“This is bullshit, we’re too fucking close!” Greg shouted over the roar of the rotors above.
“Shut up and do your job!” snapped Sandra. “I need to get this shot.”
There she was, the story of the millennium, a complete and total impossibility, apparently taking a post-mastabatory nap directly under her news copter. It would be the story that would make Sandra’s career, from flitting around reporting on mere traffic to the far loftier heights of real journalism.
“We can’t even broadcast, like, 90% of this shit anyway,” said Tim, holding the camera through the open doorway down at the giant woman’s face.
“Did you see what she did to that bus?” said Greg. “That could be us next!”
Sandra saw the conflicted look in her cameraman’s face and lightly kicked him in the shin with her high heels. Though the footage was going out ‘live’, there was still a short delay to allow the studio to slap blurring over the racier parts of the broadcast. At this rate, given the giant woman’s state of undress and her unabashedly pleasuring herself at the expense of the city, it would all be one suitably massive blur. Narrating the horrific acts required some creative use of limited vocabulary on her part too.
“We’ll be fine,” said Sandra. “She’s not spotted us yet and you’ll take us out if she wakes up. Just keep us here and I promise you there'll be promotions and awards all round.”
“Yeah, for you,” Greg muttered bitterly, but otherwise did as he was told.
The thin, metallic voice in the ear piece told Sandra that they were about to go live again. She straightened up her suit and adjusted her blouse so that it would show just the right amount of cleavage for the camera, which, despite her efforts, was rendered ridiculous by the enormous bare breasts directly under the helicopter. Meanwhile, Tim counted down from five with his fingers, then the red light flickered on his camera.
“Shocking scenes continue to unfold here,” she began, slipping effortlessly back into her professional persona. “After what can only be described as an orgy of senseless death and destruction, it appears that the giant woman who has been wreaking havoc in this city for nearly an hour is taking a nap.”
The absurdity of what she had just on live TV only struck her after she had said it, but it was all true.
There was a small screen built into the helicopter that provided her with the feed from the studio, where the ashen face of the anchor, Brett, stared thoughtfully into the camera. “Sandra, I can see her just behind you,” he said. “You must be very close. Are you sure you’re safe?”
“We are very safe in this helicopter-“
“What’s this?” The voice that interrupted Sandra was inhumanly loud, as though run through an amplifier, deep, curiously accented, but still undeniably feminine. There was no time to react before an enormous hand with slender fingers the size of buses reached out for them. Those fingers curled around their little craft, and instead of being ripped to shreds by the rotors as its occupants had expected and prayed for, the immense digits effortlessly closed around them without impediment.
Warnings sirens blared from the cockpit and the displays lit up like a Christmas tree. There was the sound of metal tearing and a mechanical grating noise as the rotors broke against the giantess’s fingers, then the engine finally cut out with a dull whine. The giantess closed her grip around the seemingly frail and tiny helicopter and carried it down, Sandra was thrown about in her crash seat, but the strong belts kept her from falling through the open window.
The helicopter came to a rest at a slight tilt. Sandra’s ears were ringing and she struggled to keep upright in the seat. Light streamed in through the gaps in the huge fingers curled around their tiny craft, but otherwise it was dark. An odd sort of silence descended, as she realised that it was merely the absence of the constant droning of the engine and rotors, which was broken by the barking in her ears.
“Sandra! Are you alright?”
She looked to Tim, still inexplicably filming, and Greg, who sat trembling at the controls.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically to the camera. “She’s caught us.”
Sunlight flooded into the cabin as those fingers lifted, revealing the expansive palm upon which their damaged helicopter now rested. Through the window behind her, Sandra could see the giantess’s enormous face filling it. The helicopter appeared to be resting on her palm, and out of the opposite window she could make out pale fingers rising like pillars.
“Huh, a news helicopter?” Gilly’s voice rattled the damaged craft. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to read the writing on its side. “NLNN? No idea. Come on, everybody out so I can get a look at you.”
Sandra was shaking, and not least from the force of the god-like voice that reverberated through her body. It was awful enough to watch the giantess from a distance, but this close, on her hand, was too much. Her mind might have screamed at her to obey, but her limbs refused to move and then instead tensed up in the crash seat and stared fearfully into her reflection in the camera lens. Brett’s voice continued to bark in her earpiece but she couldn’t seem to hear it.
“I can see you through the windows,” said the giantess, jolting Sandra out of her stupor. “You’d better do what I tell you before I get bored and squish t’ lot of you.”
The threat, spoken in a tone of voice that, despite its volume, remained quite chirpy, sent a chill down Sandra’s spine. She had no doubt that the threat could easily be followed through, as what was their tiny helicopter compared to this skyscraper of a woman. Her fingers shivered as she fumbled around the lock on her seatbelt, which was released quickly.
“I’m coming out!” Sandra shouted. She didn’t know if the giantess could even hear her, but it was worth a try. Shaking with fright, she gripped the sides of the window tightly and pulled herself out to stand on the palm.
The ‘ground’ felt softer than expected under her high heels, like trying to stand on a firm mattress, such that she wobbled awkwardly to try and stand up straight. Greg followed her, still filming everything, and then Tim, who cursed under his breath throughout as he climbed free.
Sandra looked back at the helicopter, and saw that it was like a broken toy in the giant woman’s massive hand, and it was a comparison that brought back the images of seeing her use a bus as a dildo and made her shudder. It was clearly in no fit state to fly again, with the rotors bent at hideous angles and the tail was all crumpled up. The engine, too, still spluttered smoke from the gaps in the panels, and there was the smell of gasoline in the air that mingled with the still-lingering scent of the giant woman’s arousal. The body itself was still mostly intact, aside from a few minor cosmetic dents in the sides. It then occurred to Sandra that the giantess had been as gentle as she could manage in capturing their helicopter, and even then had rendered it thoroughly unusable as a vehicle. The sight, too, of the fingers behind their battered craft, curled inwards slightly, reminded her that all this monstrously huge woman would have to do to finish them off is close her fist, and having observed her deliberately stepping on people and destroying buildings to her immense joy, she was more than willing to do it if the whim took her.
Though Sandra was deathly afraid, she then forced herself to look up at the pretty, cute face of the giantess looming over her. The gargantuan visage filled her view; this mass-murdering monster was nothing more than a young woman who happened to be of colossal size, who now held their tiny lives in the palm of her hand and observed them with the mere curiosity of a girl who had found a few interesting bugs in her garden. Sandra found herself transfixed by the sight, at once stunned and horrified by the staggering beauty of this goddess accentuated by her massive stature. Warm, scented breath washed over her. Great, green eyes seemed to stare directly into her soul. She felt absolutely tiny and worthless, and perhaps started to get some tiny inkling of what had motivated the giantess to do those awful things.
“Sandra!” Brett’s voice jolted her out of shocked stupor.
“I’m here,” said Sandra, recovering some of her persona. “Are you still broadcasting this?”
“Yes, we’re still broadcasting live,” said Brett. “Where are you? I can see the giant’s face behind you.”
“I’m…” Sandra stopped and swallowed hard, then turned to face the camera. Seeing herself reflected in its lens helped her to bring back her composure and professionalism. “I’m currently standing on her palm. She just grabbed our helicopter out of the sky; it’s too badly damaged to fly but the crew and I are all safe for now.”
“Unbelievable.” Gilly’s hideously loud voice caused Sandra to yelp. She looked up to see a slight scowl on the giantess’s face. “I’m right fucking here!”
Sandra felt her blood turn to ice water, as she realised that her best chances of surviving this ordeal, however slim they might be, was to keep on this gargantuan woman’s good side. “S-sorry!” she stammered out. “What do you want from me?”
She watched as the giantess’s offended scowl softened; the gigantic proportions of this oversized girl seemed to exaggerate her facial expressions to almost comedic levels from her comparatively tiny perspective. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for an answer.
“I dunno,” said the giantess, at length. Her shoulders shrugged, but as Sandra and her team were so close to her enormous face they could only see her mess of ginger hair jostle from that casual gesture. “Thought you might be interesting. Not sure why I bothered now, when there are more fun things to play with around here. Maybe I’ll just squish you bugs and do something else instead.”
The knot of fear in Sandra’s stomach tightened, like something was constricting her guts; this monster, from all appearances a regular woman merely blown up to massive proportions, had said it with chilling casualness. ‘Bugs’, she had called the living, breathing, thinking, feeling human beings cowering under her overpowering gaze. The sight of the crimson stains in the footprints left in the giantess’s destructive wake flashed in her mind, and only made the comparison seem all the more appropriate — held in her vast hand, she certainly felt like one.
“No, wait!” Sandra cried in panic. The vast pair of lips before her curled into a cute, terrifying smile. She had to keep the giantess entertained, somehow; neither of her colleagues were particularly forthcoming with ideas, but when she saw that Greg was inexplicably still filming, perhaps finding some distance from their awful situation through the camera lens, she was reminded of how the giantess interacted with the people on the roof earlier and hit on an idea.
“How about an interview?!” shouted Sandra. “You’re on live TV news, and millions of people all over America are watching!” It was an exaggeration, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Oh!” The sharp exclamation was almost deafening, but the odd, cheerful quality to the giant woman’s strangely accented voice brought some measure of relief to Sandra. “Should have opened with that, shouldn’t you? Well, why don’t you get started, love?”
This was it, the moment of Sandra’s career; an interview with the incredible, the impossible, and the utterly monstrous. She had trained for interviews as a journalist, of course, before she ended up stuck in a helicopter for her troubles, but she had always believed that she would be interviewing celebrities, doctors, scientists, politicians, and even world leaders one day.
“What’s your name?” That sounded like a good place to start, she thought; with most ‘normal’ interviews it was expected that the interviewer knew the name of the subject being interviewed.
“Gilly,” replied the giant woman with a smile that seemed genuine. “What’s yours?”
Interview subjects also weren’t supposed to ask questions back, but they also weren’t supposed to be the size of a skyscraper either. “I’m Sandra.”
“And the other two?”
Neither seemed particularly eager to give their names; Greg was wholly absorbed in the business of filming, and so much so that he appeared to have failed to notice that he had pissed himself in fright, judging by his implacable demeanour and the spreading dark stain on the crotch of his chinos, while Tim had been rendered catatonic and mute in the presence of, what was for all intents and purposes, a goddess. Sandra introduced them hastily as Greg and Tim.
“I think you all look so cute in my palm,” said Gilly, grinning broadly.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” said Sandra, perhaps a little too quickly and curtly for an interview, but she wanted this ordeal to be over as quickly as possible, however it might end. Besides, she thought grimly, if this ‘interview’ footage could somehow help the authorities in bringing this beast down, then it might be worth it. “Where are you from?”
The little question-and-answer back and forth proceeded. Sandra kept to ‘safe’ topics about Gilly’s personal life, and was surprised, shocked even, to find this impossible woman to be so disarmingly normal - life back in Sheffield, England; her degree course in art; her subsequent failure to find and hold a job - and, if she was honest, rather dreary and thoroughly unexceptional; just another NEET who hadn’t grown past college, likely peaked in high school, lazy and unambitious, with little desire to improve herself, and largely preoccupied with shallow tastes and interests. Of course, she could not discount the idea that her negative opinion of her interview subject was due to her horrific, grotesque acts on the innocent citizens of her town that she had spent the better part of that morning witnessing, but she decided that had she the opportunity to have met Gilly before she grew to this incredible size that she would not have given her much time. More than that, however, she found a certain naivety in Gilly’s general outlook that she found almost insultingly childish, but which seemed to her to go some small way in explaining just why she had seen fit to crush and kill with impunity.
“Why are you doing this?” Sandra asked suddenly, tiring of the tedious chatter about the weather back in Yorkshire.
“What?” Gilly blurted out, seeming rather surprised at the blunt question.
Sandra swallowed hard, which was picked up by her microphone. This was it, something actually worthwhile out of this ridiculous display. “Since you’ve grown to this size you’ve killed countless men and women of this city,” she said. “You’ve crushed them -- under your feet; under your hands; you sat on a building full of people; you even… used a bus. Why?”
A brief hush descended as Gilly seemed to be considering her answer, though the general noise of sirens and screams continued in the background as a constant soundtrack to her mere presence. Sandra stood there, wondering if she had gone too far, and studied the oversized features on the massive face before her; lips pursed, brow furrowed, and eyes looking off to the side.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Gilly said finally. “You might not like t’ answer.”
“I do,” said Sandra, nodding fiercely. “I think everyone has a right to know.”
Those great, plump lips parted, and her tongue slithered out and dragged over them just as her mouth pulled into the biggest grin Sandra had ever seen. “Because it’s fun! And you can’t stop me.”
There it was. Gilly’s flippant response, spoken without the slightest hint of malice or hatred, made Sandra feel thoroughly sick, and it was all that she could do to keep herself from screaming back at this giant bitch about just how unfair and monstrous this all was. She had suspected as much, based on the sheer fucking glee on Gilly’s face as she exterminated crowds under her feet, but somehow, in it’s own twisted way, she thought that if there was some kind of real point to this madness - conquest or power, perhaps, a cause at least - then it would be much less appalling than the shocking reality. Mankind had been reduced to the state of toys for an indulgent, stupid young woman.
Sandra was too stunned to ask another question, so Gilly carried on: “I’m guessing you don’t know about macrophilia. I’ve fantasised about giants ever since puberty, and I’m certainly not the only one. God, I get so horny just thinking about t’ great stories out there about giantesses smashing up a city — Janice, Monica, and Megan, they’re my absolute favourites if you want a sneak peek at what I’m going to do next.”
“But this isn’t a fantasy,” said Sandra, doing her best to keep her rage in check. “Don’t you feel bad for what you’re doing?”
“I tried to be good,” Gilly said with another shrug; Sandra didn’t believe her but kept that thought to herself. “It just didn’t work out; you guys just kept getting under my feet, and I didn’t much like getting shot by your police either. But you know what? My dream has come true, and I feel bigger, better, and freer than I ever thought possible. I don’t know how or why this happened to me, but once I stopped holding back it became so much easier for me to accept, and I’d be daft not to take advantage of this. All my life I’ve been pushed around - do this, do that, get a job. So I thought ‘fuck it’, I’ll just do what I want now, and none of you tiny little things can do anything about it.”
The silence returned again as Sandra digested the information; despite her apparently tedious and shallow personality, Gilly seemed surprisingly articulate when it came to describing her fetish. This had to be a real passion for her, in the absence of more productive things in her life.
“Come on, love, don’t look at me like that,” said Gilly suddenly, interrupting the quiet.
Sandra blushed crimson and realised she must have betrayed her thoughts in her expression, but was more surprised that the giant woman could even make out her face.
“Look, if you were in my position you’d do the same thing,” Gilly continued. Her striking green eyes seemed to bore down into Sandra’s soul as she spoke. “You’re pretty hot, Sandra, especially in that suit and those heels. Especially in your high heels! Imagine stepping on people in those; almost makes me wish I could have a pair like yours, but I’m tall enough already. I think you’d make a pretty good giantess, not as great as me, of course.”
“I wouldn’t,” Sandra squeaked out, but despite her disgust at the creature whose soft palm she stood on, she could not help but look down over her body. She looked after herself certainly, and was not above using her looks to get what she wanted from men. Now, however, she pictured her long, toned legs clad in sheer tights towering over lesser buildings, and her expensive high heeled shoes filling the streets below. There were people there, looking much like mere bugs as they fled from her gargantuan presence; how easy it would be to lift one foot and crush their pitiful little lives beneath it. She imagined the rush of power, free from physical and moral constraints.
“It’s alright,” said Gilly with an earnest smile. “I know you can’t say it on live telly.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Sandra abruptly, eager to move the conversation along as quickly as she could.
“Well, I’m still on holiday, so I think I’ll do some sight-seeing. I heard there’s a beach around here.” Gilly turned her head left and right to look around her, though her tiny interviewer’s view was limited to that of her hand and her huge visage. The thick, dense mass of untamed ginger hair whipped through the air with what would have otherwise been a casual motion were it not for her size, making sudden gusts of wind that buffeted her captives without her even knowing. When she regained her footing, Sandra looked up to see things entangled in the giantess’s hair: cars, debris, trucks, and even people, all trapped like flies in a spider's web.
“And then what will you do?” asked Sandra.
“Whatever I want!” Gilly shrugged again. “Though you can probably expect much of the same. There’s a lot of things from my favourite stories I can’t wait to try out.”
“And then what?” Sandra shuddered as Gilly’s face turned into an irritated scowl. “So you wreck the city today, for instance, what will you do tomorrow, or the day after? What are your overall plans?”
Gilly’s heavy, frustrated sigh hit Sandra and her crew with the force of a gale. “To be honest, I don’t like making plans. It’s too boring, but now that I’m big I don’t need to, and I can just do whatever I want; whether it’s sleeping in all day or stepping on more stuff or seeing how many people I can stuff up my pussy in one go.”
“And that’s it?” Sandra sounded slightly disappointed; if she had been granted this unbelievable power then she would at least do something worthwhile with it besides sleep, crush, and fuck. She could take over the state, the country, maybe even the world, and bring about those changes she as a smart young woman like her yearned for to improve it, in her eyes. Certainly she might indulge as Gilly has done, but what was the point in all that power without purpose? The giant bimbo has been granted the power to force change on the world and wasted it with mindless self-indulgence.
“Pretty much, I guess,” said Gilly. “Look, I don’t know what tomorrow or next week or whatever will bring, so I’ll just do what feels right! If it makes you feel better, I won’t squish everyone; I’ll still need people to do things for me, I guess.” She shrugged again, and for some reason the casual gesture only annoyed Sandra more. “We’ll just see what happens, but whatever it is you can bet I’ll come out on top.”
Sandra felt sick; mortal terror had been subsumed with a more profound sense of despair and injustice. It was mad, absurd, impossible, and downright unfair, and this huge dumb girl was going to carry on killing and destroying. The military had to do something, and she was certain that the mightiest power on earth would easily annihilate this monster, but until they could organise whatever plan they had, the city would continue to be a hell on earth for its helpless inhabitants.
“Thank you,” said Sandra finally. “No further questions.”
“Oh!” Gilly’s sudden exclamation pierced Sandra’s ears and made them ring. “Already? Well, I had fun, so I’ll let you and your little men go.”
Relief mixed with trepidation washed over Sandra, like the cold tide on a hot beach. “Why?” she blurted out, and Greg kicked her in the shin and shook his head fiercely.
“Because I want to,” Gilly said with another one of her huge grins. Then, apparently addressing the people behind the camera, the thousands, millions perhaps, sat glued to their screens to witness the dawn of a new order: “Everyone better get used to hearing that, because I’m going to be saying that a lot from now on, and whatever I want I’ll just do it.”
Sandra felt the fleshy mass of the giantess’s palm beneath her heels shift, then her stomach lurched as though she was on an express elevator descending down a skyscraper. The vast face with its carefree, genuinely happy grin rushed up and away from her as Gilly lowered them down to the ground. Sandra wobbled awkwardly on her heels, and clung to Greg for support. Then the ‘ground’ tilted, and the three occupants of her massive palm and the broken helicopter tumbled carelessly onto the ground.
They were battered and bruised as they rolled onto the compacted ground. Tim swore and cursed as the wreckage of the helicopter rolled out with a squeal of twisting metal and crashed perilously close to them. There, Sandra picked herself off the ground, her suit dusty and torn where she had fallen and a heel broken, and looked around. They seemed to be in a shallow canyon of sorts, as the compacted tarmac rose up with soft, flowing curves all around them. It took her a while to figure it out, but they were standing in the crater caused by the sheer mass of this huge woman lying down over what had until recently been a busy city block.
There was nothing left. Sandra tried to imagine it — an ordinary block in an ordinary American city; streets filled with ordinary people going about their daily business; traffic on the roads; homes, shops, businesses, parks, and so on. All of that had been utterly crushed into nothing by Gilly’s gigantic body. The ground itself had been compacted under hundreds of thousands of tons, and had moulded perfectly to the giantess’s sexy curves. The roads were recognisable as darker tracts carving through the smooth, undulating desolate landscape. She thought she could make out the flattened remains of buildings around and between them. Vehicles were pancaked slivers of brightly coloured metal embedded into the compacted ground. As for people… she tried to avoid looking at the dark crimson stains seemingly everywhere around her. There had to be thousands of them.
“Looks like you’ll have to walk.” Gilly’s voice rumbled from above, distorted and muffled by size and distance. “From here on I can’t make any promises. Just do your best to stay out of my way.”
She sounded almost concerned, thought Sandra as she forced herself to look up at Gilly. The giantess slowly rose to her full, impossible height before her. Watching her from the relative safety and distance of the helicopter was one thing, but to see her from the perspective of her victims was another entirely. To look ahead and see toes that dwarfed her, then up, over curvy, skyscraper-sized legs to her powerful womanhood proudly on display and still glistening with arousal. Then further up, over her soft tummy to her gigantic boobs that almost obscured her face from below. Gilly would lean forward slightly, to peer over her gorgeously huge breasts that smothered skyscrapers at the mere mortals beneath her, and they would look up to see sparkling green eyes and a wide toothy grin that mocked their minute stature and fragile little lives.
In the shadow of a skyscraper of a woman, Sandra felt even more tiny than when she was in her palm. Cowering before her toes, she felt perhaps some idea of how her innocent victims felt moments before they were cruelly stepped on.
Gilly raised her right hand, wiggled her fingers in a sort of wave, and turned away.
***
The interview went well, Gilly thought, much better than the job interviews she went through when she was tiny. Of course, the reversal of the power dynamics in her favour, excessively so, certainly helped. Not that she should care about the opinions of people the size of bugs, on reflection, but the thought of her existence being made so very public and the whole world gripped in terror and anticipation of where she will go and what she would do next made butterflies in her stomach. Now, she was the most famous person in the world, in addition to the biggest.
Gilly stood in the street, and turned her back on the utterly demolished block she had lain on to see a city of more opportunities to indulge her lusts. She could see them - in the vast sprawl of American mid-town and suburbia stretching away, so many people to step on and buildings to crush, and so many ways to do just that. The sight of the tiny people, filling the streets everywhere she looked with their chaotic throngs, brought that warm tingle back to her loins.
Speaking of which, she remembered that the bus was still inside her. Reaching down, she spread her nether lips with the fingers of one hand and extricated the bus with the other. The entire vehicle had been crushed in her cunt to the size of a small, slim cigarette to her, and it was unlikely anyone could have survived. She simply tossed the useless, cum-soaked wreckage over her shoulder, and didn’t bother to look to see it smash through through the roof of a packed exhibition centre.
The warm summer breeze gently caressed her huge, naked body. Gilly reached up and stretched her arms heavenwards, her joints cracking with the sound of distant artillery fire, and lifted herself up on her toes. Tilting her head back, she looked up to the bright blue sky above. There were a few white, puffy clouds up there, and she imagined that she could grab them out of the sky like floating balls of cotton wool. She thought about what it might be like to be big enough to reach the clouds, to run her fingers through them like smoke, and just how utterly gigantic she would have to be to do just that; it would make her current size look miniscule. Indeed, some of her favourite stories and fantasies featured women of such godlike stature, and she wondered perhaps if whatever it was that had blown her up to the size of a skyscraper could do it again.
Not too soon, though, she thought. Gilly loved being the size of a skyscraper — the individual feel of stepping on crowds and smashing buildings with wild abandon — big enough to be a raw force of destruction and lust while being able to hold a conversation with her human playthings.
The ground in two blocks’ radius trembled when she set her heels down. It seemed that her increased size had likewise increased her already prodigious libido, or perhaps she had always been this horny and her size now finally gave her carte blanche to indulge it. Simply watching the tiny people scurrying through the streets like bugs in fear of her and her random, horny whims got her motor running.
“But not right now,” she said, though her fingers still lightly teased her nether lips, still filthy with the squashed remains of people sacrificed for her pleasure.
The short break the city had been granted was over. Gilly was on the move again, and the momentary calm was shattered by the sound of thunderous footsteps and the screams of her victims. She took care to crush anyone in her way, making a fun game of singling out targets and stepping on them. Their tiny bodies seemed to liquify under her vast weight, leaving them as grotesque red stains in footprints the size of swimming pools.
Gilly let out a playful giggle — she didn’t think she could ever get bored of that feeling.
***
It was impossible to escape her presence; everywhere Pat and James went there were constant reminders of Gilly. The ground trembled under their feet with her every movement, sometimes faint, sometimes so heavy they felt the earth would crack open and swallow them up. Her voice, teasing her victims, would cut through even the cacophony of sirens, screams, and destruction that formed the soundtrack to her indulgent massacre.
But then there was the sound Pat had dreaded the most, the one he was intimately familiar with, though greatly distorted by size and distance. Gilly always had an insatiable libido, and when he was too tired from work to give her the sex she craved after another wasted day of half-hearted job searching she would usually go into another room and just masturbate by herself, usually noisily and he had to turn up the TV to drown out the moaning.
Pat had tried to ignore it as he led James through the crowded streets, but the maddening sound of his giant girlfriend pleasuring herself grew too great to ignore and he stopped to turn and look. She had her back to him, and towered hugely over the mid rise buildings around her. Her great body was rocking back and forth, and though his view was blocked, the vigorous motion of her right arm left him with no doubt as to what she was doing. It was the most horrific, disturbing, and erotic sight Pat had witnessed, and though transfixed with terror, he felt his hard-on strain the crotch of his jeans. When Gilly tore a chunk out of the street and mashed it against her breasts, he felt he could almost climax in his pants right there.
He wasn’t the only one. There were others in the street who stood to watch this absurd display, and more than one was openly masturbating and no one seemed to care, the others being too terrified. Men with their hands down the front of their trousers, or had just whipped it out brazenly. Women, too, likewise captivated by Gilly’s size and beauty, indulged in the almost communal display of lust. One had even produced a dildo from her handbag, and sat in the street thrusting it inside her in a much smaller and more tame replication of what the giantess was doing. Even James, who had stopped when Pat had done so, had his hands in his trouser pockets attempting to hide his own erection.
The thunderous moans grew in volume and intensity until it hurt his ears. The noise was overwhelming, and was felt within him as much as it was heard. Pat didn’t care, transfixed as he was by the absurd sight of his giant girlfriend masturbating in full view of an entire city. He knew those sounds all too well, and then, anticipated with an almost mathematical precision, she orgasmed with that familiar sharp gasp of ecstasy. He watched her vast, towering body shudder and quiver, and thought of how he would hold her in his strong arms and squeeze her against him when she did that -- there was no chance of that happening now.
That had been half an hour ago. When the colossal Gilly toppled back and laid an entire city block to waste, and once the ground beneath their feet had finally ceased shaking and they could stand again, the peculiar and erotic madness that had seemingly infected the crowd, Pat and James included, slipped away. The observers quietly zipped up their trousers, pulled up their skirts, and an awkward hush descended. The two friends looked at each other, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and they silently continued on their way.
They quickly fell in with an evacuation group, making its way out through the city on foot. All sorts of people, men and women, young and old, rich and poor, formed this long column of survivors staggering its way out of the beleaguered city. Armed police escorted the crowd through the street, picking up other shell-shocked wanderers along the way. It appeared to be an oasis of calm in a city falling rapidly into chaos at the predations of a power-drunk and horny giant woman, one where civilised order continued to cling on despite the madness that had been inflicted upon it. They each quietly shuffled along at their own pace, some carrying whatever belongings they could take with them in carrier bags, but most carried nothing at all.
Now that he had a moment, Pat checked his phone. He was not surprised to find dozens of missed calls and texts from friends and family in England, and he couldn’t imagine how they must have felt seeing images of Gilly, his girlfriend, willfully squashing hundreds of people at a time and enjoying it. It was impossible for him to rationalise, but then there was nothing rational about the situation at all; even getting past the initial impossibility of a person growing to such an enormous size, surely no sane person would do the things he had just witnessed her do, even with that disturbing fetish of hers. That left two possibilities as far as he could see it -- Gilly, the woman he loved, was insane and always had been, or that old adage of absolute power corrupting absolutely was true. He didn’t like either explanation, but he felt he could rule out the former. Gilly had always been ruled by her impulses, and anyone given that immense size and power would certainly be tempted to use it. Perhaps she had merely crossed that bridge earlier than most others would.
The notifications filled the screen on his mobile phone, and though he wanted to respond he had no idea of what to say. Words seemed peculiarly inadequate to explain the turmoil of emotions he felt as he continued to trudge on with the group. Thoughts and feelings swirled in a vortex in his mind: anger, disgust, horror, shock, sadness, and, most disturbingly of all, arousal. Still, he ought to at least let his family know that he was still fine, for now.
The calm didn’t last. Pat had heard Gilly speaking, but her voice was too distant and too warped by size to be understood clearly. It was a constant reminder that she was still there, still huge, and ready to continue her murderous rampage and slaughter thousands more at a mere whim. Then the ground trembled again, and again, and again; it was almost imperceptible at first, but Pat recognised it and his heart sank.
“Fuck, she’s coming this way!”
Panic came through the crowd in a wave. He heard it distantly at first, but it swelled in intensity until it was all around him. What had been a quiet and orderly evacuation suddenly turned into a mad rout. Bodies pressed in around him, limbs swung and jabbed painfully into his sides. Someone or something struck him in the back and he was shoved into the person in front. The crowd surged, but seemed to be going nowhere, and the great mass of people just compressed themselves in the street. He fought to keep himself upright, grasping at the flailing and shoving arms around him. Panicked screams filled the air, drowning out the sharp, barked commands of the police trying and failing to maintain order, but something louder still suffocated even their desperate cries.
“Oh, wow, this street is packed! Let me help clear it.” Gilly’s voice boomed from the heavens.
Pat became aware of a dark shadow that had fallen over him, and he felt his blood turn to ice water.
Every fibre of his being screamed at him not to look, but he forced himself to anyway. Despite being pushed and shoved all over, Pat managed to turn himself around and look up at the ghastly sight of Gilly standing over him. She looked close, but her massive size screwed up his sense of depth perception; she could have been right on top of him or miles away for all he knew. It was impossible for him to see her entire body in one go, he could look directly ahead and see her shins, then tilt his head back to follow her endless legs, her thick thighs and broad hips, relatively narrow waist, massive breasts, and then her face, beaming down at him. Her pale, freckled skin glistened with sweat, and was marred with dirt, grime, debris, and blood; she looked beautiful, confident, and terrifyingly powerful. Even then he recognised those astonishing curves, seemingly exaggerated by her colossal size and silhouetted against the bright summer sun behind her; in hot summer nights his hands had traced the sensuous lines of her waist and hips, squeezed her huge tits and slapped her arse, and held her tight against his body. He felt his legs weaken and his cock turning to iron once again, despite his fear.
Then Gilly started to walk. Pat watched her lift her foot and bring it directly down on the tail end of the crowd, silencing a fraction of the screams. He didn’t see where it landed, but he watched her expression when she completed the step -- she was grinning inanely. The ground shook, and the tarmac around him broke into cracks all around. A few people fell and were trampled in the crush as a grim echo of what this colossal woman had just done to a hundred of their fellows. She took another step with similar results, with her arms spread out either side of her. Pat realised that she was walking along the street as if on a tightrope, with one foot directly in front of the other, heel to toe; this wasn’t just stepping on people who only happened to be in the way of where she wanted to go, it was a deliberate extermination that she was downright relishing.
Get out. Those were the only thoughts that ran through Pat’s head. He forgot about James, forgot about anyone else in the densely-packed crowd except merely as obstacles in the way. Better them than him. The next impact was stronger still, and almost knocked him off his feet were it not for the churning mass of humanity hemming him in -- Gilly was getting closer. He could feel her colossal presence looming over him. It was one more step before she would be directly upon him, and he would be crushed with hundreds of others beneath his girlfriend’s sole. There was nothing else he could do except push and shove people out of the way, just so long as he could get away in time.
Yet in the roiling sea of humanity, each person struggling as desperately as him to survive, he found he made no progress. Someone gave him a forceful shove that sent him spinning, and he grabbed onto another man to try and steady himself. In the process he found himself turned around, and saw Gilly’s toes a scant dozen feet away from him, the largest of which was about as tall as the stunned and dazed people just before them who had only narrowly escaped being squished. They filled the entire width of the street from pavement to pavement, so there was nowhere to escape her feet. He looked up, and saw Gilly looking directly back down at him from between her huge breasts; at first elated that she might have recognised him, it soon became apparent that she was merely looking where she was about to plant her next deadly step. And how could she recognise him? At this size he looked like an ant, crammed in with perhaps a thousand other similar-looking ants trapped in a street, pushing, pulling, and screaming to get out of her way.
“Gilly!” Pat screamed, hoping to be heard in the choir of screaming and crying. He jumped up and waved his arms, despite being shoved about. “Gilly! It’s Pat!”
He screamed himself hoarse, but it was to no avail. The gigantic woman giggled like thunder, it reverberated through his entire body, and Pat’s view of her face was replaced by that of the underside of her foot as it swung directly over him. He saw every wrinkle in its surface, covered in dark grey, brown, and red stains. The memory of giving her a well-deserved foot massage after a long day of walking around Meadowhall shopping centre flashed into his mind, and though he was not terribly into feet as a rule, he had to admit Gilly’s were quite attractive as far as they went.
“GILLY!” he roared, but it could scarcely be heard above the horrified shrieks all around him, even by him. His heart pounded in his chest and though every conscious desire urged him to flee from the colossal foot hovering over him, casting him in its dark shadow, he found himself utterly rooted to the spot, shaking in a primal terror he had not felt before. His tired, aching legs simply would not obey his commands. It was all futile anyway -- there was no escaping her, and even if she did find him, what was to stop her from simply stepping on him anyway? Piss trickled down the legs of his jeans, but he simply didn’t notice. The foot began to descend, the screaming intensified, the crowd surged this way and that but never seemed to make progress, someone had kicked him in the shin, but he merely closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Strong hands seized his upper arms and yanked Pat to the side. A jolt of pain wrenched his shoulders as he was dragged violently away, and he dared to open his eyes. Two men in black military uniforms had grabbed him and were pulling him forcefully away, down a dark alleyway that he, in his panic, hadn’t seen. Just in time too. The enormous foot descended upon the tightly packed crowd, and Pat watched in horror as dozens of men and women fell beneath it. Hands pushed in vain against Gilly’s sole, but her vast mass and near-infinite strength overcame what little resistance their relatively tiny bodies could provide. The foot continued unabated, and the people were pushed down by irresistible descent until they were sandwiched between her sole and the ground. There was a hideous, collective ‘crunch’ as they were all crushed under her foot, their bodies bursting, and the road cracked, broke, and buckled beneath her weight. The immense foot sank into the tarmac as though it was wet sand, and blood seeped out all around the edge of the crater.
“Fuck, that was too close,” said the man on Pat’s right.
“Did we get the right one?” asked the other. He pulled Pat up to his feet, and held him steady with his shoulders. “You Patrick Howard?”
“Looks like him.”
Pat was too transfixed by the awful sight to answer, so the man grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him.
“Are you Patrick Howard?” he asked again, louder this time.
“Yes,” said Pat, at length. His body was shaking, he felt like he was going to throw up over the man’s chest, but he was still alive and apparently safe. “I’m Pat Howard. What the hell’s going on?”
“We’re taking you somewhere.”
They dragged Pat down the alleyway, his legs wobbling like jelly so the men had to hold him up. He felt too weak to ask any further questions, merely relieved and thankful that he had somehow survived. The ground shuddered again, and more of the terrified screams were abruptly silenced by a heavy thud of Gilly’s next step. Bile rose up the back of Pat’s throat and burned, and he struggled to swallow it down.
Ahead was a black van with shaded windows, though the driver’s window had been lowered, and another man sitting there leaned out and waved frantically. “Hurry the fuck up!” he yelled over the horrendous noise of the giantess’ footsteps, the panicked cries of her victims, and her gleeful giggles. “Before she sees us!”
The men broke into a jog, now literally dragging Pat along as his shoes scraped across the filthy ground. He was too exhausted, too overwhelmed by his near-death experience to even think about moving, but it didn’t seem to hinder them. The rear door opened and he was tossed inside and fell in a heap on the floor. Just before it was slammed shut and he was left in the darkness, he caught a glimpse of Gilly’s shapely legs, twin skyscrapers in their own right, towering over the surrounding buildings, and heard her moan huskily as she crushed hundreds more under her feet.
Pat curled up on the hard metal floor. In the corner, a man with a gun kept a wary eye on him. Even with the door shut he could still hear her; the catastrophic rumbles of her footsteps and her delighted giggles at the death and destruction she was inflicting. As the van lurched forth and he was tossed against the door, he had the sudden and unpleasant thought that he had forgotten something important.
“James!”