The tales of the end times were common threads that were often spun to pass time while waiting for whatever in the tribe. Every person, from rearing until death, had in them a long list of tales that were beaten into their heads from the acolytes and their priestess. It was a great tale of destruction and payback for the tribes, because all that was dealt to them- being crushed underfoot, being smashed, death by the fall, even eaten, would be paid back in kind to the humans which towered over them.
The Great Goddess tale, though not agreed upon in details by consensus, was by far the most popular thread spun among cookfires. It was not known how, or even when, but on that day, the goddess they so fervently prayed and made sacrifice to would be resurrected, and she, in her wrath of harming her own chosen people, would subdue and dominate the earth she tread upon, saving those tiny tribesmen.
As the tribesmen were crushed, as were the humans. As they were eaten, so too would humans be made a feast of.
The point is, the tribe has always felt blessed by this promise or covenant as one of joy.
But when they saw the Virgin once more that night as they exited the room, her nakedness and the blood at her feet, some of them felt not but a great fear for their lives, and some of them felt that the goddess, yea, even that everlasting Mother in Gaea, had returned to destroy the world.
Most of the tribe had never seen such a being from this perspective- most watched these humans from afar or in cracks in ceilings or walls. But to see her now, on the ground, her legs (covered and dripping with the gore of dozens of their fellow tribekin) towering up into the sky and on and on and on to her stomach, chest, arms, and head, that was something else entirely.
They stood frozen in fear as the giantess took only a few short strides to cover what would take them minutes. She sauntered up to them, her hips swaying, a dirty little smirk on her lips that bewitched. One of the captive crowd, pious man, and set himself away from the main group and was closer to the giantess than the others. He feel on his knees in front of her, clasping his hands in front of him, and weeping all the while. He begged the woman, the one he believed wholeheartedly to be the Goddess Incarnate, for forgiveness of his intrusion and impropriety. The Virgin lifted her foot high above him. He, in his religious fervor, didn't see the wall of flesh came crashing down on him, splurting him into pieces and shooting gore into the rest of the crowd.
When the Virgin retracted her foot, a wet mess like a crate of tomatoes was there, broken bones strewn about in the red jelly.
Silence. The Virgin looked down on them and smiled, their terrified faces, even from this height, giving her a wonderful knot in her stomach. A few of them fell down, put their faces in their hands, afraid to be seen.
The Virgin, wiping her foot on a nearby towel that she had left on the floor, set her hands on her hips, defiant. She quivered. She then leaned over, her black hair, matted from the fear sweat that had plagued her earlier, dangled around her fair face like a forest of vines.
She pursed her lips at them, and with a sudden smile yelped,
"Boo!"
The panic ensued- one or two women screamed, and all of the tribe scattered. Most of them turned towards the kitchen, bathed in moonlight. Some of them went back towards the bedroom, others to the wall, and even some towards the giantess.
The Virgin knew she had to act quickly- she jumped in front of the main branch of people and, crushing a few of them, cause them to turn round and flee other way.
"Fe!" She half yelped, half giggled.
"Fi!" another few stomps and she was able to turn another group back, albeit a few less. She saw one group making a b-line for the kitchen and made a few quick steps towards them. She raised her bloodied sole over them, some gore falling like a deadly rain, and stomped hard.
"Fo!"
Her foot landed not in front but in the middle of the fleeing branch, causing everyone to fall down but quickly regain footing. Those on the left of her foot fled back towards the main group (now heading back, bewilderingly, to the bed room they exited), and those on the right of her foot went on towards the kitchen.
Those beneath her foot said nothing at all, but only boiled and seeped blood between her toes.
The Virgin lifted her foot again, feeling the rush of cool air contrast with the flow of warm blood- it tickled her foot, and made re shudder in delight.
Something was different, however.
Her foot found a pair of strays making a break for what looked like the door- not that it registered that they probably couldn't get out, just as she could not- and she shifted her prodigious weight and cranked her leg over.
"Fum!" She yelled with less heartiness that before. Her foot came down on the tiny group of people, but she missed in her lethargy, and only made contact with the tail end's legs, snapping the knee and severing the leg. The man started to scream, an ugly and gut wrenching scream, something that the Virgin found bothersome, or even difficult. She watched as the other two from the group skittered away towards the door, quickly recovering from a fall caused by the stomp. She decided that she would deal with them later. The man who was nicked lay on the floor clutching a bloody stump, continuing his screaming.
The Virgin looked at him briefly, a knot growing in her stomach- it wasn't the knot of excitement or pleasure that initially took her, but it was something else entirely, something else she couldn't place at the moment.
As a perfunctory action, she took her toe and pressed down on the screaming person. The yelp turned into a girlish cry before being silenced completely, save for a few loud crunches. As she pressed down, she saw a stream of red blood shoot out from underneath her toe, two, three feet onto the wall. It made a wicked splash, painting the wall a morbid Jackson Pollock.
Her stomach lurched up into her throat. She had just killed that person. They were dying, in pain, crying, and she had snuffed him out. And what had he done? Just ran from her. Ran from a very tall, very naked woman who had just finished crushing all those others.
All those people.
She looked down at her feet- even in the pale moonlight, she could see the wash of red, growing ever stickier, that covered her feet and toes. She shifted her big toe, and felt something wet, something soft, roll and fall off. Brain, she thought, although it made her stomach queasy.
She looked up and saw the crowd that she had so violently herded, now diminished considerably by her efforts. Again, that queasy feeling. She found herself walking towards them, and found only a little satisfaction in their increased panic and screams. They moved en mass towards the bedroom by which she found them.
She trailed them a bit, taking slow and measured steps behind them. She urged them along, occasionally poking them along with the in step of her bloody foot, pushing, almost shoving, helping them to move.
She practically bowled over a couple of people, harder than she intended, and she heard some tiny snaps followed by yelps of pain. She looked down and saw some of them, the very people she bowled over, clutching various body parts, wincing in horrific pain, some not moving at all, their necks at right angles.
She saw them, perceived it, but then stepped over the screaming crowd.
She kept pursuing the fleeing crowd, watching them ebb and flow in a linear mass and pour into the bedroom. She saw the last one of them limp into the doorway, a hobbling woman with a leg missing (she had crutches, so the Virgin assumed it wasn't her fault).
She leaned over, placing her hand on the knob of the door, looking down at the woman. She felt the shadow looming over her, and her pace quickened. She started to cry when she realized that she wasn't hobbling fast enough.
The Virgin pitied her.
She watched as the woman stumbled, tripped, uprighted, tripped again, and then finally with the help of another pass the breech and into the room, all the while weeping.
It would have been so easy to just place her foot on the tiny thing and just press down. Instead, she closed the door to the room.
Behind her, the screams of those whom she had run over continued, but a few were sobbing. She turned round and went over to them, looking over them. The feeling was quite different than when she had started- she remembered how terrified she had been, these very same beings crawling over her like so many cockroaches, pressing and entering and chanting words he didn't quite at the time understand. But here, after her decidedly gory rampage, they looked, and quite felt, like the tiny bugs that they were.
The Virgin shuddered. Adrenaline had been coursing through her and made her hands and legs shake. It had been... A rush, she knew, to attack and (she swallowed) kill all of those people. That was undeniable. But now, looking down at those screaming folk she had managed to kill, or just simply maim, she realized something.
It wasn't necessarily a good rush.
The screams continued. She couldn't take it anymore.
With a softly muted "I'm so sorry," she placed her foot on the group of fallen people and pressed down fast and hard. The screams stopped immediately, ended in a sickening squelch that accompanied a deeply warm wetness covering her foot. The pit in her stomach widened, and bile floated up into her throat and mouth. The pleasure she found in her stepping on people was completely gone, changed in an instant when she realized how much she was destroying.
Her sobs came suddenly, painful ones, covering her face with her hands an lettig the hot tears run down her face. She couldn't stand to look at the destruction she wrought- she wouldn't be as God and repent of herself, destroying mankind as He did in the deluge. But outside her hands the blood, remains, and carnage still existed, regardless of her acceptance.
She fell to her knees.
"I'm a goddamn monster," she said between sobs.
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Sigdaw saw the change in her goddess. The gleeful abandonment and wild grin on her face changed to one more suited to attending a funeral pyre. There seemed to be nothing, according to Sigdaw's knowledge, that could have stopped the Virgin from continuing her rampage. But then, in a flash of insight, she saw the Virgin change from that of a majestic destroying angel to a young woman remorseful and woeful.
Sigdaw sat down near the edge of the furniture- she and another woman had escaped just barely from being crushed underfoot- the man behind them was not so lucky. She could still hear his scream as the life was snuffed out of him, watch as his insides burst out of his mouth and onto the wall.
As she and the other rounded a couch foot and hid, Sigdaw pondered the change- what had overcome the giantess that made her change so? It was a mystery to her. She glanced over at the other woman behind her, who was shaking and crying her eyes out, unable to cope with the carnage that she had seen. Sigdaw pitied her.
Desperately, the woman reached out and touched Sigdaw on the shoulder and said, in a hushed voice,
"Pray, sister, let us flee! Back to where we once came!"
Sigdaw only met her with a blank stare, then returned her gaze back to the Virgin.
"Sister!" She reached her hand out again, but this time was pushed away.
"Go then!" Half-cried Sigdaw, "and leave me in peace."
"I'll not travel on alone, without thee," the other pouted, tears again in her eyes, "and be caught and laid waste to by yon goddess."
The other woman seemed to be adamant, but that was no matter for Sigdaw. Alone or not, she would still pursue this goddess of hers.
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The Virgin, once dry of her tears, had difficulty deciding what to do next. She thought of goin with her original intent- that is, to leave the apartment- but decided that it wasn't a good idea. Of all things, she was naked, and it was cold out. She might catch her death if she travelled outside. Secondly, she was covered in blood. She looked at the ground and at her feet in the pale moonlight, and surely enough, the blood was red, and her feet grew sticky. If she showed up to a friends apartment or found a police officer naked and covered in blood, she would be questioned, or worse, arrested. Even then, who might believe her, the story she had? She let a single breath of air out her nose at the thought, the only modicum of humor she could or would muster. She pictured what might be said:
'Well, officer, I was sleeping in my bed next to three bowls of ice cream when an army of tiny people came out and attacked me, yes sir it's true, and then they tied me up Jonathan Swift style and then tried to rape me, but I got my trusty knife and cut away their tiny ropes and escaped and went on a rampage, yes sir, just like a dinosaur or you know that one eyed woman from the samurai sword movie before she did that one.'
And then, she imagined, that would be the time she was cuffed and sent to the funny farm, and they'd send people looking for whoever that the blood on her feet.
So that was out of the question. She glanced at her phone and computer; neither worked still. She had a feeling that the little people had been behind the power outage.
The little people. She started to cry again, tears renewing, on the thought of them. It wasn't the fact that yes indeed there were tiny people, no taller than her toe, existing that made her cry- she thought that was pretty cool. Just like a fairy tale. But what did upset her is that she felt felt like the giant in this particular tale. Didn't help that she had in fact yelled fe fi fo fum.
She had murdered those people. Stepped on them. Felt them break.
The way that they ran from her made it all the worse- they were right to, for sure, the way she was acting, but even so...
They had to know. They had to know she was sorry, despite what they tried to do. Somehow the punishment didn't fit the crime in her head. Death was just too much- she was raised to forgive seven times seventy.
She rose up, taking a single, slick step towards her bedroom door, but something stopped her- she had no idea what. Even as her hand reached for the knob, something gripped her. No. No.
She couldn't go back in there. Not in there. Where it had happened and so many died. Her bed was probably still soaked with blood.
No. She couldn't.
Then the idea hit her- some had fled to the kitchen in her wrath, trying to escape desperately from being crushed underfoot. Surely some were still there?
She made up her mind- she would go and ask those in the kitchen to fetch the rest in the bedroom, and they would talk, she would apologize, and they'd figure out a solution. She rose from her slumped position, and wiped her hands off. The one was still sticky from blood, and so with not cloth on hand, she really couldn't clean herself.
Thinking for a moment, she decided to walk over to the bathroom, on the other side of the apartment, and wipe her hands and legs off. She tried the waters, which she was very grateful worked, and wetted a towel. Without light, she couldn't know if her small washing would be sufficient, but it was better than nothing, she supposed.
Feeling slightly better, she exited the bathroom and walked towards the kitchen- but stopped short halfway there.
What if they didn't listen? What if they just ran, or screamed, or tried to kill her again? She couldn't very well be a victim again, no. And if they screamed, well...
She chuckled. She had been particularly good at finding and catching bugs when she was a young girl. Also so careful, trying to be as delicate as possible. She'd catch one of the little people, yes, and talk to them. Call them down, maybe stroke their hair, show them she wasn't going to harm them... You know, right after stomping and killing a dozen of them.
She frowned. This wasn't going to be easy, no. But she determined, in her heart, that she could make herself an ally to them, understand where they came from and what they wanted. She could help these people.
As if on cue, she heard a tiny cry from the kitchen, a woman's. But she couldn't tell for sure. Maybe, she thought, this could be an opportunity. A chance to help these people in their time of need, to show she wasn't the monster she felt like.
Her feet began moving again at the sound of another cry, and she turned the corner into the kitchen. She was ecstatic, she was hopeful.
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
It's been a long time, yep. Things happened followed by some other things, and then I was caught up in some of the big things and filled my time with small things. Thing is a weird word.
Anyway, enjoy.
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Anyway, enjoy.
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Chapter End Notes:
Welp, guess that's that. The virgin makes friends with tiny people and then noody else dies. Ever.
Just kidding. More chapters to come, hopefully sooner than later.
Have you guys ever listened to Ninja Sex Party? Off the gotdang chain.
Just kidding. More chapters to come, hopefully sooner than later.
Have you guys ever listened to Ninja Sex Party? Off the gotdang chain.