off expression on her face encouraged the faceless mobs of people to get out of her way. She should have said something, she thought, but no, it wasn't the first time she had failed to assert herself despite clearly being in the right. The other patrons might have even backed her up had she protested loudly enough, or they might have continued in their little self-absorbed worlds, but either way she would have at the very least felt vindicated. Furthermore, she could still feel the man's hand on her butt cheek, like the after-image from a bright flash, the filthy, dirty sensation lingered against her skin like a stain. And everyone else there in that Starbucks had simply stood there and let it happen. The hot feeling in her chest subsided into a sick, violated feeling in her stomach, and that she had a long day of work did little to improve her foul mood.


The office was a modest thirteen storey brick building that stood under the shadows of its far larger cousins a few miles away deeper downtown. Positioned, however, on the corner of a fairly busy junction and within walking distance from the subway station, Carter & Son Insurance was popular with those seeking a professional service but were without the means to afford those in the fancier glass towers in the city centre. It was here that Diane worked, shackled behind a desk to play some small part in processing the never-ending stream of finance that fuelled this city.

She paused in the street in front of the great set of glass double doors. Her chest still felt tight, as though her top had somehow shrunk during her morning commute, and try as she might she could not relax her breathing to the point where it felt comfortable. Now that she thought about it, everything she wore felt a little bit too tight - her sleeves were too short, her high heeled shoes pinched around her toes awkwardly and painfully, and her skirt squeezed her waist, hips, and rear. In the end, she settled for undoing a few buttons on her shirt to allow her breath better, thus revealing a less-than-professional glimpse of cleavage. Trying to force the unpleasant encounter at the Starbucks out of her mind, she grabbed a small mirror out of her handbag and quickly checked her appearance. After all, insurance was a competitive world, and even the small advantage imparted by looking pretty for the managers who ran the office would contribute to her success; a brief application of foundation softened the angry red flush that had come to her cheeks, and she hastily applied the glossy scarlet lipstick that her boss, Gary, had been so very fond of.

There was no point in putting it off any longer, and she sucked in as deep a breath as her straining bra would allow, then pushed through the front door. Gary was waiting for her by the main reception desk, making vacuous conversation with Maureen, the receptionist, about his new car or something. Diane's boss was a young-ish man in the twilight years of his twenties, and seemed determined to eke out what he believed to be the best part of life before thirty rolled around and ruined everything. When he saw her approach, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, he stopped speaking mid-sentence and grinned in her direction.

"You're late," said Gary, pointing at the large clock that hanged from the wall just behind and above Maureen's head. It read four minutes past nine in the morning.

Diane was about to protest that four minutes really did not make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but thought better of it. "Sorry," she said, "the subway was a bit slow today."

"Then you should have woken up earlier. Time is money here, so make sure you make up for your lateness."

A whole four minutes, she thought, any longer without me and the building might have caught fire. She found her fists clenching by her sides, but sucked in a deep breath, causing her chest to swell against the inexplicably tight confines of her clothes, and forced an insincere smile. The fact that he was still grinning like an idiot and appeared to be speaking more to her chest, which by now felt as though was about to burst free from her bra, only served to infuriate her further. "Of course, sir."

"See that you do," said Gary firmly, or at least he attempted to. His demeanour always came off as someone trying too hard to assert himself as though he felt the constant need to prove that he deserved his position of power within the company, or so the office gossip went. "Are those new heels? They make you look a little taller."

"No, they're just the same ones I've always worn," said Diane, looking away from a gaze that seemed too fixated on her chest to be comfortable. She hadn't noticed it earlier on the walk to work or in the elevator, but she was taller. It was almost imperceptible, but she had the nagging, uneasy sensation that the top counter of reception desk she stood next to should have reached her shoulders and not just her armpits. "I'm trying to stand up straighter, to help my posture. Sitting behind that desk all day can't be helping it."

"It suits you," he said, and Diane could feel his lecherous gaze examining every inch of her body. It wasn't the first time he'd spent a little too long staring at her generous bust, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. That she had been forced to expose her cleavage more than she would have done otherwise at work just to breathe properly only seemed to encourage Gary, and it made her feel sick.

"T-thank you," she stammered out. She made an awkward gesture to the elevators in the corner of the office. "Excuse me, but I need to use the bathroom."

Gary shook his head in apparent mock-disappointment and tutted. "On company time?"

Diane blushed hotly, and said nothing as she limped awkwardly the short distance to the reception's WC. She just heard Gary make an offhand comment about this being 'her time of the month' just as the door slammed shut behind her. The heat inside centre of her chest had not only returned, but grown in intensity. She felt as though she was burning up from the inside. Her shoes were no longer uncomfortable, but causing her feet pain, so she kicked them off. When she bent over to pick them up off the tiled floor, a loud 'rip' signalled the seams of on the back of her skirt had ripped. Angry and confused, she growled in exasperation of a day that just seemed to be getting worse and worse just as it had barely started, went inside a cubicle, and locked the door behind her.

As she calmed down, she noticed that the top of the cubicle door was approximately at eye level. Diane had barely enough time to register this confusion when her bra had finally given up with an audible snap, and her breasts, once considered merely large were now enormous, spilled out. The buttons of her shirt had popped off, and the seams around her expanding shoulders and arms ripped until the flimsy cotton fabric fell away. Her skirt lasted a little longer, with the hemline riding up and up to almost mini-skirt proportions before the elastic waistband simply snapped from her growing waist. The last of her clothing to give way was her panties, which had been riding up between her soft cheeks and pinched awkwardly at her nether lips. The front was a small triangle of fabric stretched to its limit, and it was barely capable of the task of concealing her neatly trimmed pussy. She had little choice but to remove it, which she did by simply grasping what little remained and tear it away.

The heat in her chest spread outwards, originating from between her breasts it travelled along arteries and veins, filling her body with its almost sensual glow. Her head hit the ceiling but she barely noticed, but merely crouched to allow herself a momentary respite. The cubicle, previously just merely undersized, had become cramped; her legs, curled up against her torso and embraced by her arms, pressed against the cubicle door until the hinged broke and the flimsy wooden thing fell forwards. Her hips, upper arms, and shoulders likewise rubbed up against the side walls, until they too failed to contain the growing woman and became broken splinters. The toilet itself, designed merely with the average American in mind, shattered into porcelain shards under the increasing mass. Water from the pipes splashed her, bringing her intoxicated mind back to reality.

Diane screamed when she saw herself. She was huge: her curled-up body practically filled one half of the ladies' bathroom, and despite leaning forward so her head touched her knees and her breasts were squashed against her thighs she could feel the ceiling tickle her hair. Were she to straighten her neck and spine her head would probably push through the grey ceiling panels and perhaps even into the floor directly above. Her clothes were tattered shreds scattered about her, though a few clung to her naked body. Abruptly, the door connecting the bathroom to the main reception swung open, and Maureen stared gormlessly at her from the threshold.

"Help me!" Diane shouted. By instinct she brought her left arm over her breast to conceal her nipples, whose aureoles were now larger than the comparatively tiny woman's face.

The receptionist fled, slamming the door behind her. Diane let out an exasperated sigh in response, which was amplified greatly by her new size. Her hands clenched into fists, she pounded her right into the grey tiled floor beside her in frustration, and when she lifted it she was amazed and impressed to see a spider's web of cracks emanating from a fist-shaped crater. However, she had little time to marvel at the newfound strength her increased size brought her; the top of her head pressed against the ceiling tiles, which pushed back and forced her to curl up in a tighter ball, while her feet and then her legs pressed up against the wall. 

The bathroom seemed to shrink around her, trapping her in an increasingly claustrophobic box until her growing body was pressed in on all sides by smooth tiles and white walls. Diane screamed, fearing that her inexplicable growth would lead to her not only being trapped in this room, of all places, but also dying horribly in it. But then, in an act of desperation she placed her palms on the ceiling that bent her neck into an awkward, painful position, and then pushed upwards in tandem with her head. Mercifully, the ceiling collapsed under her superior strength, and straightening her neck her head burst into the empty break room on the floor above, followed by her shoulders, and then her breasts.


Gary had tried to ignore the floor shaking beneath his feet, as did everyone else in meeting room 3-C, but while he initially tried to dismiss the tremors as the result of engineering work on the floor below and continue with his presentation on cost-saving measures, one that Hannah, his personal assistant, had spent hours preparing, when they grew to a sufficiently high intensity so as to send the whiteboard toppling over it became clear it was time to evacuate. The CEO was the first to suggest stopping, to which everyone else, including Gary, agreed with wholeheartedly. The floor shuddered awkwardly as he tried to follow the stumbling line of his colleagues out of the room and into the corridor. Without warning it lurched as if the entire building had been hit with some great unseen force, and sent everyone toppling simultaneously into the left wall.

Screams echoed through the corridor, and through glass doors Gary could see a number of people he worked hiding under their desks for protection. The sounds of things breaking, collapsing, and twisting from below his feet had become an indistinct, constant drone of noise. Further along the corridor where the stairwell to presumed safety lay, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered once, twice, and then died. As he struggled back to his feet the floor was juddering and shaking unevenly, making progress difficult. The fire alarm sounded, shrieking its atonal scream throughout the shaking building, which at least had the effect of muffling the sound of the building beginning to collapse.

"Is it an earthquake?" shrieked Nicola, Director of Finance, as Gary passed her clinging tightly to her office's door frame.

"We don't get earthquakes in this part of the country!" said Gary. He had little time to think on the absurdity of his statement, as the floor beneath him suddenly gave way.

Nicola shrieked, but was gone in the eruption of dust and debris that suddenly filled the air. Blinded by the cloud of thick dust, Gary tumbled and fell against shattered masonry and broken furniture and God knows what else, feeling only an onslaught of blows against his limbs, chest, and back. Somehow, he eventually managed to right himself, and clung tightly to what felt like a gently sloping surface that was quite warm against his battered body. There, he lay face down on what he took to be a large slab of concrete, not daring to open his eyes as the building disintegrated around him. Yet even in his panicked state, gasping desperately for the dust-clogged air and being battered by all manner of things until his body became a bruised wreck, the disconcerting sensation of being lifted upwards rapidly, as though in an elevator, felt incongruent with the knowledge that for whatever reason this entire structure was collapsing in on itself. 

Abruptly, the roar of shattering glass, breaking concrete, and the screams of his co-workers, once deafening, faded away into the distance, and Gary became suddenly aware of cool air buffeting him instead of fragments of the building's failing structure. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and lifted his head up, and felt a jab of pain in his neck and back. Despite this, the absence of any sense in what he saw made him ignore the agony that coursed through his body. Instead of seeing the ruins of his workplace burying him alive, he saw a blue sky above with clouds drifting through it lazily. He was atop what he took to be a hill that rose up ahead of him, and was covered in the same grey-brown dust that now covered his torn and bloodied suit. Here and there he could see piles of smashed masonry, the remains of cubicles, printers, computers, and other things that he couldn't guess. The ground shifted, nearly sending him tumbling down this 'hill' with the debris that cascaded past him. Scattered across this hill were other people, some badly injured and looking like ghosts with the grey dust and blood covering them, and all in the same predicament he was in. A few had tried to stand, but found that the footing here was strangely unsure and ended up falling over again anyway.

The more Gary looked around at his surroundings the less sense it made. Behind him, the downward slope of this peculiar hill grew steeper such that it appeared to end rather abruptly some distance away. Beyond that, however, he had a view of the city from a perspective far higher than the top floor of the now destroyed office building. He had no frame of reference with how high up he was, but he couldn't see any of the larger structures that surrounded the building, only the far taller skyscrapers further downtown. The ground too felt strange; it was softer than he expected, like lying atop firm mattress, and when he brushed away the dust that covered it away he saw that it had an off-white colour and was covered with tiny shallow lines and small bumps. It was like... skin, he thought, then he looked up ahead of him and the penny dropped.

The 'hill' rose to a pair of shoulders like huge cliffs, then up to an elegant neck, and finally the beautiful face of Diane staring down at him. He was clinging to her breast, which he had spent much of the year or so the now lusting over, like a tiny insect. It was doubtful she could even see him, but the look of concern and confusion on her face, framed by now messy brown locks, turned to a frown as she looked down on him. A vast hand appeared overhead, and through the gaps between fingers each the size of trains he and everyone else trapped on her left breast could catch glimpses of the face of woman who was about to casually, and even unknowingly, crush them. Gary screamed, which was cut short when he was smeared across this goddess's skin.


When Diane's growing form had burst out of the office building, crushing the surrounding structures on the block too, she stumbled forwards into the street. A small crowd of people had gathered when they saw the building itself shake, office workers fleeing from the every available exit, and cracks appear on the edifice. The people standing around watching had less than a second to react between the growing woman erupting from the collapsing building, sending debris and dust into the streets below, and her enormous feet crashing straight on top of them, one after the other. Dozens or so were crushed instantly beneath her, sending the survivors into a mad panic to escape.

The sounds of screams sounded faintly distant to Diane, and grew fainter and fainter as she soared higher and higher. The heat that had spread through her body and clouded her mind faded, and it was then that she dared to open her eyes. 

"Oh, wow!"

She immediately noticed two things: she was massive and she was completely naked. She was also almost completely covered in a light coating of grey-brown dust, and 'small' piles of rubble had settled in her hair, on her shoulders, and on the top of her bust. On impulse, she brushed her fingers over her left breast to get rid of this dust, and noticed in some places there were small streaks of red appearing on her skin. At first, she assumed that she might have been injured when she outgrew the building, but could see no obvious breaks in her skin other than a few minor scratches. She tilted her head down, and grasped a boob each with her hands and lifted them up for a closer look. There, crawling on her skin, frantically trying to flee from a gargantuan female face peering down at them, were people - real, tiny people about half an inch in size. No, she corrected herself, they weren't tiny, she was huge.

Diane gasped, her hands flew to her mouth, causing her boobs to bounce back, sending more of the tiny people tumbling off them to the ground hundreds of feet below. She looked down at her feet, peering over the rise of her generous bust, to see that she was standing in what was once a busy street corner. Her cheeks flushed red, and she bit her lip as she considered the terrible implications of having inadvertently killed dozens of innocent people by accidentally stepping on them. The street was too narrow for the entire length of her feet to fit, and so her toes had ploughed straight into the first floor of the building opposite. Looking over her shoulder immediately behind her, she saw that her workplace and the buildings surrounding it had been turned into piles of rubble. She wondered how many people had been inside when she grew, but decided that it was best not to think about it. Looking back at her breasts, there were still a few tiny people still there. Pursing her lips in concentration, she thought to save man (or was it a woman? She couldn't tell) by delicately pinching them between a finger and a thumb, but even that was too much and the poor guy was squished between them, becoming yet another red smear on her fingers. She gave up on that idea, it was impossible for her to handle them without hurting them and it was probably best to leave them there until a more effective rescue could be launched.

Looking around, Diane saw that the majority of structures around her came up to her shins, with a few reaching her knees and even fewer up to her shapely hips. Only the skyscrapers in the city centre could hope to overtop her, but not by much she guessed. Immediately below, the streets were filled with chaos - cars and pedestrians alike were struggling in a swirling melee to get away from her. Traffic turned to a standstill as each drivers' haste to get away resulted in messy pile-ups, while people scurried around the static vehicles. The street itself was only just wide enough to accommodate the width of her feet, but it was the only way she could possibly leave this city and get into open country where she couldn't accidentally harm anyone again.

"Please, listen to me," Diane said awkwardly, trying to address the mobs at her feet. A sea of terrified, tiny faces stared back up at her. "I don't know how this happened to me, but I think we can agree it's best if I can get out of here. I don't want to harm anyone else, but I really must leave. I'm telling you to stay out of the streets." She paused, chewing her lip awkwardly as she pivoted around on the balls of her feet. The tarmac road cracked audibly as the immense amount of weight pressing down on it shifted; it felt strange to the giantess, as the hard ground deformed under her bare toes as though it was damp mud. Water pipes buried underground burst under the pressure, making her toes wet.

"I'm going to start walking now," she said. "Just stay out of my way and you'll be fine."

Diane took her first step as a giantess. Her right foot shifted forwards, but in the tight streets it was awkward, and it was impossible to do without sending the appendage tearing through the side of another building. She felt a pang of guilt as the front collapsed, leaving a strange cross-section visible to the streets. It was impossible for her to do anything without breaking something or crushing someone, it seemed, but she was still going to try and avoid that. She held her foot above the streets, her sole casting a dark shadow over the road and five abandoned cars, while the crowd had managed to move just far enough away. With her arms outstretched for balance, she placed it down with what felt like agonising slowness. Despite her care, the ground shook when her foot struck the ground, knocking many in the crowd off their feet, and a spiders' web of thin cracks spread from her footprint.

Diane wiggled her toes; from her lofty perspective she could see that her big toe towered over the bug-sized people. The abandoned cars were flattened beneath her mass, and she had to confess a certain amount of pleasure at the sensation of feeling them crumple into thin slivers of metal and plastic under her feet. The car roofs were initially cool against her sensitive skin, and immediately crumpled with barely any resistance on her part. The blaring alarms sounded for half a second before they were silenced with final crunch. As she swung her left foot over, this time extricating it and raising it above the road without too much damage to the surrounding buildings, she became acutely aware of the power she held over the multitudes of people who, until now, had been enjoying a normal day with no surprises. She thought she gave them long enough to get out of the way, and she was fast losing patience waiting for them. Her foot dropped down just in front of her other, and a half dozen or so people who had been too slow in standing up looked up to see a huge sole loom overhead. Indeed, it was the last thing they ever saw before it crushed them.

"Let that be a lesson," she said firmly. "If you don't want to join them, stay out of my way."

The next few steps brought yet higher casualties, proving they hadn't learned their lesson. Stepping on people felt different; unlike cars which were crushed with a dry but still satisfying crunch, there was a pleasant wet squish as a tiny, fragile body burst messily, bones snapped, and vital fluids oozed until they were utterly flattened in less time than it took for them to open their mouths and scream. Diane was growing increasingly frustrated by her lack of progress; how could they possibly be so stupid to stay in streets where she was walking? Nevertheless she continued, and came to another intersection. Ahead was probably the most direct route out of the city through the suburbs, where the streets were narrower but the buildings less densely packed and, in theory, fewer people there too. To the left was the city centre, with its huge, high-rise skyscrapers. Though she still wanted to get out of the city with minimal casualties, she felt a desire to see these structures that still towered over her up close.

Diane then looked down. The streets were still utter pandemonium, as the teeming mass of humanity pushed and shoved to try and get away from her. A few braver, or stupider, souls had decided to stay, filming her through the ubiquitous smart phones. The streets were still filled with cars moving at a snail's pace at best, or brought to a standstill by less careful drivers whose vehicles were now twisted wrecks entwined with others or against buildings and lampposts. She saw a few mount the sidewalk and plough through whole groups of pedestrians. Even just standing there, Diane's presence brought complete mayhem.

By her left foot she spotted something; nestled on the corner of the block between two knee-high buildings was a small, squat little box-shaped building that barely reached above her ankle. The all-too familiar combination of a green banner and white lettering denoted this as a Starbucks, and in particular the very same one that she visited nearly every single day. The tiny structure fascinated her, and she squatted down on her heels to come in for a closer look. She positioned her legs so to avoid crashing them into buildings, effectively straddling the intersection with her curvy thighs positioned at right angles along the roads.

The sight of their new goddess suddenly rushing down only drove the crowds into greater hysterics; it was one thing to be stepped on accidentally, but now she was taking a greater, more personal interest in them. Those close enough could look up, around her bent legs, to see her womanhood proudly on display, looming over them and mocking them with the knowledge that the being responsible for their plights was no random force of nature but a mere woman somehow grown to this colossal size. Those still trapped in the buildings on the opposite side of the road, however, came face-to-face with her enormous ass, at times coming so close that an enterprising pervert opened the window and reached out to touch a real-life goddess's divine rear.

Diane, however, was barely aware of this, as her attention was entirely on this little coffee shop. Looking at this Starbucks from an entirely new perspective gave her an intense rush; the knowledge that she too frequented this establishment with hundreds of other bug-sized people now staring up at her in awe and terror began to bring the reality of her situation into focus. The detail was fascinating, demonstrating that this was no mere model, no weird dream, but that it was truly real. From above the perspective was awkward, but she could still glimpse through the windows and doors to see chairs and tables and people gawking at her. 

With her breath held in her throat with mounting anticipation, she extended her hand and traced along the flat roof of the building with her index finger. She was trying to be as delicate as she could manage, but even then it crumpled slightly from her touch. Her soft, delicate fingers then stroked along the building's side, and she marvelled at the sensation of caressing a whole building. If she wanted, she could wrap her fingers around it and crush it into mere rubble. The thought had occurred to her, but she was still conflicted about deliberately causing death and destruction. She looked down the street she just walked through, and in the footprints there were clear little red splotches that were once people, like her just a few minutes ago. Those ones had been accidents for the most part, but then she remembered what had happened this morning in that same tiny building, the sheer embarrassment of what she went through and how no one else there had bothered to help her, and her mind was made up.

Of course she had no way of telling if that pervert was still there, but it didn't matter. As far as she was concerned they were all complicit. She lifted her hand and grasped the top few storeys, her fingers sinking into the structure with barely any resistance. She then tore it away and dropped the useless pile of rubble and broken furniture into the street, forgotten about before it even hit the ground. Now she could see straight into the coffee shop floor; the serving counter ran along one wall, while the remaining space was filled with tables, chairs, and couches. And people, covered in dust and frantically trying to force their way past each other to the exit towards her. The staff were fleeing through the back, but she wasn't about to let them get away with ignoring her earlier plight.

"You didn't do anything to help me when I needed it," she said, "but now that I have grown to this magnificent size, I don't see why I should do the same for you." Her index finger descended into the building, and the black and green suited workers were squished beneath it along with much of the stock room and office.

Diane then turned her deadly attention to the shop room itself. Her play had allowed time for most of the patrons to escape, scurrying around pathetically around her toes. She was content to leave them be, for now, with the only thought she gave them being that they must be enjoying the view of a lifetime now. Her fingers descended once more, filling the tiny shop and pulverising a great deal of the furniture and the counter. The mighty digits curled into her palm, collecting the surviving tables and chairs, and then lifted her hand to inspect her catch. Unsurprisingly, she had crushed most of it, but she was nevertheless impressed by the detail. Squinting, she could make out leather cushions, wooden chair struts, even miniscule cups and plates that had somehow survived.

Abruptly, Diane came back to her sense and closed her hand into a fist. That same fist then pounded the coffee shop into nothingness, such that all that remained of this corporate, cookie-cutter, trendy little Starbucks was a hole in the ground where she had broken through into the basement. She rubbed her palms clean on her chest, and then regarded the scene below. It had been a good few minutes she had spent playing, by her estimation, and the crowd had barely made any headway in evacuating from her. Rolling her eyes in contempt, she rose to her feet again, her ass brushed against the building behind her, cracking its edifice and leaving the pervert who had dared to touch her clinging tightly to the object of his desires - the biggest rear end in existence. All the goddess felt, however, was a slight tickle on her ass cheek, which she dealt with by wiping at it with a hand.

Looming over the surrounding cityscape and staring down at the mass of humanity below, it was obvious to all who could see her wicked smile what her intentions now were.

Chapter 2 by Rattlehead

"Ready or not, here I come!" she said. Her voice no longer held the concern for their well-being but a sense of playfulness instead; crushing them had become a game to her, a one-sided one that they had no chance of winning.

She raised her foot and brought it down with rather more force than her previous steps. Her sole crashed into the street, sending a shockwave that rippled through the tarmac and sent stationary vehicles and fleeing people alike tumbling over. To her surprise, however, her foot kept going through the ground and into what she thought must be a subway, where a score of people who had thought they found refuge from the monster were suddenly and abruptly flattened before they could even deduce what the sudden rumbling from above was. Diane, however, was now over-balanced and toppled forwards. Her arms spread out before her to catch her fall, but her hand sheered through the top storeys of a taller grey building that reached up to just underneath her breasts. A great, dark shadow fell on the fleeing crowd, now driven to hysterics when they looked up to see the immense form of Diane falling towards them with a speed that should have been impossible for anything that huge. There could be no escape for them, for a second her hands smashed into the ground in a vain attempt to arrest her fall, the left flattened an apartment building, while her right reached a park where a large number of people had gathered at what they mistakenly assumed was a safe enough distance, but were squashed en masse beneath a palm as wide as a city bus is long. Her knees smashed into office buildings, and drove through floor after floor until the structures failed and collapsed into dust. Her breasts likewise impacted a row of shops as a grim prelude to her great body coming to a rest atop hundreds of screaming people and buildings.

"Woops!" Diane giggled to herself as she lay atop a good few blocks of ruined city. She felt her massive body sink slightly into the ground, particularly her breasts which made two round craters where they bulged out to the sides under her body. Stepping on people had been fun, pounding a tiny coffee shop with her fist was too, but there was something she found hilarious about using her tits to crush them. Ever since puberty she had been a busty woman, which she often felt she had to hide to avoid unwanted attention, but now, these truly were the biggest boobs ever. She wondered if the men who now lay crushed to death beneath them enjoyed the prospect of touching them. Face down on her front she was surrounded entirely by buildings, and for the first time since she grew she found herself looking up at them. They rubbed up against her shoulders and hips, almost blocking her in. Ahead of her, the roads continued, despite resting her chin on the ground she still had to look down at the insects scurrying away. Thick strands of her hair, like steel cables, draped over buildings and streets, ensnaring individuals and the odd car or two.

Diane wiggled to free her right arm from under her, shaking the surrounding buildings on their foundations. She then placed her right hand on the roof of a building just to the front and right of her that looked to be the size of a shoebox standing on its smallest side, with aim to use it to help push herself up. Her fingers sank deep into the sides, but when she applied any meaningful pressure to it, her palm drove straight through and pushed the structure into the ground like it was made out of dry crackers. The resulting dust cloud filled the streets below, at least until she wafted it all away with a wave of her hand. She grumbled in annoyance, and made it known by pounding a fist into the crowd of people just in front of her nose, leaving a neat little round crater splattered with gore. Even the buildings here were too weak for her now, though the thought of the helpless little people trapped within amused her greatly.

Turning her attention back on the insects in front of her, she decided that she wanted a closer look at them. She lifted herself up on her elbows, and the resultant shifting of so much weight sent a few of the already weakened buildings boxing her in collapsing into their own footprints. With one hand she reached out, passing over the shrieking, screaming mob. Her fingers scooped up a handful into her palm, which she then brought closer. It was amazing, this time she managed to grab maybe a dozen or so without killing most of them. She looked down at them with interest, finding it remarkable that just a short while ago she was one of them - a tiny, tiny woman scurrying through the streets. In her hand she could see all kinds of people - office clerks, managers, tourists, dumb teenagers, businessmen, rich and poor. Most of them remained huddled together and stared back in abject terror; her beautiful face, framed by messy brown hair, filled their vision, and pretty green eyes with great black pits for pupils seemed to stare into their souls and judge them like the goddess she now was.

"Hello!" said Diane, giving a little wave at her new friends with her other hand. She relished in her power now, and grinned broadly at her tiny subjects. They were all ordinary people, the sort that she used to see in the street or in the shops and gyms and restaurants she visited, but now they fascinated her. Or rather the immense difference in size between her and these regular folk fascinated her, and the power that she held over their tiny lives, which were now literally in her hands, now became truly intoxicating. The word 'goddess' had entered into her head before, but as she considered the thought further she found herself loving the idea; here she was a hundred times bigger than any of them, able to crush any of them with barely any effort on her part, and no one was in any position to argue against her.

The sudden and abrupt sensation of pins and needles on her face interrupted her fun. She looked ahead of her, forgetting about the people on her hand as she placed it on the ground in front of her, and saw that while she had been playing with them the police had arrived and formed a cordon with their cars, their red and blue lights blazing, and opened fire with small arms. The bullets hitting her only tickled, failing to even break her skin, but she felt strangely incensed that they would dare attack her.

"You think your puny guns can stop me?" she snarled.

The officers kept firing as the immense woman before them slowly stood up, revealing an undulating, desolate land between them that had through her sheer mass moulded itself to her curves. From the hordes of people still streaming towards them like a human tide, they saw her toes that each greatly dwarfed a man, then from there up to see two great skyscrapers of pale flesh that were her sexy strong legs, her bare womanhood seemingly mocking them with its brazen nakedness, a trim, athletically toned tummy, slender toned arms with her hands resting on broad hips, a pair of huge breasts that would have been merely 'big' on a normal woman, and finally a lovely face that pouted down at them. The giantess stepped towards them, once, twice, thrice, and they kept firing, hoping against hope that the constant barrage of small arms fire would do something to stop this monster, yet all it seemed to do was irritate her. The fourth step brought her foot directly above, her sole stained with dust, dirt, and disturbingly what looked like blood.

"Stupid," she said mockingly. A burst of gunfire tickled her sole.

The police broke rank and fled, with only a few remaining with their cars to keep firing in vain. It was too late however, as her foot slammed down, covering the entire police detachment beneath its immensity.

Diane smiled, and ground her foot down on the already flattened remains of her attackers. She felt powerful, and she certainly did not feel like affording these tiny people any more mercy. They had tried to attack her and they had failed, and her faith in her own divinity was reinforced through their failure. Idly her hands traced down her abs, further down until they met her pussy. She was not surprised to find herself already wet down there, and as her dust-stained fingers caressed her outer folds she let out a sensual moan that reverberated through the city. She stopped, however, and looked to the tall skyscrapers downtown, and looked to demonstrate her power further.


Maureen had been the first to witness Diane's inexplicable growth, and it was this advanced warning that meant that she was one of the desperately few people in the building to have escaped before her gigantic co-worker had outgrown it. Unlike everyone else, however, she didn't stick around to watch and fled as fast as her high-heeled shoes would allow her to what she assumed was a safe distance across the street and around the corner. There, ignoring everyone else who had rushed past her to gawk at the spectacle, she sat on the steps leading up to a bank's front door with her arms wrapped around her knees in a foetal position.

No one had paid her much attention, and when their curiosity turned to fear Maureen was still ignored. Her hands clamped around her ears, trying to block out the sound of screams cut short and of asphalt cracking one woman's footsteps. What she could not block out, however, was the feeling of ground shaking through her feet and through her backside. Each shudder turned her bowels to ice-water, and she could only sit there and pray that they would cease. It was madness; she had known Diane and seen her come in every working day for the past year, always with a cardboard takeaway cup of Starbucks coffee in her hand, and they had always exchanged the same facile pleasantries that all office workers do to maintain the illusion of a friendly and professional bond. 'She had a nice weekend, but didn't do much except to go shopping and catch up on whatever Netflix series had caught her interest' - the usual stuff.

They did not stop, but they did reduce somewhat over the course of ten minutes or so. She had no way of telling as she had left her phone behind in the office, which was now buried with dozens of people that she saw drift in and out of work every single weekday. Maureen tried not to think about that, and she sucked in a deep breath to calm her fractured nerves, and stood up. The street was curiously empty, though there were cars that had simply been abandoned either at the side or in the middle of the road. A few people had lingered, sheltering in doorways or standing around uncomprehending of what they had just seen and equally ignorant of what they should do about it. She hesitantly turned around the corner, fearing the sight that she would see. The office building of Carter & Son Insurance was a mound of rubble, as were the buildings that stood next to it. Within this hill of smashed concrete were two large depressions, which Maureen assumed was where her colleague was standing earlier.

Maureen then looked up, and scanned the city skyline until she spotted Diane, towering over buildings that stood only as high as her knees or thighs, walking away from her position. The giant woman was stark naked, as she had been when Maureen saw her in the bathroom, and she radiated raw sexual power with every arrogant step that she made through her city. It was then that Maureen thought that she might be able to catch up with her, somehow, and then talk to her, somehow, and convince her to end this madness before anyone else could be hurt, somehow... She didn't know how exactly she was going to accomplish this, but the two of them had been on friendly terms. Not very close, however, but at least warm enough for her to believe they could share a difficult conversation.

There were, however, a few obstacles in her way, aside from the increasing distance between her and the Diane: Maureen had to cross the footprints. She could have gone around the block instead, but that would have wasted too much time, she thought. The entire width of the street here had been depressed by the giantess's immense foot by an average of five feet overall, she estimated, though it was deeper where she surmised the heel, the balls of her feet, and her toes were. It was a darkly humorous thought, tracing the outlines of her co-worker's foot in a massive, street-filling footprint by the ripples and undulations and clefts in the cracked tarmac.

Maureen removed her heels and discarded them, they would only get in the way here. Carefully, she clambered over where the ground had risen up, pushed out of the way by her friend's huge left foot, and then carefully dropped down into the print. The tarmac was cracked, though some areas were more severe than others, but the sheer weight of Diane's body had rendered it surprisingly smooth. She stumbled forwards, and stopped when she came across a number of dark greasy stains, oval shaped and approximately six feet in length. Curiously, there were dirty clothes embedded into these stains that had been pressed flat as though with an enormous iron. Here, she found a man's business suit, and close by was a pretty floral dress, and further along a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

When Maureen finally understood that they used to be people she scrambled frantically over the edge of the footprint and back into the street, her hand clutched to her mouth hanging open aghast at what she had seen. She tried to run but her stomach lurched horribly, so she only made it a few steps before she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, and vomited on the tarmac.


Diane wiggled her toes eagerly and commenced her walk. She strode carelessly without much heed to where streets lay, but still watched where her feet landed. A convoy of packed buses, likely organised as part of some sort of ad hoc evacuation disappeared underfoot along with an abandoned gas station and a row of small town houses. Another step brought her foot directly through a thigh-high building, but she didn't even consider the idea of changing her path just to suit these pathetic tiny people, so a great chunk of it went flying a good few feet or so and then crashed into the ground. For everyone else, however, it was a horror show; where she was to land her goddess feet was a complete lottery, for one could watch her advance, looming closer and closer until all one could see of her was a pair of mountainous breasts and building-sized legs and sensually swaying hips, then a vast sole filling one's sky until it either came down with grim finality or swept on ahead and crushed some other unlucky people instead. In her wake she left footprints in the cement, five feet or more deep depending on whatever surface it was that she stepped on, with anyone and anything that had fallen beneath her divine sole flattened into the compacted ground - people became red stains in clothes, cars became flat pancakes, and buildings mounds of smashed rubble.

The proportion of larger buildings because denser the closer she move to downtown. Diane's swinging hips collided with a waist-high skyscraper, which wobbled awkwardly but remained standing, albeit with a slight lean. She stopped and regarded this puny building that had dared to defy her fickle, destructive whims, and with another, stronger hip-check sent it toppling over, smashing into its brother next to it, and set off a domino effect that turned half a dozen large skyscrapers, scores of smaller buildings, and uncounted hundreds of people who thought they had escaped her notice into ruin. She giggled playfully, a sound that the inhabitants of this city were fast learning to dread.

Diane found herself surrounded by toys; skyscrapers rose up around her, most only reaching her shoulders at most, and as ever the streets were filled with idiots who hadn't had the sense to get out of her way. Speaking of which, the roads had inexplicably became narrower, forcing the giant woman to squeeze between densely packed skyscrapers, whose edifices were ground away by the friction as she tried to slip past them. Her feet could barely fit these roads, colliding with the lower floors of the buildings that crowded her. Far from being inconvenienced by it, she relished the thought that she, a mere woman, albeit one of immense size, must forge her own path through these towers. The sensation of cool steel, concrete, and glass against her naked body delighted her, and served as a reminder of size and the power it brought.

A quiet droning noise caught her attention from the toys fleeing from her dominating feet, and she looked up to see a news helicopter had been following her. A vivacious giggle escaped her lips; of course these tiny people would be recording her every move. She repaid the thought by blowing them a kiss, however, the force of her breath sent the poor aircraft tumbling away out of view. There would always be more, she thought, and she amused herself at the thought of being interviewed by the insects she once called people.

The cluster of buildings opened up into a central square, where the newest structure built in this city stood tall and proud. Diane recognised the tall, glass structure immediately, and indeed she remembered that there was much excitement when it was built and opened. It was roughly the same size as her, which she vaguely remembered was about seven hundred feet in height, and had a rose from a square base amidst a beautiful garden park to a pointed pinnacle at the very top where the expensive penthouse apartments and a world class restaurant resided. The rest of it were either office or fancy hotel rooms. Either way, it was not likely a place that she, a mere lower white collar worker with a nine to five job and whose pay primarily went into paying rent, could have expected to visit. At least, not until now.

The glass facade reflected her body like a mirror, and Diane stood there admiring herself in its reflection. She was never vain, despite having grown up into a body women would have loved to have and men lusted to be with, but her shyness kept her from realising the full potential of her sexy curves. Here, however, having grown to this size and become a veritable goddess, she had ever right to flaunt it. She was still covered in dust and muck from when she grew out of her office and that which she accumulated through her rampage, but as far as she was concerned it only enhanced her now divine beauty. The make-up she had put on in the morning when small and standing outside her office building, an event that felt so long ago now, did not grow with her, leaving her pretty face strikingly natural. She decided she looked better that way, though being huge certainly helped. In fact, for the first time in her life she thought she looked almost perfect; a tan would help, as she had the pale skin of someone who spent too much of her life indoors glued to a computer screen.

Diane stepped forward for a closer look, unwittingly stepping directly on the flood of people attempting to escape via the front entrance. The survivors scrambled over her toes, but when she felt them tickle she wiggled the immense digits and sent those daring individuals flying or simply crushing them. She leaned in closer and closer, bending at the hips to keep her titanic breasts from colliding with the skyscraper just yet. The enormous globes instead had become somewhat pendulous, swaying erotically with her every movement, and her nipples pointed mockingly down at the tiny people swarming at her feet. But her attention was on the people inside the building - with her eyes a few inches, to her, from the glass she looked past her reflection to see floor after floor of endless office space, cubicle farms, empty rooms, and then up to see sumptuously furnished apartments. Squinting, she could see each floor was packed with people, some running around in a blind panic, others attempting to hide, but most simply watching back with expressions of varying degrees of terror. One, however, she found in an apartment, clad in a formal business suit but with his hands very firmly down the front of his pants, which he then dropped.

Diane laughed at his itty-bitty erection. Ordinarily she would be outraged, but she found the whole thing ridiculous. Of course, her power was supremely arousing to her, so it made sense for certain enlightened individuals to agree with her. It was a form of worship, she thought, and she was going to reward her newest acolyte.

She stepped back from the structure again, her feet trampling over yet more of the building's fleeing inhabitants in a prelude of what was to come. She closed her eyes and raised her arms above her head, and swayed her hips in tune to the music that was the sound of an entire city gripped in fear of her. Her feet rose and fell, each impact shaking the earth and by extension the surrounding structures, and with her eyes shut she was aware of every little thing and every little one being crushed beneath her. Gyrating her torso, her breasts jiggled and swayed majestically, sending her watcher, and perhaps countless others out there, into a veritable frenzy of masturbation. Her arms dropped, and once more her hands drifted to between her thighs and caressed her now aching pussy. Her fingers spread her vulva, and droplets of nectar descended hundreds of feet down to christen those who thought they could escape her feet by running between them - most were killed by the impact alone, but as the dense, heady fluid slowly spread more simply drowned in it. If she was aware of this, it would only have driven her arousal higher. Everyone was watching her, and everyone feared her, and she loved it. 

Still swinging her hips, her index fingers penetrated her vagina. She gasped, which transformed into a low moan as she slowly and shamelessly in front of an audience of thousands pleasured herself. Her other hand moved up, and squeezed a breast that overflowed her fingers. The dark nipple was already erect, and she squeezed it between a finger and thumb.

Diane was done teasing now. The pervert had finished his self-pleasure, and now it was her turn. She stepped closer, this time not taking any care about where her breasts were going to go. The huge globes engulfed the upper part of the structure with a horrid groan of twisting steel and shattering glass. Nevertheless the building still stood, though the top part stood at a drunken tilt as it was embraced by a massive woman's tits. She was about face to face with her admirer, who pressed himself against the glass and stared up in awe.

"Little man," she said, grinning and playing with her soft lower lip in the manner she knew porn stars did. "I'm not just a stripper. You're allowed to touch me."

Her left hand reached around to grasp the upper storeys, while glass shattered and rained down between her fingers. She stepped forwards, now straddling the building between her thick thighs, and ground her moist pussy against its edifice until the whole skyscraper twisted and deformed under her immense strength. Diane leaned in, pursed her lips, and planted a kiss where the man was. A kiss-shaped dab of saliva was left on the cracked glass, and from what she could tell the man had fainted.

"In fact, I'm going to let you fuck me," she said huskily. "I'm going to let all of you in there fuck me."

Diane's gyrated her hips against the skyscraper, while clinging onto the upper storeys tightly with her arms. Her moans of pleasure joined the shriek of a building being forced into stresses far greater than those envisaged by its architects. Huge thighs squeezed the building around the middle, and pumped rhythmically to grind her vulva against its surface. The glass had shattered, and floors were being invaded by the fragrant, viscous juices. Yet in truth she was disappointed; she needed something inside her, and merely rubbing herself against this monument to wealth and excess wasn't going to cut it. Wiggling back a little to give a little space between her drooling pussy and the building, her free hand reached down to penetrate the building. She closed her fingers around some things, and was delighted to find people amongst the debris she had collected.

For them it was a nightmare. At speeds that threatened to knock them unconscious, she brought her unwilling worshippers to her pussy and unceremoniously guided them into the sopping wet tunnel. There the air was hot, humid, and virtually impossible to breathe with the intense scent of a woman's arousal. They were stuck, trapped in the fluids, and could struggle in vain and then watch as more and more of their neighbours joined them.

"Yes!" she cried. Thick rivulets of sweat formed rippled lines down her naked body and left streaks of clean pale skin where it washed away the accumulated dirt. "Keep squirming for me, you tiny people!"

And she could feel them; they were only delicate tickles against her sensitive flesh, but the knowledge of their plight only served to delight her more. The once proud skyscraper had almost been snapped in two by her powerful thighs, and where the structure had been torn provided only more toys for her. She wasn't too careful with them, but a few survived the horrific journey. Diane felt she had enough in there, and inserted her fingers to masturbate with wild abandon. Her cunt squeezed against her fingers, crushing the survivors between two invincible walls of flesh.

The top portions of the skyscraper were simply mashed against her tits, decorating them in a kaleidoscope of colourful wreckage, debris, and human remains. The sensation of this vast skyscraper being mashed into utter ruin between her twin wrecking-ball tits drove her wild. Her beloved worshipper must have been amongst them, now forgotten with the rest of her fragile toys. And still she went on, her moans thundering through the streets as she rode the collapsing skyscraper, her fingers grinding against the walls of her cunt until...

Diane came with a triumphant roar. Her entire, vast body shuddered, and her embrace of the building tightened until everything about the middle section was now a twisted wreck of horror. She dropped to her knees, mashing the remaining standing portion against her quivering thighs and pussy, before she let go and the entire thing, what was once a proud testament to mankind's ability to mould its own environment, collapsed in a wretched broken heap. A beautiful skyscraper, over which hundreds of men had toiled to build was reduced to cum-stained ruin simply because Diane was horny. The climb down from her orgasm was long. Still moaning softly, her fingers massaged her womanhood until the waves of pleasure were no longer overwhelming.

She grinned from ear to ear when she surveyed her surroundings, but saw that she was absolutely filthy. In the traditional sense, of course, she just fucked a building full of people so she liked to think that she was now above such petty human ideals of morality and decency. Nevertheless, when she stood to her full, awesome size and looked down to see her entire front was covered in so much dirt sticking to her sweat, she felt she should have a bath. There were few places that could accommodate her; her first thought was the Atlantic, but even at her size getting there would be something of a trek, but then she recalled an artificial freshwater lake owned by an exclusive country club used by those rich snobs in the suburbs for recreation. Gary once mentioned that he was trying to gain a permanent membership so he could play golf at weekends. Perhaps it was time to pay them a visit, and show them what power truly meant.

Before she left however, she regarded the smashed skyscraper once more. Only the base remained at about just under knee height, and her fluids smothering the raw open top glistened nicely in the warm sun. She thought about demolishing it, but decided it was more fitting that this ruin would serve as a monument to her power.

"Mmm, was that as good for you as it was for me?" she said, then laughed gaily as she stomped off in the direction of the suburbs.

Chapter 3 by Rattlehead

It was a relief to be out of the concrete maze, she thought. Though she enjoyed fucking the building, being surrounded by skyscrapers on all sides penning her in did begin make her feel a little claustrophobic. If she was bigger, then she wouldn't have this problem, but she had no idea how she was going to accomplish that. It was an issue for another time, and instead she amused herself by turning this idyllic little suburban paradise into her own personal playground.

Once more she ignored the roads and simply let her feet fall wherever they needed to. With little town houses she didn't have to worry about stepping around, over, or through larger buildings, for a pricey colonial home and a good chunk of its yard fit quite neatly under her foot. There were still people everywhere, and seeing them scurry away from her en masse was a beautiful sight. She would, however, direct her feet to stomp on things she found particularly interesting; a particularly large group of rich people trying to run in vain away from her, a dealership of expensive foreign cars, an over-priced health food shop. Whatever it was, everything met the same fate - crushed into oblivion beneath her divine soles.

Diane could see her goal some distance away. It was a shimmering blue body of water surrounded by pleasantly craft countryside, lorded over by a magnificent country club that she wanted to introduce the bottoms of her feet to. As she came closer, she became concerned that this little pond wouldn't be big enough to accommodate her massive body, but she was sure she could still find some fun at least. Her progress was casual and lazy, as befitting a goddess; the world would have to learn to run according to her time, and there was going to be a lot of adapting for these tiny people to do in the near future whether they liked it or not.

The upper middle class and the servants in the country club could see her coming from miles away, but they hadn't thought for a moment that she would be the slightest bit interested in them. Despite her casual saunter, each of her strides crossed nearly three hundred feet in length and the distance between them and her was closing much too fast. Very soon she would be upon them, and there was little time to commit an ordered evacuation plan. By the time they had realised her murderous intentions would soon be directed on them it was far too late, and having seen what she had done in the city centre and then to the homes they built their whole lives around had done little to keep people calm and rational.

The ground trembled, and Diane crested over the nearby hill. People who had only just been enjoying rounds of golf or cards, fine wines and spirits, and intelligent discussions over exquisitely cooked meals had barely managed to leave the country club building through its many entrances, and became trapped and helpless in the luxurious open garden of the estate beneath the gaze of this massive woman, with only a few having the wherewithal to attempt to flee into the woods. Trees disappeared beneath her feet just as decisively as town houses and people, but she missed the crunch that sweeping her soles over crowds brought. Her all-powerful gaze peered down at the rich bastards milling about in the country house grounds below, some believing they might be able to escape her notice or spare them for their wealth, and she could only smile at the delightful irony that all their money and possessions were worthless compared to the power that her size brought her. Her feet levelled people in more ways than just one; rich or poor, everybody became bugs to be squashed for her amusement.

"Oh, this is a lovely place!" she said in a mocking, sing-song tone. "Well, I think it's time for a little wealth distribution. Time to make the one per cent into the zero per cent!"

It only took a few steps to get all of them, and few more to reduce the ankle-high two hundred year old country home into so much wreckage, but when she was finished she felt immensely satisfied with her work. Oh, how they had screamed in terror, fighting with the desperation of the doomed to get away as she brought her foot down again and again on clusters of the well-to-do until the once lovely garden and forest had become littered with her massive, bloodstained footprints. She loved it; crushing them under a bare foot simply felt more personal than demolishing buildings, and that they were more dispersed, though still clung together in small groups, had in turn made the whole affair a little more sporting for her. With each malicious stomp she made those few who survived and watched from the safety of the forest understand what they truly were to her - nothing, nothing but toys to be broken. A few less locusts getting rich on the work of others, she thought, besides, it was simply fun.

Her work done, she crossed the green lawn, ruining the work of dozens of gardeners with a few huge muddy footprints in the neatly trimmed grass and artfully arranged hedges and shrubs. The lake beckoned, and she marginally disappointed that the stupid bugs had the sense to at least evacuate that area well enough, or maybe she had caught them earlier underfoot. Cautiously she dipped her toes into the cool water, and cooed at the soothing sensation on her feet, after all they had seen a lot of work this day. Her toes wiggled and stirred up the silt, and then she continued wading towards the centre of the lake. The few pleasure boats that had drifted away from their moorings, likely left untied when their passengers docked hastily to escape, capsized in the waves caused by her passage. The water was only as deep as her knees, but it would have to do for now, so she knelt down, scooped up gallons of the clear water in her cupped hands, and splashed it on her face. She then washed out her pussy, and observed as a small handful of mangled bodies and chunks of steel concrete fell from her powerful womanhood.

As she bathed herself, Diane had time to think on her current situation. She had been having plenty of fun so far, but assuming that this growth was permanent, which she truly hoped that it was, then what was to come next for her? In truth she hadn't thought that far ahead, thinking only on her next source of fun, but sooner or later she would have to come up with some sort of plan to establish herself. She thought herself a goddess and was certainly out to prove it; and if these people didn't accept it and dared to defy her further then she would simply keep on crushing them until they eventually learned their place. It would likely be a long process, but as she wiped away the dust and filth from her body until it was clean and glistening wet, she thought that whatever it entailed would at the very least be entertaining for her.

Now clean, or as clean as she could manage with just a little lake of water with which to bathe herself, she rose back to her full size and looked around. Close by, just beyond a crest of trees, lay a large white structure, more sprawling than tall. Diane recognised it instantly; the Redwoods Shopping Mall. Her eyes sparkled at the possibilities of visiting that wretched little place, with its busy crowds, extortionate parking fees, depressing decor, and thoroughly unhelpful shop staff. As she stepped out of the lake and strode towards this monument of unbridled capitalism, droplets of water cascaded from her naked body, leaving deep puddles in her wake along with the huge footprints that always announced her passage.

Diane stepped over the row of trees, and planted her foot straight on top of a row of parked cars. The parking lot was absolutely filled with a vast variety of these colourful little metal boxes, and she amused herself briefly by trying to see how many she could fit beneath her sole. A dozen or so neatly arranged cars fit neatly beneath her sole, but she found that if she could gently nudge some into position bumper to bumper, door to door, with her sexy toes to create a goddess foot-sized lump of cars then that number more than doubled, not counting the accidents where she lost patience with trying to push the fragile vehicles into position. Of course, counting her score at the end became tedious, as differentiating where one colourful pancake squashed into the concrete ended and another began became almost impossible. She soon got bored of that game, and carried onwards to her goal, occasionally kicking at a particularly full row and sending them and a good section of tarmac flying into the distance.

The mall was a modest sized one, compared to the vast behemoths that infested her country at least. She made a mental note to visit a truly big mall, and dominate it utterly beneath her, but this one would have to do for now. It was a rough square shape, built around a central courtyard that served as the food court. Straddling one corner she knelt down, resting her knees in a wide V-shape around half of the building. Despite having enjoyed her size for some time now, she still marvelled at the sheer difference between her and thing that once loomed over her. She touched her fingers over the smooth white roof, which dimpled under her touch even when she was being as delicate as she could manage, and traced her fingers over its surface. But she wanted to get closer to her subjects, and sank her fingers into the roof and peel the flimsy structure back, revealing to her the contents with all the glee and delight of a child opening a present at Christmas.

There was one corridor that ran across the perimeter, with the stores lining either side of it, and the larger department stores positioned at the corners. Other, smaller corridors led to the food court in the exact centre. It was the department store that rested between her thighs that interested her the most; she always had a terrible time there, being judged by the stroppy teenaged staff there, or looked down upon by the richer clientele when she had to use food stamps to pay for food, or when they simply didn't have anything she wanted. She rolled the metal roof back, marvelling at how this thick steel felt like tinfoil against her massive fingers. With this store unveiled to her, she peered in, and wondered if any of the tiny bugs in the grey and blue uniform recognised her now. She hoped they did. In fact, she knew her apartment was somewhere near here, and wondered how many of her asshole neighbours were currently watching her, and regretting having kept her up at nights with their incessant parties and arguments.

Diane saw rows and rows of clothes goods, electronics, a food section that just so happened to be next to her pussy in what she thought would be a major violation of food safety standards, and other things that were simply too small to make out. She reached in, and gathered up a decent handful of full clothing racks and, yes, people too in her hand. Holding her palm out, she peered into it, and the few captured people stared back in futile horror. She was more interested in the merchandise, however, and nudged the various bits of detritus and people shivering in mute fright in her hand aside to get a better look at the fancy cocktail dresses she would have never been able to afford. Licking her index finger to dampen it with saliva, she dabbed it on a the pile she made so that a few of the now-ruined dresses stuck to the fingertip.

"These are nice," she said, addressing the terrified men and women in her hand, "but do you think you have these in my size?" She giggled playfully, and held up her captured merchandise against her chest, as though comparing them for size. Of course, there was no comparison, and the tiny bits of lovingly crafted fabric were lost in her massive cleavage. She tried to see if she could recognise any of the pathetic tiny people shivering in her palm, but no, their faces were just too small for her to make out, but she nevertheless liked to pretend one of them was a cashier who was quite rude to her last week. "No? Don't carry these in extra, extra, extra, extra, extra, extra, extra large? Well, that's too bad for you."

She closed her hand into a fist, feeling only a brief sensation of resistance as tiny limbs flailed uselessly against her gently tightening fingers until she felt a pleasing popping sensation against her digits. Diane then wiped her hand clean on a patch of clear concrete next to her, which left a grim streak of blood and viscera that were once people, were now impossible to recognise. That she had only just cleaned herself and was about to embark on another session of messy play did occur to her, but she found that didn't matter very much - getting dirty simply came with the territory of being a goddess, it seemed. There were still people inside the expansive store, running in between the ruined rows of merchandise, and she spotted a few attempting to hide inside the changing room booths. She extended the index finger of her right hand, and for a morbid sport made a game of attempting to squish each tiny person at a time. The ones hiding were the first to go, buried beneath the walls of the booths and the colossal force of her fingertip. Others she watched, trying to judge where their erratic movements would bring them, then dab her fingertip down to smear them into bloody red stains on the polished floor.

Diane grew bored of chasing them, as the tiny people who were lucky enough to avoid being squished by her finger had managed to hide in places that her imperious gaze could no longer see. Perhaps they had fled deeper into the mall, or hidden in the basements, or been brave enough to try running between her mighty toes and underneath her bare womanhood. She wanted to see more of the mall, though, and to finish off this hateful little department store she lifted her rear, the powerful muscles in her thighs working to lift incalculable tons of pure female glory, off her heels. Still on her knees, she shuffled forwards, bulldozing through the flimsy walls of the mall easily with her legs, until twin half-spheres of her massive ass was positioned directly above the sprawling store. She could think of fewer things more humiliating to them than to be crushed beneath a woman's butt, though there was always room for more experimentation as to just how nasty she could get. Her hips wiggled, sending the juicy round half-spheres jiggling sensuously; forget those whores twerking, this is what a truly huge ass bouncing looked like.

The immense rear end came down, and completely smothered the department store. It wasn't as nice a crunch as she had hoped, the structure having lost its roof and being primarily hollow with just a few shelves and people hiding. It worked spectacularly well, however, and she wiggled her butt in the large round crater it had made. The impact of so much mass, however, did caused a sudden tremor in the ground, that sent cars about a foot around her tumbling away, alarms blaring in an obnoxious chorus that irritated even the goddess. The mall wobbled awkwardly on its foundations, and for a moment Diane was worried that it might collapse in on itself like so many other pathetic, flimsy buildings she had demolished purely, or just mostly, by accident. Not out of any concern for anyone still trapped inside, of course, she still wanted to play with them. To her relief it still stood.

Diane rolled back the steel sheet roof further to reveal the food court at the direct centre. Rows upon rows of tables and chairs were spread out from the middle, and around this were the stalls of the ubiquitous fast food restaurants that were simply everywhere. She recognised McDonald's, of course, a Burger King, a Taco Bell, and so one in a bright, multi-coloured display of dull, corporate mediocrity. At first she thought she was too late and that everyone had escaped already, in which case she would simply stand up and demolish it all within a few easy steps, but on closer inspection she could see dozens and dozens, perhaps a hundred, people hiding underneath tables or inside those little stalls. In her defence it was sometimes difficult to notice tiny, half-inch tall people sometimes.

"I see you my little toys," she said, reaching down and grasping a handful. She opened up her palm, and selectively discarded the useless furniture until she had maybe ten or twenty people huddled together, staring up at her in awe or weeping in unrestrained fear. Diane wondered what to do with them, after all she had been simply squishing people beneath her feet, with her hands, tits, ass, pussy, and her entire body for much of her rampage, and she wanted to see what else her size made her capable of. At least she was getting more adept at handling tiny people now. Then, glancing back at the food court erupting into a wave of panicked horror as everyone in there realised they were no longer safe, she had a really evil but apt idea.

Her captives were brought closer to her face, in particular her soft, full lips, which parted to reveal rows of massive white teeth and a vast tongue like a writhing monster. Her hot breath caused many to gag at the smell. When it became clear that she was planning on eating them, the screams only became more intense, which in turn only fuelled Diane's growing power lust. She tilted her head back, and with it her palm so that everyone tumbled directly into her waiting mouth. A few fell straight down her gullet, unnoticed and uncared for, but the majority had landed straight onto her tongue.

Diane could feel them, after all the tongue was one of the most sensitive areas of the body if she recalled basic biology correctly. A dozen or so tiny things writhed against the rough surface of the muscle, and she held them there resisting the urge to swallow them. However, there was one instinctive response that could not be helped, and that was salivation. The fluid kept them pinned to her tongue, and if anything made the panicked attempts of her snacks to flee even more vigorous. She lifted her tongue to the roof of her mouth, crushing a few and releasing a burst of salty, meaty flavour, while the rest were dragged down to her throat. The vast muscles of her throat flexed, and they were dragged down as she instinctively swallowed these people alive. It felt amazing, imagining the horrific fate that awaited these poor people in her stomach.

"Mmm, who said that American food is awful?" she said. "All you little snacks taste so wonderful."

The colossal woman reached down into the mall once more. She wanted to do that again.


"Can someone please tell what the fuck is taking Battery Foxtrot so damned long?" Colonel McGregor glowered at the communications staff, each huddled at their computers, seemingly glued to their keyboards as they each tackled the monumental task of bringing the ponderous American war machine to bear on its own soil. It had been a hasty set-up; a large tent on the side of a hill served as an ad hoc command post, surrounded by all of the field artillery the Army National Guard could get their hands on, supported by unmanned combat air vehicles on loan from the Air Force. But, as a testament to the can-do attitude of the humble American GI, they had made it work, except for Battery Foxtrot, who had spent the past half an hour doing God only knows what.

One, a young, bright-eye private who despite his youth carried out his role with the professionalism it deserved, touched his earpiece and looked up at the grizzled old officer. "Battery Foxtrot reports some difficulty in receiving their ordnance, sir," he said.

"Jesus Christ," the Colonel muttered, rubbing his temples. "It all works the same! You load it in the gun, you point it at that fucking giant bimbo, and then you fire until she stops moving."

The private's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sir, white phosphorous doesn't quite work that way. The National Guard doesn't have easy access to that."

From the corner, Lieutenant Bradley, who had been glancing through an equipment stocks report and eavesdropping on the conversation looked up. "White phosphorous?" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Colonel McGregor, "white phosphorous."

"Forgive me sir, but using that on human targets is forbidden by international law."

"I know."

"Then you know what it does."

"Yes, it sticks to human skin like a bitch and then burns flesh straight to the bone. We've got enough here to turn her into one great big skeleton, after Battery Foxtrot gets their asses organised first."

Lieutenant Bradley snorted and shook his head. "That's a bit of an overstatement, sir. But there is a reason it's banned."

Colonel McGregor raised a bushy eyebrow and regarded his subordinate; a kid fresh out of West Point, of course, whose face was still marked with acne and his head filled with memorised regulations and rules. He sucked in a deep breath, and then turned to address another of the communications staff near him. "You there, tell me what the target doing right now."

The woman at the desk peered at the screen, apparently struggling to make out the drone footage was showing her. Her face was pale and her hands trembling, for she had been given the unenviable task of monitoring the giant woman's actions. In truth, though she would never publically admit it, she envied the giantess - to be that size and dominate everyone and everything around her, to crush people and buildings alike into dust with her feet, it was a power that only the truly divine would know. But above all it wasn't fair - it was her fetish, her desire, and now it all belonged to some other woman who didn't deserve it. She crossed her legs, hoping that no one would somehow notice her arousal. "The target, uh, appears to be eating people."

"Thank you, Private." The Colonel nodded. "You hear that, Lieutenant? She's fucking eating people now. I want her dead, but I'll be sure to pass on your complaints to the Hague once we've accomplished that."

Lieutenant Bradley shook his head. "You misunderstand me, sir, my concern was for civilians still in the area."

Colonel McGregor made a quiet, impressed noise in his throat; maybe this dumb kid in an immaculate uniform wasn't quite as stupid as he first thought. "I know, son," he said, his voice quieter and more grave. "But we've seen what she's been doing, and there's nothing we can do for them anyway. This order comes direct from the Pentagon and approved by the office of the President. The white phosphorous will burn her, and keep her pinned down until the heavy artillery and drones can finish her off."

There was a pause as Lieutenant Bradley considered it, chewing on his lower lip, before he nodded his head in agreement. "Of course, sir. I just wanted to make sure."

"Artillery Battery Foxtrot reports ready, sir!" shouted another communications officer. “All artillery batteries and UCAV operators report ready to commence bombardment on your command!”

There was tangible change in the atmosphere at the news; for so long all they could do was observe and despair, but now they would fight back. There was a veritable skip in the Colonel's step as he crossed through the threshold and out into the open air. Around him, the great guns of every artillery piece he could get his hands on pointed skyward as if in salute to some ancient god of war. This hill gave a prime spot for the artillery, and he thought that were he an attacking foreign power that he could have levelled the entire city that even faster than that giant bitch could. Speaking of her, he could see her directly in front of him a good few miles away. She was on her knees and partially on top of a shopping mall, into which she would reach into and grasp handfuls of innocent people and devour them.

The sight made his blood boil; he had always been a military man, and spent his life serving his country in places like Afghanistan, the former Yugoslavia, and Iraq on two separate occasions. He should have lived out the rest of his military career in a cushy position commanding a National Guard regiment, but now he was to use American guns on American soil directed at an oversized American citizen to save more American citizens. The sheer impossible insanity of this situation was almost laughable.

It was time to end this. He grabbed his radio, depressed the button, and spoke. "Attention all batteries and UCAV operators. At my command, you will open fire. You will keep firing. You will not stop firing until that target looks like one of those poor souls she's stepped on." He paused, his heart was hammering away in his chest and his stomach was a tight knot of anxiety. It had to work; he had the awesome might and overwhelming firepower of the most technologically advanced military in the world at his disposal, and despite her immense size he was going to prove that even a self-proclaimed goddess was no match for the power of heavy artillery.

"Open fire."

Chapter 4 by Rattlehead

One moment Diane was enjoying a nice meal with hundreds of her new 'friends', the next she was in utter agony.  Her skin felt like it was on fire, peeling off in lumps and through which melted flesh sloughed away.  She knew that her rampage would not be ignored, she knew the military would muster some kind of response, but instead of stepping on little army men like she thought they had instead elected to stand at a cowardly safe distance and pelt artillery shells and incendiaries at her.  Her final thoughts, or what she assumed they would be, was that to be burned alive and ripped apart was ignominious end to her all-too-short reign.


Intense heat filled her body, burning her from within as well as without, flooding every fibre of her being with such pain that she had never felt before.  She opened her mouth to scream, but found she could not.  Nothing seemed to work, or move, and then... nothing.  As suddenly as it had come, the pain had ceased utterly, and she sucked in deep, panicked breaths of curiously cool and crisp air, and then opened her eyes.  What she saw made her smile from ear to ear.


She was big.  No, that word alone failed to adequately describe the sheer impossible size of her now.  'Fucking huge' came closest, she thought.  She thought she was big before, but now her former size felt impossibly tiny by comparison.  Diane had been squatting on her heels when they had struck her, and she still remained in that pose, but now the view was like that from an aeroplane window.  The landscape spread out before her; the hills surrounding the city that were once formidable were tiny, pathetic mounds now, skyscrapers that a few hours ago towered over her and a few minutes ago were eye level to her could barely reach past the height of her big toe, with a scant few towers approaching the level of her ankles.  And as for people?  She could barely see them, only minute specks of colour, infinitesimally tiny compared to her vast size, flowed along the lines of roads that ran between minute buildings.


Diane checked over herself, and saw that whatever damage she might have suffered in the onslaught of artillery had been healed in her growth.  She thought, perhaps, that growing was her body's natural response to physical violence and stress of some sort, and wondered just how big she might get if they were bold and desperate enough to nuke her.  One thing at a time, she thought, and she looked down to see that the mall she had been playing with, the country club with the lake that she had bathed in, and a good chunk of suburban real estate was covered by her all-powerful feet.  Her brow knitted together in a frown as she saw little pinpricks of light dance along her elegant shin, and realised that they were still firing on her.  She followed the lines of tracers to their position on the hill, a few scant steps away, though she could scarcely make out the pathetic mites with their useless artillery guns on the surface of the hill.


Slowly and ponderously, Diane rose to her full, impossible height.  There was no easy frame of reference for her size, and she didn't feel up to doing any sort of calculations to come up with an estimate; that it would be measured in miles was good enough for her, and the specifics would be left to her subjects to sort out when they sift through what would remain of this city when she was through.  Her head soared through clouds, disintegrating them as her immense form rose through and disrupted them.  The city was a large patch of mottled grey at her almighty feet, but she knew that it was still teeming with life.  The millions of tiny people that called this place home would look up and see toes that humiliated the largest structures they could build.  The millions more who lived in this county would see her too, perhaps even the whole state, as she saw them from her lofty position.  She waited, drinking in the raw power that this truly colossal size brought, imagining that multitudes of people not only in the city below filling the streets, peering out of windows, but all of mankind everywhere glued to their TV screens, watching her every move in utter horror, knowing that now nothing could be done to stop her.  Diane became more aroused than ever as she regarded her city, drunk on the knowledge that her feet, once merely filling streets, now covered entire city blocks.  How many impossibly tiny people had been crushed unnoticed when she grew to this immense size?  And how many more would likewise perish with a single step?


She decided to find out.  Her foot lifted, revealing a barren wasteland, and swung forwards.  Thousands of people in the suburbs looked up in horror as the sheer immensity of her sole cast them into pitch black night, and then descended down upon them.  Death was instantaneous for those thousands, as her foot landed unimpeded atop them.  Diane had felt them all, one brief, almost imperceptible tickle against the sensitive skin of her sole that was snuffed out just as she managed to register the sensation.  The ground shook, and rippling tremors radiated out from her sole that sent weaker, older town houses collapsing in on themselves, shattering roads and water lines.


It felt good, amazing even.  Her vaginal muscles involuntarily clenched at the all-too brief sensation of so many things and so many people crushed beyond dust with a single, simple step.  The knowledge of what she had stepped on kept her aroused, and she wanted desperately to indulge herself, but first she had to take care of something.  A few more steps, each just as apocalyptically destructive as the last brought her to the foot of the hill, there the artillery had kept firing in vain, as though it would somehow take effect against a woman of such vast proportions.  She chuckled, she couldn't even feel the shells striking her legs, and then her ankles now as she approached.


"I suppose I ought to thank you, little army boys," she said mockingly, her hands rested on her hips as she peered over her breasts at them.  Now she was closer, she could make out an assortment of tiny dots on the hill that must have been the main bulk of the artillery arrayed against her.  "Thanks to you, I think, I truly am a goddess, and I think it's now time for me to repay you."


Discipline had all but collapsed in the artillery park, but Colonel McGregor didn't care.  As soldiers broke rank, abandoned their posts, and tried to flee, he knew it was all pointless now.  One woman in the communications staff tent shamelessly had her hands down the front of her fatigue pants, obviously fingering herself, but he again he didn't care and neither did anybody else.  He could only sit there, drinking bourbon from a decidedly non-regulation hipflask, and look up as an immense sole filled the sky above and descended inexorably towards him.


Lieutenant Bradley was doing his very best to organise a retreat, and had been making some headway in organising trucks to carry as many soldiers as possible to safety.  It would be all in vain, for nothing could outrun the goddess's pretty right foot.  McGregor sat and waited, while the woman still in the communications tent moaned in climax, and watched as the sole loomed larger and larger until the end finally came.


Diane's foot sank into the hill, her ungodly mass deformed mud and stone alike with mocking ease until a lovely little footprint formed in the hillside.  She had buried them all beneath her divine sole, but with that distraction out of the way she could refocus on the city.  If she wanted, she could crush it all into nothing in a matter of seconds and it would be of very little consequence to her, but now she wanted to play.  Standing there, one foot resting on the hill and the other atop a former suburban paradise, the fingers of her right hand lolled around the distended folds of her pussy and the hot red nub of her clitoris.  Besides, she thought, she wanted survivors; she wanted people, apostles in a manner of speaking, as witnesses to her divinity, she wanted them to see the empty wastes that were her footprints where nothing could have possibly survived, to remember the raw humiliation of seeing their homes and loved ones annihilated beneath her feet, or perhaps worse when she would indulge her womanly needs, and then once she had finished with this tiny, minor league city, they would go forth into the world and spread the message that Diane was now the unquestionable mistress of this world.  Earlier she had thought herself a goddess, but now, with the clouds wafting lazily around her naval and the world at her feet, she knew it for certain, and sought to impress that truth upon the entire population of this world.  Why would she settle for merely ruling over this city when now she could cross counties, states, countries, even continents with ease?  The world was hers now, and soon she would establish her divine rule.


But for now she had more pressing needs to attend to.  Her moans thundered through the entire county, sounding like distant thunder to those who observed her titanic form on the horizon.  Dollops of her nectar dribbled and dripped from her cunt, and then fell the many miles down to the ground where they smashed homes into gooey rubble.  She wanted, needed, to get closer to her subjects, and more importantly she wanted to share her insatiable lusts with them.  She had used people as sex toys and fucked a building earlier, but at this size no minute speck and no one structure was ever going to get her off.  The thought that no man's cock would ever please her again made her chuckle, but what use would a goddess have of that when skyscrapers filled to the brim with these tiny, tiny people were so readily available?


She lowered herself down, faster than anything of that sheer size should be able to do, rushing down to meet her tiny slaves.  A square mile of suburbia crunched nicely under her ass; the thought that the very last thing those doomed thousands saw was her fucking enormous butt descending upon them like the sky itself was falling was tantalising beyond belief.  Legs that went on for miles formed two great arches that framed the entire city.  Her labia too smothered a goodly portion of inhabited blocks, and as she wiggled her ass down to grind her aching pussy against the crushed remnants of what was once a thriving commercial centre she saw that her real prize, the clusters of glittering skyscrapers, wobbled and swayed with each gyration of her broad hips.  Even her slightest movements must be nightmarish for everyone below her, amplified thousands of times.  Then again, she was thousands of times bigger than any of them.


Diane leaned forwards, rolling her hips forward slightly so that her clit was forced through rows upon rows of buildings in a small retail park.  Unbeknownst to her, the strands of neatly trimmed pubic hair were pushed into the ground too.  They were like steel cables, a foot thick that ripped through the streets below and ensnared vehicles and people alike.  The sensation of things breaking and being crushed beneath her sensitive red cherry made her gasp.  She chewed her lower lip, unable to resist the urge as she snaked one hand down, over her immense breasts and fondled her needy clitoris.  Her fingers sank into the ground around her crotch, and she scooped up entire blocks and mashed them against her most sensitive organ.  A shuddering moan escaped her lips, and her other lips responded with a veritable flood of nectar that overwhelmed the chaotic broken mess of city streets and buildings.  Her closed eyes fluttered, and she concentrated hard.  Yes!  She could feel them, the tiny dots that were people, each an individual with their own lives, crawled and squirmed, however briefly, before they were extinguished.


Her eyelids slowly open again, and she remembered her intentions.  Reluctantly, she removed her hand, now sopping wet with her juices, and leaned forwards even more.  A few more blocks crushed beneath her advancing clitoris gave some nice jolts of hot pleasure.  One hand reached over and landed atop the suburbs on the opposite side of the city, and she marvelled at the sight of debris and earth rising up between her slender fingers.  Now, her body encompassed the city entirely, reminding her of some Egyptian goddess of the sky whose body became the heavens themselves.  The name escaped her, but there was only one deity worth paying attention to now, but this is what it must have looked like to those mites below.  Her massive tits had become pendulous, and swayed hypnotically with every breath and every movement.  Nipples that could flatten entire blocks drifted dangerously close to those buildings, but she barely noticed that.  No, her attention was fixated further along, peering between another set of skyscrapers and smaller structures into the thread-like streets below.  Eyes squinting, she could make out uncountable numbers of tiny dots, like the smallest possible insects, or one step up from mere microbes.  The knowledge that they were people, each of them a soul with a life and a story of their own to tell and that she was once like them, dwarfed by the towers that were manmade testaments to mankind's power but were now rendered impotent by her size, was too delicious for words.  Looming over them, just one hand print away from oblivion, their new place in the natural order of things was unquestioned.  She imagine the sight of her immense form from the perspective of one of those tiny mites; to look up past the tallest skyscrapers, beyond even the clouds to see her beautiful face staring back down and judging their worthless lives.


She lifted herself back a little, satisfied that despite even this immense size she could still see her little worshippers even if they were only tiny dots.  The skyscrapers beckoned to her, standing tall and defiant.  Brushing her hair back over her ear with one hand, with the other she reached down, driving the crowds below mad with terror as fingers that dwarfed those same structures descended down upon them.  She had selected one, a simple grey tower that loomed over its brothers around it, and pinched it between a finger and thumb with aim to snap it free from its foundations.  Instead, it only made the slightest of indentations in her soft skin, before it collapsed under the near infinite strength of the goddess and became nothing more than a stain on her fingertips.  Of course, it was much more hellish for those trapped below; Diane was slightly inconvenienced by this, but countless people below were crushed by falling masonry, or suffocated by the ensuing cloud of dust.


Diane frowned; it looked like nothing these tiny mites could build would ever stand up to being handled by a goddess, so she tried a different tactic.  The next one, a predominantly glass and steel building much like the one she fucked when she was (relatively) tiny was first braced against her thumb, and then her index finger advanced at an angle perpendicular to the base.  The fingernail, itself an advancing thick wall, sheared through the lower floors with contemptuous ease, sending more broken masonry falling into the streets below.  The sounds of distressed steel and of the screams that accompanied her every action could not reach the ears of the goddess, but she had done it, and carefully balanced the building on her fingers.


It was amazing, truly; an entire skyscraper was pinched beneath her fingers, its facades cracked and crumbling even though she was being as delicate as she could possibly manage.  It was barely an inch long, hardly enough to perform the task she had planned alone, but there were always more of them.  She watched little dots of debris and perhaps people cascade from where she had sliced through the lower floors fall to their doom many hundreds of feet below.




Inside, CEO Marcus Wright of Baldwin Industries had long recognised the futility of doing anything, and so decided to wait out this seemingly impossible scenario.  If he died, then it was his time to do so, he thought, but if he survived then he had the unenviable task of trying to rebuild the company from a literal pile of rubble.  He had gone to the drinks cabinet in his office, poured himself another snifter of fine brandy he was saving for his retirement, and stood at the window, watching the immense woman towering over everything he ever knew, all the while his workers were engaged in useless panic.  That never solved anything, especially in situations that had no solutions.


Marcus had watched the giantess crush the Willis Building, and judging by her facial expression that was an accident.  Watching her lovely face again, it became certain that his building was next.  His response was a sigh, as though it was a mere inconvenience than a matter of life of death.  Of course, it was, but running around screaming wasn't going to make her go away.  His view of her became blocked, which he found slightly disappointing; she was a beauty to be sure - supple thighs, big juicy tits, pretty face, and pussy that just begged to be ploughed.  Instead the view at his window became a wall of off-white, one of her fingers he assumed, as it advanced towards him.  The impact shook the building entirely, but he had braced himself on his sturdy oak desk.  The wall with the window had dimpled under the pressure and the windows shattered, but he was now face to face with the goddess's skin.  He could reach out and touch the rough surface - it didn't immediately look like skin, of course, what he imagined would be perfectly smooth was of course filled with the ditches and trenches that formed her finger prints, nevertheless, he did feel honour to touch a real-life goddess, even if there was no possible way she could feel it.


The floor beneath him shook again, and then there was the awkward lurching in his stomach that told him they were being lifted into the air.  Gravity itself seemed to stop obeying its own laws when it pulled him and everything in his office to the side wall.  He managed to avoid being cut in half by his own desk, though the bust of the company's founder had hit him painfully in the shoulder.  Outside his office the cubicle farm and the workers hiding behind the flimsy walls slid along the floor in a way that just felt utterly surreal.  The entire building was being turned on its side.  Marcus stumbled over to the doorway, and looked to the left out of the window where he saw day turn into the night, and the emergency lighting bathed the office floor in a pale yellow glow.  Almost as abruptly the air became hot and damp, almost like wading through molasses, and the stench too was almost palpable.


The shaking stopped mercifully, and after a few seconds to orientate himself, he managed to climb out of his office to walk on the wall, which had now become the floor.  A few of his managers had survived the ordeal, and stared around at the carnage with vacant haunted expressions.  The entire office floor had fallen to the side wall, with the cubicle walls, computers, printers, sheets of paper, water coolers, coffee machines, and bodies of his many underlings had become an indistinct mess.  Some movement could be seen in the dim light as survivors struggled to pull themselves free.


"Where are we?" said one of them.  He was clearly in a state of shock and kept adjusting his tie and trying to brush the dust off his double-breasted pinstripe suit as though he had an important event to go to.


"We're inside her," said Marcus flatly, there was no point dressing it up.  They were already dead men.


The man's eyes boggled.  "Inside her where?"


A woman's moan of pleasure, impossibly loud, reverberated through the entire building and answered his question.




Twin skyscrapers now lay in the soft flesh of her pussy, while a third, hardier one she had grasped by its base between two fingers and a thumb and slowly lolled its tip around her nether lips.  Floor after floor was scrubbed away by her indomitable folds, before she simply ground the remainder away on her clitoris.  Her moans grew in intensity, no longer capable of the sort of delicate work needed to extract more toys for her she leaned back, her left hand holding her body up while her right worked her cunt.


Two huge fingers joined the two skyscrapers inside her, out-sizing them too, and pushed them deeper and deeper within her hole.  With the lake of fluids between her thighs growing, filling the crater caused earlier by her cunt grinding away entire blocks, she masturbated shamelessly with wild abandon.  The goddess was being intimate with millions of people, sharing her pleasure with her horrified worshippers, whose homes and business and very lives were used up for her selfish desire.  These tiny mites in the buildings trying to escape, crawling across the immense surface of her vaginal walls, tickled her g-spot just so.  A strong clench around her fingers, however, finished them off, but she didn't mind.  The shattered skyscrapers added an element of delicious roughness to her ministrations.  Meanwhile her palm grinded against her clitoris, and any survivors who had clung to the hot red nub had likewise perished.


The ground shook violently, sending those already weakened buildings toppling.  From below, citizens looked up to see a monstrous cunt, for terms such as 'pussy' and 'vagina' failed to adequately describe such brazen sexuality, towering over their puny little city.  Her hips rocked, undulating with the strokes of her fingers, and all the while her moans and cries of pleasure filled the air and drowned out all other noise.


"Oh yes!" she cried, tossing her head back, sending her hair arcing through the air and ensnaring jets too close to her in their thick strands.  "All you tiny people are fucking mine!"


The hand supporting her body gave way, slipping in the too-fragile earth, and she fell backwards on largely uninhabited countryside.  The effect, however, was still horrific, as buildings were wrenched from their foundations, tossed into the air with the resulting quake, and shattered into dust.  Diane shouted her orgasm to the heavens, proclaiming her divinity in a roar of climax heard across the state and then the world through the all pervasive presence of social media.  Her mighty hips rose, and then fell, creating yet another shockwave that ravaged the tiny, abused city.  Her cry of pleasure faded into a moan that still broke the eardrums of all nearby who survived her lustful torment.  Her right hand still caressed the folds of her pussy, while the left gave her tits a squeeze such that tons and tons of supple flesh oozed between her fingers.


Diane rested like that for some time, sprawled inelegantly across a landscape that deformed beneath her body.  She didn't know how long she spent like that, her soft coos of post-coital pleasure still drowning out nearly all other sound for miles around, as measuring time was not something she needed to worry about anymore.  Nevertheless, she continued to massage her sex and luxuriated in the warm afterglow.  With the pleasurable fog clearing from her mind she slowly lifted her upper body from the yawning canyon her wanton lust had created, rotated on her ass, and then laid down on her left side to curl up around what remained of her city as though around a lover.  Though she had taken care to avoid crushing too much of it beneath her miles tall body, her massive tits came to rest atop several city blocks and spread out under their own incalculable weight.  Resting her head on her arm, she was as close to the tiny people as she could possibly manage.  Before her eyes the teeming mass of humanity pushed and pulled in greater desperation to escape; they knew now her power was limitless, after all they had witness her fucking their entire city into a cum-stained ruin, and that their fate was decided on the tiniest of her whims.


An entire mob of multicoloured dots, people, she reminded herself, disappeared under the tip of her index finger, along with a good few buildings as even her digits were much too wide for the streets.  She then lazily dragged her finger along, carving a path of destruction along the road that to her looked like the main route of evacuation to leave a desolate trench carved into the ground.  Why?  Because she felt like it, and it was her right as a goddess now to do so, even if thousands were crushed only to provide her with a moment's amusement then so be it.  She cast her eyes over the city streets, and a broad grin tugged at her lips when she noticed 'tiny' footprints along the road, and further along the base of what was once a glittering skyscraper.  With the index and pointer of her right hand she made a 'walking motion' in those streets, playfully imitating the acts she had performed earlier, and then she could follow the path that she took when much smaller, but still big enough to utterly dominate the bugs, to the suburbs that now rested beneath her massive left breast.  Diane feared for a moment that she might have crushed her former home, but when she spotted a building that looked like half a white Tylenol capsule that was the Wal-Mart she used to visit, she traced her way through hair's breadth wide roads, around apartment buildings and houses that had thus far survived her volatile presence, and then there, like a grain of rice balancing on one end among so many other similar structures, was her old apartment building.  It was just underneath her nose, and she had to cross her eyes slightly to focus on it properly.


Diane remembered the modest one bedroom apartment, having to pay far too much for rent to an uncaring landlord who never, ever had time to fix the multitude of things that kept going wrong.  None of those problems mattered anymore, indeed nothing mattered except her will.  Memories of inhabiting those four walls with her bed, her TV, her collection of cuddly toys, her potted plants, her computer, and all her other worldly possessions seemed so distant and inconsequential now.  She raised her hand, palm down, and then pressed down on the entire neighbourhood including that Wal-Mart.  The buildings offered zero resistance, not even indenting her soft skin for the milliseconds they had before they and all who remained inside was gone in an instant.  From that moment nothing remained of the old Diane, for indeed who she was as a tiny mite-person was immaterial now that she was a goddess.  That timid little girl was dead, along with everyone else flattened in that handprint. 


Soon, she would rise again to establish her rule, but for the time being the world was spared her playful rampage.  The orgasm, from which she was still riding the tail-end of the afterglow, had made her sleepy, and after all she had a long day.  Her hand still resting on her former neighbourhood, she closed her eyes and smiled, thinking of the fun to come as she drifted off to sleep.




The goddess's nap allowed the Army time to evacuate the ruined city in earnest and with minimal loss of life.  Looters were dealt with harshly, as were those civilians so maddened by fear that they reacted with violence.  However, for the most part the surviving population was too shell-shocked by their horrific experiences to do anything except blindly do as they were told.  And so the roads were rapidly cleared of abandoned vehicles, search teams delved into twisted ruins aghast at the carnage they saw to retrieve what survivors they could find, convoys of trucks to evacuate survivors into the countryside were formed, and an evacuation camp set up at the one remaining road out to manage the flow of refugees.


Captain Higgins tried to take his mind off the colossal woman and focus instead on the humanitarian task at hand, but try as he might, it was impossible to avoid seeing her enormous body looming over him even lying down, like a living mountain range.  She only had to roll over and the entire city would be finished off - smothered utterly beneath boobs that were literally to die for.  Worst yet, however, was the fact that the evacuation camp was set up close to her head, meaning that every time he looked a certain way he would be forced to see a young woman's attractive face towering over him, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she would wake, and the madness would continue.  For now she remained asleep, but the danger had only marginally subsided; every single little movement of this sleeping goddess, no more than a woman shifting in her bed to get more comfortable, made the earth tremble beneath her.  Her breath, hot and moist, would flow across the camp and the entire western quarter of the city with the force of a gale, accompanied by deafening sound of most un-ladylike snoring. 


This camp owed its precarious position because it straddled the one remaining serviceable route out of the city that could accommodate the sheer numbers of vehicles that were required for an evacuation of this immense undertaking.  Nevertheless, his men were professional, and carried out the grim task of searching for survivors admirably despite the physical and psychological strain.  The sight of them, however, drifting into the camp with clothes smothered in dust and blood, suffering injuries from falling debris or worst yet from their fellow civilians driven insensibly insane with fright, shocked him.


There had been talk of mounting another attack, but it was quickly shut down - the priority was to save as many people as they could, but after that?  Nothing, there was nothing that could be decided upon; there was nothing like this in the history of the world, and as they analysed what happened with the last attack it became horrifyingly obvious to all that acceptance of their new place in the world, at this giant woman's feet, was the best solution for now.


The evacuation continued.  Streams and streams of people, their expressions vacant and haunted, flowed through the cracked roads, boarded the trucks, and were spirited away to what everyone hoped was safety.  Another refugee camp had been set up far away, but Higgins feared not far enough for a murderous woman whose strides were measured in miles.


It was around midday when the ground began to shake once more, signalling only one thing.  Captain Higgins looked up from his paperwork to see the giantess's eyes flutter open and her head lift from her arm, no slower than any normal girl rising from a nap.  She narrowed her eyes and looked down, as though trying to work out of what she saw before her was truly real, before that devilish, sadistic smile returned to her pretty face.  Few people in the camp had the energy to scream, as most simply stopped and turned to look up with a sense of defeated acceptance that their individual fates had become utterly meaningless now.  Those massive green eyes darted around, taking in the ruined city, before resting on Higgins.


Captain Higgins knew on a conscious level that he was far too tiny by comparison to be made out with the naked eye, and that she was in fact looking at what she only saw as a large collection of people, but something primal in him screamed that she was staring directly at him.  Perhaps she was?  Who knew what this monster was capable of now?


"Oh, what's this?" her voice thundered from above.  In spite of the loudness and bass tone imparted by such an immense size, it still held a distinctly feminine tone.  Her face loomed closer until it was almost directly on top of them, filling their sky completely, and her breath made the air unbearably hot and humid.  A few refugees dropped to their knees in apparent supplication, while others simply clasped their ears shut to protect them from the sheer volume.  "Trying to leave my city without saying 'goodbye' to your goddess?"


Captain Higgins watched as the giantess pondered something, indeed it was the only thing he could do.  She chewed on her lower lip and gazed off into the distance for a few seconds, then looked down on her subjects once more.


"I'll tell you what, you tiny insects," she continued.  "You tiny, tiny people.  It's a nice day and I feel being a merciful goddess for now.  Show me the direction to Washington DC and I'll spare your pathetic little lives.  It's alright, I'll give you a few minutes to get yourselves sorted.  I know how long it takes for things so small as you to do things for me."


There was no assurance she'd keep up her side of the bargain, and everyone knew that; it would be no effort on her part to wipe out all of them, as she had done so callously with much of the city already.  In fact, sparing them would require more effort on her part than murdering them all.  However, a small chance of survival was better than no chance, and Captain Higgins immediately ordered his troops to collect some flares.




Diane was surprised to find the evacuation camp right under her nose, and wondered if these tiny mites truly had a death wish.  The camp itself was about the size of a penny to her, and if she concentrated she could almost make out rows of tents, large groups of people out in the open, and a constant stream of vehicles crawling along the thin ribbon of a freeway that carved a straight path west-ish.  Contemptuously crushing it and then forgetting about the mites inside did occur to her, but she remembered she wanted survivors, and who better than this unfortunate lot?  She imagined they would be distributed across the entirety of the United States of America, and from there her gospel would be spread and everyone would learn to fear and obey her.  Also, she wanted to know if they were capable of following her orders - if she was to truly rule the world as her size now gave her the right to, then it would certainly smooth things along if some kind of communication, if somewhat one-sided, could occur between her and her tiny subjects.


To her delight she saw a spark of red light, and then another further along, and then another until an arrow formed pointing into the countryside.  She had no idea whether or not they were telling the truth or not, but she assumed that she would eventually find the nation's capital sooner or later.  At any rate, she was more excited by the fact that these mites could understand her orders.  As for what she would do when she got to the capital of the most powerful nation on earth, she hadn't planned that far ahead yet, but thus far making it up as she went along had worked just swimmingly for her.  Whatever happened, she was certain that she would out on top, figuratively and literally.


The tiny people in the camp and those still remaining in the city watched as she rose ponderously from her rest and stood to her full, impossibly height.  Her form was distorted by the perspective, but staring up at her body receding into the clouds around her narrow waist gave very little room for interpretation of her power.  Nevertheless, Diane made good on her promise, as her first step towards taking over the entire world passed over the encampment, as did the next, and it was soon forgotten about.  Below, the refugees watched her walk away from them, every step sending quakes through the ground that became softer and softer the further away she moved.  Her ass sashayed from side to side provocatively as she walked with an upbeat spring in her step that was fully at odds with the world-ending implications of each footprint.


Washington was next, and after that?  The world...


Epilogue by Rattlehead

"Our top story today: the government of the United States of America has formally surrendered to the giant woman known as Diane.  I say again, the government of the United States of America has formally surrendered.  An interim government by Secretary of State for Agriculture Jeff Hammer has been set up with emergency powers to create an effective system of governance as our nation enters this new world order.  A nationwide state of emergency has been declared."


Billy hated the mainstream news media; they were nothing more than a bunch of lying, sycophantic, corporate-controlled shills who cared more for their smear stories than good, old-fashioned, honest journalism.  However, the internet had been down recently, so the only source of news he could get outside of newspapers filled with lurid, barely-censored photographs of this giant whore was the TV.  He sat alone on the sofa in his living room, and despite the pleading of visiting state troopers organising mass evacuations, he just couldn't abandon the land that had been passed down from father to son since the dream of the USA was just a glint in George Washington's eye.  Surrounded by empty beer cans, and chugging down his seventh and with four more unopened sitting on the table by his side, he wondered if he was making the right choice.


The talking head on the screen continued talking.


"This woman, identified as Diane Smith, aged twenty-four, of Metro City, grew to an immense size estimated at seven hundred feet this morning, and after a failed attack by the National Guard grew once more to an estimated eight miles in height.  This is completely unbelievable, I know, I myself had a hard time believing this was true until I saw the footage.  What we are about to show you is filmed by members of the general public. It has not been enhanced digitally or modified in any way except to make then suitable for broadcast.  Please note that this footage is of a very disturbing nature, and we advise those of a nervous disposition to look away now."


The TV screen switched, showing a shaky, blurry recording of an immense foot filling the road.  The camera tilted up, following her legs.  Her crotch and her tits were blurred out, of course, but what was not was her next step, which brought her sole upon a howling mob of fleeing people.  The screen switched again, this time something rather more professional shot from the air, probably a drone.  There, that same woman, but much, much bigger, lay across the landscape, apparently asleep, her vast form curled up around the city pockmarked with footprints.  Here and there columns of smoke could be seen rising from ruined towers.


"There is more footage out there on the web," the newsreader continued, "but we cannot show you on this channel.  What is known is that this giant woman proceeded to destroy much of Metro City, with the death toll estimates ranging from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of people.  Humanitarian aid workers have stated that the destruction they have witnessed is something they would have expected to see from a nuclear bomb, and are calling it the worst humanitarian crisis to hit our nation in recent memory.  Her motives for doing this are unclear, but eye witnesses say that she had become mad and drunk with the power her new size brought."


Billy did his best to ignore the ground shaking every few seconds.  If he looked out of his window he would see the source; the silhouette of an impossibly huge woman advanced directly towards him, her hips swaying and her breasts bouncing with each relaxed step, possibly unknowingly crushing people underfoot.  He knew what she looked like, and that she was a fit young girl that he might have hit on if they met at a bar only made it worse for him.  In his lap rested his father's colt pistol; he was going to make sure he died as a free American, and not squashed like a bug under this whore's foot.


“After a brief nap she made her way to Washington DC, arriving at around 2pm this afternoon. The evacuation of the city and of our branches of government had not been completed by this time, so we fear the numbers of casualties is likely to increase.  From the outskirts she walked straight through city into the heart of our nation’s capital.  The White House has been confirmed as one of the many historic buildings demolished by this giant woman’s advance.”


The TV now showed another aerial shot, this time of a different city.  The aircraft taking the footage kept a respectable distance, such that were it not for the helpful arrow denoting the White House, situated in a patch of green in the corner of the screen, Billy might not have recognised the city as Washington DC.  There were very few tall buildings there, so the more modest structures only accentuated Diane’s immense size when compared to her mountainous toes.  If anything, she looked a little disappointed that the capital failed to live up to her expectations.  The camera followed her as she approached the White House, and kept recording as she stopped before the home of the President, raised her right leg so that her thigh formed a right angle with her waist and torso, then brought her goddess foot down on the puny representation of American power.  The ground around her foot cracked and twisted as a ripple of destruction spread from its epicentre, swallowing entire city blocks and annihilating all within its path until it faded.  The Washington Monument shuddered in the resulting earthquake, and then collapsed in a heap of historic old rubble.  Diane looked impressed at her work as she looked down at the carnage, toes wriggling in their self-made craters.


“Shocking scenes there,” the newsreader said, unnecessarily Billy thought.  “The President was not present at the time and has fled to London, England, where he has set up a government-in-exile with his surviving cabinet.”


I bet the limeys are loving this, thought Billy, though he had to give them credit for putting themselves on the line for sheltering the leader of an old ally.  He had finished his beer, and immediately opened another can.  The TV screen shifted to another perspective, this time from the streets outside Capitol Hill.  The Capitol Building stood prominent in the foreground, but behind it was a wall of pale pink flesh.  It took him a while to work it out, but Billy soon realised that he was looking at the giantess towering over the home of the US legislative branch, and that ‘wall’ was in fact her toned abs, and that the giantess was squatting on her heels.  The camera tilted upwards, revealing a belly button that Billy reckoned could accommodate a football stadium, up to a large mass of pixels that were a bust that the network didn’t want him to see, and then a lovely young face staring down at the building, apparently listening intently.  The giant woman smiled, and the camera shifted down to reveal why; the Stars and Stripes had been replaced with a shameful white flag.


“Bastards!” Billy shouted at the TV, then took a mighty swig of his now lukewarm beer and tossed the empty can to the floor.  He buried his face in his hands and let out an distraught moan.  “You bitch.”


“Negotiations were short,” the newsreader continued regardless.  “As the most senior member of the cabinet remaining in the Capital, Jeff Hammer, the Secretary of State for Agriculture, was hastily sworn in as acting president.  A press release explains that he was able to communicate with her with the use of a stadium announcement speaker.  At a press conference held just after the giant woman left, he had this to say.”


The screen then showed the interior of a room, with a middle-aged man with grey hair standing behind a podium and in front of an American flag hanging from the wall.  His face was ashen, and he trembled awkwardly, as though he was about to collapse from a heart attack.  Pale, liver-spotted hands clutched the wooden podium with a vice-like grip, and he leaned on it for support.


“Right now our priority is to ensure the survival of our great nation,” his voice stammered out.  “The events of the past day have proved that further resistance is futile and will only result in more loss of life.  The only way that these United States can endure is to co-operate fully with our Goddess, even if we must surrender our liberty.  Rest assured that we will do our utmost to keep our citizens safe, and that federal and state governance will continue to operate as normal.  I implore the citizens of this great country to carry on with their lives as normal, while we set up a new system of government that will allow us to prosper under this new world order.  God help us all.”


Politicians - they were one of the few people Billy despised more than journalists, and now they had proved themselves to be the spineless toads they’ve always been, except this time they kowtowed to some massive bitch instead of big business.  They didn’t even try to fight back, but were so ready to fall to their knees and call her ‘Goddess’ just to save their own skins.  America was dead to him now, and those sons of bitches had played their part in its downfall.


The TV cut back to the newsreader, who now leaned on his desk and touched his earpiece.  “No, I refuse,” he said.  “…. I don’t care what she says, she’s not.  ….  What, do you think she watches this show?  How can she tell?  …. This is a flagrant abuse of the independence of news media.  ….  Right, fine.  If you say so.”


He looked back to face the camera with a defeated look in his grey eyes.  “Following that, the Goddess addressed a group of reporters just beyond the city limits.  Once again, the footage is graphic, and viewers are advised to exercise discretion.”


The screen switched to show footage of the goddess in question, looming hugely over the tiny throng of journalists and cameramen that had been made to gather by her toes.  The camera was pointing almost directly up, allowing a view of her face, distorted by perspective, some eight miles or so above them.  Once again, those certain parts of her naked body were blurred out.  The camera zoomed in to her face, and refocused to show her grinning wide and drunk with divine power.  This time it was a professional camera, and did a far better job of displaying her deadly beauty.  The unseen news crew could be heard conversing in hushed, awed tones.


"Oh my god, she's so huge," a woman's voice was heard say.


"Jesus Christ, this shouldn't be possible," a man said.


"She got the White House.  It's all gone..."


“Everyone ready?” she said.  Her voice sounded distorted by the sheer volume and distance between them, but it silenced the chatter.  “People of the world, hear me.  It should be painfully obvious by now, but some of you may yet need convincing.  I am now the goddess of this world, and all of you are nothing but tiny mites before me.  You have seen me, and you have seen what I am capable of.  Believe, me I am capable of so much more.  From now on, none of you can run from me, none of you can hide, and none of you are safe.  If I am attacked again or if my authority is defied then thousands of people will die.  This will be your only warning.  Pray that I need not give you another.”


The screen suddenly turned dark, then shifted drunkenly until the camera zoomed out to show that the giantess was standing on one foot, and holding her other directly above their heads.  She wobbled slightly, and held her miles long arms out to maintain her balance.  The camera captured every single line and wrinkle in her sexy, divine sole, which had claimed so many lives over the course of a single day.  The assembled journalists screamed in terror, but ever the professional the cameraman kept recording this historic speech.  Diane’s voice drowned out even the roar of the small crowd.


“Take a good look, mankind, for this is your future.”


Only then did the cameraman break his professional demeanour.  The screen showed an incoherent blur of colours alternating between blue, green, and red, but in rare moments that it remained level for any significant moment of time it showed the news crew abandoning their equipment and running desperately for their vans.  One man shrieked hysterically as his trembling fingers tried and failed to insert the key into the door, his cargo pants were marked with a dark stain at the crotch where he had understandably pissed himself.  The cameraman regained some composure, but his frantic, heavy breathing could be heard.  He tilted the camera up, showing the approaching sole filling the entire screen, until it all turned black and the footage ended.


The screen then returned to the newsreader, who, after a moment to compose himself, continued with his broadcast: "In accordance with her orders, that footage has been sent to news broadcasters across the globe to spread her message to all of humanity.  As of now, however, the Goddess is heading south, apparently following the east coast.  Her destination is unknown and difficult to predict, but it seems likely that she is heading for either Florida or aiming to cross the border into Mexico.  Therefore, we implore our viewers in the following states to switch to regional news and listen to evacuation orders..."


Billy had seen and heard enough and turned off the TV.  Looking out of the window, he saw only a pair of pale legs sauntering towards him with a contemptuously casual gait.  The ground tremors had reached the point that each of the colossal bitch's steps shook the many porcelain ornaments that his mother, God rest her soul, loved to collect from their mountings and smashed them against the floor.  She was heading straight for him, that much was certain.  She might move away at the last minute, distracted by something else to visit and abuse for her pleasure, but if not then his farm and everything that he had lived and worked for would fall beneath her feet.  That couldn't be avoided, but there was one thing that he still held a degree of power over and that she could never take from him.  It rested in his lap, his father's gun once used to kill Japs in the Pacific.  Even then, if by some miracle he was spared, a world without a free United States of America was not one he wanted to live in.


Billy looked at the broken ornaments that his mother spent a lifetime collecting, shattered coloured porcelain on the worn carpet, and had made up his mind.  With a final swig that finished his can he held his dad's gun to his temple, and closed his eyes...




About half an hour later, the modest home, the surrounding farmland including the barn, the grain silo, and fields of wheat disappeared beneath Diane's foot, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.  She hadn't even noticed; what was the life of a single tiny human when there were seven billion of them scattered across the world, each now finding purpose to live only for her pleasure?  Soon they would all see her in person when she cross the great expanse of land and sea, and the peoples of the world would despair when she visited to subjugate their puny nations to her divine rule, but she was in no great rush for she now had all the time in the world.  With each cataclysmic step as she followed the line of the Atlantic coast south to warmer climates she demonstrated the single, inescapable truth - the goddess Diane reigned over all mankind.


Chapter 5 by Rattlehead
Author's Notes:

Thank you all for reading this story, and I appreciate all of the praise and critique that I have received. It was all unexpected really. Anyway. I've started a continuation, of sorts. Unlike the first parts which were written in one sitting as a result of a fervent strike of inspiration and then posted in relatively rapid succession, I'm going to have to take a bit more time with this one and post as and when I finish chapter, which means there will likely be longer periods of time between postings.


Maureen didn't know how or why she survived. The last thing that she could remember before everything went dark was the impossibly vast face of her friend and work colleague Diane Smith, grinning down at the helpless throng of people with an expression that could only be described as pure, malicious delight. The same face that she had greeted at the front desk of the office, now a mere pile of rubble among so many others in the devastated wasteland that was once a thriving minor city, nearly every work day for the past few days now heralded the end for so many innocent lives. 

If she closed her eyes she could see that desperately pretty face again, looming past the few tall skyscrapers that still stood amidst the scenes of near endless destruction, now rendered impotent and pathetic by the giantess's sheer, impossible size. Great, green eyes peered down an elegant nose at the teeming masses of humanity flooding the streets beneath her chin. She remembered a vast fingertip appearing overhead to block out the sun, with every line and crevice in that impossibly gargantuan digit etched in her memory, and then descend with merciless finality upon the crowd of shrieking, screaming men and women that she was a part of. The tallest of the structures could barely put up even a second of resistance, indenting the soft skin only slightly until the relatively limitless strength of a single, massive finger inevitably overpowered that of these comparatively fragile manmade structures. The buildings collapsed from the top down, showering the streets with crumbling chunks of concrete and glass and crushed many beneath their weight in a grim prelude of what was to follow. The noise of the impact, however, was drowned out by the cacophony of panic and chaos that only rose in intensity and volume with the collective realisation of their shared, doomed fate. Maureen could remember being pushed and shoved, jostled around by a multitude of people desperate to escape; some might have been friends, or faces she'd seen multiple times in the streets, or had met in clubs, bagged her groceries, served her coffee, or driven her home. They were all gone now, crushed into thin layers of organic material in a yawning chasm stretching hundreds of yards wide down what was once the heart of the town's cultural life, formed by a titanic woman's lusts for domination.

Images of the utter ruin of her hometown flashed before Maureen's eyes in a chaotic jumble of broken skyscrapers, massive footprints where streets of vibrant culture and industry or simple mundane life once existed, and the grisly, flattened remains of people crushed to death beneath the goddess's feet. The gleeful laughter rendered terrifying by both its volume and the horrors it heralded echoed in her mind, drowning out the noise of the outside world around her. Above all, however, what was most vivid in her memory was the feeling of utter insignificance; watching this giantess, this immense woman, so effortlessly lay waste to everything and everyone she had known and loved for her entire life, and enjoying it so much in the process, made her feel pathetic, weak, useless, and above all tiny. She, like everyone else, was a tiny 'mite', as Diane had described the entire race of mankind with a voice that literally came from the heavens, to be stepped on, crushed, or simply forgotten about. 

If there had been any malice or hatred, however irrational, in the giant woman's expression as she destroyed the city and murdered tens of thousands of innocent people then Maureen might have understood. But no, such death and destruction was always accompanied by a pretty face with a happy smile and eyes twinkling with unrestricted glee. She tried to imagine the horror she had just gone through from Diane's perspective, as though it was her, not this low grade admin worker, who had inexplicably grown to such a colossal size. She imagined standing with her head in the clouds and the city at her feet, with its glittering towers of glass, steel, and concrete barely cresting past the curve of her ankle bone and its inhabitants barely visible as specks scurrying through the streets. Her foot would rise from the yawning crater formed by the vast mass of her miles-tall body merely standing upon the fragile landscape, and sweep ominously over the heads of hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny, doomed individuals. She would flex her dainty toes, to see between them what she was about to step on; thin black and grey lines of streets, flooded with hordes of wailing people pushing and pulling and fighting in vain to escape their fate, marking out blocks of high rise apartments, shops, offices, town houses, gyms, libraries, cinemas, schools, and all of that busy city life that had been singled out to be touched by a goddess. Perhaps Diane herself was down there amongst them, a mere speck running with hundreds of others down the streets, only to turn and look up to see a vast sole filling the sky above. She imagined the raw sensation of sheer, unrestrained power that she, a mere woman, would possess over the entire frightened race of mankind purely from her immense size alone, and she too would smile as the real goddess Diane had done.

"You better run you tiny, worthless bugs," she would say, "before I step on you, and crush your little city beneath my big foot like this." She broke into an evil giggle, and her toes descended on the doomed crowds.

A light jab to the ribs brought her abruptly from her sadistic fantasy and back into the real world. Maureen was disappointed to see not endless open sky and a city at her feet but the grim, sombre, poorly lit interior of an army truck filled with sick, injured, terrified people. Somewhere a woman was sobbing, while a man yelled at her to shut up. They all sat on uncomfortable wooden benches along the length of the hold, with Maureen sitting approximately in the middle between a man wearing a dusty, torn business suit with his arm wrapped up in a sling and a blank thousand-yard stare and an elderly woman who, despite the horror she had witnessed and the dismal state of her clothing, maintained an air of quiet refinement and dignity. It must have been the woman who had nudged her, she thought. Standing in front of her was a soldier of some description, she wasn't sure, in dirty stained military fatigues, and who looked down at her expectantly. In his hand he held a notepad, which he tapped with some irritation with the end of his pen.

"Name?" he said, with an insistent tone of voice that implied that this wasn't the first time he'd asked her. Maureen finally noticed that the truck had stopped, though she had no idea where she and the other survivors had been taken.

"Maureen," she answered quietly. "Maureen Hatton."

The solder scribbled something down on his notepad and stepped to ask the same question to the quiet man sitting next to her. It was only then that Maureen became aware of the warmth between her legs, which she crossed awkwardly lest people somehow detect her state of arousal. A soft, red blush came to her tanned cheeks and she squirmed in her seat, suddenly feeling embarrassed and ashamed that she could feel that way about something so horrible. Yet, as she tried to calm herself down she could not deny to herself that the idea of possessing such size and the power that came with it was exceedingly erotic to her.

The soldiers and aid workers had found her with a small group of fellow survivors, entombed within a heap of crumbled masonry that was once a movie theatre. She had no recollection of how she found herself inside, but had been told that someone had carried her unconscious body inside. It was pure luck that this structure, or, to be more accurate when one considers the sheer size of the woman who had so very nearly ended her life, this portion of the city block was spared the fickle, destructive whims of the giantess. 

From there she and the other people who had taken refuge were escorted on foot through the ruined city. The giantess was gone by that point, but the regular shudders that reverberated through the ground through her weary feet as she was marched through the abandoned streets served as a constant reminder of her presence. Every two seconds or so, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter, the ground itself would shake, as if trembling in fear from the unseen colossal woman. One of their number would lose their footing with the tremors and fall, or a building that had already suffered greatly in the chaos but somehow survived her passing, its sides marred with spiders' webs of crumbling masonry and its structure leaning drunkenly on foundations twisted by a giantess's mere passing, would finally give up its futile attempts to remain standing and would simply collapse in a cascade of concrete and debris into the streets.

The journey to the holding camp on the outskirts of town was long and arduous, for the roads and streets were in no fit state to allow easy transit of so many people. At about half an hour into their journey the landscape began to slope upwards, and then culminated in a steep hill, almost like a cliff, that was made up of a jumbled mess of different buildings, unrecognisable lumps of concrete, damaged cars, and a seemingly random selection of everything possible. The soldiers escorting them had decided that the best route around this obstacle was straight over it, though it took a great deal of effort and patience on their part to help the less able survivors scramble over the rough terrain.

Maureen's watch had stopped and her phone had ran out of battery, so she could not accurately gauge how long it took for them to climb over this ridge, this catastrophic upheaval of the ground that was merely a side effect of Diane's murderous play. Nevertheless, the sun had made considerable headway in its journey in the sky by the time they had reached the summit, and Maureen could stand upon a jumbled mess of concrete that was probably a bank of some description and look down to see a yawning chasm several hundred feet wide and many more long. It was her finger; it was the giant woman's finger that caused this great rent in the landscape.

The ground below appeared to be very smooth, much like the footprint that Maureen had unwittingly stumbled into when Diane was smaller but still deadly, but on a far larger scale. It was difficult to tell from her vantage point, but in the mottled greys and browns of this chasm, made by a goddess lazily dragging her finger across a few busy city streets, she thought she could make out where those streets were, and where there once buildings, shops, high-value apartment buildings, banks, and offices. She thought of the people that, hours before, had flooded those streets, cast into darkness by the immense digit of the goddess Diane, who, like her, were stricken by mortal terror and struggling to escape the doom falling upon them. She had somehow survived, and yet she peered down at the empty desolate wastes that the soldiers were about to lead the survivors into, she felt a horrid, sickening sensation when she realised that the remains of hundreds, if not thousands, of people must lie crushed in that chasm. Just like the footprint, she thought, only this time, not even bloodied stains would remain of those unfortunate souls.

Sudden light brought Maureen back out of her morbid memories, and she looked up to see that the flap on the back of the truck had been pulled back. It was now dark outside, but the light from various bright spotlights pointing down from tall mounts illuminated a large field littered with tents. Her fellow refugees likewise shielded their eyes from the brightness, and peered through gaps in fingers to see. The form of a soldier climbing into the back of the truck was silhouetted by this light, such that Maureen could not adequately make out his features, only that he held another clipboard in his hand. The soldier in the truck turned on his heels and snapped to attention, bringing his hand stiffly to his forehead in a smart salute to the newcomer, marking him out as an officer of some sort. A quiet, expectant hush fell amongst the refugees in the truck.

"The National Guard has brought you here for your own safety," said the officer, his voice, though loud, sounded dry from overuse. "The country is now under martial law as we deal with this emergency. I cannot tell you when you will be allowed to return to your homes, but for the time being you will remain here in this camp where we will give you food, water, a roof over your head, and medical treatment if needed. I know many of you are eager to find your friends and family, and we will do our best to help you do that. However, our first priority is to make sure everybody is safe, so we would appreciate your patience."

With that, the officer clambered out of the back of the truck and disappeared into the crowds beyond. Under the direction of the remaining soldier, the refugees rose from their seats and stumbled falteringly out of the truck and into the field. There, Maureen became lost in the crowd of fellow survivors, being herded and prodded and directed by more armed soldiers, while men and women in smart business suits and a few in white coats weaved their way through the churning mass of humanity to select one or two frightened and bewildered individuals away. As she, helpless as ever, stood and watched as everyone filtered around her like a rock in a shallow flowing stream to be filtered and processed, she could not help but feel that where she was now was no safer than in the ruins of her former home.

As she shambled forth to whatever fate awaited her here in this camp, it occurred to her that from now on nothing would ever be the same again for her and for the whole world.

Chapter 6 by Rattlehead

Diane had no idea what to do now. After all, no one had written any sort of book or guide on what to do when one finds oneself large enough to grind entire cities into nothingness beneath one's feet in but a few earth-shaking steps. Nevertheless, her new gargantuan size and the sheer, raw power over the forces of man and nature alike that came with it had kept her both entertained and aroused for a considerable amount of time. It had been a day since she had grown, and she had still yet to become bored at the sight of the landscape, once formidable, vast, and all but insurmountable without the aid of machines, now stretched out before her to be crossed with ease by her mighty, goddess feet, or of clouds wafting lazily around her proudly nude body, or of millions upon millions of tiny, terrified people, barely visible to her eye in their miniscule homes, watching her, lusting after her, and, above all, fearing her. She had not tired of the sensation of the ground yielding beneath her unimaginably vast weight, leaving footprints hundreds of feet deep as permanent reminders to those who survived who now owned them, and of the feeling of grasslands, fields, forests, and yes, populated villages and towns filled with doomed people crushed beyond all recognition.

It was morning, and the sun was creeping up from beyond the Atlantic and bathed the east coast of the American continent in its soft, orange glow. Diane had chosen this relatively empty spot by the sea to serve as her bed, though unbeknownst to her, and most importantly uncared for, a half dozen farms and a small township had been erased from the map by the mere act of her lying down. The world had been granted an all too brief respite from her growing ambitions, and she a well-deserved rest. After all, she had done in a day what no power on earth could do in two and a half centuries and force the United States to capitulate. But for her the subjugation of the superpower was merely a stepping stone to greater things, for she knew that while she slept the rest of the world would scramble in blind, confused panic to co-ordinate some sort of response to the existential threat this immense woman posed. In fact, she looked forward to seeing it and laughing off the futile attempts of these mites to resist understanding the inevitable, horrific truth of their new place in the world. Perhaps she would pay New York a visit, and smear the pitiful United Nations building and the representatives of soon-to-be-conquered countries beneath her big toe in contempt.

Diane had slept peacefully, insofar as one could describe anything that she did as 'peaceful' for her mere presence anywhere was accompanied with death and destruction, and as the sun crested over the still waters of the ocean and illuminated her face, her eyelids fluttered and then opened. Slowly, she lifted her head from the ground, revealing just one small fraction of the deep, wide canyon that her billions of tons of mass had formed when it came to rest upon the landscape, and blinked rapidly. A soft smile came to her full lips; today was a new day, with new opportunities for her to explore the new possibilities of her size.

A thunderous yawn broke the relative still of the morning, deafening those unfortunate few who remained nearby. Rubbing her eyes, Diane rose ponderously from her mountain-levelling rest, pushing herself up to sit cross-legged facing the rising sun. She felt a minute tickle against her shoulder as she rose, and idly brushed at the skin there with her fingers, ignorant of the fact that this minor sensation was caused by the impact of four of the dozen helicopters that had been monitoring her as she slept. The remaining eight retreated as fast as their rotors would could carry them, and continued their unnoticed vigil from what their crew prayed was a safe distance.

Her hands rested on her lap as she watched the striking vista of the rising sun, and she smiled broadly. Diane had to admit that one thing she missed from her previous existence as just another regular woman, and that was a proper chair she could lean back against. Perhaps she would instruct her newly subjugated possession, the United States of America, to turn its industrial might to constructing a suitable throne for her. Now that would create jobs, she thought to herself. 

Nevertheless, she felt freer than ever; what opportunity would she have been granted to witness this sight from this lofty, divine perspective as just another mere human speck scurrying through the streets between the glass towers? As she gazed across at the still sea, the sun reflected in its stillness making the ocean appear as those it was made of molten gold, her thoughts travelled to the lands that lay beyond it. 

The President was not there at the White House when she flattened it beneath her foot, much to her disappointment, but those in Congress were more than willing to tell her that he had fled to England to save their own pathetic lives. She imagined wading across the Atlantic Ocean and then striding ashore on that island, and the commotion that would bring for its inhabitants to witness her first on the horizon, growing closer and closer until she was directly on top of them. That in itself was reason enough to do it, but she couldn't stop there. Diane had always see London, and this time there was room for only one queen. She would show the metropolis that the meaning of the word 'big' when she plucked Big Ben from the ground with her toes. On second thoughts, that clock tower was much too small for her to do that without flattening both it, the Houses of Parliament, and a good chunk of Westminster beneath her mountainous digits. Perhaps she would save that particular stunt for the Eiffel Tower instead. She would tour the world, shape it, and cleanse it according to her fickle whims and desires; she would be the ultimate tourist, for nowhere would be beyond her ability to merely walk now.

Diane had to confess some ignorance when it came to geography, and as she considered the stretch of ocean before her, the last thing that could possibly make this fucking huge woman feel even remotely small, she thought perhaps that it might be too much of an obstacle even for her. What if the depths of the Atlantic were too deep for her to wade through? Or the great gulf between the continents too far even for her to cross? The prospect of her divine reign ending by ignominiously drowning halfway to Europe was far too embarrassing to contemplate.

There was, however, one possibility that made her grin from ear to ear as she considered it. If she could make herself even bigger than she was now, to make even the eight or so miles that stretched from head to toe seem tiny by comparison, then not even the oceans themselves would be an obstacle to her bringing her will to the whole world. By extension, too, she reasoned that she could make herself small again. Not too small, of course, but just enough once again see the fear on their tiny faces when she would have to speak with her subjects. Though she loved the sight of tall skyscrapers dwarfed by her feet, there was something uniquely personal about stepping directly on top of a crowd of people that she missed.

As her mind wandered so did her left hand across her toned thigh to her crotch. She found that she was already wet as her fingers caressed the folds of her labia, and a soft, breathy moan escaped her lips and was heard across the entire county. Thousands, perhaps even more, would see her, hear her, and feel the shudder in the ground beneath their feet as she unashamedly indulged in her own self-indulgent lusts. From miles away and beyond, in areas too remote or considered not significant enough for emergency services to spend their limited resources evacuating, those too proud or too foolish to leave their homes would look up to see the Diane's nude body looming over them, its sensual curves distorted by the perspective.

In one such area, Lewis, a young man who had the great misfortune of having agreed to house-sit his parents' empty modest town house in a tiny rural settlement at the same time this seemingly random woman had suddenly and inexplicably grown to a such an immense size, sat transfixed by the window of his parents' bedroom. He paid no heed to the people in the streets below him, those who had not the means to escape or were simply paralysed by the fear and grim realisation that should the giant woman who loomed over their homes wish to eradicate their town from the map then there was not a damned thing they could do about it.

Lewis had seen images of her on the internet, but even the higher quality uncensored stills and video clips of the goddess's rampage that had been frantically shared and swapped between total strangers like bootleg tapes failed the capture the raw sexual power that she possessed. Indeed, his erection had become almost painful now, though he had been staving off indulging himself in the hope that she might shift her silky-smooth legs and grant him, a mere tiny worshipper, the sight that he craved. It was obvious what she was doing; he could see her reach between her legs, but her silky white thigh was in the way of the action and it was at once tantalisingly erotic and maddeningly disappointing.

The massive form of the goddess rose and fell gently as she touched herself, and the floor of his bedroom would shake with each of her movements, though delayed somewhat with the distance that divided her from her adoring worshipper. Her boobs, each more than large enough to completely smother the small town he lived in, replicated the rise and fall of her chest in a more exaggerated manner. As Lewis imagined the view behind her obstructing leg, assembling the image of fingers that dwarfed skyscrapers delving into a cunt more than large enough to swallow those impressive manmade structures whole based on those clips he had frantically downloaded, Lewis soon gave up on any attempt at holding back and simply dropped his pants to masturbate. He didn't care if anyone out in the street below could see him through the window, they had other things on their mind.

Abruptly, Diane stopped. Lewis watched as she removed her hand from her crotch and rested that arm on her leg. He had to lean forward awkwardly to see her face, half hidden by a cluster of clouds forming around her shoulders, pout and frown. When she spoke, it was like the voice of god from the heavens, but looking up at her from his lowly viewpoint, that analogy was true in its most literal sense.

"Fuck." Her voice was loud, almost painfully so, but it seemed odd. It was deeper than he expected, though still held a delicate, feminine quality despite the crudeness of her remark, and seemed somewhat distorted by the sheer distance. Indeed, Lewis was certain that there was a delay between her lips moving and the sound reaching his ears. "Was I always this damn horny?"

Diane stood up; a deceptively simple description that belied the awe-inspiring sight of over twenty billion tons of feminine mass being raised to her full size of eight miles. Nevertheless it had happened in just a few seconds, and no slower than anyone would expect any normal person to stand up from sitting Indian-style. The floor shook more heavily than before, making the bed and even the hefty wardrobe filled with Lewis's mother's clothes wobble disconcertingly. Looking out of window, he could only see the giantess's feet and part of her shins now, and while the peculiar, and hitherto unknown sexuality imparted to this woman by her vast size alone did little to impact the young man's arousal, he wanted to see more.

Reluctantly, he took his hand off his cock and slid off the bed. That his pants were around his ankles made the crawl to the window awkward, but once there he opened it and stuck his head out to get a better view. Fortunately, it was just in time for him to see Diane turn to face his general direction, her left leg rising into the air, soar over some unseen part of the landscape, and then land. There was a few seconds' delay until the sound reached his ears; the earth crying out in protest was like low, distant thunder that seemed to ripple, echo, and linger. A few moments later still, the shockwave swept through the town; a wall of air that struck Lewis in the face as he clung to the windowsill, the floor shook more violently than ever before, and somewhere in the house something had fallen over with an awful crash.

Lewis was never one for feet, but now he struggled to tear his eyes away from the mountainous toes wiggling playfully in the deep impact crater formed by the goddess's step forward. Whatever calming spell had transfixed the few people in the streets below had broken, and a chorus of panicked screams accompanied the still lingering rumbles and obnoxious blare of car alarms. He didn't notice them, but instead looked up and followed the soft, womanly curves of Diane's leg, distorted by the perspective, and there it was - her womanhood. There, proudly on display, glistening with her fluids, her labia was swollen and pinkish-red from her brazen arousal. He continued looking up, over a trim, flat tummy over which loomed the twin mountains of her breasts, still swaying alluringly from the movement of her torso. Craning his neck out of the window, he saw her face, and she was looking directly at him.

Improbable, he thought, but it soon became clear when her other foot rose gracefully from its footprint and rushed closer at a horrifying speed. It was impossible to judge distance with any sort of accuracy, for in this dismal, unimpressive, rural little town in the middle of nowhere there was absolutely nothing that could form an appropriate frame of reference to judge a woman of such unimaginable size. He thought she was miles away, but the realisation that while a matter of miles for him was an unassailable distance for him, it was nothing for this giant woman. She wasn't looking at him directly, but merely where she was going to place her next, apocalyptic step.

Fear gripped him as darkness fell, but he still remained there at his window, jerking himself off with furious abandon. If was to die, then he was to do so in what he believed to be in an act of worship and adoration for his goddess. The street lamps had come on automatically, and somewhere someone had the presence of mind to shine a searchlight directly upward to illuminate a tiny patch of the immense sole that was to come down on their town. Diane's sexy sole rapidly filled Lewis's view, but he didn't mind for his newfound appreciation for such things kept his hand pumping frantically on his engorged member. In spite of the darkness he could every line and wrinkle in the vast, undulating plain of flesh that filled the heavens; stained as it was with the countless buildings and people that had been mercilessly stepped on. The thought of it crushing everything in its path, including him, was strangely thrilling in ways that he could not properly articulate.

Lewis climaxed against the wall, and then slumped over the windowsill to wait for the end. The sole descended, but the end never came - not for him, at least. The darkness passed and the morning light returned as Diane's immense foot swept overhead. A gust of displaced air howled past, but was rapidly overshadowed by the tremendous, thundering crash as the foot landed somewhere behind his parents' home. The ground lurched more violently before, at once pinning him to the floor as it rose upwards, sending wardrobe and the desk in the room toppling over to spill their contents to the ground, then he and everything else was tossed in the air.

The world was a jumble of the garish, yellow, flowery wallpaper pattern, wood, clothes, bed, everything, as though he and the room were trapped inside a tumble dryer. Lewis landed in a heap on the corner as the earthquake calmed, though the floor beneath him still quivered and shook in the aftershock. From his corner he could see that Diane was no longer visible through the window. Ignoring the pain from his various bruises, he pushed himself to his feet and kicked off his pants. Naked from the waist down, he stumbled through the wreckage of his parents' bedroom, where the furniture was ruined, the floor was no longer strictly level or indeed stationary, the walls had cracked, and in places the roof had collapsed in piles of rubble. 

He moved to the spare bedroom at the rear of the house, and saw the back of Diane's heel towering above all else through the shattered window. She had missed much of the town, by accident or by design he couldn't tell, but it looked as though a large section of the outer suburbs was now smothered beneath her heel. Trembling from all of the excitement, Lewis clambered onto the spare bed, and watched as the goddess walked south, and waited until she was far enough for her ass to comfortably get into view.

Diane had decided to continue her leisurely stroll south for no other reason than because she still felt like getting a tan. The heat in her crotch and the nagging, itching urge to indulge in her lusts were distracting, but, in a rare case of restraint for the newly-minted goddess, she did her best to ignore it. She wanted to save it, for if she gave into the arousal too much she feared that at this rate there would be hardly any civilisation left for her to rule over. Perhaps, she thought as she wandered lazily along the coast heedless of how many lives were ended with every simple step, instead of making a throne for her, the efforts of her slaves would be better employed in making a dildo. The combined efforts of so many people and the resources that would consume just to create a sex toy big enough and resilient enough to satisfy her needs was indicative of the absurdity of her new world order. She made a mental note to broach that subject the next time she visited Washington.

Chapter 8 by Rattlehead
Author's Notes:

Well, I managed to squeeze out another chapter. Writer's block had hit hard and I can't say that I'm entirely happy with the following addition, but I felt I had to get something out at least.

Maureen couldn't sleep. The tent was cold and draughty, and the indistinct sound of some activity from beyond the thin walls had kept her lying awake on the hard bed.  She shared her sleeping area with the dozen or so other people that she had arrived in the truck with, though a few of them had been picked up by the people in suits and hadn't been seen since.  The rest of the day, however, had passed in an incoherent blur as she and the other survivors were prodded and pushed along by the camp staff; stripped, washed, dressed in denim overalls, fed rations, and finally interrogated by a number of military personnel with varying levels of compassion and patience for the horrific events they were encouraged to describe.  In spite of just how physically and emotionally exhausting the past twenty-four hours had been for her and, come to think of it, mankind in general, from the violence and terror of Diane's ascension to the unquestioned goddess of this world to the tedium of the long journey and finally the barrage of activity and settling unease in the camp, rest eluded her.


Lying awake on the cot in the darkness only brought more images of the horror that she had just endured; even with her eyes open and staring at the drab roof of the tent, in the absence of anything to distract her, her thoughts would always drift inexorably to a jumbled, incoherent mess of ruined buildings, crushed people, and Diane herself standing triumphant above the destruction she had just inflicted.  Eventually, Maureen could stand it no longer, and rose clumsily from her bed.  Clad in a set of ill-fitting pyjamas that were a few sizes too big for her, she tip-toed her way around the rows of beds, some empty and some occupied by a fellow survivor in varying states of sleep and wakefulness.


The night was chilly, so Maureen wrapped her thin arms around her chest when she emerged from the slit in the tent and into the cool outside.  The harsh spotlights shining down from above like a judgement from heaven startled her.  Blinking away the spots in her eyes until she could see adequately again, she stumbled across the field to the next tent.  The space between the two tents were mostly empty, with only a bored sentry smoking a cigarette and staring aimlessly at the vast expanse of black that was the sky.  He didn't seem to notice her, or at least if he did he gave no indication.


The other tent served as some sort of communal area, with an assortment of stiff plastic chairs scattered around some tables, some vending machines, and an old CRT television.  There was some sort of news broadcast on, though Maureen couldn't hear it over the sound of the only two other people in the tent arguing.


"We already went through this shit!" one shouted, a taller, broader man wearing a stained T-shirt and jeans instead of the ubiquitous denim overalls everyone had been given.  He gesticulated at the television emphatically with a finger.  "We all saw it, I don't want to see it again."


"I'm watching this!" said the other.  He was a shorter, thinner man sitting on one of the flimsy chairs, his eyes alternating between watching the television and looking up at the one standing over him.  "Go somewhere else if you don't like it."


Maureen stood by the tent flap, unsure of whether or not to intervene or make a discrete exit and fetch the bored soldier outside, and so trapped by her indecision she merely stayed put and watched the two.  The man standing up looked as though he was about to say something, but then he was distracted by the news show displaying a short video clip of Diane's sole filling the sky and bearing inexorably down from the heavens, and the abrupt ending of the clip left little ambiguity as to the ultimate fate of whomever filmed it.


"Oh, fuck you," he spat, and turned on his heels to storm out of the tent.  "I don't have to put up with this."


As the man marched past, Maureen thought she saw tears rimming his bloodshot eyes, though the speed of his exit made it difficult for her to tell.  Feeling a little awkward at watching the exchange, especially now that the guards must surely be alerted to the disturbance, she considered going back to her bed.  However, the TV show interested her, now showing two middle-aged men in suits arguing and a female presenter in the middle trying and failing to keep the discussion civil, and it was hardly worth trying to go back to sleep now, so she slinked in, eyeing the one remaining person in the room, and took a seat at a table close to the exit.


"I can't believe you're advocating surrender to this monster!" exclaimed the man on the right, emphasising his point by shaking his hands emphatically.  He leaned forwards on his seat, as though he might suddenly leap across the desk and the woman separating him from the other pundit to strangle him.  The ticker on the bottom of the screen identified him as Fred Russell, the editor of some Washington D.C.-based newspaper whose main office and printing press were now flattened with not only the entire block but about half a dozen adjacent ones too in an enormous footprint.  "The United States has never surrendered before, and never will."


The man on the left shook his head, and then adjusted the thin-rimmed glasses on his nose.  The text on the screen identified him as Hugh Murphy, a spokesman for the White House.  "What I'm advocating is the best chance we have to ensure the survival of the United States of America and our way of life."


"By surrendering?" Fred spluttered incredulously.


"Well, what choice do we have to protect our people?"  Hugh had thrown up his hands in apparent defeat.  "We should put our faith in the new administration to come to some sort of agreement with Diane."


Fred responded by pounding the table emphatically with a fist.  The water in the glasses on the table wobbled disconcertingly.  "We must fight!" he shouted.


"We tried that once and look what happened; she got bigger, the attack was a failure, and an entire city and everyone in it is all but destroyed."  Hugh's voice had adopted a somewhat condescending tone, as though he was trying to explain all of this to a small child.  As she watched, Maureen decided that she didn't like either of the two talking heads, and judging by the only other person watching the television shaking his head and muttering not-so-subtly under his breath she was not the only one.  "We simply don't have any other option now.  Another attack is only going to lead to more people dying."


"People are dying right now, you goddamn quisling."  By now, Fred's face had turned a somewhat unhealthy shade of red.  "They're getting... they're getting stepped on right now.  Every time that giant woman walks somewhere or simply moves entire towns full of American citizens are getting wiped out.  I can't believe you're okay with that."


Hugh jabbed his finger on the desk for emphasis.  "I am most certainly not okay with that."


"But you're the one saying we should just give up and not do anything."


Hugh chewed on his lower lip for a moment and threw his hands up in exasperation, breathing a heavy sigh of frustration.  "No, what I'm saying is that we should play the long game.  Conventional weapons don't work, if anything they made the situation even worse, but if we give her what she wants now that'll give our scientists enough time to work out how and why this happened and how we can stop this threat.  If not, then we may have to settle for an arrangement that will allow us to at least co-exist peacefully."


The man watching the television with Maureen snorted and muttered, "Idiots."  His voice seemed to be quiet enough not to attract too much attention from whomever may be lingering outside the tent, but only just loud enough for Maureen to hear it.  The subtle inclination of his head in her direction and the side-eyed glance certainly implied that she was meant to.


The debate continued, and Fred leaned in closer, supporting his broader frame on the sleek, attractive desk that separated him from his opponent.  The hostess, however, appeared to be looking behind the camera, presumably at the producer or other such network official there, and not particularly paying attention to the discussion at hand.


"There's one thing we haven't tried," said Fred in a low tone of voice that suggested that he might have a trump card hidden up his sleeve.  "The nuclear option.  We nuke the bitch."


Hugh's eyes bugged out of his skull at the statement, and even the hostess stopped staring at the distraction taking place out of shot and looked at Fred as though he had suddenly grown an extra head.  His opponent, for that matter, sat back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.  There was a smug sense of triumph about his whole demeanour now.


"You're kidding, right?" said Hugh incredulously.  "No administration is going to sanction a nuclear attack on American soil."


"If we don't, then the Russians will, or maybe the Chinese, who knows?  Do you honestly think the rest of the world is going to lie down quietly and let this carry on?  But it's better that we do it."


"And what happened to worrying about people dying?  The collateral damage from a nuclear strike would be devastating, and there's no telling right now just how many nukes will be needed.  I mean, we could be talking about rendering the entire East Coast uninhabitable from the fallout."


Fred scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.  "The entire East Coast is already uninhabitable because there's a giant living there.  We have to make difficult decisions to ensure the survival of our great country."


It was then that the hostess interrupted the argument by raising her hand and leaning forward on her desk to provide some sort of barrier between the two participants.  "I'm afraid that's all we have time for," she said, her voice sounding rather stern and strained, which to Maureen watching seemed to betray a certain level of emotional toll that this grim, horrifying, and downright bizarre news story was taking on her and presumably the rest of the news team.  "And now, here's Ted with the sports."


The other man in the tent lifted up the remote, and with an exaggerated motion that imitated the recoil of firing a pistol turned the television off.  He then turned to face Maureen, who shifted uncomfortably under his curious gaze.  He was not unattractive, she thought, though like most of the other survivors here was a little dishevelled in appearance even after the shower and the replacement clothes that didn't fit.  His expression, however, was most unsettling; his eyes were wide and alert, devoid of the haunted and empty look of everyone else who witnessed the horror of Diane's murderous rampage and had somehow survived where so many others had not, and overall seemed far too placid and calm for her liking.


"They're all wrong," he said, shaking his head.


"Sorry?" said Maureen, unsure of what to say.


"Everyone," he said as he stood up and made his way towards her.  "They think Diane is something they can fight against or control or negotiate with.  They don't want to accept that our goddess has finally come to us.  What do you think?"


"I..."  Maureen shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him.  She felt like she wanted to be alone now, and contemplated calling for the guards.  "I don't know."


The man's eyes sparkled with the zeal of a fanatic and he smiled down at Maureen.  "The goddess is going to cleanse this sick, twisted world and a new age will begin for the faithful," he said.  "Just make sure you're on the right side."


He left, and Maureen was finally left alone.  Sitting there in the plastic seat with only the latent background noise of the camp itself to remind her that she was somehow not the last remaining person in the world, she buried her face in her hands and wondered just what was the point of all of this utter insanity.  Perhaps the strange man was right, and if her former friend Diane declared herself a goddess the no one, and certainly not anyone the size of a mite compared to her enormous stature, could dare say otherwise. 


Whether or not she was truly divine was irrelevant, only that this one individual now held such immense power of life and death over millions, for whom the distances and obstacles that separated states, countries, and continents no longer restrained her, and against whom the military might of superpowers were utterly ineffectual, that to call her anything but a goddess would be as insulting as it was factually incorrect.  Somehow, Maureen had been chosen to survive where so many did not, and will not if Diane's current behaviour towards her near-microscopic subjects was any indication, and when she considered the utter devastation that had been wrought upon her home city that to have lived through it could not have been random chance.  For what purpose, she did not know, but, she thought, perhaps she would find it with that strange man.  Finally lifting her head from her hands, she resolved to find both him and her new purpose in the morning.


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