The van, with its local news logo and two perfectly trim and nonthreatening newscasters' likenesses plastered all over the side of it, zipped round the carnage and destruction like a vulture. The van's driver, Travis, had begged and pleaded his boss, some fresh young graduate from UNLV, to stop at least from afar and get some reels there. She had laughed, laughed in that way only the green could, and told him to keep driving if he still wanted a paycheck. 

With a grudge in his head and pit growing in his stomach, Travis reluctantly pressed down the gas peddle and swerved around the scattered debris and human remains- red testaments of just what they were going to see. In the van it was him, Lisa (little miss Pulitzer), and Rick all stuffed in the back. If Rick was averse to coming out and getting this reel, no one knew it.

The first reports of a giant woman seemed too far fetched- most of the phone lines had dismissed it and carried on. Then, of course, the footage rolled in- amateur video captured by the tens of thousands of cameras in every pocket of nearly every citizen, each of them filming the same event, the same morbid extravaganza, the same chaos, all from a different angle. 

There were reportedly two of them- one causing havoc down south on Wigwam and the other that captured someone walking down by a park. Lisa, ever the brave and reckless, had happily volunteered her crew to go and see the more active (read: dangerous) giant. 

As they rounded the street and into the parking lot, Travis had to refrain from gasping- in his many years as a production guy, he'd never seen anything like it. Some great works and shows he'd been on, yeah, made some pretty great stuff, but... This was something entirely unique to him.  He had a hard time believing it, truth be told. 

That belief, however, was turned to knowledge when he watched her stomp hard onto someone. Some poor slob had pulled a gun on her (he heard the discharge) and had paid dearly for his indiscretions against her. He watched her grind her sand hued foot into the ground, her crooked smile, all the same alluring and warning, as she ground the guy to pulp. 

This was it, he thought, pulling beside a wrecked sedan to stop at let the crew ready before proceeding (standard procedure was to remain at a safe distance from the scene) over to where the action was. He watched tenuously as he grabbed the miscellaneous equipment from the back of the van, helped Rick strap his camera on. He turned on the microphone for Lisa, and handed it to her as she was checking herself in the van's side mirror. They felt the rumble of footsteps as she drew near them, Rick swinging the camera towards the giant and pressing the zoom on. Above them they heard a low chuckle, growing as the giantess drew near.

"Fuck, fuck, okay let's do this!" Lisa screamed, yanking the mic out of Travis' hand and jumping in front of Rick with a huge grin on her face.

"Are we rolling? Travis! Are we rolling?"

The two crewmen nervously shuffled, Rick still holding the camera on its gimbal and Travis typing into his mobile console that connected to the camera. 

He held up a hand, two fingers and a thumb.

Three, he motioned. Two.

A point to Lisa, grinning ear to ear. 

"Hello, my name is Lisa Woodstock and you're watching exclusive channel 20 news. I have behind me..."

Travis rolled his eyes, the absolute awkwardness of it overriding the fear that accompanied his flight instinct. Even with terrible intros and cliche antics, Lisa still got to be a field reporter. Travis thought, and rumor might've suggested, that it wasn't so much her resume that had got her this position, but rather her mouth as strong knees. 

"Will this giant be friendly to us and leave us be," she asked, the crushed remains of the gunman not ten feet from her, "or does she have something else in mind? Let's find out." 

By the time Lisa had turned to face Clare, the giantess had already crouched down and loomed over them. Rick ad Travis had backed away slightly but Lisa remained undeterred. 

"Hello! Can you talk to us?"

The giantess chuckled. 

"Sure. You're Lisa Woodstock, right? I've always been a big fan." She grinned saccharinely at her. Something about it reminded Travis of a wolfess. "But it wouldn't be good for my back if I crouched down like this, so can I pick you up in my hands? Yknow," she bit her lip, "for a really in depth interview?"

"Sure!"

Clare set both her hands on the sides of them and brought them together, letting the crew jump up and stand on her hands. 

"Don't fall, now..."

She lifted them, like a goddess, to her face, smiling and toothy and maybe, Travis noted, with a bit of mischievousness in her eyes. Once up, Lisa brushed her skirt off and continued to talk into the camera, who was doing an admittedly admirable job with the recording. 

"So, uh... Forgive me, but there's no precedent here for this kind of interview... So, let's start then," she said, confident in her old standbys, "what's your name?"

"My name? I'm Clare. I work at, well, I guess I worked at, the Athletic Club down in Green Valley. I am, er was, a personal trainer."

"That explains your physique. So what made you become this giant? How did you grow?"

Clare blushed at the compliment, but continued on. 

"Well, my nephew, Jason, he's this brilliant, really smart kid. Like, a certified genius. He was helping me with my high school physics homework when he was six..."

And on the interview went. The whole line of questioning didn't bother Travis, no- it was pretty standard and more than once Clare had asked Lisa to repeat a muddled or confusing question. She seemed intelligent, cognizant of what she was doing, and were she not thirty times his height, Travis would have gladly bought her a drink. Maybe even a nice dinner and the club after. But the thing that really bothered him was her... Eyes. Beautiful blue, sapphires that you could swim in, but they grew... Bored. They grew... Uninterested. 

He had tried to get Lisa's attention, tried to warn her of the possible danger... But she ignored him. 

It was halfway through Lisa's question of how her childhood shaped her behaviors as a giant that Clare interrupted her. 

"Hold on, honey." 

The cutoff made Lisa bristle, of all things. She glared up at Clare expectantly. 

"I think your portion of the interview is over. I think what people want..."

She tipped her hand over and curled her finger to catch the tiny reporter. Travis, on the other hand, slid down, yelling and nearly bowling into Rick. The hand continued to lift up and up, wrapping around the little brunette, who yelped out in fear and surprise. 

"I think what people want," she continued, bringing the reporter up to her face, "is some hard hitting, pulse pounding action. Maybe, to see this girl in action."

Clare smiled and bit her lip, excited at what was to come. She took the woman and brought her down to her stomach, covered in the tight black cloth of her form-fitting shirt. She brushed the woman on her belly, still biting her lip and looking at the camera. 

"Are you getting this, camera guy?" She barked at him. "This is important..."

She felt the woman struggle push against her, fighting to not drag her face onto the cloth. He had dropped the microphone and kicked off one expensive shoe, a gift from a grateful and happy executive. Clare felt her stomach rumble, in earnest as she hasn't eaten since last night. God, she was hungry. Starving. The woman froze and started to whimper.

With a laugh, Clare dragged Lisa down the front of her shirt to where her shorts began. With a flick and a giggle, she pushed her hand and passenger under the black cloth, letting the woman touch silken skin and peach fuzz, rubbing her up and down. The tiny woman felt great on her skin, and she moaned as she drew a circle around her navel. She felt the tiny thing shudder, and relished the power she had over her.

"Mm, I thought you'd want to know how soft I keep my skin... Lots of lotion, good exercise, and of course... A healthy diet..." She let the word hang in the air, letting her get the message, "is how I keep my healthy complexion al year long. And of course, she said, swirling the girl around again and again, "a healthy dose of Vegas sun. But mostly," she said with a final pull down her skin, her stomach rumbling again, eager for its meal, "my food. And speaking of..."

She made a do-do-doot xylophone imitation, harkening back to the cliche days of nighty news.

"This just in," Clare teased, lifting her back up to her face slowly. The camera followed with rapt attention. "We've got a very special news segment for your today- an exclusive look at the digestive tract of a twenty something in real time! Our very brave, very sumptuous-looking reporter," she gave the whimpering woman a squeeze, "has bravely volunteered to go inside and experience it first hand!"

She brought the tiny thing, who began to cry, up to her supple pink lips. Clare's tongue reached out from between and caressed Lisa's legs, savoring the sweet and salty flavor of journalist. 

"I want you to know," Clare whispered, blowing air past Lisa's hair, "that I'm really, really, reeeeaaallllly looking forward to this. I'm just so hungry."

Lisa began to sob, placing her hands on her face, even as Clare leaned out and looked down at Rick. 

"Are you ready, camera guy? Here we go!"

She opened her mouth, the white pearls that passed for teeth glimmering in the midmorning sun. Clare lifted Lisa up high above her mouth, shifting her fingers to hold her by the waist and midriff. When Lisa dared to peek outside of her hands, panic gripped her like a vice and she started to flail desperately.

"Oh my god, please no! Please, please for the love of God, don't don't nooooo!"

That was the signal- Clare smiled with her mouth open, her tongue shifting and writhing below like a wave. She swallowed involuntarily, and Lisa saw to her horror every wet detail of Clare's hungry and waiting mouth. Her tongue wagging, saliva glistening on teeth. The back of her throat seeming to open just for her, just to take her back and become a bite for this giantess. 

Slowly she lowered her in, all the while savoring the sweet protests of her little snack. Her heart raced, she felt her toes wriggle and her nethers grow moister and swollen. She was really going to do this.

Clare felt the beating hands and feet smack across her tongue, annoying her and making it difficult to push her in. Instead, she pushed her to the side and placed her between her two sets of teeth, clamping down softy on her while letting her go. 

Lisa's screams grew louder and louder, muffled slightly by the cave of a mouth around separating her from the rest of them. Clare took her free hand and placed it on her hip, her mind boggling with excitement. 

With horror, the two cameramen watched as Clare bit down on the tiny woman, her screams becoming a train wreck of fear and blood-filled coughs and chokes. Lisa felt, in disbelief, her chest cave in and something sharp sink into her ass. Before she could realize how painful it felt, she felt the two molars close onto her head, making her tears trapped into her eye. The pressure built, and built, and built, until the nerves of her skull could take now more, and then followed by her skull cracking. She gave one last mewl before the teeth closed on her completely, and the contents of her head and chest burst out into Clare's mouth, her tastebuds detecting salt and copper.

The feeling was ecstatic for Clare- she had felt something then, a stirring in her lower lips and insides, as the tiny woman died between her teeth. She began, out of habit, and maybe eagerness to get on with it, to chew, pressing the Lisa's remains into the dental grinder with her blood-stained tongue. Each chew brought a burst of flavor and mystery, as well as the rest of her bones cracking and breaking under the tension. She chewed to satisfaction, making sure all of Lisa's bones were ground up to taste, and then swallowed her, back her wet and slick throat to her stomach, where the little bitch would provide a good nutrition for her body.

Clare's hand snaked down to her crotch, and she was unsurprised to find herself soaking through. It amazed her- the woman had died, on a whim, to give her body energy and life. She sighed.

If only she had been a giant sooner!

Her stomach, seemingly agreeing with her newfound realization that cannibalism was okay, grumbled, grateful for the meal but wanting more. Clare smirked at the thought-  the two in her hand would serve nicely for second and third course, but along with that huge appetite came other huge needs.

Her thoughts turned down to her wet mess of a cunt, and that she needed someone to attend to it while she sought out more to eat. 

Hmm, she thought, looking down at the men in her hand, he'll do. 

"What a great scoop," Clare mockingly said, laughing at their fear, "that woman will go down in history. But we've just received another piece of important information from an anonymous tipper..."

Her hand flew up and plucked Travis from his perch, who screamed his head off. 

"Now now, mister reporter! Don't look so glum. You've got an important job to do." She brought him up to her face and gave him a small peck. "We've heard about a shipment of fresh clams coming from down south..." 

She wrapped her fingers around him, and held him at the place where her shirt and shorts met. With her free thumb she held open her shorts and panties- Travis could smell the hot musk and scent of woman even from up there. He was both terrified and... Maybe a little excited as to where this was going.

"Why don't you go there and help out with... Um, getting shipments..." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Just go down there and be my pussy slave, okay? Maybe I'll let you live if my cunt doesn't eat or crush you. Thanks, little guy."

She tossed him in and guided him down, feeling his hands and legs beating on her shaved skin and out labia. Once nestled, and grinning delightedly at her little passenger, she turned her attention to Rick who was, to his credit, still filming.

"Looks like it's just me and you, little guy. I'll let you d-deciiii fuck!" 

She bit her lip and looked down, blushing. Whether Travis had intended it or not, he was giving her the experience of a lifetime. It took all of her willpower to not squeeze her legs together and crush him.

Wiggling her body delightedly, she tried to concentrate on Rick. 

"Well, I can't have two of you done there, and I don't want to spoil his work, soooooo..." 

She reached over and plucked the camera from his shoulder. 

"Gimme that."

Clare examined the camera and held the lens up to her face. She struck a pose and laughed. She could get used to this.

Holding the camera out at length and bring in Rick to her face, she began to speak at the tiny camera.

"Hello Las Vegas and world! My name's Clare and I'm a giant... Tess. A giantess. Yeah! I'm a lot bigger than you and as you can see, my little pal here... Hey, what's your name?"

"R-r-r-Rick."

"Ah. My pal Rick here is normal sized. Say hi to the camera Rick."

"H-h-hi."

"Great."

She swung wide and got a panoramic view of the city, the strip in the distance just under the smog. 

"And this... Alllllll this... Is now mine. I'm in charge. The boss. Fuck mayor Goodman, I'm the queen. I'm..." She smiled wide as could be and exhaled, "your goddess. And I'm coming for you, little people, and guess what?"

She brought Rick to her mouth and have him a long lick up his body. He started to cry. 

"I am very, verrryyy..."

With no ceremony she stuck Rick into her mouth, biting down hard and severing him at the waist and causing his legs to flail uncontrollably. She looked the camera deadeye and started to chew.

"Hungry."

With a laugh, she popped the rest of Rick in, dropped the camera, and walked on down the road, and stomped away towards the Las Vegas Strip.