As Andrea raised a mighty hand over the tiny square of the power plant, letting the shadows of her fingers dance across it, she briefly considered whether this might be a bad idea. Sure, those missiles had the bizarrely beneficial quality of enlarging her, but who was to say the same effect would take hold by absorbing the chemical fruits of a nuclear power plant? Maybe she’d only end up singeing her skin on no account but her desperate need to grow higher toward the cosmos.
Worth it.
The palm of Andrea’s hand collided with earth-breaking force over roughly twenty square miles, at the center of which lay the power plant. Wind from her descending hand blew over trees for dozens of miles in all directions, and those that weren’t ripped from the ground by gale-force air were instead crunched to a fine sawdust powder within one instant of impact with Andrea’s colossal fingers. For good measure, she swiveled her wrist in rapid pace, smearing the pad of her palm about. This ensured that the unruly contents of the nuclear plant would seep thoroughly into her luminous skin like a coin-dab of soap.
“C’mon, work. Work!” Andrea chanted. She spoke in a hushed tone, like saying magic words. It seemed conceivable that someone of her stature and power could speak something and make it true with enough conviction. “Make me grow.”
Once again, the effect wasn’t so much a burn as a tickle. At seventy miles tall, Andrea wasn’t fazed by much. She sighed with disappointment after spending several minutes rubbing the land as hard as she could into her hand. Perhaps she was simply too large now to be affected by such miniscule quantities of energy; that had to be the one and only downside of this growth game. Muddy earth crust caked her hand now like batter. Wiping her fingers off on the makeshift rug of Canadian trees, Andrea braced herself and stood back up. The balls of her feet careened through the landscape, caking civilization into mush between her widespread toes, as she launched back to her full height.
“I guess you can’t always get everything you want,” she groaned. “Even when you’re THIS big.”
As she did so, though, Andrea noticed something happening. Goose bumps creeping over her skin, from head to toe and then back again. A tingling beneath. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory. Glowing, the brunette goddess placed her hands over her heart, inhaled deeply, and savored her latest upward spurt.
Metrics were almost useless by this point in time, to someone of such celestial scale as Andrea. However, by placing her now much-larger foot next to an already enormous footprint she’d mashed into the earth, guessing wasn’t difficult. Andrea now stood in excess of one hundred miles tall.
Concluding this late-pubescent development to be enough for the time being, the girl refocused on her next task: sightseeing in Europe. Or rather, making herself the major sight to see across all of Europe simultaneously. Ironically, once she got close enough to an individual country, hovering her fourteen-mile-long naked foot over a hopeless populace, Andrea would be the only sight they could see. Her rosy, furrowed sole would serve as their sky, and the girlish curl of her toes would become their storm. She could hardly wait to show herself to them.
Andrea set her flip-flops down with a hard splash in the Atlantic Ocean. They floated briefly in the sludgy depths, but were too heavy, and the size of rubber islands on their own, to move unaided. So, sliding her toes back around the thong straps, the giantess commenced her short stroll across the body of water. As predicted, the salty liquid scarcely reached the top of her ankle joint. Nothing could impede Andrea from trampling straight through the sea and over to Europe.
Except her thirst. Realizing she hadn’t had anything to drink or eat for hours now, Andrea stooped, and formed a dipper from her hands. She’d heard it was a bad idea to drink ocean water, since it would only make you thirstier, but the girl decided her body didn’t play by human rules any longer. She could grow by squeezing nuclear power into her skin, after all. Previous logic no longer applied. Drinking deeply from the ocean with ten full scoops of water, Andrea wiped her mouth and continued on. The walk was peaceful, even relaxing in the way of a spa treatment as the Atlantic sluiced between her toes and under her sole, which squelched on the wet rubber with each tender step.
In almost no time, giant flip-flop-clad feet were sending tidal waves of tossed ocean onto the coast of France. Shortly after, her shadow fell over them, and then the first throngs of European humanity saw the one-hundred-mile Andrea for the first time.
“I’ve always wanted to see Paris,” Andrea whispered to herself. She smiled. “I guess I’ll just start there!”
Military forces, cowering in bunkers only marginally safer than the surface, were in a frenzy. Nations had quickly overcome their differences in the name of collaborating to stop Andrea’s flighty rampage. So far, though, no good had come of it. If anything, they’d only succeeded in giving her some even bigger feet with which to crush them into paste. Not only that, but her destruction of the power plant and subsequent ascendance only confirmed they’d accidentally taught her a valuable lesson. If she continued collecting these energy sources across the globe, there would be no stopping her skyrocketing height. As it was, there was already no way to stop her, period.
The Parisian sector of this emergency global partnership was in turmoil when they saw her on the horizon. Half of the forces wanted to unload every last nuke, missile, tank shell, and handgun bullet they had on Andrea, in the meager hope of revealing some weakness on her leviathan form. More rational voices pointed out that they’d already attempted usage of every manmade weapon, and all of them were either ineffective or, conversely, helpful to Andrea in her continued growth as a person. Arguments amongst the doomed humans were locked at a standstill, just as the massive young woman located the object of her interest.
A twin pair of intricately textured foamy flip-flops came to rest in flanks beside the city; the soft platform of the ocean-sopping shoe alone rose taller than any structure on land. Resting atop those oblong fifteen-mile blocks were the lovely, lowliest appendages of a girl whose head was literally up inside and above the clouds.
Andrea cocked her head inquisitively as she squatted above Paris, with one flip-flop poised on each border of the little town. The city was pretty, yes, but much smaller than she’d expected, after a lifetime of beautiful photographs and romantic movies led her to anticipate a gorgeous wonderland stretching far as the eye could see.
As it stood now, the city’s square mileage was roughly equivalent to one of Andrea’s breasts. Just one. If she were to lower herself onto the ground and pinpoint her nipple toward the heart of the city, all of Paris would go concave beneath the incredible brunt of Andrea’s modest bust. But that would be far too quick, and not much fun for the girl. She exhaled, considering her options, and stood back up.
The flip-flop grazed with careful precision just above the ground level of Paris. This simple act managed to knock over every major skyscraper and most landmarks, without the rubbery deathbringer ever touching the ground. Atlantic waters dripped down by the league, flooding the streets which avoided having their architecture caved over, but this was the least of anyone’s worries after not too long.
“Try not to move down there, everybody,” Andrea joked softly, tittering to herself. “I don’t want to mess this up, all right?”
In quick succession, Andrea flung the shoe away, then with her newly nude foot, utilized her toe to trace a line straight down the center of Paris. The girl carved the city in half like a pie. Despite only using her pinky toe, though, the meaty digit was still half a mile wide on its own, and smeared dozens of city blocks into the gridded pattern of Andrea’s pedicured skin. Then, satisfied with the shape she’d drawn, Andrea did the same thing in the opposite compass direction; balancing on one foot still housed within a flip-flop, the gorgeous sentinel of a woman dragged her toe through the fragile constitution of Paris, cutting it up into neat squares with her pink-hued toe.
This odd and silent ritual of Andrea’s carried on for close to half an hour. By this time, the girl was getting bored, and most of Paris was in ruin. She’d tilled the earth with her toe in balletic focus, yet because her tiniest and most delicate toe was still so strong and thick by comparison to the micro-citizens, not much was left standing at the end. Ultimately, no decisions had been made in the military bunkers on whether to fire the remaining nukes or not, because a single one of Andrea’s footprints had caved their entire operation down into a flat surface.
All at once, the girl became aware of one natural effect which was more capable of disrupting her peaceful European vacation than any paltry nukes: her bladder.
Those handfuls of ocean water she’d drunk so greedily had passed through her faster than she anticipated. Refreshing as that drink was, Andrea realized she was going to have to dispose of that bodily need somehow. Embarrassment briefly warmed her cheeks; where on Earth could she possibly go for privacy, at one hundred feet tall?
Then the anxiety dissipated just as soon as it formed. Andrea even felt silly. She was a goddess now. Specifically, the goddess over the entire planet. There was no need to feel apprehension at her desires or biological functions. Above all, it didn’t make any sense to taint her water supply in the ocean. And right here, in the carved-up remains of Paris, seemed good a place as any to find relief. After all, she’d already broken it.
Feeling some slight regret for anyone below who might not appreciate the gesture, Andrea let her white skirt flutter down her thighs, followed by her panties, then nudged both garments well out of the way. Only for a second was Andrea self-conscious of being exposed below the waist to most of France and probably some surrounding lands as well; anyone who was enjoying the show for this moment was about to enjoy it much less. As was only right, to show proper reverence to their deity.
Paris still lay directly between Andrea’s feet, putting her exposed nethers squarely above. She spread her heels wider in case of splashback, held her breath, then sighed with relief as the floodgates opened and her urine went spurting down into the half-ravaged ground zero of Paris.
The golden stream fell in a more-or-less clean line, but upon puddling in the French capital, it couldn’t have been messier. Streets and toe-carving-lines alike gushed yellow. For twenty sustained seconds, Andrea pissed onto the very city she’d once dreamed of visiting with a romantic-hearted boyfriend; now, she was literally drowning the entire population in her pee, and washing away the victims of her yogi-esque pinky assault in a river of sour liquid. Paris became a disgusting soup of crushed buildings and the shuddering teen’s urine.
“Now that feels a lot better!” Andrea moaned. The deed was done.