Megan, 300 feet tall, strolled like a walking skyscraper through London. The small people ran in front of her, like grains of sand being blown away by the wind. Not that everyone succeeded. A mob like that always has people being in the way of others, leading to some lagging behind. And they ended under the huge, black leather boots of my giantess. With joy I saw them disappear under the two feet high rubber soles, being helplessly compressed to mush. I saw common labourers and businesspeople squish with the same ease, it was clear that under Megan's gigantic weight every mortal was equal. Or equally mortal.


I laughed each time one of her 40 feet long, 13 feet broad soles covered a handful of people, only to reveal still bodies, unrecognisable, embedded in a footprint. 


Yes, footprint, for Megan was so heavy that she easily crushed the asphalt and tiles and imprinted a copy of her boots' sole in it. Flesh stuck between the lines, chunks of meat fell down as she lifted her foot. The crunching noises of bones being broken by the dozens made it all more fun! Oh, I was having a wonderful time!


Yeah, I know, its cruel. But hey, the reversal spell I cast makes sure in the end nothing of all this will have happened, remember? Just like in a computer game, where you can make your avatar do mean and cruel stuff, only to overwrite the savegame files when you start over and be nice. So let me enjoy this later-to-be-erased cruelty.


Speaking of which, I had a sudden idea, one which I hadn't planned before. I mentally ordered Megan to stop walking which she did immediately. Then I had her take off her boots. Her socks followed. Megan, now barefoot, bent over holding her socks in her hand and addressed the crowd. 


"Excuse me, do my feet smell? Can't tell it. I've been wearing these boots and socks forever. There aren't just any more in my size...".


With that Megan held her socks over the crowd. At the same time, I cast an odor-increasing charm on her socks, magnifying their odor by at least a hundred times. Lucky for me, the protective shield around me and my carpet only let air through, not smells.


Not so lucky where the people down there. Noses were being held, dozens bent over and threw up, some even dropped unconscious. The smell of Megan's foot odor, magnified by my spell, had to be overwhelming and outright cloying. As she continued to wave her gigantic socks, each weighting at least a ton, a ton of foul-smelling cotton, over the crowd, more and more people dropped like bowling pins. I even saw some cars collide, and owners open doors, clutching their noses and vomit. It wouldn't be a surprise to me if even the leaves of nearby trees would wilt and fall off from the hot, smelly air. 


I doubled up from laughter. Tears welled up in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. Hundreds of people, all nauseous and retching because a 300 feet tall giantess waved her stinky socks over them! Hilarious! And what was also funny, Megan had been wearing socks with a flower-motive on them! Imagine that! A smell from the depths of hell, and the socks have flowers on them!


I decided to make it even more fun. I had Megan drop her socks on the crowd, no doubt smothering a dozen or so under their weight, and let her sit down. Of course, her behind was too broad to fit in the street, 50 feet girth if you want to know, so I had her turn and sit on a six-story storehouse. Its roof buckled and cracked dangerously as she sat down, but the structure held nevertheless. Hadn't expected that.


"My feet don't smell that bad. No...". I had Megan say. Then I let her pluck a random person from the crowd and lift him up to her face.


It was a guy in his early twenties, who wriggled and squirmed as he was being held between Megan's index finger and thumb. She, huge as she was, could hold him easily, for to her, the adult man was the size of a Lego doll. 


Megan bowed one of her legs towards her and grabbed her ankle with her other hand.


"My feet don't smell bad, yes? Here, smell. Not bad, yes?" She asked her captive.


Then Megan brought her little "friend" to her sole and rubbed him, face forward, over the ball of her foot. No doubt the guy was being presented with another wave of Megan's foul odor. Then she spread her toes, revealing a nice amount of squishy, mushy toe jam, and rubbed the young man with his face in it.


"All clean, yes? Smells good, right?" She continued to ask as the poor guy was smeared with toe jam the consistency of molten cheese and ten times more disgustingly smelling. She rubbed him, back and forward, pressing his arms against his body so he could not use them to cover his face as he was being presented with no doubt the most horrifying treatment of his life. Helpless, he was being shoved between toes about the size of his body, again and again, until he was soaked with the foul substance Megan had amassed between her toes.


The man began to vomit. Megan held him up to her huge eyes and said: "See? I said it smelled good!" Then she placed him on the roof behind her, where he continued to throw up, while I had pain in my guts from laughter. He looked like someone had smeared melted cheese all over his face! Hilarious!


I had Megan put her socks and boots back on. Then she stood up and bent a little forward.


PPPRRRTT! She farted. The guy on the roof flew three feet back.


Taking another step towards the crowd, she bent over and asked a disturbing question: 


"Does anybody knows where the toilets are?"