The sun had already set behind campus buildings and the sky was a radiant mixture of orange and yellow. Fulda trudged up the walkway toward the nearest shuttle stop, her long strides echoing with the sound of Converse slapping against pavement while her loose skirt swayed with her hips. That evening had flown by for her while she pored over the course catalogue open to her, trying to decide which classes to enroll in. Most people had left the library an hour before, but she wanted to be extra thorough. Besides, a scale model of the library had caught her attention on the way out, and she was having so much fun imagining stories about it.
She reached the stop after only a few minutes of walking and slid a hand into her messenger bag. Her skillful fingers wrapped around a beaten-up paperback, then grabbed the cords of her earbuds. Quickly she slid them into her ears and opened the book to an arbitrary spot and acted like she was reading it. Hopefully she could at least get back to her dorm without having to fake giving a shit about what some random guy wanted to talk at her about.
The earbuds played nothing and were not connected to anything, and it was entirely irrelevant what the book was as long as it was not genre fiction, according to the tip she received. On the way into campus alone she had been pestered by three different men while gazing out the window, and made several trips to the bathroom to escape more who took the open seat next to her as an engraved invitation. Luckily an upper-class girl noticed her predicament and gave her the tip on how to keep annoying blowhards at bay, but specified that a sci-fi or fantasy book would only encourage them to share their opinions.
Someone else walked up and stood beside Fulda, a little close for her comfort with the wide open sidewalk on either side. She slid an eye from her fake reading to give him a visual inspection and was thoroughly unimpressed. He had moderate acne on his pasty cheeks, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled almost over his eyes which did nothing to hide the wispy mustache. A T-shirt two sizes two big hung off his spindly frame, and cargo shorts showed just too much of his pale legs. An unfortunate pair of mottled gray tennis shoes completed the ensemble of what Fulda pictured when she thought of the absolute last guy she wanted to talk to.
Fortunately, he kept his mouth shut, but she kept up the façade. Fulda felt something bump into her shoulder, barely moving her impressive frame but drawing her attention nonetheless. She took a peek and saw the dweeb swaying away from her. For now she chose to ignore it, chalking it up to his pathetic legs being unable to support even his emaciated body.
The bump came again, and with a quick glance Fulda saw his head snap the other way. Once was an accident, she told herself, and twice was a mistake. She tore an earbud out and spat, “Can I fucking help you?” He stayed silent and started walking away, and she slipped the small speaker back in. Obviously a creep, but at least not one bothering her anymore.
He started pacing back and forth between Fulda and the sidewalk, his stained fedora just visible over the top of her book. She did her best to ignore him. Any sort of attention would only encourage him, she figured, and if her ears fell victim to his undoubtedly nasal voice she would never be able to forgive herself.
Desperately waiting for the shuttle to arrive Fulda noticed something peculiar about the creep’s pacing. Every time he passed her he slowed down dramatically, but only when moving to her right. She surreptitiously peeked down during his next pass, and spotted a bright glint wholly out of place on his ratty shoe, perfectly circular. Light glinting off a camera lens.
Fulda waited for him to come by again and seized him by the arm. He tried to hop away but she held him fast, one powerful hand wrapped around his twig of an arm. “Like upskirt pics, huh?” she asked icily, staring down at the waif of a man.
“Uh, I, um, you see…” he stammered, never managing to get say anything other than stall words. Fulda glanced around. Nobody in view, she noted, and no cars on the street, not even the damnable shuttle. All the windows were dark, too. Perfect.
She leaned in toward him then instantly regretted it when she accidentally sniffed his hat. “You should’ve just told me,” she said, trying to sound seductive while fighting the urge to recoil. “I’ll give you more than you know what to do with.”
He very much knew what he would do with them, but thought better of spoiling this gift. “R-really?” he asked, looking up at her. This was amazing. Classes hadn’t even started yet and he’d already found his first model.
Fulda nodded emphatically and released his arm. She smirked, and light danced in her eyes. In an instant he was half his size, then he halved again, staring up at her knees with a bewildered expression. He continued rapidly dwindling, soon finding himself below Fulda’s ankles before being dwarfed by her shoes. When she finished he was almost indistinguishable from any other bug, and only then because she knew where to look.
High-pitched squeaks came from the tiny creep and Fulda lest loose a boisterous laugh. She assumed a power stance and stared down at him, overjoyed at his utter powerlessness. When he refused to move away from her she lifted a foot and held it above him, forming a 90-degree angle with her knee. His squealing intensified and she brought it down, squashing him with a powerful stomp before smearing him along the pavement.
When she let go of his arm he had expected her to give him a phone number, e-mail, dorm room, something so they could do this in private. He was taken completely off-guard when the already enormous woman doubled in size and kept growing. His mind reeled, flashing through fear, curiosity, and anticipation, but mostly excitement. Nobody would ever believe how he got such high-fidelity pictures.
Finally her explosive growth stopped, and he allowed himself to stare up at her in awe. This is the perfect bug’s eye view, he thought while staring up her expertly tanned monolithic legs. He could see directly under her skirt and to the white panties most women did their best to keep hidden from him. Even better, she was looking down at him and striking a pose. These pictures would get him so much online cred, and he whooped with joy. She was even smiling and laughing, and he would have people hanging on his every word while he described the rolling thunder coming from her mouth.
She raised a colossal shoe over him and his excitement died. Rapidly his gaze swapped from the enormous rubber diamonds to her face, which looked like she was in a state of bliss. A chill ran down his spine and he shouted, “Hey wait, no! This wasn’t part of the deal! You can’t-“ Her mammoth shoe raced down, and before he could even process it the shoe overwhelmed him. In an instant he was smashed, leaving behind nothing more than a tiny, flattened smear.