Another Cruel God

by Seeguy_Shade

Warning: Contains giant men and women engaging in acts of wanton destruction and mass murder, there is gore, hard vore, and messy sadistic decadence within, therefore minors should not be, scram kiddies!

I lay on my back, my entire field of vision blocked from light, immense pressure bearing down across my body. Somewhere close by, I heard muffled cracking and crunching; muffled screams too. It wasn’t unpleasant; far from it. The pressure increased, a wonderful feeling having something like 50,000 tons pressing down on top of my little body. Good thing I’m indestructible. The others were not.

The pressure lessened and light crept in around me. The huge oblong shape seemed to shrink away as it lifted up off of my body, my husband’s 70 foot long foot. It’s sole was plastered with more than a few victims squished flat against his sole. The air whooshed in around me carrying a distinctive scent. Metallic, tangy, and wonderful, blood on the air. Likewise, noises reached my ears, moans, choked screams, the soft crackle of shifting bones and organs; also wonderful.

“Want to come with me?” My husband’s voice spoke into my ear and mine alone.

“No,” I replied. “I want to experience this a while longer. You run along, I’ll catch up after doing a little bonding with my new friends down here.”

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?”

I heard pained moans around me.

“Only mostly dead,” I said.

“Fair enough.”

I listened to the muted booming and the not so muted screams and crashing of his casually destructive footsteps moving away from me. As I took stock of my surroundings, I noticed a wetness soaking into my jeans and sweater. A small amount of it was coming from between my thighs of course, but most of it was oozing and flowing in from around me as I lay on my back. I felt around. Right away, I felt warm liquid smear on my fingertips. It was a bit thick like a gravy of sorts. There were also various chucks of soft stuff and a few chips of harder scratchier material.

Ah, I thought, blood and organ mush.

I had felt and seen such things many times before, of course, but not at such a small relative size. It was a novel experience, and I’ve always craved the novel. Almost as much as I craved the moans and screams produced along with such substances. The crowd around me, though muted of course, punctured and crushed lungs make it hard to fully express agony the poor dears, did not disappoint. Joy filled my heart with that familiar warmth and a playful impulse flitted through me.

I stretched out my arms to either side, my fingers brushing ever so slightly against the shattered bodies around me, and I moved arms and legs back and forth slowly, making a sort of gore angel like a playful child in the new fallen snow.

Giggling, I turned my head to one side, so I could begin enjoying the sights, as well as the smells, sounds, and textures, of my husband’s victims. My victims as well, from a certain point of view. The first thing I saw was his face. The frankly beautiful face of a twenty something young man. With his pale skin, dark hair, and slight stubble, he reminded me a bit of my darling husband. He lay on his side, blood pooling underneath. His shirt bulged in various spots were his crushed rib cage had broken outward. I was pretty sure that the bone had pierced flesh in a few spots. He looked so dead and oozing and peaceful that I actually quaked ever so slightly as he made a loud gasp and expelled a mass of blood out of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open, bright and gray. They darted around and I couldn’t help but be moved by their beauty. He winced and tears flowed from those eyes; they were beautiful too. His eyes met mine, and as realization hit him, they filled with justified terror. Would this boy’s beauty never cease?

I wriggled toward him through the blood and muck, some of which was his, of course. Soon I lay on my side, right in front of him. I inspected his face. He averted his eyes.

I expended a bit of godly power to pull his information into my divine intellect. He had a pointless name and was a college student who regularly attended our churches on the appropriate days. A pious and devout follower, who was meeting his entirely appropriate fate.

“Hello little creature.” I said. “You may meet your god’s eyes, for she is very pleased to have shared this experience with you.”

His eyes darted around as if uncertain, then met mine.

“Does it hurt?” I asked smiling.

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled hiss and more blood. I expended a tiny bit more god power.

“We will speak mind to mind.” I said. “Think it, and I will hear. Does it hurt?”

“It’s excruciating.” he said.

“More detail please,” I said, “be specific.”

“Every breath is a sharp agony. My throat burns. I’m pretty sure most of my skin managed to stay unbroken, so it’s likely I wont bleed out for some time.”

“Do tell, don’t let it go to your head, but you suffer very beautifully.”

“Thank you, my god.” He said.

I scooted closer still until I was nearly touching him, and then I did. Extending my pointer finger, I slowly touched and pressed one of the bulges in his shirt. Under other conditions it would have merely been a gentle little prod. He winced again.

“It’s okay to scream if you can,” I said, “I will only love you more.” I pushed my finger in harder.

His eyes flooded with tears and his mouth opened, but all that came out was a dry wheeze and yet more blood.

In mind to mind however: “AAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

I realize it’s not entirely his fault, but I felt he could have tried a little harder to express his pain audibly. I removed my finger, but as fast as I could, I pressed in even harder with my entire hand.

This time he managed a real yelp through all the mucous and blood. I was so proud of him.

“That’s better, little one.” I said. “Would you like your god to grant you some degree of mercy?”

“Only if she feels I deserve it,” he whimpered.

“Very well,” I said. “I won’t kill you outright, that would be a waste of good suffering, but I will do something to mitigate things a little.”

“Whatever pleases you.”

“What a good little pathetic squish toy you’re being, alright.”

I reached up with my hands, placing one around the back of his head, and the other under his chin. I leaned in, kissing him, tasting the blood and flecks of foam on his lips.

“I love you.” I said, and snapped his head between my hands swiftly yet carefully. I heard that delightful crack of a breaking spine. I listened carefully. He was still breathing in ragged gasps and gulps.

“I’ve severed part of your spinal cord, dear.” I said. “This will dampen the pain from below your neck, but your should still be awake and aware for every second before your life seeps from you. When you feel it coming, rejoice, for soon after you will see me again, and I have special plans just for you handsome.”

With that, I booped his nose, and got up to my feet. I turned around surveying the carnage. Aside from my handsome little worshiper dozens of men, women, and children lay mangled and flattened in a long streak along the brickwork of the plaza. It was hard to tell for sure, because in some places bodies were stacked or rather squished and flattened together. I had managed to be just about be at the center of impact with the rest of the carnage radiating from where my crude little gore angel could still be seen. In a few places there were obvious empty spots, probably people whose bodies stuck to my husband’s foot. Still, the thought of being at the very center of the mob filled me with delight; maximum casualties. I walked around a little occasionally prodding a body with my bare toes. This was so different from just squishing a little person. There were so many beautiful sights. In one spot I saw a man squished flat with a much smaller smudge beneath his body; probably a father trying pointlessly to protect his child. It didn’t matter. All were fodder for our pleasure, and why should anyone be spared? I walked over to their bodies and saw how flat and squished they were. A wicked impulse came into me and I stepped forward onto their remains with my bare feet. I scrunched my toes around feeling their pulpy mush ooze between my toes like wet mud. It was so delicious and decadent that I felt my nipples harden a bit at the sensation. I’ve always been a very sensually focused kind of god.

I stepped out of their bodies and made my way out of the grim footprint. I looked at them all, a few still hanging on to life by the thinnest thread and decided to make a little speech.

“It’s been such a pleasure having you all as my companions in this experience. Truly your deaths and suffering have given your god great pleasure and a new thrill. I love each and every one of you and having known you in this very particular way, I plan to have rewards for each and every one of you. When you arrive in the afterlife, many of you will be immediately elevated from the status of lowly food slaves to the much more esteemed positions of playthings. It depends a little on your behavior in life, of course, but even then what you get will be better than what you would have gotten otherwise. Anyway, I must join my husband in punishing the heretics who brought this doom upon your heads.” I blew them all a great big kiss. “And as for you handsome.” I pointed to my “friend” who was still gasping and clinging heroically to his little life. “I’m gonna see you later.” I winked suggestively as he sputtered and struggled to breath.

Having thanked the mob I had marked for death with my play, I felt it was time to move on to other things. I made my way out of the plaza, looking around as I went. Other patches of crushed humanity lay in other spots where my husband’s feet had fallen. I shivered in pleasure contemplating his sheer power. It was time to take a tour of the city, getting a nice close look at the fruits of his labor.

I walked casually through streets strewn with rubble, smashed and squished vehicles, and the bodies of more flattened and maimed citizenry. One car appeared to have been filled to the brim with people trying to get away judging from the amount of blood and gore leaking through the cracks in the twisted metal and cracked glass. On a usual trip I’d be responsible for a good percentage of this carnage and death. I could just imagine that wet sticky feeling of squished humans stuck to the bottom of my foot.

Moving along, I admired more shattered buildings and streets. I came to an intersection of two main streets and looked around. Off in the distance toward the downtown core, through gaps between buildings I caught glimpses of giant forms moving t, and there were a lot more of those than there had been earlier. At that moment I felt it more than heard it.

WHUMP!

WHUMP!

WHUMP!

I felt the impact in my muscle and bones. I turned to face it, and smiled at the source.

She stood at least a thousand feet tall, a vision of lovely dark brown skin and wearing nothing, but a small nun’s habit on her head. I would recognize Sister Smash anywhere. Not her original name, of course, but the one we bestowed upon her when we generously allowed her to take the habit as a Sister of Chaos and Destruction. I looked up to her deceptively warm friendly face, with its full lips and a broad round nose, and project my thoughts to her with a commanding godly tone.

IT IS YOUR GOD, SISTER SMASH. I AM RIGHT DOWN HERE BEFORE YOU. CAN YOU SEE ME?

Her enormous, warm amber eyes turned down to me, and I saw her recognition. We spoke as I had with my husband before, mind to mind, as if we each had a headset.

“I see you, my god.” She said.

“You god commands you to bend down, and gently pick her up.”

“Of course, my god.” She answered.

She knelt down. One foot moving backward plowing through numerous building fragments behind her. Her enormous hand reached down and, ever so reverently, plucked me up from the shattered pavement. Her skin was remarkably soft, especially for one I had seen destroying and devastating entire neighborhoods for my entertainment numerous times. Sister Smash was one of my favorites to call upon when I wanted a more voyeuristic pleasure. She had a fabulous body and a creative mind when it came to godly wrath.

“My lady,” she said as she brought me up to her eye level, “I am at your service and await your command.”

“Stand my servant, hold me aloft in your hand, so that I might get a better view of the devastation already wrought upon this city.”

“Of course.” She stood up, and did as instructed. I could feel the air rushing down past me as I was elevated around 2000 feet or so above the cityscape.

Chaos reigned, or rather, my husband reigned. Possibly getting a little out of hand, he was now around 3000 feet, double the height of the tallest of our bishops and nuns. He was back around the primary site of destruction, but since that was practically leveled at this point he was stomping around on the buildings and structures of adjacent neighborhoods. He looked down upon his works with a kind of blissful anger. It’s hard to describe, but the ability to enjoy such limitless expressions of rage softens those feelings in a way. It really frees you to enjoy your anger in a way so liberating, it’s hard to describe in terms mere mortals could understand.

“Looks like everyone’s doing their part.’ I said. “I am pleased. Tell me how have you been since my last visitation?”

“Very well, mistress.” She said. “My daughter started her studies in university last month. One of her professors gave her a bit of a hard time not realizing whose daughter she was. I showed up on campus and gave this professor a good talking to. He was so pitiful and regretful when he realized what he’d done, I decided to spare him. All I did was destroy his entire house, and crush his wife and children in front of him one by one until he was sobbing uncontrollably, I thought about twisting his little head off, but in my mercy I decided to just shrink him down to be my daughter’s personal toy for a couple weeks and then let him go back to his normal life. He’s actually a very good instructor, and little Shonda does still need an education after all.”

“How wonderfully cruel and practical Sister. Rest assured there is a special place being reserved for you in the hereafter as we speak.”

“Thank you my god.” She said with suitable piety.

Little did she know that when she passed, Sister Smash would be just another 6 inch pleasure slave in our castle, as opposed to a 2 or 3 inch food slave. Their would be special place for her though. I made a note to find the professor’s family when I got home, elevate them from whatever position they were currently in, and give them the opportunity to exact revenge on Sister Smash. It might be a few hundred years before my husband and I got bored and ended this world, but when we did, I couldn’t wait to see the look of betrayal in sister Smash’s eyes when I handed her over to her various victims. That would be so sweet I could hardly stand thinking about it without squirming or fidgeting in her hand. I gazed out into the distance at the giant men and women stomping around. I listened hard and heard the cries and screams of our terrified victims, almost all of them innocent of any connection with the heretics. They cried at the unfairness of their fate and it pleased me. I longed to join him, feeling buildings explode under my feet, scrunching my toes to feel the gritty wet sand texture of mashed bodies mixed with crumbled buildings, but I was determined to stay at regular small person size for the rest of the smiting.

“Take me over to my husband dear, and be mindful of your steps, we wouldn’t want to waste a chance for some lovely destruction.”

“Of course, my lady. It would be my delight.”

So Sister Smash carried me in her hand as she strode through the city, crushing buildings and people with each mighty step. The sound of destruction and death and, best of all, fear wafting up to my ears sent goosebumps of pleasure running down my back, a delightful frisson. We got closer and closer to the heart of devastation where my lovely towering hubby stood.

I looked down at the area immediately beneath Smash’s stride. I saw a set of buildings arranged in a block, and on one of the streets next to it sat a column of long little rectangles. I licked my upper lip hinking about it.

“Sister Smash,” I said.

“Yes, my god.” She replied.

‘Make certain to step through that school down there.”

“Your will, shall be done.”

Sister smash’s beautiful brown feet lived up to her title diving down into the brickwork structure of the school. I had no idea the age of the kiddies inside, but that’s besides the point. The point is the sound of those high little shrieks and screams as the innocent have there lives snuffed and bodies destroyed. All the hopes and dreams of their future are taken away. They don’t know it yet, but their lives were headed in this direction one way or another. I couldn’t wait to start the process of educating and corrupting them to the ways of the castle. When the massive foot touched down, it moved around in a circle, smashing and destroying everything it touched. As Smash toppled the last walls standing, she let out a delighted giggle and wriggled her toes in obvious pleasure.

“Make sure you get them all.” I said.

“Of course miss,” she said.

Smash stomped around until everything was flat and finished it off grinding her sole around. I watched as the few remaining little bodies popped and crunched under her foot and around her toes. A delightful sight for one such as I.

“Your god is pleased.” I said. “Now, I wish to join my husband.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I sat in Sister Smashes upturned palm as she strode closer to my husband, the bishops, and some of the other Sisters. He scooped his hand down at the ground, and it came back up holding a mass of squirming little victims. A wicked idea popped into my head.

I shouted over to him, “Hey honey, hold on to that wriggling mass of humanity for a sec. I want to try something.”

“Alright, babe,” he answered, “but you better make it quick. I wont be able to resist crushing or eating these little runts for too long."

“It’ll be worth it, promise.”

Sister Smash brought me right up to my husband. I looked into the cowering pleading mob in his hand. I could make out the fear filled faces of dozens of individual men and women of various skin colors.

“Place me among them.” I ordered Sister Smash.

She plucked me up ever so gently and placed me in my husband’s palm with the crowd. They all looked at me in befuddlement which is only natural since they’d never seen me at such a puny size before. Some of them even stopped cowering in their confusion.

“Okay, now what I want is for you to swallow all of us down whole, me included.” I said to my husband.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“Well, you know I can’t deny you anything.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I replied in the affirmative.

I could almost feel the change in atmosphere as he lifted us all up in his immense palm. Just earlier in the day, that very hand had lifted me and caressed me in the gentlest, sweetest way you could imagine. This was quite a change. The people around me cowered and whimpered, many broke down crying. We were brought level with my husband’s wonderfully kissable lips. My fellow travelers were not really in an appropriate situation to appreciate their beauty, but I was filled with a pleasant anticipation of being brushed and slurped through those literally godly lips. The hand tipped forward and my cohorts screamed even louder. In their panic some tried to climb up the tilting hand. I marked their faces, so that later on they might pay for their reluctance to become my husbands foodstuffs. It didn’t matter anyway. His hand rotated and as it tilted I launched my self off and plummeted towards his mouth along with dozens of others. I passed between those perfect lips and teeth landing right on his big, mushy, wet, tongue. As I landed, I looked up briefly. My husband was shaking his hand around, dislodging the cowards reluctant to be crushed and digested in his tummy. All around me, panic and screaming mixed with the wet churning of my love’s tongue as it moved around under all of us little morsels. It was warm and wonderful like being inside an enormous open mouth kiss.

As the final victims splatted onto the tongue, my husband closed his mouth, leaving us all in darkness. It was so warm, and wet, and full of terror, I could have relaxed and enjoyed myself for hours, but my man is a hungry one, and nearly as soon as his mouth was shut, I felt the strong undulation of the flesh underneath my little body. The movement carried us all through that deep dark warmth to the back of his mouth and down the slimy tube of his esophagus. The bodies of my husbands other snacks squished and squirmed up against mine. This was a completely new sensation to me, and I relished it as we were churned and pumped together down towards the stomach. It’s not every day an all powerful god like me gets to experience something totally new, so I savored the novelty.

We descended through the darkness until we reached the end and fell down with a mighty splash into the pools of digestive acid in my hubby’s tummy. The smell was not great. Even we divine beings’ stomach acid pretty much just smells like stomach acid, which is to say, vomit. The ambiance made up for it though. I felt like I was sitting in a big squishy tub of warm water. I’m immune to digestion of course, so my fellows were having a bit of a different experience than I was. I heard them screaming and moaning in agony as my husband’s juices melted them like the food they were. I floated there in the dark just listening to their beautiful suffering. A suffering that was entirely for the pleasure of myself, and my husband. I got curious about how it all must have looked, so I used a smidgen of god power to create some illumination in the stomach. I was not disappointed.

All around me the people thrashed and screamed, some silently with melting windpipes, as their flesh was being rapidly dissolved by the digestive juices. Blood seeped from dissolving skin. Muscle and sinew was becoming visible and dissolving. Soon these people would barely resemble people anymore. They would be nothing but red protein muck and fat for my husband’s appetite. It almost smelled like cooking meat. I decided that the occasion required a bit of ceremony.

“I’m so glad I could share this with you all. Your gods are pleased by your suffering. And I am pleased to be here to witness something that’s happened within my own belly many many times. This is so special and I might even find it in my heart to forgive you cowards who tried to shirk your duties as our subjects, resisting my husband’s divine appetite. Perhaps you will not be overly sanctioned when you arrive in the afterlife for an eternity of servitude to be eaten, crushed, and fucked as suits our pleasure. Some of you may even receive the privilege of being smeared across my own divine genitalia for a moment of pleasure and amusement at my hand. Some of you are quite comely after all, and it would be a true reward for what I’m about to do here right now.”

With that did an impulsive thing. I splashed over to one of the prettier women whose features were melting to goo nad took her shoulders in my hands.

“Do you love your mistress?” I asked.

She nodded weakly and meekly.

I smiled wide. “Good, I love you too. I must express it.”

I leaned forward and opened my mouth. My teeth made contact with the skin of her cheek. I dragged them ever so slowly down her cheekbone. Her loose, melting flesh scraped off easily into my mouth. I felt the mush of dissolving skin on my tongue. It was that same delicious flavor I’d tasted so many times, but it was magnified. I pulled my mouth away and looked at her face as I swallowed my mouthful. The side of her face had a big chunk missing, leaving her teeth and gums and part of her jawbone visible. She sniffed and I saw tears welling in my eyes. Warmth flooded my heart as I savored the taste and texture her flesh.

“I will reward your sacrifice with kindness.” I said.

I seized her by her shoulders and pushed her down into the bile. She struggled and thrashed as the juices fizzed around her. I held her down with my great strength. Her struggles weakened and soon stopped altogether. I released her dead body, and watched it gradually falling apart from the merciless onslaught of my husband’s biological functions.

I looked around the chamber once more, and saw most of my other subjects were like wise dead or dying. Some of the first to be deposited down there were already almost nothing but bone. I thought about the anatomy of the human skeleton for a second, and had a truly wicked, truly degenerate idea. It didn’t take much looking be fore I found what I wanted. A human femur, nearly stripped of flesh. I gave it a good pull, and popped it out of it’s socket pretty easily. Then I wrenched it away from the lower leg, discarding the mostly digested calf. I ran my hand up and down the bone, rubbing away the remnants of muscle and tendon. I was left with a nice clean off white bone. Looking at nice ball joint that had previously attached it to the socket in the pelvis, I thought it would fit my plan perfectly. I trudged through the muck to the wall of the stomach were I could lie down against it like the rim of a bathtub. Making myself nice and comfy, I used a little god power to dismiss my clothes. Laying their in my husbands warm and cozy, if gory and grim, stomach chamber, with the femur bone of one of his victims, I went to work.

I pressed the hard protruding knob of bone against my pussy lips. It felt so nice, so decadent. I rubbed it up and down, up and down along my lips, teasing myself. I had a thought that some lube would be nice. I looked around and saw the melting mushy bodies.

Why not, I thought. After all, I had used crushed tinies as lube many times on a rampage or in the privacy of our home. This wasn’t so very different. I grasped some of the melted human meat goo in my hand, and rubbed it around the ball of the femur until it was thoroughly coated. Satisfied with that, I licked the remaining remains off of my hand for a terrific taste treat. Sort of like a human pâté.

With the bone nice and lubed, I proceeded to bone my self with the bone. I slowly worked it into myself, easing it in and out, in and out, luxuriating in the pleasure of my own excess. The surreal level of callous disregard for human dignity along with the freedom of feeling like an absolute monster intertwined heightening my arousal. My nipples were rock hard and I played with them with one hand, wishing I had some nice tinies to crush against them. I worked the bone in and out of my vagina in a steady rhythm, occasionally pulling it out to rub up against my clit. Before long I was moaning and shrieking in pleasure, just our victims had been moaning and shrieking in pain. The irony itself pushed me to the height of pleasure and I came panting in my man’s big cozy, deadly, belly.

I spoke into his ear. “I’m ready to come out of the pool sir.”

“So it shall be.” And in a pop, I was fully clothed and sitting comfortably in my husbands enormous palm. I looked up at hubby’s handsome smiling face.

“Did you have a good time, honey?”

“Oh, absolutely. Those little gnats died burning in agony for our pleasure. It was so sweet.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

I realized I was still holding on to the femur.

“Human femur.” I said matter-of-factly. I looked at the bone and used my divine awareness to ascertain the name and details of its original owner. They would definitely be getting some special attention for providing me with such a fun toy. I blinked and sent it back home to my special toy chest.

“What now?” I asked and looked around.

The neighborhood they’d been working on had been more or less completely demolished down to the pavement. Small fires littered the landscape as did the little splotches I recognized as squished bodies.

“I feel like our work here is done with one small detail. Punishment for the surviving heretics.”

“Oh, goody.” I clapped my hands with glee. I love a good display of divine wrath, especially if I’m carrying it out, but Hubby’s no slouch either.”

The Bishops and Nuns gathered in forming a circle of a dozen with six of each. Sister Smash held a handful of small things cupped in her massive hand. One of the Bishops likewise, had some not as small things in his cupped hand.

“Bishop Thunder,” my husband intoned with reverence. “Tell us, you gods, and this congregation, your brothers and sisters, what you hold in your hand.”

Bishop Thunder, a well toned Latino gentleman, whom I selected personally for the priesthood, stepped forward and spoke.

“These are the surviving heretics responsible for the unfortunate smiting this city has experienced. Look upon them and know that they are the authors of your misfortune. They are the reason your loved ones have been crushed, devoured, and decimated by the divine decree of our lord. Rest assured that theirs was a necessary and noble sacrifice for the greater good. Soon they will be in the divine palace, serving our benefactors directly. These heretics however, shall be among the lowest of the low. Food for the food of the food of our gods. They will perhaps be the playthings and foodstuffs for those innocent and pious loved ones of yours who perished on this day. They shall now face the ultimate penalty for their dishonor.”

He uncurled his hand revealing a little over a dozen men and women sprawled about. Some obviously already injured. Even from where I was I could see the terror in there faces. It was still funny to think that just an hour or two earlier I would have looked at such faces with pity. At that point, I savored their fear.

“Sister Smash,” my husband resumed. “Come forward and show us what you have.”

Sister Smash stepped forward in all her dark elegant beauty, stopping when she stood next to Bishop Thunder.

“I have the one thing in this world that means the most to these people. The thing they should have thought about before going down the path of wickedness.”

She uncurled her hand revealing a dozen or so children of various ages.

“These poor innocents are the children of these negligent, unthinking heretics. They were your responsibility, but you decided you’d rather print pamphlets slandering our gods. Being such unfit parents you shall see the fruit of your sins, as I exterminate the fruit of your lives.

I could see the children in her hand blubbering and crying. I was on the edge of my seat. This was going to be so nasty, so cruel. My crotch was already getting moist in anticipation.

Sister Smash curled her fingers in slowly, but firmly, making sure the parents got a good view of the action. She curled and curled her fingers, and when her hand was closed, she began squeezing and grinding away with her fingers at the little ones at her mercy. I heard their high pitched screams of fear and their little bones snapping and cracking. The parents screamed and protested, but it was pointless. Smash’s hand squeezed one final time. All the children’s cries were silent. She uncurled her hand, showed the remains to the parents, and then smeared them against her naked thigh to clean off her hand. The parent’s erupted into a horrifying collective wail of grief, and it was at that moment I had a beautiful quiet little orgasm.

“Furthermore,” sister Smash continued, “When you arrive in the hereafter, your children will be sequestered from you, until our lord and lady decide it is appropriate for you all to be reunited, if ever.”

Sister Smash returned to her spot in the circle.

“Now for the matter of your more direct punishment. Bishop, if you would bring them to me.”

Bishop Thunder strode up to us and deposited the heretics in my husband’s other hand. The Bishop then stepped away, back to the circle.

“Your punishment is death of course, but we could smite you in so many ways. You all should know that your little tantrum here spoiled a fun little game that my wife, your eternal mistress, was playing for the week. How could you little jerks be so inconsiderate.”

One of the little people tried shouting “sorry” over to me. It would get him or her nowhere, but I respected the effort.

“I don’t want apologies or excuses.” Hubby said, “Your blasphemous publication already had you marked for death, but because you’ve ruined my wife’s fun, I’ve come up with some fun of my own. Dear, would you please select the method of these heretics execution?”

I smiled as I thought of the perfect method.

“I’ve got it dear,” I said. “I want you to take these little specks and crush them against you cock while you get off.”

He smiled. “I know that one of your fave-”

I cut him off, the only being in many universes who would do such a thing. “But with a twist. I want to be in your hand with them while you grind them into paste.”

“You sure?” He asked.

“Absolutely,” I answered, and poofed my clothes away.

“Alright.” He said.

He deposited me onto his other hand with the heretics.

I looked around at their faces. To a person they were filled with that delicious mixture of despair, terror, and shock.

“Don’t worry.” I said. “You’ll love my husband’s big hard cock. I do after all.”

Several broke down sobbing right there and then. It filled my belly with a beautiful warmth.

“Ready, babe?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he looked up at the circle. “You are all dismissed. If this sort of shit pops up again maybe I’ll decide I picked the wrong people for this job.”

They retreated from the circle, slowly diminishing in size as they left to their own business. My husband looked back down at us. Alright, you folks better be a really nice living lube or well practice this over and over in the after-world until you get it right.

He took the hand holding all of us and cupped it around his already semi-hard penis. I heard whimpers. That wonderful musk filled my nostrils. I couldn’t wait for it to get gory. My puny body pressed firmly against the soft supple skin. He began stroking slowly and softly, back and forth, back and forth. I felt the steel growing under the velvet skin. He pressed in a little harder and I could hear some of my companions struggling, wheezing and gasping for breath. As for me, I just loved that feeling of gliding up and down my lover’s length. My face was smashed right up against the skin, and I could feel all of his little wrinkles and veins as I slid past them. It was already a delightful experience, and the fear and suffering of my fellow travelers made it that much sweeter.

Speaking of them, my husband’s grip tightened and as the strokes got faster and his dick got hard, I started hearing little yelps, crunches, and cracks. Way up above I could hear his deep pleasured “murring” and soft grunts he makes as he gets closer to coming. The stroking got faster. I heard a big wet crack above me, and in seconds I was found myself sliding through warm, slick, metallic smelling goo. My thoughts went back to my “hero” in the skyscraper. Once again I was being slid and drug through someone’s mushed up organs, someone’s pulped body, a life crushed out of existence for sexual gratification, but this time I was in the proper mind set to fully enjoy it. I guess it’s pretty obvious at this point, but I’m just a horny gore-hound who loves pulped bodies. I love being messy with the remains of my little playthings; reducing them to nothing but little splatter toys and crafting materials.

The force of his strokes increases, and many more bodies burst, cracking around me like a melting sheet of ice. I feel more and more mess being smeared all over my front. The stimulation has me in a state of euphoria. Then I feel that twitch. Then I feel that goo. My guys rich creamy jizz flows down over me. I’d recognize the taste and smell anywhere. Sticky and rich, I delighted in it. Not so much my heretical companions. I could hear some of those few still alive gagging and sputtering on their god’s sacred nectar, the clods. Well, more for me I guess. He kept at it sliding his hand up and down and eventually there were no cracks, there were no snaps, and there weren’t any more gasps for breath. There was just me, a mass of dead mortals, and my hubby’s deflating, but still handsome, cock.

He lifted me up in his palm and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Let’s go home, babe.”

I nodded.

Everything whooshed and I felt weightless until I didn’t. We were back home. Back in the castle. He carried me out of the portal room through a series of hallways and chambers until we arrived at the reception room.

It’s a large room. The floors and walls are covered in rich white tile. It’s also quite long. It’s usually empty except for a throne for each of us against the long wall. He carried me over to the throne. Servants flitted in. One of the head servants landed before the thrones and bowed onto one knee.

“Stand up, Jeeves,” he said. The servant’s name wasn’t Jeeves, but my husband loves his little nicknames.

The two foot tall servant stood up. “My Lord, the deceased from your little trip this morning are ready to be sent in and assigned to their various fates.”

“Cool, send them in.”

The head servant flew off, and after a minute. Hundreds of tiny people came flooding into the room through little holes that dotted the white tile wall at floor level. They all looked quite dazed, quite confused, and quite scared.

“Welcome little ones,” my husband said, “to the home of the gods. This is where you will spend your remaining existence serving us in whatever way we find fitting.”

I looked them over spotting a few stand out individuals. The handsome young man who’d been squished under my husband’s foot with me, the “hero” who tried to save me from my husband’s giant cock, and the young woman whose femur I stole for a sex toy.

We assigned the various people their places in our world. Heretics and cowards were shrunk down so small even I could have eaten them at my four inch size. The faithful casualties were assigned to various size and living blocks within the walls and towers of the castle to be food or sex toys, or whatever else our imagination cooked up for them. Soon only the three special people were left.

“Darling,” I said. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

My husband placed me on the title floor and back away.

I closed my eyes and allowed the divine energies to flow into me. My body stretched and enlarged, a wonderful sensation. I felt the power and the pleasure of power. I looked at the little people, now restored to my full size, just a little shorter than my husband. With a flick of my wrist elegant blue and silver robes swirled unfurled around me shimmering and glittering. My feet and hands had an instant mani-pedi living them shiny silver. My favorite color, because the blood shows up so well.

I looked down at the three nervous mortals.

“You” I pointed at the “hero”. “You interfered with divine retribution and pleasure, but you only did so trying to save your god from harm. Perhaps it’s the more charitable persona I inhabited at the time, but I will not punish you. Instead,” I smirked, “I will leave you to the care of your daughters whom you sacrificed to Swalloween some years back. They’ve grown you see, into fine and respected members of our household.”

I snapped, and into the room flew two servants on fluffy angel wings, with beautiful fully grown adult figures. They landed on either side of the man. At a foot high each they towered over his five inch form. One looked down at him, smiled, and waved. “Hello, daddy.”

“Hi, sweetie,” he waved back nervously.

“You may take him back to your quarters and get him acquainted with the ways of life in our castle, under our rule.”

The two servants bowed to me. “Thank you, mistress.” They said in unison.

“Off you go.” I waved my hand to dismiss them, and they each lifted their father each holding onto one of his arms, and flying off to do whatever they might choose with him.

I looked over to the handsome man and femur girl.

“As for you two, I have some plans for you two. I will see you in my chambers in a bit. I have a special project that you two will be necessary for.”

I whistled and servants rushed in to carry away the two just as the two girls had carried their father.

I turned to my husband and smiled. “That was fun, but it’s good to be back to my powerful self.”

“Sorry I messed it up a little.” He was so sheepish it was cute.

I cupped his cheek in one hand and looked into his eyes. “I plan to spend the rest of the day in my private chambers having private fun. You will not get to see me again until tomorrow morning. That seems a fair enough punishment.”

He gave an exaggerated but still half honest frown. “It was just an accident,” he said. “How can you be so cruel?”

I turned from him and left him there alone, as I exited the room and went up the stairs, on my what to my private fun room. I anticipated the wonderful horrible fun I would have with my two little toys, relishing my complete and total power over their little bodies and lives. They were built for my cruelty, the meaning of their lives is my cruelty, and in time, one day they will find that they love my cruelty. Just as their world loves my cruelty and, one day, maybe yours will too.