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Author's Chapter Notes:
It’s ya boy again back with another chapter, we return to the characters from the very first chapter to see what they’re up to. Oh btw, if there’s any spelling mistakes, I do apologise, English isn’t my first language (although I’ve spoken it for years) and I am dyslexic.


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It was day two of Rebecca’s vacation to Spain and she wasn’t finding it anymore enjoyable. Her mother and brother had gone to some city to see the sites. She still didn’t understand what the fuss was over. Hundreds of years ago some Europeans built some buildings that they thought were big and now Americans are here and are bigger than all the buildings the tiny Europeans tried so hard to build. Well admittedly Americans weren’t taller than all European buildings. Taller ones could be found in Spain, Germany, England, France, Poland, Italy and Turkey, even if those structures were skyscrapers to the Europeans and more like lampposts to Americans. Russia also had some absolutely colossal buildings big enough to fit entire European countries inside. (But Russia had been strictly isolationist since the humiliating end of the Cold War, to the relief of their comparatively microscopic neighbours in the Baltics and caucuses who had grown tired of entire towns getting stepped on by the feet of ungodly gigantic Russians.) But even if some of the buildings were bigger, the Europeans were so tiny that Rebecca didn’t understand why her family had to pay to visit their countries instead of being worshipped like gods upon arrival given that they could fit an entire village worth of people in their socks. Instead of worship Rebecca had to settle for a pedicure on the beach.

She had decided to order one while sunbathing, making sure it was a home (or rather beach) call as even one of the feet she wanted manicured was as big as the entire salon. 20 minutes after it was placed, two tiny vans rolled up to her feet, which easily dwarfed them and opened their doors. From within each van stepped an entire salon’s worth of pedicurists ready to take one of her feet. A square sheet of tarpaulin that was the size of a Spanish WWE ring was unfolded for her to place her feet onto. To begin the treatment, they needed Rebecca to turn her soles sideways so they could massage her feet. That alone was a tedious task. It took a huge amount of strength to loosen up the skin of her sole, they were like big, extra thick, gym mats just rubbing them was exhausting for the salonists. Rebecca, on the other hand, loved the feeling of tiny little hands pushing against her feet. Despite their size, they were well able to massage her feet effectively. If anything, massaging feet that were bigger than them made them more precise and effective. After the massaging was complete they needed to soak her feet. Normally they’d soak them in a basin but that was impractical in this case so they needed to improvise. A hose was hooked up to an industrial vat full of water, it wouldn’t be enough to quench Rebecca’s thirst on a hot day but it did the trick with regards to wetting her feet. It was cute to her that the Spanish people were so tiny that they needed a hose just to soak an American’s feet but it seemed to get the job done. The next step was scrubbing her soles with sponges. It was a task that could normally be completed by one person with one loofa in 10 minutes total but with the size of the pedicuree, it took 5 people on each foot 20 minutes to do. It didn’t help that the sole, even while on it’s side, was taller than them. When that was done, the tiny technicians had the skin of her feet looking fresh and healthy. The next job was her nails, first they needed to trim them. The nails were far too thick to be cut with clippers and to file them would take all day. Luckily, Rebecca was able to lend them one of her files which the technicians could use. The file was twice as long as any of them and was fairly heavy but was still the most efficient tool for the job. It took two Spaniards pushing back and forth to use the American’s file to trim her nails but eventually they had them nice and even. Being so close to her toes and being able to see them in such detail helped them cut them as neatly as they’d ever been. Lastly was to paint the nails. Another truck with an industrial vat pulled up to the beach full of nail varnish. There was so much varnish that the smell was intoxicating to the Europeans but it would be barely enough for everyone of the American’s toes. To paint the nails on her first two toes, paint brushes were used over nail brushes as the workers didn’t want to be there all night. At various points they thought they would be sick from the smell but they kept working, one technician per toe and eventually they got her nails completely finished. Rebecca sat up to examine their work, raising each foot intimidatingly high over the tinies to inspect her feet. ‘Not bad’ she commented, ‘maybe you Euro-ants are good for something, put it on my mom’s tab’. While she downplayed her satisfaction outwardly, inwardly, it was the best and most enjoyable pedicure she’d ever received. She got back up to head back to her “room”, almost smashing a truck beneath her newly pedicured foot.

On her way back she paid no attention to the tinies on the ground as they scrambled to get out of her way. Umbrellas, deck chairs, picnics, even a hut was demolished beneath her bare feet while Rebecca was oblivious above, lost in thought. ‘I should start a business’ she thought, a salon where all the treatments were performed by Europeans was what she had in mind. Americans could check in and have their feet worked on by tiny Europeans. ‘You could have a group of them stomping on your back to massage it, this could be a million dollar idea’ she thought.

Meanwhile Max and their mom were off to Barcelona. The family wasn’t actually staying in Catalonia, rather just outside in northern Valencia, just south of Catalonia but the vast majority of their journey would be through Catalonia and the difference between them and the rest of Spain was obvious.

Given Catalonia’s autonomy and super strong national identity, it’s people had taken on a size of their own and, unfortunately for them, that size was significantly smaller than the rest of Spain. Max and his mom walked along the coast, they couldn’t walk on the roads given that Max’s comparatively small feet alone were more than 200 feet long to a Catalan and nearly twice as wide as a four lane highway. To put in perspective how tiny Catalans were, Max was a giant in Spain at 100 feet tall (despite not even being 5 ft by American standards) and his feet alone were more than twice that big to a Catalan. And then there was the mother, she was imposing to most Americans at a tall 6’3” but here, she and her son were skyscrapers in their own right at nearly 2000’ and 1500’ tall respectively. Her middle finger was almost the size of a 737. The journey from Valencia to Barcelona would be a more than 2 hour drive for a Catalan but Max and his mom walked the distance in 10 minutes. As they approached the city, they saw what was easily the largest building in the province, the airport which was built to accommodate flights from larger countries. It still looked like an oversized playset to Max. Only some of the planes were longer than he was while the local ones could fit, roughly, in the palm of his hand, it was so surreal to see actual planes full of people that were that tiny. The terminals were only waist height and the control tower only as tall as a soccer goal post.

The appearance of two Americans, each way over 1000’ feet tall had caused all hell to break loose in the city, Max looked down in amusement at the tiny city before him, laughing at efforts of the ź tall citizens to escape the giants, the city was like one big anthill that Max had disturbed merely by his presence, the biggest buildings not every waist height. Any preconceptions Max had about being Godzilla to the Spanish people vanished, he was just a giant to them. It was in Catalonia where he was the super scary monster. They even had the Catalan air force flying around them like little mosquitoes, he wasn’t sure what good they would do given that their planes were shorter than his index finger and was tempted to swat them to show how pointless it was to send their military after him and add to the monster movie feel but he didn’t want to get in trouble with the tour company. As they entered the port, they had to be even more careful about where they stepped and it was impossible to put their whole feet down without crushing something important meaning they had to angle them wherever they stepped.

They reached the southern end of Las Ramblas, the city’s high street. As they approached it, Max almost tripped over the Mirador de Colom. Barcelona’s famous monument to Christopher Columbus that stood at a towering 200 feet tall to locals but was only shin height to Max. “Aw look at that little thing” mom said regarding the monument ‘It’s so tiny!’ She removed her foot from her flip flop, almost crushing several people in the process and put it upright against the statue. Her foot alone easily dwarfed it by almost 100 ft, towering over the tiny Catalans, ‘hehe so cute’ she said, almost tauntingly. She removed her other flip flop, deciding to walk around the tiny city barefoot. She left her shoes upright against the Mirador. They made a much more effective and intimidating monument to the people of the city with a message that said “you are all really tiny”, she wouldn’t have to worry about anybody taking them anyway.

Walking up the Ramblas was an almost impossible task, despite it being a high street built to take huge amounts of pedestrian traffic, Max’s foot barely fit between the buildings, meaning he was walking a tightrope act putting one foot directly in front of the other. Thankfully the streets had been cleared, the tiny locals had fled for cover as soon as the Americans arrived but the trees that lined the street were not spared however. They barely offered any resistance as he crunched them under his bare feet as he made his way to the top of the street, at 1.25 inches in height they were more comparable to stiff blades of grass to Max. Despite smashing all the trees, Max had actually made an effort to keep from stepping from on the pocket sized buildings on either side of the street. His mom on the other hand, made no such efforts. Her feet were wider than the road which she made no accommodation for as she walked down, seeming unaware of the damage she was causing. She hadn’t flattened any buildings but she did cause significant damage, mainly to the fronts of the shops and restaurants she trod on. By the time she’d reached the other end of the Ramblas, it looked like a bomb had been detonated in the middle of the street just from her walking, rubble littered the streets, the remains of trees still remained from Max’s initial footsteps. On the other end the Americans found themselves in the Catalonia Plaza, the wide open square that served as the de facto centre of the city, and was about as spacious as a garden shed for Max and his mom who could nearly cover the perimeter together with just their feet. What was usually a hub of activity was near completely deserted as a result of the presence of the titanic tourists, save for a line of buses that Max had almost stepped on. His foot crashing down with an earth shattering step only inches from the miniature vehicles to the terror of their equally miniature occupants, who had returned to their buses in fear of being stepped on by the Americans, only to nearly end up being stepped on anyway. They quivered in fear at the foot that loomed impossibly large over them, even the littlest toe rivalling the bus for size. In one of the buses, their fear turned back into terror as their whole bus was enveloped by two impossibly large fingers and lifted off the ground with stomach flattening force as Max picked their bus off the ground and brought it to face level. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was holding a real bus that was less than two inches long that was filled with real people, so small he could barely make them out and everything here was normal sized to them and that he was the giant! He, who couldn’t even reach the top shelf in the grocery store. The people on the bus cowered in fear at the face of the omnipotent pre teen who held them in his hand, a face that took up more than their entire field of view. “Woah” he boomed, his voice shaking the entire bus “you guys really are teeny, seriously, McDonalds has fries bigger than this bus, oh well I suppose it might make a fun toy for later’ he said shoving it into the pocket of his shorts, the people on board screaming as they were helplessly trust into darkness, trapped in the pocket of an American 12 year old. Max moved onto the next thing that grabbed his attention, the Corte Ingles department store. To a Catalan it was a fairly impressive, if not old fashioned building, a solid 70 feet tall but to Max it wasn’t even ankle height, he could cover almost the entire roof with his foot. He crouched down over it and decided to see what was inside. He poked his finger through the roof which crumbled like plaster, tinies taking refuge in the building screaming as a massive finger smashed through the roof. Using his finger, Max tore the roof off the building, throwing the tour company’s rules to the wind as the Catalan jets did nothing above. When the roof was off he had to squint to see the tiny things that were in the building. He could see a food court, clothes, furniture, electronics. All massively scaled down to the point that it looked like the doll house of a doll house. He could take it all in one grab and there would be nothing the tinies could do to even stop his little finger. Having torn the roof off the building, Max figured that he could fix up an adequate replacement as a way of repayment. He rose to his full height, standing over the store. To say he towered over it wouldn’t do him justice. The occupants of the store strained their necks just to see past his knees. He raised his foot over the building, more screams rang out from the Europeans who thought the 12 year old American was going to effortlessly destroy the building right there but as he lowered his foot, it came to a “gentle” rest on top of the walls, nearly fitting perfectly over them. Without the ceiling lights from the roof, Max’s sole plunged the room into partial darkness, the people being subjected to the overwhelming smell of Max’s foot which quickly filled up the building.

While Max toyed with the tinies, his mom was off seeing the “sights” of the city. Her first stop was the old gothic cathedral. A proud example of European Renaissance architecture that served as a powerful tribute to Jesus and an imposing place of worship. However, places of worship to a higher deity lose their purpose when placed next to a middle aged woman who could easily smash it under her foot. While it was an impressive structure at proportional height, especially for the Middle Ages, the tallest spire was only ankle height to her and really didn’t make an impression. ‘It looks like a little Lego house’ she cooed before moving on. Every step she took caused a small earthquake to tremor across the city. No streets were nearly wide enough for her feet so she had to tiptoe between streets just to avoid tripping over the buildings which were mostly as high as her big toe. Eventually she caught up with the tinies who were fleeing from her. She loomed high over the locals as she walked. Even on her tippy toes it was near impossible to escape being stepped on by her, her soles looming high over the tiny buildings threatening to crush entire streets flat if they came down, as she headed towards her next destination, the famous Sagrada Familia Cathedral. She’d heard it was a lot bigger than the gothic cathedral and that it was still under construction after 140 years so she was eager to check it out. For a local to get from The Cathedral of Barcelona to the Sagrada Familia, it would’ve been at best, a 40 minute walk but for the mother it took a mere two minutes of tip toeing. When she got there she found that even though the Cathedral was much bigger than the gothic cathedral, it was still only as high as her thigh, stepping into the intersection opposite the building, causing locals to once again flee in terror as her bare foot descended from the heavens, she looked down on the building to examine it.
‘This is what’s been taking you little guys so long?’ she demanded, ‘why my Max could’ve built something twice as big in a couple of hours with his wood craft and you guys have been at this for 140 years?’
Not appreciating the effort it took the Catalans to build this, to them, magnificent structure or the sophistication of the construction, she ranted on.
‘Why are you guys building that little old thing anyway? You ever seen anybody more strong and powerful than me? I’m the one you little vermins should be worshipping’.
She always thought she had a body worthy of worship, Rebecca had to get her good looks from somewhere, even as a single mother in her mid 40s she’d always looked after her body well and among these tiny people who were less than ź the height of her big toe, she truly believed that she was a goddess.
‘Why don’t you teeny tinies bow to a real god?’ she said as she raised her foot over the a large group. They didn’t think twice before complying, taking to their knees and pleading for the lives. To the Titaness who could snuff them out with a single step. She replaced her foot where she had lifted it from
‘Hmm, seems right’ she grunted, ‘I think you guys should make a start on serving your Goddess’ feet.’
Without hesitation, the locals approached her feet and began patting and rubbing, walking in between toes four times as large as they were to service them. The mother could barely feel them but the feeling of power at having a city of people worshipping her more than made up for it. She was unsure at first but coming to Europe was the best idea she ever had.
Chapter End Notes:
Another chapter down, hopefully plenty more to go. Also, as you’ve probably already seen sorting by most recent, a user has posted a story of their, ‘The tourists -Most Popular TV Series’ own based on this very story which is wild. I do hope more people will expand on this idea, I don’t have a patent on it after all. You all should check out Wholia’s old stories for some great country based giantess work and in the off chance that you’re reading this, Wholia, please come back and write more stories, yours were always great
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