After exiting the elevator, Fujiko Mine sauntered through the luxury apartment’s stark white hallway. The clack of her heels echoed through the building as she made her way towards one of the penthouse suites. She had secured an invitation to a high-class soiree put on by the world’s elite and had dressed to impress. She wore a tan, pearlescent, spaghetti-strap dress and a pair of brown stiletto heels; the dress did the bare minimum in covering her always impressive breasts, and the skirt’s split rid up her right leg all the way to her waist. She was prepared to turn heads so far they wouldn’t notice all the money she planned to siphon from them.
The party attendees were some of the richest, and most corrupt, people in the world. Some were bosses of actual criminal empires, others were politicians and royals who dipped into public funds for their own indulgence, and quite a few were CEOs pilfering off the hard work of their underpaid employees. They were the perfect targets for the professional thief and femme fatale: hedonistic egotists who’d drain their vaults for the company of a beautiful woman like her. As Fujiko liked to put it, “Steal from the rich to give to the more deserving: namely myself.” She didn’t plan on stealing much tonight. Some jewelry here and some cash there, whatever she could fit in her purse. The main goal was to make connections, network a little, so she could eventually slink straight into each partygoer’s offshore bank account.
Fujiko reached the suite door, and after checking her hair and makeup in a hand mirror, walked on in. To her surprise, the place was empty. The extravagant, multi-room apartment was clearly prepared for a party, fanciful foods and overpriced beverages were scattered throughout, but there wasn’t a soul to be found. “Something’s not right,” she thought aloud. “I’m never the first to arrive.” There were supposed to be upward of fifty guests attending, but as far as she could tell, she was the only one to arrive. Not even the hosts appeared to be present. Fujiko walked through the entryway into the parlor, her heels clacking against the marble floor. She immediately spotted the security cameras dotted throughout the interior, though it wasn’t clear if anyone was currently watching her through them. “Guess I better be careful with what I take.”
What she didn’t notice were the miniscule specks on the floor beneath her. Fujiko was in fact the last guest to arrive. All the billionaires in attendance had shrunk down to a millimeter tall and were scattered throughout the apartment. Many were on the floor, some on the tables, countertops and furniture, and a few found themselves in more interesting locations. The tinies in her path froze with their mouths agape at the sight of the curvaceous woman towering far above them. To Fujiko, the act of walking across the room was a simple one, requiring no direct thought from her; but to the people below, it was a nightmare. Their entire world shook as the woman’s slender legs rose skyward and came crashing down with the force of meteors. The puny bodies of billionaires were pulverized under the toes of Fujiko’s heels. Flattened in an instant, the tinies at least received a quick, excruciating death. The ones lucky enough to avoid her gait looked on in horror at the paper thin remains of their companions dotting the floor.
Fujiko was oblivious to the lives she just stole with her feet, still wondering where everyone could be. The parlor was a large room surrounded by windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The view of the city, soaked in the rays of the freshly setting sun, was almost as gorgeous as Fujiko herself. She was a little bitter that no one was there to appreciate the work she put into dolling herself up. Within the parlor was an L-shaped sofa and decorative coffee table facing a 65” flatscreen; on the other side of the room, past a lit fireplace, was an in-house bar complete with a countertop, barstools, and drink rack. “I could go for a drink.”
Fujiko approached the bar, leaving a trail of carnage in her wake, and sat down on a stool. She didn’t realize that seat was already taken by a miniaturized woman. “Look down here, you stupid bimbo!” the woman shouted, her harsh words travelling nowhere near far enough to reach Fujiko’s ears. “This isn’t right! We run this world! You should be under our heels, not the other way around,” she cried, having never faced a problem that she couldn’t solve with money. The last thing she saw was the full moon hanging over her before crumpling under the weight of Fujiko’s ass. A man on the counter tried to get the giantess’ attention. He jumped and waved and shouted, but none of it mattered. A bent elbow came plummeting down on top of him as Fujiko rested her head against her hand. The man, a multi-billionaire who used every trick in the book to amass his absurd wealth, was so insignificant that she didn’t even feel his guts splash against the back of her arm. Not far from him was another shrunken attendee, an oil baron with a penchant for womanizing. He felt no remorse for the victims around him as he was too enamored by the massive pair of tits suspended in front of him. His only concern was formulating a strategy to get between the soft mountains.
Fujiko noticed a bottle of champagne on the other side of the counter and reached over to grab it. Her chest pressed into the countertop as she stretched herself over it to grab the bottle and a glass. The oil baron got far more than he bargained for, buckling under her boob as it ground him into the surface. Fujiko poured herself a drink, failing to notice the four people trapped at the bottom of the glass. The cascading alcohol pushed down on the tinies, keeping them pinned to the glass and drowning one of them. The other three surfaced, given the briefest respite as they caught their breath, before the glass they found themselves in started tilting. A pillowy upper lip stretched across their only exit Fujiko took a sip of her drink. The man closest to Fujiko’s mouth, a record setting athlete whose greatest feat was dodging drug tests, swam with all his might, but quickly found himself sliding down the woman’s tongue into her throat. Perhaps drowning in overpriced champagne wasn’t so bad a fate, at least compared to being sucked down the woman’s gullet and landing in a lake of searing stomach acid.
Along with drinks, the bar also had hors d’oeuvres, including caviar. Fujiko pulled the platter of fish roe over to her. A group of tinies were feasting on the supersized delicacy, themselves being no bigger than the eggs they were biting into. Fujiko plopped a spoonful onto the back of her hand, catching a few partygoers in the process, and scooped it off with her tongue. She pressed the roe against the roof of her mouth, crushing both the eggs and the people and releasing their delicate flavors throughout her mouth. She snacked on hors d’oeuvres and sipped on champagne for a while, waiting for anyone to show up.
Eventually, she decided she had enough. “This is ridiculous. I’ve wasted enough time here.” She leapt off the stool, crushing a pleading woman under the heel of her stiletto. “I’ll just find something nice to take and be on my way.” Fujiko walked all over the suite, stepping on countless tinies as she went room to room in search of valuables. There were plenty of rare artifacts, books, and art pieces throughout, but nothing caught her eye. She wanted a big gemstone or an intricate piece of jewelry, something that felt good to have without needing any historical context to enjoy it. By the time she reached the master bedroom, she gave up. “Ugh, tonight just sucks!” A miniature man and woman were on the deluxe king size bed getting down and dirty. They were so into it, they hadn’t even realized they shrunk. Frustrated with her lack of results, Fujiko flung herself onto the bed. As her bare back collided with the couple, the two became one as their bodies were smashed together and their lives snuffed out.
Fujiko returned to the parlor so she could leave. By this point, most of the guests had been stepped on, swallowed, or otherwise killed by the unaware femme fatale. The few survivors were cowering underneath furniture, praying to gods they didn’t believe in that they’d reform themselves if they made it out alive. With so many deaths under her shoes, it became impossible not to notice the viscera dotting the floor. “Weird. Where these wine stains always here?” Fujiko didn’t give the matter much thought, though she was upset at the red goo plastered along the bottom of her expensive heels. “Well, I was drinking white wine, so it’s not my fault.”
On her way out, Fujiko turned towards the security camera. She pulled her lower eyelid down, stuck her tongue out and gave it the middle finger before leaving in a huff.