The Virgin's terror was absolute and tears welled in her eyes when she tugged her wrists and suddenly felt one loosen. She had tugged and tugged but it was only now, seemingly from magic, that we right wrist was freed.

She didn't waste a second wondering how t came to be- gritting her teeth, she yanked her arm from the bedpost and whirled it around over her head to her left wrist, still bound to the pillar. Her fingers frantically found the fixed rope that held her left arm bound, and now, using the strength of both arms, yanked with all her might, snapping the smartly woven cord apart with considerable effort. 

Her arm freed, the Virgin sat up, causing the scaffolding tower built at her neck to collapse and shatter into many piece- the priestess, who was still on it, tumbled down onto the Virgin's right side, skipping down on the sheets and tumbling down the side of the bed. Her entourage, all in a tizzy and panicked, fell with her, some before, some after. The ones who fell down first dashed their heads on the solid ground beneath, their brains exploding out of their skulls and wetting the wooden floor. The priestess fell on top of one of them, landing on her leg and bending it in half- she howled bloody murder as her entourage fell and broke their falls with their necks, arms, heads, some dying instantly, some to succumb later to internal hemorrhaging. 

As the Virgin sat up, the blood rushing back to we head and filling her sight with strange lights and stars, only to panic again as she felt the continued but lessened press on her vagina and hymen. Instinctively, she reached down and dug at her pussy, smashing several people into her bed and labia, still panicked as all hell to feel anything. She retreated her hand, concentrating on her legs- she had to be free! She yanked hard, yanked again, yanked thrice, but it was useless- the ropes were held fast.

In an instant, she saw and perceived- a line of something, something important- she starting remembering something she learned in a psychology course, something about a word called priming- that some visual clues opened doors to other ideas. Semantics something or other. She thought about that, half-heartedly, half-screaming, panic overtaking her and causing her brain to switch into operation and move her hand to the desk, searching for something, anything, until he found it. It! A knife! A gift from an old fling, worn and but still sharp. She kept it by her bedside, just in case she ever needed to defend herself from an intruder.

Certainly, even small ones counted as threats, especially these numbers!

She sat back up, unsheathing the knife from its home with a grating metal on metal. The Virgin slashed down hard at the rope near her feet- she missed, but instead the blade cut into someone at her toes- the blade cut them diagonally across the chest, bursting his heart and spilling his innards out onto the bed, and he dropped down, his lifeblood leaving him faster than anyone could have imagined.

She slashed again, and this time her arm pummeled into a crowd of fleeing tribesmen, knocking them off of the bed, some falling to their deaths, some landing softly in the scattered clothing strewn about the Virgins room.

The Virgin made a whining noise, upset and frustrated that she could not hit the rope. Panic again overtook her, and despite the pain, she folded herself in half, and with a great swing, cut the rope in half.

People were still trying to escape from between the Virgin's legs, but some continued to press on, pushing further and deeper still, some entering the cavity but no more. The Virgin, her right leg now free, slammed the whole of her leg, screaming, into her left leg, closing the canyon that was between the two legs. The tribesmen who were still there between her legs screamed in terror as the walls of fleshed closed around them, suddenly silenced as their insides burst out of there stomachs, anuses, and mouths. Several dozens of the tribesmen were crushed between her legs, gore spraying up and blood pooling between the tightly closed legs, her bed becoming a wet warm mess. The Virgin, seeing the buckets of blood covering her legs, stomach, and even some that sprayed on her breasts and nipples, felt a sudden tickle in her  stomach. She wondered what it was, then suddenly felt the bile erupt from her throat, into her nose, and out of her mouth. Rich and acidic vomit spilled out, on top of the blood, which was leaking out. She cried out, gasping for the air that her lungs desperately needed, and coughed and coughed. The knife still in her hand, she was still able to scoot down on the bed. She did so, smearing the rest of a crying woman with smashed legs under her ass, spreading her across her cheek like a dark red peanut butter.

She reached down, spitting out the rest of the vomit at her feet, which hit and knocked someone down, and then sliced the rope in half. 

Frantically, the Virgin, now loose, swung her legs over the side of the bed, knocking some of the tribesmen screaming down to the hardwood floor, killing them. 

She was about to lift off and run, but the Virgin felt a tiny tickle in her pussy- something was moving down there. She immediately reached down between her legs and dug. The priest, the acolyte that that used his powder to transform her sleep into something deep, was in there, one of the first in line, eager to partake of the Virgin. The Virgins fingers, massive trunks of flesh, turned the tiny acolyte into ground meat in the process of scraping him out. He was unceremoniously scooped out, and whipped off her fingers, splattering loudly on the wooden floor.

The Virgin, now devoid of any unwanted passengers, rose up and flew the room. As her bare feet slapped on the floor, she realized, with tears streaming down her face, that she had not even begun to process what was happening. But now, given a chance to flee, her mind became active once more, finally acknowledging that there were tiny people in her home.

A tiny woman, her arm twisted in a way that it should not have been, was also fleeing the room. She was one of the few that landed on the clothing strewn about the floor when the Virgin swung her arm about. Despite the soft landing, she landed hard on her arm, and it now vended backwards. But that didn't matter, she was alive. Alive! She had survived! She would make her escape, on foot, to a better place. 

At least, that was her plan, until she heard the thundering behind her. She turned, only in time, to see a massive wall of reddened flesh fall down on her, barely giving her any time to cry out- she was smashed under the Virgin's stride, not even felt by her in her moment of panic. 

Another man, crawling away, had his head splattered under her heel; another one had her lower half and stomach crushed in such a way that her insides shot out of her mouth.

A bystander, who watched the Virgin's egress from afar, could not help but be in awe of this goddess incarnate- even in flight, she was a terrifying sight to behold- death seemed to follow and be in her footsteps.

-------------------

Sigdaw was one of the few lucky ones to escape the Virgin's legs before the carnage began. She quickly ran to the back near the bed posts when the bed started rocking. She watched in terror as the Virgin rose, her tear stained eyes straining the dark, and collapsed the tower that the priestess stood upon. She wailed in excitement as the man in front of her was sliced in two and his innards escaped his body. She became wet like never before when the Virgin smashed dozens, maybe a hundred of her tribes folk between her beautiful, lovely, white legs. Lastly, she fingered herself furiously as she saw the Virgin scoop out remains between her labia and crush, so goddess like, so beautiful, unaware people under her celestial feet. 

She was reaching peak when she realized that everyone around her was panicking. No one had seen the priestess. The assistant acolytes were all dead. There was panic. Some of them cursed the priestess for her hubris, others swore that they saw the ghost of that bastard Jawm lurking about. It was chaos, but easily suggestible chaos- one ofthe scouts started to descend the bedposts, followed by another, and then another, until all of them moved in a single direction. Some leapt off the bed to their deaths, some slit their own throats, crying that the goddess had forsaken, that they had sinned gravely. Some started fucking. 

Sigdaw, intrigued, waited to climax. Her functions of self-fuck had been overridden, somehow, by the prospect of possibility. 

The possibility of closeness.

Somehow, somehow, she would get close to the Virgin. Somehow. 

Her fingers slide out of her wet mess of a box with a schluck noise, and she wiped them off on her leg. She walked then, calmly as any other day, to the bedpost, past another man who had gouged his eyes out for his sins.

She mounted the rope that had been embedded in the bed post, and swung down, confident in a thought:

She would be with her earthly goddess tonight.

---------------

The Virgin stumbled out of her room into her darkened apartment. Her hand fished for the light switch, the blood on her hand making a mark like some morbid artist creating one hell of a statement. She found it, and nearly wept when she found that it didn't work.

"Ngnnnoooooo" was her protest, said through tears pouring out her eyes.

She stumbled to go over to the counter where her desktop computer and landline were, but found, through a sort of soft whine, that the power was cut off. She desperately tried to turn the power on and off on the computer, hurting her index finger and hyperextending it, hoping against hope that her pressing the button would somehow goad the computer into agreeing to turn on. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, goddamnit! 

She hit the computer screen out of frustration, ignoring the sharp pain her knuckles and hanging her head down. What was she supposed to do? What the hell were those things? Tiny people! Tiny people! Honest to God, tiny, living, people, only the size of her toe! If she weren’t so panicked, she might’ve taken a picture on her phone, and… her phone!

It suddenly dawned on her that still had a cell phone, fully charged, in her room. Of course! She could use the cell phone to call the cops, her parents, even James- it didn’t rely on the power in the apartment.

She took one step forward before retracting her foot again, suddenly overcome with the realization that her cell phone was in her room, which was still occupied by…

Tiny people. Tiny people who seemed very intent on hurting her.

She renewed her crying. Why was everything so difficult right now? She leaned on the wall of her apartment, suddenly feeling her legs go limp. She needed to see someone, anyone. But how could she find someone? The phone wasn’t an option, neither was her computer or cell phone. What was she going to do, just walk outside and go visit her friend who lived down the street?

Well, why not?

She realized, though, that she was butt-naked, and God help her, covered in blood. Even if she didn’t have inhibitions or restraint, a bloody, naked woman wouldn’t have gone without suspicion or question very long, not very long at all. That thought gave her pause, but then quickly was resolved when she looked over at her couch and saw a blanket plastered with her university alma mater acting as a couch cover. She quickly sauntered over to the couch, wrapped the blanket around her (then sighing as she realized that she hadn’t wiped off any of the blood), and then pulled it onto her tightly. She glanced outside- it had to be really early in the morning, maybe two, maybe three. Without a clock, she had no idea. She once considered buying a battery powered clock, but then, as she went to the store, found a pair of sandals that would be a lot more fun.

She took a step forward while glancing over at her room. They were still in there, she knew. They were there and she was not. Thank God.

As she put her hand on the doorknob, she heard a loud snap, followed by a sudden flash. Before she could even register, she blacked out, and then suddenly found herself on the floor, knocking her head on the ground. More confused than anything, she moved her leg and foot door to stabilize herself, but stopped short and cried out- a shock, like touching a stove or outlet, shot through her body and paralyzed her for a brief half second.

“Oww!”

She drew her limbs in to her core, and let tears leak out again. Everything was going horrible- she woke up, was attacked and almost violated- raped, she realized!- by tiny people who kept going on about some sacrifice or sacrament or whatever, her apartment power went off, cutting her off from the world, and now, her damn door wouldn’t open, and there sure as shit wasn’t a possibility of going out of the window. She examined her door- there was a faint green glow about it. Out of curiosity, she moved her hand towards it further, and immediately retracted it when she saw a flash of green- a tendril of green lightning broke out and ‘bit’ her on the hand.

“Ow, dammit! That was stupid…”

She was right, she was wasn’t going to get out that way. She needed her cell phone, but that was impossible. Wasn’t it? They’d kill her…

Or would they?

The Virgin found herself recalling the tiny woman on her toe- how fragile she looked, how scared she was when she wiggled her foot. The movement, just simply a twitch to the Virgin, nearly sent the tiny bug careening off and most certainly to death. All because she wiggled her toe. And then, she realized, what happened when she slammed her thighs closed.

All that blood, all that death. Just by her body movement.

The Virgin felt a strange sensation in the bottom of her stomach. Something she couldn’t place.

Out of curiosity, she lifted up her right foot- at the bottom of her lovely red sole was a red splotch that covered the ball of her foot. There was one at the tip of her big toe as well. She realized, with that strange sensation brewing inside of her stomach, that she had stepped on some of them- her foot was so large, so immense to these tiny beings, that a single step was enough to completely annhialate them and spread them like jam on the floor. She felt like an exterminator, stamping out tiny lives, or one of those monsters from Pacific Rim.

Suddenly it became clear to her- the feeling in her stomach was that of excitement, of pleasure, and of lust all at once. She involuntarily touched herself, only to find that her womanhood was lubricated- sopping wet, even.

She rubbed herself softly, doing something that she was raised to think was wrong, but my oh my, did it feel so right to her. Why was she doing this? She was scared, so scared- but not so much anymore, she guessed? Why did these tiny beings that terrified her so much at first, now suddenly seem so insignificant to her, only things to be crunched underfoot on her way to get her phone? Why did have this change of heart? Why was she pleasuring herself? Why was she so excited, eager to go into that room, and then? And then?

She touched herself again and smiled slightly, letting her old friend take her- something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She thought about how she had scraped that person out of her, probably killing him in the process. She realized, then, that she had those needs and they wanted, she wanted, them to be filled. Those little people in there? They would help her with that.

She felt hungry. She felt horny. She felt like an exterminator, a destroyer.

She felt like an unstoppable giantess.

And this giantess, she realized, didn’t like being attacked like that.

As if on cue, she glanced over to the entrance of her room, the door still open. Moonlight was streaming through the window and alighting the cubby, giving away a small crowd of dispersed tiny people shadows that gave away their position.

Smiling, the Virgin took a step forward. She was going to get her phone back.

But first, a little revenge.