Wandering across the blasted plains of hell, Herthrimdaz sulked.

Not even the screams of the damned and the wails of the eternally tormented could force a smile. The delightful aromas of sulphur, iron and corpse rot which filled the air were unable to help alleviate her sullenness. She dragged her feet on the dry cracked earth, taking moment here and there to examine the trees, how the husked men and woman who formed its thick branches reached out to the tree next to them, desperately trying to close the hairbreadth between them to touch their forlorn romance. Their cries should have been enough to make her at least grin. 

The ground trembled. Worse things stalked these lands than her.

The men and woman bound to the tree whimpered, all their voices created a melancholic dirge that swept across the Forests of Forlorn Lovers. The imp looked up. Black clouds formed by the unending pyres choked the skies as red energy lashed and lit the horizon. She expected her to come. As if she needed more reason to sulk. 

A gargantuan figure stomped its way across the forest, her cloven hooves eradicating all unfortunate enough to find themselves beneath her tread. The hind legs of a goat, the naked form of a woman, the lidless black eyes. Jeridell, one of the lowliest succubi in this plane of Hell. She tittered, her booming giggle making the damned cower before her. She was taking her time. Jeridell’s forked tongue came slithering out, licking her cracked lips. She revelled in the torture, slowly lowering her hoof to crush another part of the forest. Cracks, snaps and screams. The choir of the forest when Jeridell marched through. 

And yet the trees began to grow again.

Where she had scoured them beneath her tread, the withered flesh bark reformed and the screams grew louder, forced to relive the pain of having their emaciated forms be crushed under the succubi’s hoof. Herthrimdaz wished she could do that, long for it. To be a succubus, a marilith or a vrock, anything, anything but a lowly imp. She imagined herself like the princesses of hell, a being as great as the blackened spires those gods of the underworld called home. She envisioned herself marching across the land, crushing lesser demons into gore and gristle beneath her.

A petty fantasy. An imp's life was to serve. Her lot was to die a slave and be reborn a slave. Always and forever at the mercies of her master's whims.

When Jeridell loomed over, reality returned to Herthrimdaz. “Ahh,” came the thunderous sultry tones of the succubi, “Look what I nearly stepped in.” Jeridell squatted down and between clawed finger and thumb, plucked the imp from the broken earth. Herthrimdaz felt the rush of hot air blasting her again as she sailed upwards in the clutches of the succubus. She then found herself looking down at Jeridell and all the damage the succubus wrought. She bit her lip. Even being witness to the stretch of damage she caused was peaking her arousal. She imagined herself inflicting such scars with her footfall.

Herthrimdaz was then snapped out of her dreams. She was sped into the unholy face of Jeridell. She bore her fangs in a sharp smile, blood drooling down the side of her mouth. “What is your bidding?” Herthrimdaz meeked.

Her fingers pressed down. Herthrimdaz yelped like a cowed dog. Her bones were cracking, her muscles screaming in agony. “You forget your place worm,” Jeridell spoke, her voice so overwhelming it nearly burst the imp’s eardrums.

“Master!” Herthrimdaz cried, “Master Jeridell! What is your bidding!” Jeridell stopped. Even the meagre application of strength was enough to threaten the imp’s pathetic body. If Jeridell wished it, she would be a stain on the succubi’s fingertips right now, a mess of crimson, broken bones and disfigured limbs. “I live to serve you Master Jeridell, please, anything!”

Jeridell cooed, “Aww, such a pathetic thing.” The succubus tittered until moans of pleasure came, her voice turning into a low growl, “Your abasement is my utter delight, you disgusting imp.”

Disgusting? Herthrimdaz withheld her scoff.

She knew she had a better figure than that sow. A squat form to be sure, but plump in all the right places. Bigger breasts, bigger thighs, bigger ass. The succubi all wished they could have a voluptuous physique like Herthrimdaz. They probably didn’t wish for her height, however. Even the damned humans were taller than her. Three feet tall. The smallest thing to inhabit the hells. But every bit of her was godly.

That was why the succubus’ always teased her. They were all jealous of her plump butt and her full chest, mad enough at not having the fortune to have such a body to oversee the eternal torture.

“Now you sicken me imp. You are a blot on my sight, ruining my garden of illustrious torments, invading it as an insidious weed amongst my roses.” Jerridell pressed down and the suffering returned. Herthrimdaz squealed, begged, pleaded as the succubus touched herself, enamoured by the torture she inflicted upon the imp just by threatening to squish Herthrimdaz. “And I am a most dutiful gardener am I not, my mewling imp? I shan’t let my budding flowers wilt or be tainted, especially by the likes of an ignominious imp who has yet to learn their place!”

“P-Please master! M-Mercy!” Herthrimdaz screamed, her voice cracking. She pushed against the fingers in desperation. Yet it was futile. Already she was forced to crouch beneath the evergrowing crushing pressure Jerridell placed upon the imp. The succubus laughed.

“Mercy!” Jeridell mimicked, mockery rife in her voice. “Then I shall grant it! Let me show you a succubus’s mercy!” Herthrimdaz went sailing through the air, colliding with a pink mound. The succubus boomed a lewd moan, then began to move. Jerridell pressed the imp against her nipple, pinching her teet as she marched across her garden, stamping harder upon the trees that littered the unending dry desert scape. 

The shame burned her worse than any fire could.

Herthrimdaz fought and writhed against Jeridell’s nipple, but her struggle only served to make the succubus moan even louder. This is how this life would end. Like so many others of her kind, Herthrimdaz would die pleasuring another creature of hell. Squished against a nipple was a mercy. There were too many deaths to recall, too many lurid encounters where she was caught in the whims of a being far more powerful and far more magnanimous. To die to against a succubus’ nipple, however, was a new and terrible low. This death would be the most scathing, engrained on her psyche until the last fires of hell finally sputtered and winked out. 

Hellfire erupted across the imp.

The succubus squealed, caught off guard. Jeridell fell onto her back, her bare ass crushing scores of the damned as the fractured land buckled beneath her weight. Yet, Herthrimdaz was floating. Runes of blazing blood encircled her. She was suspended in the air, looking down at the bewildered succubus who whimpered and tended to her sore behind. “Fetid curr!” Jeridell hissed as she started to rise, “What manner of trickery is this?”  

Herthrimdaz was stunned, unable to respond. Jeridell went to grab her but the imp was flying through the air, racing upwards to the black clouds. Within the cloudscape, the imp hacked and sputtered, choking on soot. She breached through after what seemed an eternal night. Herthrimdaz looked around. The infinite inferno danced on the horizon, tornados of fire swirled and cut through the black clouds. Packs of vrocks, the harpies of hell, dotted the scarlet sky. And still, she was going higher.

A tear in reality formed, a wound that split wide and engulfed her. 

Wrapped around her was the new dead. A tide of humans being dragged downwards, their howling corpses burning black as they descended from the umbral planes of Limbo into a reality of dry deserts, boiling blood rivers and jagged mountains. The despair, the terror, the realisation they were to spend their afterlife as the playthings of the hells, it was intoxicating to the imp. Pure anguish, fresh souls who had not experienced the raptures of agony and suffering that they, the demonesses, were tasked to inflict upon the wicked.

Yet, Herthrimdaz was still going upwards. There was an opening above her and she was speeding towards it. The cold air of this other world greeted her like a punch in the face.

Not the suffocating silence and stillness of Limbo. 

There were dark prayers, there were blood-curdling screams. Such glorious delights awaited.

Herthrimdaz emerged in a new and strange realm. Lush greenery and rolling low hills greeted her, the waft of pollen and fresh dew gracing her. 

She sneered. Too fresh and too clean for her. Wastelands and the smells of death and misery on the wind were far more appealing than this. 

There was the smell of iron, the soothing scent of freshly split blood. Those she knew well. 

There was a tightness around her hips. She looked down. 

A crimson portal formed in the earth like a bleeding gash. Her ass was too big, her hips far too wide to fit through. Small shadowy figures examined her cheeks. Herthrimdaz wiggled, grunted and her prodigious hips. Curse her thickness for letting her be wedged. After straining, she popped through the portal. The little figures scattered as her plump cheeks smashed onto the earth. Everything down from her knees was still submerged in the portal. 

Herthrimdaz sighed in relief. The pressure on her hips faded. 

“Great one?” came a raspy high-pitched voice.

The imp glared downwards. 

A hooded figure stepped forward from a crowd of their likewise garbed kin. Black robes lined with deep red, a shadow obscuring their faces. They were small. Insiginifant would have been a compliment to their stature. Herthrimdaz couldn’t hold her grin. A tingle of excitement raced through her like lightning. Herthrimdaz reached forward to grab the figure. Playthings for the taking. A blood rune flared sparking red energies which burnt the tip of her finger. “Ach!”

“My apologies great one!” The figure bowed, “We haven’t completed the summoning yet!” 

“Well hurry up then!” She demanded whilst nursing the sting. The crowd cowed, stepping back. Her voice was deeper now, powerful, commanding. That tingle was starting to overwhelm her. 

The leader bowed and turned to a subordinate. “How many more?”

The crowd exchanged glances. Murmurs and chatting abounded. One of them spoke up, “I think we’re out.”

“Out of virgins!?” The leader cried, throwing their hood back revealing his pale skin and tattooed face. He looked like a corpse given life. Sunken eyes dark eyes, hollow features. He was so gaunt you would have thought he had never seen a meal in his life.

His subordinate shrugged. “You try finding the chaste in this land.”

“What about the nuns or the monks? The priests? Did you check the countryside for any maidens or bachelours?”

“We tried them all. Those monks you wanted were all into buggery, and the lads didn’t know if that broke the rules or not so we left them. The nunneries were worse. Whorehouses didn’t see as much as trade as those nuns, and  we are talking about them-”

Herthrimdaz rested her head on her hand. The argument went on. How she so desperately wanted to squish them just to stop their incessant high-pitched back and forth. But the barrier prevented her from silencing their prattle. She was the one who meant to inflict torture, not to suffer it. Her mind drifted in order to spare her. These humans were the perfect height for many things. She wondered how long that leader would last as her personal dildo or pressed up against her nipple. Herthrimdaz crossed her legs, her imagination running wild. Better to zone out than listen a second longer.

“Nevermind!” The leader roared, pinching his forehead. Herthrimdaz snapped to attention. It looked like the debate had finally concluded. “Right, pour out the remaining blood and we’ll make do. Get into position again! We’ll take it from the top!”

The gathered cultists shuffled around the portal. Others brought out drugged prisoners from the back of a nearby wagon. Deep chanting filled the air. Herthrimdaz now realised there were drawings carved into the mud. Pentagramic icons with the markings of hell. There were animal entrails tied around upturned crucifixes. Goats' heads were stitched onto the beheaded and then tied to stakes. The ground was flooded with blood. It stained the cultist's robes, their bare feet splashing the red puddles. 

The imp bobbed her head. She was thoroughly impressed by the sickening display of cruelty these humans inflicted on their own kind. They really were going all out. 

One brought a heavy tome to the leader. A Necronomicon, its pallid cover a mass of writhing faces stuck in a perpetual howl, its pages made of flayed skin. He flicked through its contents. He scowled for a moment and looked to Herthrimdaz. “Wait a minute. You’re…” He inspected the page carefully, squinting hard and leaning in before shooting an accusatory glance back at the imp, “You’re not a succubus?” 

Herthrimdaz scoffed, her cheeks quickly turning red. “Course I am!”

The leader did not look convinced. He flipped between two pages. He looked at the page, looked at the imp, flicked back to the other page, looked again. He was whispering to himself. “Squat form, full-bodied physique, turquoise-skinned with black markings…” His voice trailed off. 

Herthrimdaz grinned. It was true, though full-bodied was a rather poor description, especially for her. Her ass and breasts would make a full-bodied woman look like a stick in comparison. She could already sense the arousal of the cultists. Those behind her were enamoured judging by the aura they were giving off. She wiggled her hips, her ass jiggled, the aura went crazy for a moment. Herthrimdaz tittered. If only the barrier didn’t exist. She could give them a face full of what they so desired.

The comments from the leader continued whilst he analysed the pages. What he said about her skin was true enough. If only she could scratch out that deplorable word. Squat. If the damned were forced to endure endless torture, she was there alongside them in suffering being squat. It reminded her of all the times the succubus’ would call her shortstack physique vile or that her short nature was freakish. Always making those insults right before crushing her. Jealous whores.

The leader’s boney features sunk. He slapped his face with such vigour it left a throbbing red mark on his cheek. He dragged his taut skin down to alleviate his frustrations before he bellowed a loud and infuriated, “An imp!? We poured out an ocean of blood for an imp!?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Herthrimdaz retorted.

“Fuck it! Just… agh! I can’t be bothered to do it all again!” He pointed a finger at her, “What is your name imp, we tried summoning a Jeridell, but I guess I can’t read demonic scripture to save my damned soul! Give me your true name and I can try and salvage this fucking mess!”

The name of her tormentor stung. To think it could be that putrid cunt of a demoness up here suffering these morons. She thought about giving a false name for a moment. A true name was a powerful thing. She didn’t know if to trust these bumblers. Still, it was better to be here than down below dealing with that infernal cunt of a demoness. “Herthrimdaz.”

“Right! We can get back to summoning.” The leader coughed to clear his throat. The chanting grew in strength. Prisoner's throats were slashed; blood runes glowed hot. The sacrifices gurgled and thrashed against their bindings, a stream of warm blood pooling down their naked chests. The cultist pushed the bodies. They passed through the barrier and were swallowed by the portal. 

“We, The Coven of Sanguine Subliminity, call to you Herthrimdaz! Heed the call of the faithful! Heed our sacrifices! May their screams draw you from the depths, may their anguish lure you to our world, and may our prayers herald your coming and the dawn of the apocalypse!” 

Herthrimdaz felt a surge of strength. She could sense it all, comprehend the madness around her, how the corpse mounds all around oozed lingering emotion from the freshly slain and sacrificed. Anguish, pain, fear. Pure and decadent. Wisps emerged from the dead and flew into the imp. Their souls. The essence of the humans coalesced into glimmering dots. They were drawn to her body, landing on her skin and fading away. She had never tasted something like this. Each soul tingled. Each one she could savour the despair and horror. It was a flood of emotion, a storm she could feed upon. 

And she drank deep of it. Her arousal was maddening. So many humans, so many fears and terrors. Every soul trapped within her crying her name in despair and hatred. Her body was coated in warmth that made even the fires of hell seem cold. 

Then the prayer stopped.

“A- oh, I can’t be bothered. How did we fuck this up? Is she even powerful enough?”

The souls danced within her, then they converged downwards, collecting around her womanhood. A red marking above her pussy glowed. A womb tattoo that pulsed. She felt out her labia. The imp moaned, ramming her fingers into her soaking pussy, threw her head back. The fire turned into an inferno. 

Herthrimdaz’s form expanded outwards, her ass pressing against the barrier. The imp's thick hips struck the sides with such force that the magics wavered. The cultists stepped back as the imp’s physique threatened to engulf them. They saw the blood runes light up and strain, desparetly attempting to withstand the pressure placed onto it by the imp's sheer thickness. The dark magics employed buckled further. Herthrimdaz, once seated, was now forced to stand. There was simply no room left to accommodate her. Her shoulders hit against the invisible walls, her head bumping against a ceiling of thin air. Sparks crackled from the runes, trying as they could to hold back the growing imp. Yet still she grew, ballooning up in height, towering even further over the cultists. The faltering energies gave out a desperate whine building up into a crescendo. 

The barrier erupted, a corona of red energy blasting out that sent the gathering flying backwards. 

Herthrimdaz rose, finally able to stand. She held her head, dazed and lost. Disorientated, the imp fell onto her backside. Her ass, more engorged and larger than ever, landed onto a portion of the gathering. Twenty men cried out, their screams cut short when the colossal cheeks collided with them. The weight and force of the giant imp pulverised them in an instant. Trapped between her ass and the earth, the cultists were smothered for a moment, enveloped the next, then obliterated after. The men were instantly reduced into a pile of shattered and torn viscera which stained the immensity that was Herthrimdaz’s cheeks. Yet when she landed, her ass spread out as her fat shifted. With her cheeks sprawling out further, more cultists were caught in the onslaught. Those unable to escape were swiftly overwhelmed and they too shared the fate of their brethren. Another ten were taken and found their end as a bloody broken mess beneath the imp's immensity. 

The ground shook and ruptured from the weight. Ruptures and cracks split the earth, her ass jiggled and then at last, the chaos settled.

The imp awoke from her stupor. The rush stopped. How she longed for it now. The souls she felt in her were a drop, and yet the power they bestowed made her feel invincible.

She felt something poking at her butt. Herthrimdaz looked over her shoulder. She grabbed a handful of her ass, revealing to the survivors what remained of those unfortunate enough to be beneath her. "Oops~" Herthrimdaz tittered.

Herthrimdaz picked herself up. Behind her were two craters carved into the earth in the shape of her plump cheeks. Blots of gore decorated the light brown mud. Herthrimdaz wiped the crushed remnants from her buxom body. Her ass felt fatter now, more rounded, perkier. Her hips and thighs were thicker as well. Herthrimdaz licked her lips. She imagined the face of that succubus. How that demoness would quail at the sight of the bustiest and thickest imp that had ever graved the hells.

Now at her new and terrifying height, she found that the humans around were even more minuscule, their leader barely taller than her big toe. The energies swirled and reformed, containing the imp. The cultists were starting to recover from the uproar. There were groans and murmurs. Then they beheld her. They saw how tall the imp had become, how pathetic and small they were to the demoness they summoned the pits of hell. To this being, they were nothing. They fell onto their knees, their cursed prayers a spine-shivering symphony to Herthrimdaz.

The imp giggled. This was the power she craved. This was how all the demons saw the world. At last, she could know how it feels to look down on vermin, to know how a simple footfall spells doom for all those unfortunate enough to be caught in its shadow. 

She squatted down, leaning forward at the frail and cowering human that led this miserable cult. “Do you doubt me still human?” Her thunderous words rang out. The prayers halted. Mere utterance now forced the cultists to cover their ears and tremble before her. Herthrimdaz tittered. These humans were such weak, contemptible things. Moreso now. After a paltry offering, they were so far beneath her. The thought that this was just the start and that the more sacrifices awaited was peaking her arousal to levels she never fathomed before. 

The leader stood up, trembling. His stunned face turned into one of pure joy, a twisted grin leering his yellow rotting teeth full and bright. “Okay! This can work!” His shocked laughter washed away his anxiety, “We were trying to make a pact with that succubus who’s her face but you Herthrimdaz! We are blessed to have you! All hail Herthrimdaz the imp! We have marked and bound the Kingdom of Olisilatih to you!”

“Marked them?” She tilted her head in confusion. “What’s all this about a pact?”

Once the gathering recovered from the strength of her voice, the leader elucidated, “We of the Coven seek to wipe the slate clean. Those of purity have been removed, and those who remain are those deemed too wicked and vile to be left alive. With every moment, they despoil the sacred earth and so we, agents of the righteous gods, have called on the torturers beneath to bring punishment! Those in the Kingdom have drunk tainted waters, now marking their souls for oblivion. Whomever you claim will be dragged back to the abyss, yours for all eternity!”

Herthrimdaz blinked. A kingdom of humans all for her. How many souls could be that? How many thousands would she have, how many hundreds of thousands were now her rightful property? She wanted to scream with laughter. To think Jeridell could have had this bounty, this feast! Now it was hers. Hers! Herthrimdaz, the once lowly imp, now allowed to grow fat on the misery she met out! She never knew what would happen if an imp was given any inkling of power, but with a tiny helping of souls, she glimpsed what awaited. 

She had entered the mortal realms a giant. Small enough to still see a human. When the pact was fulfilled, she would be tall enough to make the world tremble beneath her. Mountains would be crushed under her foot, lands engulfed by her ass. Continents rupturing and dying beneath her gait. All those hundreds of thousands, the humans crying her name in fear and terror! These cultists would get the apocalypse they wanted. For once all these souls were hers, they would have the gargantuan eradicator they sought. 

“Brilliant!” Herthrimdaz boomed.

The leader rose his hands, roaring with maniacal laughter. “Great One Herthrimdaz, we pitiful worms offer you it all. By way of guidance, there is a city close by the name of Varudin. As this pact is made, so will it be your first target. Cast down the false idols, eradicate the cathedrals besotted with mortal trappings rather than the veneration of the Gods! Let the death of Varudin herald the end of days for the Kingdom!”

“Yeah yeah,” Herthrimdaz waved her hand dismissively at the pomposity of his speech. “Let's get on with it!” 

The leader bowed his head in deepest reverence. “By your will, Herthrimdaz. We must fulfil our oaths. Once this is done, you will be anchored in this realm. If you stray from the pact, you will be banished back to the hells.”

“So keep focused on the job?”

“More or less. Attacking another kingdom will terminate the pact as well. You’ll also encounter some…” He winced, “Angelic issues if you try it.”

“A-Angels?” Herthrimdaz stammered. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke an angel’s ire. Even the weakest was on par with the mightiest demonesses. Devouring the souls of an entire kingdom would still not be enough to last but a few seconds against one of heaven's champions.

“Fret not great one. This land is marked for desolation, for the peoples here are beyond redemption. The angels will not intervene.” 

Relief washed over Herthrimdaz. Yet it did stir questions. For a leader of a coven committing such heinous acts, he knew far too much about what the pure and noble angels were doing. “And how do you know this?”

A thin smile. “Who do you think sent us?”

Herthrimdaz's jaw dropped. “You mean…”

“Oh yes.” He took a full-blown grin, happy to be revealing the full details to the imp, “Evil begets evil. All here, all our coven, we are but humble servants of the angels. Who do you think gave us the Necronomicon, who do you think supplied our coven with the knowledge to summon demons, who do you think escorted the faithful and pure out of the kingdom before your arrival?” 

“Huh…” Those angels were right devils. To think they were orchestrating this slaughter. But for what reason?

“My contrition great one, I have been sidetracked.” He bowed again. “We must perform the final sacrifice. Our lives shall break the shackles that prevent you from partaking in righteous slaughter.” 

“You? You would die for this?” 

The leader clicked his fingers. The cult reformed around the circumference. Chants and unholy prayers. He flicked the Necronomicon open. But before reading the final rites, the leader stared at Herthrimdaz. The imp felt pierced by his look. It was hard, stoic even. Not the look of a crazed zealot, but a pragmatist. “All here are the damned. The angels ask of us, and we obey. If we do not, the rot of this kingdom shall spread. Their deaths will serve, as will ours. Our souls shall not survive the perils of breaking the runes which prevent you from wandering the mortal realm. Breaking such bonds requires willing sacrifices. The angels have tasked us and we submit ourselves. Those of the coven will never know the hells nor the heavens. Our afterlife shall be a void. No fires, no light. The still darkness awaits us.”

Unnerving. To accept death so willingly. Odd little humans. Still, Herthrimdaz was happy to oblige. She did mourn their loss inside. She wanted their souls most of all to torture. A shame they would cease to exist, but they were a drop compared to the ocean that awaited her. If their purpose was to die, then they were taking their time in reaching their end. “Well… get on with it then.”

The leader nodded. In black eldritch tounges, he recited from the Necronomicon. Otherworldly wails abounded. The blood runes spasmed around her. Then, one of the cultists popped. They showered their fellows with their entrails and gore. None of them were moved. Their prayers continued. Herthrimdaz could see the barrier. It was like glass shattering. A red crack. Then another. A cultist exploded and another crack. Now she could make out the invisible barrier formed by the cracks and searing runes. One by one, they popped until only the leader remained.

The walls of her cage strained. The leader rose his hands; the Necronomicon caught fire. The leader bellowed, his voice trembling in awed rapture at the final line, “We beckon oblivion; the blood dawn breaks!”  

The leader's fleshed bubbled. He swelled, laughing in insane delight and then finally shared the fate of his cult. A great whining sound reached its crescendo. Crack after crack formed.

The barrier shattered. An aureole of energy raced out. An explosive boom echoed over the rolling hills, announcing the completion of the ritual. 

Herthrimdaz licked her lips. She took one step forward. No burning. No runes. Her foot squelched in the blood-soaked earth. Her first step on the mortal plane. 

A wisp danced around her face. “A straggler?” Herthrimdaz giggled, ready to consume it. She reached out and it zipped away across the hills. When Herthrimdaz did not follow, it returned. She rolled her eyes. It was a guide. No doubt it was directing her towards the city the leader was rambling on about. “Well then. A pact is a pact.”

The wisp darted off and Herthrimdaz followed.

Celin yawned and rubbed his eyes. The air was stale within the bleak interior of the tower, reeking of stagnant sweat.

Grimey stone walls welcomed him. The city had long since abandoned any notion of keeping the fortifications in a state of readiness. If he tapped the butt of his spear onto the stone and mortar, the whole thing could be liable to tumble over in a moment. Then again, it wasn't protecting anything too worthwhile. Not anymore.

Dim torchlight illuminated a squad of guardsmen slumped over a wooden table. Their tipped-over tankards spilt dark ale across their playing cards. All the drink dribbled into a pool around their feet. Celin scowled. Those bastards were meant to be on the night watch. How he slept through their drunken inanities was nothing short of a true miracle. Celin went to berate them then huffed. There was little point in wasting breath. All they would do was tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

He stretched until the joints clicked and life slithered into his aching legs. Celin pulled himself out of his stool and went to the top of the tower, his footfalls creaking the wood floorboards. Whilst they did not adhere to protocol and guard detail, someone had to. There at least had be one guard in this miserable city who performed their duties.

Fresh air greeted him. A gentle breeze carried across the verdant valleys helped remove his fatigue. The sun had barely risen, but its dim light made the dew on the grass fields twinkle. He overlooked the greenery as it stretched ever onwards. South of Varudin was a flat plain. It lazily dipped away and then back up, with rolling hills disguising the many stretches of farmland beyond in the hidden valleys. 

He took a northward position and looked over the battlement. Varudin was coming to life after another long night of debauchery. Tile roofs outlined the winding roads and pathways around the city. Smoke bellowed from chimney tops. Below on the cobble-lined streets, merchants started their daily tasks. Fishmongers, bakers, butchers, weavers, all manner of tradesmen were out and getting themselves ready for the long day ahead. Vagabonds and the homeless slept in the streets. Cloaked figures darted into alleyways, soon followed by similarly garbed kin, the tips of their daggers catching sunlight before disappearing underneath a shroud of darkness.

The woody brown eye sore that was the poor quarters paled against the gleaming white cathedrals that were at the heart of Varudin. At the highest point of the city were the places of worship. Stained glass windows, alabaster buttresses. The finest architecture for leagues around. It made the poorer districts that circled this half of the city look all the worse by association, like a dirt stain on pure white silk. Beyond there were the quarters for all the royalty. Manor houses and guild halls, all the richer and well-off folks safely partitioned from the lower classes.

The river that runs through the city split it in two and provided a barrier between the poor and the rich. This side was all the dregs and the criminals, the labourers and the traders. Taverns and market squares, shops and stalls. A teeming mass of people all the time. On the other side and separated out by bridges and the inner walls were those with enough coin to escape the scum. Priests and lectors, guildsmen and bankers. They huddled in their vast mansions, squabbling within the halls of the gods, plotting and scheming away. Celin huffed. Both sides were as dishonest and cutthroat as one another. At least one side had the good grace of embracing its ugliness rather than disguising it beneath a veneer of vanity and ostentatiousness. 

Celin worked his shoulders. A shiver ran down his spine. The air grew cold and bitter. He entertained the notion of leaving the city, even if it was to get away from those icy blasts. Pilgrimage, his family would have called it. Better than committing vagrancy he supposed. That's the difference. Follow a priestess off into the horizon and never looked back you become a pilgrim, travel to a city in hopes of a job and you are a vagrant. Little would care now. A pilgrim was as likely to get his throat slit as a beggar was to be blackened and bruised by an extorting thug in Varudin.

He rubbed his chin. Those pilgrims were fortunate. He couldn’t leave his post, not after getting a position in the city guard. The money was too good. His family would need that income. A bit for the gods, some for charity, the rest for the family. A couple more years. Wherever his family and a horde of other folk went off to, he would join them with a fat purse to ensure he could help if any hard times befell the group. Sacrifice is the highest honour to the gods, or so his mother used to say.

Red lights flashed from the corner of his eye. Celin turned. His jaw dropped. Red lightning crackled and struck the earth far off in the distance. Explosive booms of thunder. The breeze was now a gale, arctic winds howling against him. An explosion of light forced him to cover his face. A rush of air swept across, battering the tower and lifting him off his feet, throwing him away and onto his back. He rolled onto the wooden floor and slammed against the merlon, his vision swirling. 

Crelin stirred, groaning as his vision settled. Two of everything settled back into one. His back ached with throbbing pain. Using his spear for leverage, he staggered up to his feet. From the stairwell came the drunkards. They were hastily putting on their gear, attaching their breastplates and affixing their kettle helms. Their armour clinked as they ran up to the parapet. They pointed at the sky, gawped in stupidity.

“The fuck was that?”

“I…” Celin tried to speak. He was still getting his breath back. None of the guys were interested in helping him. All of them were watching the red lightning dance on the horizon, entranced by the display. Then, it all stopped.

After the thunder died down, someone peeped out, “S-Should we send out a scout?” A plump guard spoke, his armour several sizes too small to fit around his gut. 

“I dunno…” Another guardsman chimed in.

The five men turned and looked at Celin. They exchanged knowing looks. “Oi Celin,” the leader of the group, a timeworn veteran, the tallest of the bunch, “We got a job for ya. Get your ass on a saddle and ride out. Check out that commotion.”

“But-”

“Captain’s orders Celin.” The leader grinned. A more punchable face never existed. The gods tempted him with many vices, but never before did he wish to give in to his baser instincts and pulp that stupid deserving face with his fist. Celin breathed in and out. The rage calmed. The captain carried on, “Get a horse from the stable and ride south. Come back when you know what the bugger is going on down there.”

“Yes sir.” Celin eeked through gritted teeth. He saluted and made his way down from the tower, wincing at the stinging pain coursing up and down his back.

The cobblestone streets were heaving. Everyone came out from their abodes and shops to see what was going on. They were out on balconies, climbing up statues, out on the rooftops. Peasants, merchants and tradesmen pointed, murmured in hushed concerned tones and watched the sky with foreboding. They were shoulder to shoulder together, barging one another for a better view of the few streaks of lightning still lashing within the dark clouds.

“Make way for the guard!” Celin blared from atop his chestnut mount. His horse trotted down, parting its way through the mass of folk. He made their way across the drawbridge and into the open country. With a crack of the reins, his horse broke out in a gallop. 

Dipping down into the valley came a vast stretch of flatland. A mud road cut its way through the verdant fields of long grass. A few scattered leafless oaks kept vigil. The steady canter of his horse’s hooves on dry mud meshed with the chirps of grasshoppers. A chill wind rustled the grass. It was peaceful out here. No constant bustle or talk or alcoholic revelry. One could find a sense of serenity out here.

A tremor startled his horse, making it halt and snort. “Steady girl!” Celin took the reins and tried to calm his mount. It was spooked, treading backwards. The rumbles intensified. His steed whined, trotted back and bucked him off. Celin yelped, falling from his saddle and slamming into the dirt road. Aches raced through his body. He groaned and stared up at the blue sky. He heard his horse race off, its hoofbeat growing further away.

On the ground, flat on his back, Celin felt the tremor. It was growing in strength. He heard the distant sound of felled trees. Bark splintering, branches snapping. He clamoured to his feet, sucking in air. His back throbbed with maddening pain. At least it was not broken. Or so he assumed. He saw a figure on the horizon. A large black dot against the blue sky.

The dot grew. Each passing moment that it drew closer, the earthquake around him became worse. It was coming into view now. Celin gawped in terror. The thing was massive. It was hard for his mind to comprehend the immensity of the creature coming straight towards him. It was still off in the distance, thousands of metres away he guessed. But each stride it took gave it a sudden burst in height. 

“G-Gods…” Celin uttered. The uproar this beast was making by its footfalls sent him staggering. He swayed about, his legs unable to keep balance. Celin was forced back onto the ground. Booms reached his ears. Each time the creature’s foot landed, the earth convulsed and a boom echoed, such was the thing’s weight. 

The shadow the beast cast fell onto him. He stared upwards. It was undoing his mind. Nothing like that should exist. Could exist. It was bigger than the towers on the walls. Bigger than the cathedrals. Bigger than anything. 

Celin could only compare it to a goblin. It had that typical short physique. Yet those ghoulish creatures were only two feet tall and so wart-faced and disfigured that it could churn the stomach with their ugliness. This beast though undid all he knew about that race. A turquoise goblin of such monstrous size that its very tread shattered the ground with each and every step. A female goblin with a body befitting for the mother of all whores. Oversized breasts, oversized hips, oversized thighs. A face fit for a princess with sharp features punctuated with greasy curls of ginger hair. 

And it was coming straight towards him.

He went to pick himself up but another of its footfalls forced him to the ground, pinning him in the spot. Terror took hold, rooting him. It was close now. Close enough to know that in its next few strides, he would find himself staring at the things sole. The shadows around him deepened as if he were caught in the depths of night. He murmured a horrified prayer, calling to the gods to protect him. 

It was one stride away now. He was drenched in darkness. Celin couldn’t see its face anymore. It was too tall and its breasts jutted out, obscuring his view of its features. The thing watched the horizon, unaware of the gnat at its feet. Somewhere to his left, its foot came down. A blast of air then a wall of smoke which carried pulverised dirt struck him. 

The foot was coming down. He could see all the dirt embedded into its sole. Bits of red next to dark shades of brown. He felt the rush of air as the beast’s foot came racing downwards from the heavens. Animal instinct forced him to put his hands out, hoping that somehow he could keep the beast from squashing him underfoot. He screamed out in horror. His view of the world was now just the creature’s foot, the blackened sole of this monstrosity ready to end his life.

It was about to collide with him. He felt his hands on its flesh, its foot on his face. Time seemed to slow. All was darkness. Celin screamed as this gargantuan creature pressed down upon him, his wails muted against the grime-ladened sole. To think this would be his end. All the giving, all the sacrifice, all his life spent just to wind up being crushed underfoot by a creature too oblivious to realise its actions. 

Then he was staring at the blue sky. An ear-splitting boom erupted to his left. Celin stared upwards. His eyes darted around, his trembling hands felt his face. Was he dreaming? Another boom. Further away this time. The rumbling beneath him weakened.

Celin picked himself up. His neck snapped left. The monster was walking away. The towering goblin-like beast plodded along, its buttocks jiggling with each earth-shattering step it took. It was looking around, a grin on its gorgeous face. It stopped a moment, checked her foot, then moved on. He wanted to peel his eyes away, to shield his gaze from such an indecent monster. But he couldn’t. The swaying of her hips, the jogging of her ass. His cheeks went red. The thing had almost killed him in the most humiliating way possible and yet blood was rushing to his manhood. 

He slapped himself. Sense returned thanks to the throbbing pain. No matter how erotic the beast looked, it was still a beast. A terrible and towering monster that had almost ended him.

Reality set in and with it came relief. It poured over him, cold as arctic ice. With it, the fear and terror washed away. Celin laughed meagrely. He held his face, feeling out cheekbones, his nose, everything. He was still alive. He laughed, laughed like a lunatic. That was until he saw what the beast had left behind in its wake.

Where it had trood, there was now a dirt wall. A mound of earth. Boulder-sized chunks of mud were sprayed around. He gawped. The thing’s weight had forced the dirt around its feet to shift. When it lifted, anything that had not adhered rained down like a meteor. 

A footprint. An outline of its sole cast into the earth. Its immensity left a wound on the plain, the long grass now all flat. Where the displaced air struck, it had ripped out bits of the land, leaving dirt trails scattered about.  

“Where are you departing to Master Celin?” The voice was soft, its tone inviting and gentle. A caress on the ears.

Celin looked behind him. A hooded woman in white robes, her face obscured. He saw her before. A priestess. One of the many that warned of what debauchery and sin would bring. One that gathered the few remaining faithful in Varudin and guided them to ‘new’ lands. What was she doing here? Was she coming back to the city and was caught unawares by that giant monster? 

“W-Where…” He stammered. Celin shook his head. It doesn’t matter. A miracle had happened. For what purpose and what reason, he could never understand. The gods had intervened and he knew better than try to fathom the reasoning of the gods. “Are you okay? Did that thing-”

“I am in good health Master Celin.” Such a soothing voice. Every annunciation was decadent, so rich and smooth her to speak sweet nothings into his ear for all eternity. “But why do you wish to return to Varundin?”

How did this woman know his name? Maybe his mother or his father? Not important. Celin followed the scars the creature left with its footfalls. He felt the colour drain from his face. If it followed the road, then it could only be heading for one place and one place only. Celin patted his armour down of dirt in a hurry, checked what he had left. His spear was gone, as was his kettle helm. All he had was his shortsword. It would do. He sucked in air to stifle the pain. “Someone needs to warn them, if we cut throu-” 

“It is too late for them.” The priestess came closer. The smell of lilac overwhelmed his senses. He felt his heart race. She put her arms out, inviting him closer. “Come to me Master Celin.”

He shook his head. “I - I can’t abandon them! My duty demands it. My honour demands it! I swore to defend the city from all evils that befall it!”

“Then you will join their fate.” She snapped. Her tone was sour. “You must leave Varudin to its doom.”

“Never! I swore to protect the innocent and shield the weak! If that beast reaches the walls-”

“There are no innocents left in Varudin. Not now with you here.”

“What? Wait… You…" Celin's brow deepened as he was caught in thought, then it went wide in realisation, "You were the one. The preacher in the square, by the fountain!”

“Yes. I tended to the faithful as left for our pilgrimage. Your mother and father spoke highly of you, how you sacrificed your own well-being for the sake of others. You joined the guard, and promised you would return to them once you had enough money to safeguard their future and that of the flock.”

Celin went weak. She knew everything about him. He felt disarmed. “I…” he trailed off.

“Even when they tore down the idols and honours to the gods, you gave offerings. You gave to the needy, provided alms, gave charity to the less fortunate. You never stopped providing for others, even when you were met scorn and disdain by your fellows.”

This was hardly the time for a dressing down of mortal strictures. “Are you here to lecture me? Varudin is in danger, we must do something before it claims any lives!”

She sighed. “Then know I am more than just a messenger. Heed my words.” The priestess flung back her hood. He wanted to weep. A gentle face, perfect in all its features. Emerald-green eyes met his look. Raven-coloured hair that flowed down her back. Dark eyeliner that made it seem like her emerald eyes were like jewels glittering in the night. A more beautiful woman there never was. “I will not allow that demon to claim you, a pure soul.”

A beam of light sparked to life above her head. It formed a halo which sat floating an inch from her hair. An aura of dim light emanated from her robes. Dove wings sprouted from her back and spread wide. Celin’s eyes bulged. He went to speak, say anything. A herald of the gods stood before him, the holiest of seraphim.

“Perhaps there may be some use to your return.” A smile that could melt the heart of any man. She stepped forward, cupped Celin’s head. He quaked. The pain seeped away. He fell forward onto the woman, basking in her radiance. Her wings enveloped him. Tears rolled down his face. He hugged her, buried himself with the angel.  

“Is there anything I can do?” Celin whispered. He hugged the angel.

“For them? No.” She embraced him in return, whispering softly into his ear. “It is too late child. Too late to spare them. But you must be witness to their plight and I shall be your guardian in this task. Faithful and heretic alike must learn.” For a moment, Celin could have sworn she licked her lips. Her smile changed in that instance as well. It was no longer a motherly smile, caring and affectionate.

It was a cruel and evil leer.

Plodding along as a giant should have been fun. Herthrimdaz imagined that when she was tall, she would be stamping across the mortal realm akin to the princesses of darkness. So bored of the journey already, she recalled those demonesses who could crush the skull mountains with a single toe or wade into the oceans of lava and barely have their ankles submerged. All those times she had seen those magnificent terrors of the abyss built up such an image in her mind of what being that tall should be like. A monstrosity so utterly overpowering that its gait reshapes the planes with its passing. Herthrimdaz sighed.

Crushing trees in the forest, flattening fields, stepping on the wayward creature that inhabited the mortal realm was not living up to her imagination. All of it became utter drudgery. The only recent thing of recent note was that little speck on the road. An odd creature. Four-legged, brown-haired with a long snout which was running first at her, then standing on its legs, turning from her and galloping away. Stepping on it was fun, but the joy was short-lived. Feeling it pop beneath her sole was a reprieve from all the disgusting bits of nature she destroyed along the way. How the humans could stand so much green and brown was beyond her. Mortals really had no taste.

It also looked like there was a human on the road. She couldn’t sense it but she could see it. A speck of a man in the mud. Tall, well-cut and handsome. She blinked and the blonde-haired human was gone. The road was once again barren and featureless. She assumed it was a trick of the light, or her mind was conjuring pretend shadows for her to step on to get her ready for the city.

The imp trudged along, trying to find some happiness in the desolation she wrought on the countryside, hoping that Varudin was near. She wanted to grow, to reach the heights of those princesses, to see an entire continent wither and die beneath her toes. She huffed. Small things first. The acolytes promised her evolution into a walking apocalypse. 500ft was a good start, but she would need a few growth spurts to be the cataclysm that they envisaged.

She happened onto fields of gold instead. No longer the endless green, but waving golden stalks in neat carefully tended formations. Of more interest were the structures. Cone-shaped buildings of rough stone that round off to a dull point. A stunted piece of wood jutted out upon which were four beams, each lined with a white sheet. The wind caught the sheet and the mechanism spun around, creaking and yawning all the while.

Herthrimdaz drew closer to the things, despoiling the shining fields of gold by leaving dark brown footprints behind her. The structures rocked and swayed as the imp came upon them. The things were barely up to her ankles in height. Miserable little buildings. She squatted down, pinched the top off. No humans were within. She sulked. Better to be sure. Maybe her senses were off and there was a little mortal hiding away. Herthrimdaz used her finger to flatten the structure and then ground the stone down into nothing more than pebbles.  

The imp huffed. She needed some sort of stimulation. Herthrimdaz came to the next and squatted over it, her gargantuan ass dwarfing the pathetic feat of human engineering. Whatever its purpose was for the mortals, the rooftop was the perfect shape. Rounded off and curving down. With care and delicacy, it could fit up her ass. Herthrimdaz lowered herself, going through great pains to line her anus up above the building. 

She felt the cold stone of her rim. Herthrimdaz shuddered. Her knees gave way and her immensity came crashing down. The building exploded into chunks as the totality of the imp’s weight landed on it. Stone turned to white dust, wood splintered, and Herthrimdaz’s ass smashed into the earth. The land buckled. Displaced air whipped up. A furious earthquake unleashed made the similar structures around the fields of gold convulse and then collapse in on themselves. When the fury of the tremor subsided, all that remained in the field were piles of ravaged masonry and a 500ft tall imp’s ass boring into the ground.

Herthrimdaz sighed. “Great going.” She murmured as she picked herself up. Dirt chunks stained her turquoise skin. Small bits of crumbled stone had embedded themselves into her ass cheeks. She went to wipe them away until her gaze fell onto a few remaining structures on the other side of the field. A small jaunt away. Barely twenty or so steps for someone her magnanimity. A lot of effort for things so small. 

She grabbed a handful of her ass. Herthrimdaz grinned. A lurid thought wormed its way in.

Turning her back to the surviving structures, Herthrimdaz bounced and jiggled her ass. Her cheeks, outrageously thick and meaty to the point of absurdity, slapped together. Each clap of her prodigious posterior produced a shockwave and seismic tremor that shook the foundations of the earth. The ground cracked, trees fell, and the structures tumbled. Giggling to herself, Herthrimdaz kept flaunting her ass. Not only were her footfalls enough to raze the land, but she could also inflict just as much chaos with her glorious ass clapping and jiggling.  

Herthrimdaz stopped once she realised the field was now a ruin. The remnants of a battlefield were more orderly than the mess she left in her wake. Upturned mud and scattered stone. She sighed. The only thing missing were the corpses. Damn cowardly humans. Why could they not summon the courage to die beneath an imp?

Then she sensed it. There was one here, a human buried within the ruins. She licked her lips. Five strides across the ruined field and she loomed over a paltry pile of stones. Herthrimdaz squatted and flicked it away, revealing a human trapped by the rubble. His body was bruised and bloody, his torn garbs caked in dust. “Aww~ did I do that to you?” Despite her overwhelming size compared to the mortal, she managed to pluck him up by the scruff if his collar. She dragged him so he was right in her face. 

His senses must have returned as he gawped, his eyes bulging in disbelief and terror. The man started to yell incoherently. Herthrimdaz’s titter silenced him. “Oh please, do save your screaming.” Her tongue leered out. The man's lip trembled. The imp licked the tiny speck caught between her fingers, savouring his horror, “The real fun is about to start.”

Since Jeridell took such liberties with her, it was only fair play to inflict it upon lesser beings. Biting her lip, Herthrimdaz brought the injured human to her erect nipple, “If you survive my tit, then I’ll spare your life!” A line used before on her, now she could see why. To have someone be at the complete mercy of your nipple was intoxicating. “Best of luck mortal! Do not disappoint!” She pressed the human against her teat, tweaking it with the man within her grasp. Moaning and gasping, she rubbed her breast, delighting in heaving such a cumbersome and heaving boob as the human struggled against her nipple. Pleasure, like growing heat, stirred within. Booming groans of delight melded with the sounds of screams and cracking. The man stopped yelling.

She blinked and looked at her fingers. There was a small smear of blood on the tips of her digit. Looks like he wasn’t sturdy enough. She giggled, “Oops~ sorry mortal,” Herthrimdaz hummed to herself as wiped his remains away on her ass. She inspected her nipple. The man's corpse, a pulverised heap of organs and flapping skin, decorated her teat. The imp giggled at the slaughter. No wonder so many succubi did this to her. Wiping her nipple, she removed any trace of the man’s existence by rubbing his leftover viscera against her ass cheek.

And as she looked behind, there were more. A family it looked like. Mother, father and their trio of sons. They had been hiding, flat on their bellies in the field, staying ever so still. Now she could feel their alarm, their despair peaking. Was the mortal she had crushed against her nipple one of theirs? He was a younger man, a handsome thing indeed. Maybe it was another of theirs but was far too slow to escape into the fields. Mores the pity for them.

Herthrimdaz pretended not to see them. She took a few steps back, making sure her ass was pointing in their direction. She feigned a yawn and stretched out, “I really think I need a rest right now…” 

Squatting down, she could hear their weak panicked cries. Herthrimdaz could only imagine what they were seeing. A thick meaty butt blotting out the sun looming over them, coming down further and further, her asshole descending onto them. There was rustling and shouting, the mother and father bellowing for their sons to flee, screaming for them to get to safety. But where to? Her backside was massive beyond compare. It had felled their insignificant constructions with ease by a mere jiggle of her ass and yet they thought there was a chance that could escape? The imp kept lowering herself bit by bit, making it seem there was that small glimmer, that inkling of possibility they could make it. “This spot is just right for me…” Lower and lower, inch by inch, her ass came down. The only thing more pleasurable than snuffing out life is snuffing out all hope.

Their screams were giving out now. Cries of anguish were disappearing and were now being replaced by dirges of agony. Her butt must be pressed onto them now, her thick colossal cheeks bearing down. She knew what it would be like for them.  She too knew the horrific fate of being crushed by a more powerful creature. Time and time again in the hells, how the outside world turns into nothing but a thin sliver, some bead of light far away teasing you with the meagre chance you might just live and escape the oppressive darkness. Only when your bones and muscle break, your body screaming out in maddening pain as it is sundered and torn apart until is ground into nothingness by the immense weight of a thick and meaty ass of a voluptuous vixen do you glimpse there is no escape, no hope. Your fate is to suffer and to perish beneath her, and there is nothing that can change your fate.

And how she loved it. These mortals were scum, unfit and unworthy to die beneath her godly ass. If only she could hold it longer, to keep herself up just that bit more to make these humans squirm and break underneath her butt. How their screams graced her ears, how their pleading cries for mercy and to spare their kin filled the air. She could feel their little hands pushing against her ass, trying to lift off the weight of the most buxomness imp in all the hells. It should be an honour, a most esteemed privilege, to touch such an ass let alone be crushed underneath such a glorious and thick butt.

But she could only keep herself up for so long. 

Herthrimdaz’s knees gave way. Her ass crashed down into the earth with a deafening thud. Her monumental weight unsettled the earth, the ground splitting and giving way to her thickness whilst squashing the family and pulping them into gore stains on her cheeks. She wiggled herself deepening, grinding the earth more as she shifted in her seat, “Wow! This is just sooo comfortable!” She lifted up and then slammed her backside down, revelling in the jiggle of her cheeks. 

When she stood up, a cast of her ass was now imprinted into the field. Two great deep craters. “Oh my~” Herthrimdaz cooed, wiping the dirt from her cheeks, “did I do that?” There was nothing left of that family, no trace of them whatsoever. Her ass snuffed them out of existence so thoroughly that not even a hint of gore or crimson remained to at least signify they once walked the earth. A bloodline of mortal snuffed out by her prodigious curves. She giggled and patted her ass.

A bell rang. More of them rose, lending their strength to the metallic choir. Clangs abounded. Herthrimdaz perked her ear up. It was far, but distance meant nothing to her. She grinned. Maybe that was the bells of this mortal settlement, this Varudin. Had the humans heard her ass claps echoing across the hills and valleys? Had they felt the quakes unleashed by her sitting on that poor family? She scoffed. She might have wandered off in the wrong direction. Herthrimdaz quivered with anticipation and made her way towards the sound of the bells, leaving behind the desolation of the once golden field with a few more anguished souls.

********

“She…” Celin stared in disbelief. They watched from the hilltop as the demon played around with the windmills, crushing the vast fields of wheat with her gait, murdering that family beneath her backside. Indignity boiled within. How the beast giggled and took joy in wiggling its ass with such fury it could lay the land low, how it had taken such glee in torture and depravity it inflicted on others. He looked at the angel. Her cheeks were flushed red. Shame, he assumed. Shame that she did not intervene to save that family.

She looked out of the corner of her eyes. The glow faded from her cheeks. “Yes, Celin.” She whispered. 

“W-Why can’t you stop her?” He pointed to the horizon. The demon was following the sound. “The fools are drawing her closer with the bells!” He imagined the guard ringing all the tower and cathedral bells. Logical, but it was drawing in their doom.

She shook her head, a sad gut-wrenching frown developing. “The demon is too powerful Celin. It has feasted on the essence of man, and it will continue to do so until it has had its fill.”

“W-What?”

“Yes Celin. It feeds on life, delights in the death it sows. It will consume and destroy until nothing remains. Only once glutted on the souls of the wicked, the demon will return to the dark pit which spawned it.”

“Then…” Celin’s mind raced. He felt useless. Powerless. What was he to do against such a creature? The demon had almost crushed him underfoot and took no notice, like how he would crush an ant. Something so small you can’t take notice of it unless you have your eyes fixed on the dirt. If he was an ant, then Varudin was to be the colony. That demon would not miss something of that size and if this field was any indication of what she was about do… “Then we need to warn the other cities! Can you fly us there or-”

The angel shot him a scowl that hushed his rambling. “Would you think any in this kingdom would believe you? That a demon summoned from the blackest pits was coming for their souls, how a gargantuan fiend greater than any of the mountain peaks would drag their souls into the abyss? Do you think they would heed the warnings of the faithful?”

He was silent for a moment. He opened his lips to speak, shut them and turned away from the angel. She was right.

Despair weighed him down. Celin fell to his knees. Tears streamed.

There was nothing that could be done. Not anymore.

Hands-on hips and towering above the fortifications, Herthrimdaz took in the dizzying breadth of the human settlement. Even with her monstrous height, it seemed to stretch on and on, this Varudin. So much to crush, so much to destroy. Her nipples were hard and erect already, her womanhood aching at the mere thought of just how much there was to eradicate. She wanted to lay into this Varudin, to lap up all the souls and taste their anguish. But she thought of a plan. There were just so many wonderful things to see. So many pitiful buildings of marble, cobble and wood that is. Smatterings of ruddy brown oak, of dull cobble between with little bits of smoke emanating from square holes atop. Ugly and minute, these pitiful constructions covered the land like weeds. All of it was nothing compared to the great obsidian towers, the basalt spires and the cities forged of hellstone back in the infernal depths. 

Those places of worship were impressive indeed she had to admit. So ornate in their design, so meticulous in their construction, their spires and bell towers casting shadows across and down the hill. The jewels of the city she assumed. Then there were all the larger hovels where the greedy must lay their head. There were open squares with minute stalls and churches. Slums and decaying houses sprawled ever outwards until they hit the fortifications that snaked and curved around the city. Tenements, warehouses, workshops, all on this side of the river. Anything significant and noteworthy, or at least could be called luxurious, sat on the other side of the bank. 

Varudin rose up on a hill, but to call it such was generous. At her height, the hill was nothing more than a lazy mound with a trail of flowing water at its base upon which the humans had built their nest around. Nothing more, nothing less. Given time and a few souls, she could flatten it all out into one even surface.

More importantly, her senses blazed. So many little dots scurrying around in the roads. The lovely sweet smell of fear wafted from the city streets. So many souls to snuff. so much essence to claim. It would be her utmost delight to reduce it to rubble, to turn a bustling home to humans into a charnel pit. Varudin would be a fitting sacrifice, the first step towards her ascension.

There was a little tickle on her feet. Herthrimdaz looked down and saw dots flying through the air. She squatted, lowering herself to get a good view of what exactly was going on. It didn’t help too much. She was already far too tall to really see any mortal. The walls themselves weren’t even tall enough to reach up to her ankles. There were some towers as well and they too were minute in stature against her. She squinted and found a few armed humans in silly uniforms atop the battlements and pinging off arrows. If this was all the fight they could put up against her, the humans really did stand no chance.

The imp smirked, wiggled her toes, unleashing a miniature tremor. The thick walls and mighty towers rocked. Loose and weakened stones broke from the fortifications, a section crumbled from the quake, the soldiers upon it crying out as they plummeted to their deaths. Herthrimdaz giggled, her earsplitting titter making the rest cease their ineffective attacks.

Their deluge of dots halted as they gawped in horror, the reality of the situation settling in. No mere weapon could fell such a powerful and immense demoness like her. But she wanted to press that reality in further. She mulled for a moment, conjuring up the best way to show these humans just how contemptible they were against such an enormous imp.

She smirked. Jeridell had bested her with her fingers, so why not employ such tactics on the humans? She brought up a finger and wagged it around, swirling high above the defences whilst she chose where it should land. One of the towers on her left, an ugly rectangular block of beige stone was the most fitting target. A blot on her sight which begged to be removed. “My turn now!” Herthrimdaz boomed. 

Her digit came down. The tower, insignificant against the giant finger descending onto it, exploded into dust as soon as the fingertip made contact. Herthrimdaz levelled the tower bit by bit in the hope she could feel some sort of resistance. The thing was so weak that it was taking more effort to concentrate on finding any sensation from crushing the tower than actually flattening it. In but a few seconds, Herthrimdaz’s fingertip struck the earth. A few souls, some squad of soldiers who manned their posts till the very end, were now within the imp. Yet the impact of her finger sent groundbreaking vibrations racing across the city. 

Walls shifted and collapsed, dwellings shuddered and fell. Dust clouds raced through the streets, swallowing flailing crowds of fleeing mortals beneath a dark blanket. Screams and wails of the humans caught in the midst of the pandemonium abounded. Herthrimdaz wanted to hold back her laughter. It was pathetic. Too pathetic. She had only just crushed one building, a flimsy tower with but a fingertip, and yet these humans were already floundering and on their last legs. They hadn’t even had a taste of what her real assets could inflict upon them.

Unable to stifle her laughter any more, she howled her high-pitched cackle. Glass shattered; eardrums burst. The imp’s uproarious joy brought the city to its knees. Above all the commotion, Herthrimdaz’s laughter blended into the chaos of crying and tumbling structures. “Just how weak do you have to be!” To add further insult, she flicked her finger, causing a block of houses to be vaporised on contact. Boulder-sized hunks of dirt which she had dragged up by the tip of her digit rained down as if launched from a horde of catapults. The colossal bits struck the city, ripping through neighbourhoods and streets, smashing through and pulverising any errant man or woman caught in its path. 

Wisps emerged from the chaos, floating up and flying into Herthrimdaz. The imp moaned as pleasure rushed through her. “Mmm~ a fine start…” she whispered. They swirled within. Pain and misery of hundreds of dead humans coalescing all at once. She clenched her fist, closed her eyes and willed herself to grow by harnessing such suffering. 

It was not enough. Herthrimdaz could not make the tingling become anything more. She huffed.  There was no need to rush she supposed.

Herthrimdaz rose to her full height, looming over the city. She turned away, her ass pointing towards Varudin. If those structures in that field of gold before were any indication, then she was about to unleash havoc on a scale never before witnessed. Herthrimdaz took a meagre handful of her fat ass and giggled, unable to contain her excitement, “Don’t worry humans! There are bigger and better things waiting for you!”

And with that scathing taunt, Herthrimdaz jiggled her ass. 

Those lucky enough to have escaped the dirt hunks found themselves caught in a storm of madness. The imp’s voluptuous and thick butt wiggled with such an unmitigated fury that it forced the terrified humans onto their knees. An earthquake coursed its way through the streets, the cobblestone roads splitting open and swallowing any caught in its path as the seismic uproar tore the city apart. The sheer weight being tossed about so easily by the imp was levelling shops and houses. Cries of despair were snuffed out as bits of timber and cobblestone came tumbling down from the crumbling buildings. Furniture, merchant ware and any inhabitants spilled out into the streets. Such earth-shattering jiggling of her thick and immense ass harvested a great bounty of souls as mortals were crushed and killed by her reverberating butt cheeks.

Herthrimdaz looked over her shoulder and grinned in delight, bearing her fangs. “What’s the matter?” She shrilled with laughter, wiggling and clapping her ass cheeks, “My ass too much to handle?” Death and destruction abounded throughout the city. To compound their misery, Herthrimdaz gave her butt a few hearty slaps, each more furious than the last. More souls came pouring, only prompting Herthrimdaz to keep on wiggling her butt to sustain the pandamonium. The tidal wave of human essence ebbed and so to did the imp. 

Smoke, dust and rubble. That was what remained of a quarter of the city. Anything close to Herthrimdaz was reduced to nothing. The streets were cracked, the nearby districts nothing more than piles of grey and brown debris. Limbs poked out here and there, the final resting places of those humans trapped and crushed beneath the wreckage. The screams and crying were further away now. She could sense that the majority of the humans now were deeper within the city. So many of them were trying to cross the river and seek refuge on the hill or corralling around its edges in the hope to escape. 

She sighed. Herthrimdaz was hoping that the devastation wrought by her little ass jiggle would have been enough to give her a growth spurt. Souls abounded and still, it was not enough. 

A few stragglers caught her eye, however. Beleaguered and lost mortals wandering the desolation, their clothes torn to scrap, blood oozing from gashes and scrapes. Some were swaying like drunkards, holding their heads as they stumbled about. A few kept their balance, the rest tripped on some wooden beam or pile of stone. Others were so overcome they sat down, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief, so detached from the moment they may have well been empty husks. 

Herthrimdaz smiled. She was all too happy to bring them back to reality. She turned and took her first proper step into the city. The once mighty fortifications that stood against her crumbled away into nothing more than rubble. It had withstood her footfalls but was lacking against her jiggling buttocks. Her eyes fell onto a small group of survivors, a few men attempting to pull out someone from beneath the wreckage. Once the shadow of the imp fell onto them did they realise bigger problems were afoot. 

“Watch out below!” Herthrimdaz boomed. If they did scream, she couldn’t hear them. Her foot came down, immediately vaporising anything beneath her sole. More essence wormed its way in. They tasted different. Their essence was sweeter, more decadent. She could comprehend their terror and see through their final moments in their eyes, how her grime-coated sole descended onto them. In the instant between life and death, she could feel the snapping of their bones, how their bodies were ground down into nothing more than a crimson stain on the bottom of her foot. 

It was then Herthrimdaz thought of a new plan. Mass genocide reaped a fine bounty, but the focused torture could be the key. 

There was another man hobbling away. She had to give it to him at the very least. He was dragging a limp leg, an arm was flapping about, yet he was trying to run as best he could. He was so coated in dust he looked like a grey ghost streaked with lines of red. A new target and an experiment. 

Herthrimdaz lowered herself down. Whoever was around was about to get very intimate with the curvaceous imp. First she squatted, then planted her hands and started to lower herself onto her chest to get a much better view of her soon-to-be playthings.

Convulsions struck as the ground buckled to deal with the shifting weight of Herthrimdaz. Tenement blocks were utterly flattened beneath her hands. A score of humans stared up in bewilderment at the gargantuan breasts coming down onto them, how her puffy erect nipples were racing towards them. Their final moments were watching the house-sized teets of Herthrimdaz smashing to them, squashing their weak bodies into paste. A final quake that sent the dawdling humans still alive onto their backs heralded that the imp had finally stopped moving.

When they looked up, they saw Herthrimdaz, her hands on her chin, elbows planted. So oversized was her chest, Herthrimdaz was using her boobs like cushions. Her insulting grin leered. “Let’s play a game shall we?” She rose a finger, “You all have five seconds to outrun my finger!”

The humans stared, overwhelmed with horror. It was then she realised that these mortals probably did not understand demonic. No matter. Adding insults to the slaughter made it all the more pleasing for her. The man she saw before, that blood-drenched slither, at least had the sense to try and run. Not that it mattered. He was clambering over a pile of wood and buried corpses when Herthrimdaz’s finger was above him. “Oh no!” she tittered, “You’re so close!” 

She pressed her finger onto him with as much delicacy as she could muster. These humans had been getting off far too light and she was now out to make an example. Her fingertip, the bringer of ruin to the fortifications of Varudin, now weighed down onto this man. Shrill wails and pained crying graced her ears. She kept it there for a moment and the howls of this tortured man became a blissful symphony. His throat went hoarse, the cries went weak and then there were no more serenades of suffering. Either he had passed out from the agony or he was dead from the strain. Better to make sure she thought and pressed her finger down fully. With a tremor and thud, her digit tapped the earth.

Herthrimdaz lifted her finger. A crater was left within the street and there was now a blot. Her tongue came out and licked the flakes of gore away, relishing the meagre taste of the blood, meat and bone. The soul of the man shot through and she witnessed his death flashing before her eyes. His death was succulent. He was on his knees, the world around him a thin slither as turquoise skin pressed upon him. He was screaming his lungs out, his bones breaking and splintering out from his skin, yet he could not move. He was forced to try and lift her finger away as if he could by some miracle garner enough strength to throw her immense digit away. Yet there was no reprieve for him. His fate was to endure Herthrimdaz’s finger and suffer his sundering. When the pain was too much and his throat under too much duress to keep up his howls, the man passed out. 

And how divine his soul was. All his suffering fattened him up to perfection. So Herthrimdaz decided to repeat the process. Survivor after survivor she happened upon she inflicted the same finger test. Each one failed predictably, but she found immense satisfaction from squashing the humans one by one onto her finger, lapping up their remains, and then moving on to the next. Soon there was a collection of souls who all shared a similar fate and she started to grow bored. Her grin wore out, her lips pressed into a thin slither. She needed a new method. 

A man poked his head over a pile of rubble and her eyes locked with his. The man ducked away and she could sense the sinking feeling in his gut. Her next victim, but what to do? Herthrimdaz realised she was resting on her solution. Why was her finger getting all the fun?

Clawing forward, Herthrimdaz dragged herself on her hands and knees. There was a deep crater in the outline of her body and deeper still were the craters her breasts left behind. She dragged herself forward, her boobs swaying left and right as she moved. Some half-blasted remains, the shells of houses and shops were knocked over by her boobs swinging about and smashing into them. She giggled at the feeling and at how the merest tap from her bosom was enough to reduce humanity’s buildings into nothing. 

Every time her hand came down, Herthrimdaz wiped out a block of Varudin. Poor houses, kitchens, bakeries, merchant shops, all were flattened beneath her. Ancient streetways and the winding labyrinth of the city were replaced by a set of handprints as the imp made her way onwards, leaving only a trail of hollow dwellings and the dead in her wake. 

Herthrimdaz loomed over the next specimen though it was hard to get a sense of where he was exactly. Her chest was so immense it was harder to actually to see what was beneath them. An unexpected issue to be sure. Before drowning in the souls of the wicked, she was already blessed with such outrageous proportions, but now everything was amped to the extreme, her breasts most of all. “I shall be merciful human! Pleasure my nipple and you will be spared!” She boomed and lowered her chest down. 

The same similar screams. A tickle on her teet, hands pressing against her nipple. She found her target, though, with its size, it would have been more effort to miss the human. Herthrimdaz bit her lip. His struggle sent a shiver down her spine. “Mmm~” she moaned, “That’s the spot…”

Peering to her left revealed a woman hiding in an alleyway. She looked at the man being crushed by Herthrimdaz’s nipple wide-eyed in disbelief and terror. Tears streamed down her face, her knees trembled, covering her mouth. The imp merely giggled, “Aww~ was he your lover?” She lowered herself, her nipple pressing down further onto the man. The woman screamed as the man’s body splintered further. “What’s the matter, can you not stand to see your man pleasuring another?” Herthrimdaz lowered and lowered, "I think he's starting to enjoy it!" She heard a snap and the man collapsed, his body a mess of broken limbs and protruding bone, all because of her dainty nipple. The woman stared in utter horror, her lip quivering until she screamed in agony, much to the imp's delight. 

Herthrimdaz scooted across. She aimed her nipple such that it hovered right above the woman. She swayed her breasts about, knocking down any surrounding buildings. “Don’t fret human!” Herthrimdaz caressed her nipple and fell down a tad, pushing her teet as close to the woman as possible, “You can still save him! Well, at least what's left that is!” The woman’s shrill wails were the only response. A crimson blot decorating her nipple pressed right into the face of a lover, seeing the man of her life turned into a bloody stain adorning her tit. She tweaked and pinched her nipple, rubbing the remains of the man into her, “Mmm~ he should be honoured to touch my breast…”

So lost in the pleasure of it all, Herthrimdaz dropped. A chorus of cries came as her breasts flattened yet more of the city, her boobs balling out as she bored into the ground. Men and women tried to flee but were swiftly consumed by Herthrimdaz’s chest. Each met the same horrific end beneath the imp. They would run, the shadow darkening around them. Next, they found the crushing weight barrelling down onto them, forcing them on the floor, their screams muffled and suppressed. In all the indignity of death at the hands of an overly-endowed imp, the humans would be pressed flat, their bodies compacting and breaking apart. All that was left of them was ground into the earth, a bloody mess of squished limbs and organs dotting a minute part of a gargantuan breast. And how it aroused their torturer to know it. 

“Oh my…” Herthrimdaz picked herself up. Bloody specks and smudged gore stains littered her boobs. Below were two yawning craters. She admired her handiwork, scooping up their cadavers and blood and then wiping them away on her hip. “Weren’t they so lucky to-” The sound of a bell broke her insult and drew her attention.

To her left, she spotted a church on the far side of the city. A brass bell clanged its heart out. There was a swarm of souls hiding over there. Herthrimdaz thought it strange. Were they that desperate to die beneath her? Maybe they thought the gods would save them? She shrugged her shoulders. At least they had the decency to gather in one spot.

There was a good stretch of the city between her and this church. Untouched abodes and dwellings, stalls lining the way next to storehouses and taverns, all ripe and begging to be crushed underfoot. A few souls lingered about. No doubt they thought the towering terrifying demoness might miss them, or that she would not find them hiding away like bugs burying themselves beneath the mud. Herthrimdaz licked her lips. How wrong they were.

She lifted her right foot and stamped downwards on a block of tenements. Her sole crashed through layer upon layer, breaking beams and shattering stone foundations. Harsh cracks and snapping sang out before the thunderous boom of her sole striking the earth. A puff of smoke erupted around her foot, shooting out debris into the surrounding structures. Herthrimdaz twisted and then swept her foot right, letting it wipe out three streets in one move. A few humans, tiny figures on the pavements, tried to flee but were soon caught beneath the imp, their sad screams snuffed out by her foot and turned into a sanguine smear. 

Herthrimdaz inspected her sole. Her underfoot was caked dark with dirt, bits of buildings and crimson splotches. Then her eye caught upon groups gathering in the street before her. Evidently, they had realised what the imp was doing and were now trying to find a new hole in cower in. A sordid idea blossomed. “Humans!” Herthrimdaz bellowed. The men and woman stopped in their tracks and stared up, beholding the thick and gorgeous demoness with horror and awe. She lifted her foot as if to crush them, but instead dug her heel ground before them, wiggling her toes. “Tend to my foot and I promise mercy!”

The gathering watched the looming sole, ducking in fear as if waiting for it to move. It soared higher than anything they knew, a monolithic foot that made a mockery of any construction. For a few awkward seconds, the humans stared at her foot and she watched them. Herthrimdaz rolled her eyes. Language barriers be damned, they were going to clean her sole one way or another. She lowered her foot and the usual screams resumed. 

As they ran down the street, her foot came pressing down. Rather than squashing them outright, Herthrimdaz let her foot hold above them. She could feel so many pairs of hands against her sole. Dozens of hummus crouched in darkness as Herthrimdaz’s foot was mere inches away from crushing their lives. She giggled at their touch. It felt like some were actively tickling her. She dropped her foot an angstrom lower. Cries of agony roared. “Beg humans! Mewl for me!” 

Barely perceptible strokes came. A few pathetic thuds. They were actually trying to punch her sole. The impudence astounded her. She lowered her foot more. The fighting stopped as more wails came. “Acurrsed humans! Lick and scrub my divine sole!” 

Grunts, bawling and howls. The humans were too busy suffering and eeking out their final moments to even clean or caress her sole. Herthrimdaz frowned. She crossed her arms and held her foot there. “If you shan’t obey then I shall have your screams instead!” Dropping her foot a bit more and she could start to feel a few dainty pops. There were still some tortured squawks emanating from those trapped beneath her sole. She giggled, imagining the survivors pinned on the floor next to a loved one or family member who had exploded into gore, unable to withstand the crushing pressure of her foot. She envisioned the mortal’s bodies collapsing and crumbling underneath her foot, wishing to somehow be free of the misery and torment inflicted onto them by her dirty sole. Herthrimdaz lowered her foot again. More pops this time, more humans turned into nothing more than broken bone and squashed viscera.

And still more lingered. How fortunate for them to endure so long, to be trapped under her foot. Those final mortals, how blood trickled from open wounds as their frames were sundered, forced to gag and endure the acrid waft of her sole, their muffled bellows of pain and languishment howled at the dirt and grime stuck on a gigantic imp’s sole as they saw their family, their friends, everyone they ever knew dying in the same inglorious way they were soon to share in. How lucky for these humans to partake in such amazing delights. 

“Fufu~, I commend you for worshipping my tender sole little ones. As I am a most generous demon, I shall let you join your loved ones!” Herthrimdaz pressed her foot down and squished the final humans with a satisfying pop and crunch. Tortured souls raced into her, their anguish joining with the others. She bit her lip, nursed her breast. She twisted her foot, grinding down the corpses and the wide street into nothing. Crumbling woodwork and stone became one with the chest-rumbling moans of Herthrimdaz. 

One final peal of the bell brought her back. 

Herthrimdaz grinned. More needed her attention, and there were certainly enough souls just begging to meet their doom by an imp’s sole. She lifted her left foot and repeated the same motion. Stamp and sweep, stamp and sweep. Each earth-shattering step shook the city and caused the imp’s curves to jiggle. Her ass wobbled with her tumultuous gait as clouds burst from her footfalls, a block of homes and shops gone beneath her sole every time she came crashing back down. So many humans poured out onto the street, like scurrying bugs from an upturned log. All they would find is darkness encroaching as Herthrimdaz’s foot blocked the sun and stamped on them, decimating their filthy hovels and flattening anything in her way. Stamp, crunch, sweep, stamp, crunch, sweep. The joyous rhythm of destruction Herthrimdaz happily followed as she tore through the city. 

The only interruption she would allow for is if a particularly large crowd of terrified humans filled one of the pathways. She would titter at their attempts, let her foot loom over, letting the debris and gristle fall from her sole. Scores of mortals died just from the wreckage that rained down. They would look up and see the gunk and crimson blotting her foot, then find Herthrimdaz’s sole racing towards them, their vision engulfed and then their life snuffed out as her foot collided into their minute frame, the only trace of their existence now a bloody mark and their grave a massive footprint left upon where their home used to be.

In the space of a few minutes, Herthrimdaz left an unprecedented trail of devastation. Not even the most calamitous natural disaster could rival the destruction she had carved through the poor quarters with just her footfalls. Gaping footprints littered Varudin. Wisps of smoke trailed into the air, dust settled onto littered corpses upon the shattered streets. Those buildings that had not been beneath Herthrimdaz’s foot crumbled in upon themselves, adding yet more rubble and ruin. The imp cast a look over her shoulder, shrugged and scoffed. Fun and easy. She stretched out, pretending that her merry jaunt of desolation across the city was actually a strenuous task. 

But now there were more interesting things to deal with.

The church was before her. She gazed down onto an open square and what she assumed would be an impressive-looking church, if she weren’t overshadowing it. Still, to its credit, it rose a bit above her ankle. It was a dull alabaster monstrosity, with blue and purple stained glass windows and with an impressive spire that house a large bronze bell. Odd that the fortifications were smaller than their places of worship.

Interestingly, there was a throng of people outside its mighty doors. Herthrimdaz squatted and saw that they were trying to enter. How they banged and scraped and pleaded for the gates to open. Some began to scatter as they realised Herthrimdaz loomed over. “Trying to run now? Hmm~ I don’t think so!” Using her finger, she carved out a trench around them, preventing any from escaping. A few were caught by her digit and were idly obliterated as she dug out this expanse. Any that wanted to flee would have to fall into a thirty-foot-deep trench. They were well a truly trapped now. 

Herthrimdaz fell onto her backside. Her fat gargantuan ass ploughed through the buildings behind, her cheeks making short work of the tenements and workshops. Those outside bounced into the air as Herthrimdaz’s full weight crashed into the earth. Cracks and fissures formed, marring the square with chasms. She shifted around and brought her legs around, planting them on either side of the church. Even with such a marvellous construction, a building that took decades to build, the structure paled in comparison to the imp, for her thighs were thicker and larger than the church. 

Caught in the midst of admiring her meaty thighs against the church, she found to her surprise some braved the trench. A few brave men, rather than die at the hands of the demoness, decided to fling themselves off into the abyss. Herthrimdaz scowled. Their souls came to her, but suicides were far less delectable. She had to act fast before more decided upon an easier way out. 

Herthrimdaz lent forward, pursed her lips and sucked in air. Mortals were lifted from their feet and flew towards the imp's lips, scrambling through the air until they found themselves within her mouth. Two seconds later, the entire crowd outside the church was gone. Herthrimdaz sloshed them about, swilling them in her saliva. She could feel each one swimming about, thrashing out against her tongue. Herthrimdaz hummed, knowing that such a simple sound up close would burst the eardrums of all those within her mouth.

Then she started to munch. Her molars crunched the mass of people down, a score of them were immediately eviscerated against her fangs. She could hear the crunch as she chewed, feel the mulching of flesh of bone as she ground them down into pulp. The taste of mortal flesh was decadent, rich with such blood and meat. A mass of fresh mortals overloaded her senses. Herthrimdaz swirled them around, delighting each time her taste buds flared. With one final mull, she exaggerated her swallow, emphasising a gulp for all to hear. The ball of ground-up humans slithered down her maw, a bulge appearing on her throat before it was gone. 

Essences flowed and she saw that some humans miraculously survived. They had seen the others get torn into pieces, their body parts suspended in Herthrimdaz’s saliva. Her tongue collected them all and then they raced down her gullet. Such humans fell through a wet red cavern in complete darkness, hearing the inner workings of her gut, the dirge of her heartbeat and each breath she took. They fell for what seemed to them an age, suddenly then emerging into her stomach. Her gut groaned as if to welcome its new inhabitants before they splashed into a river of acid. Submerged in her stomach acids, skin peeled, flesh melted, bone disintegrated. Coated in acid and flailing about in excruciating pain, her fluids stripped the humans until they were nothing. When the mass of mortals were consumed, her gut howled, bellowing like a victorious beast.

Herthrimdaz licked her lips. Something rose to greet her from her gut. She patted her tummy. Consuming mortal souls was adding a bit more pudge in unnecessary places. At least they were helping to bulk out her breasts and ass more. She gulped and rubbed her belly. Then her stomach roared and she felt a surge welling from deep within. 

She barely had a moment to understand before she opened her mouth and unleashed an explosive “URRRRRRPRP!” A cacophonous belch struck the church; the gates exploded inward, the stone walls buckled and shook, the stained windows shattered and sprayed glass shards, the bell tower convulsed and fell in upon itself, the ceiling caved in. Houses at the furthest end of the square rattled from the oncoming force. Once Herthrimdaz’s burp reached them, the buildings detonated, blown away by the force of the belch into chunks and bits. 

She patted her stomach and exhaled in relief. A swarm of souls came in. Their essence squirmed. They had taken shelter, heard the imp’s structure-shattering burp, a sudden whistling that grew as if suddenly a storm was hurtling towards them, only to be eviscerated, torn into shreds by the strength of her belch. “Oops~” Herthrimdaz covered her mouth as a feeble follow-up burp came to give belly relief, “Sorry about that!”

Enduring her stomach movements reduced the church’s grandeur to a pittance. It looked as if it was on its last legs. As if on cue, the front wall collapsed towards Herthrimdaz, revealing the humans within. Men and women of all ages and backgrounds filled the interior. Rich and poor alike, peasant to noblemen, all were cowering within its walls. The dead lined the pews, crushed by the caved-in roof or ripped apart by shards of glass. 

Herthrimdaz stared. A welling of emotion crashed into her, her very being trembling. She went to speak, to boom out some taunt in demonic tongue, but her excitement was too much. It was as if lightning were racing through her veins now. These miserable, pitiful, contemptible mortals. How could there be such woefully weak beings that could die at the hands of simple burp?

Rather than finish them off, Herthrimdaz wanted to let them know what their struggles meant. She started to stroke her pussy, feeling out her labia, twiddling with her nipple. Her bassy moans of delight made the surviving humans in the church tremble. She shifted her thighs closer. “Mmm~” her tongue rolled out and wetted her lips, “Your gods won’t save you now…” 

Quakes rocked the church as her thighs came slow and steady. Pudgy and thick, they scoured the stones of the square, a horrible grinding filling the air. Her thighs touched the walls and then collapsed inward, offering no resistance to the monumental bulk. Stonework and foundation crumpled and the terrified gathering found two gargantuan walls of flesh pressing in upon them. They scrambled over one another, howling and screaming, trying to final desperation to see if they could somehow scale Herthrimdaz’s voluptuous physique, yet her thighs offered no chance to clamour over them. Those caught fell beneath a tide of flesh, crying out for someone to save them as their body was crushed bit by bit from her thigh. They would throw an arm out, beg for mercy and relief as bones snapped and cracked beneath her thighs until they were then wholly consumed beneath Herthrimdaz’s pudge. More and more, the remainder in the church huddled tighter and tighter until they were in a line, pushed on both sides by the imp. Bunched together, the panic kept increasing as the horrible realisation sunk in that there was no escape or recourse from Herthrimdaz’s thighs.

Herthrimdaz giggled and squeezed the humans together. Already she could see them writhe and claw at her thighs, climbing over one another to escape the crush. All she did was titter and slowly pressed her thick thighs together. Men and women both old and infirm alongside young and boisterous, merchants and craftsmen with the homeless and the dregs, all were being crushed together as Herthrimdaz’s thighs overwhelmed them. Soon there was no room for them to move. They were pinned against her thighs, compressed and forced into place against her flesh. “Struggle for me mortals~” Herthrimdaz moved her thighs together more, delighting in the agonized wails, “I’m almost-” 

Her pussy was soaked; warm milk dribbled from her nipple. Pained memories of so many mortals invaded her thoughts. Her eyes rolled back. Pleasure wracked her mind. Her womanhood ached like it never had before. All the emotions of the slain came crashing in, swift and intoxicating. Death by her ass, by her thighs, by finger or by breast, all those final tortured moments swarmed and swirled as if she were caught in a whirlpool. Their lamentations were building into a terrible crescendo of misery and pain that fell in tune to the maddening palpitations of her heart. With a booming moan, she slammed her thighs together. The humans suffering ended in a loud crunch as all within the church were reduced to bloody pulp against Herthrimdaz’s thickness. She rubbed her thighs together and then parted them, revealing the pulverising torn forms of so many mortals who were now nothing more than crimson blots decorating her turquoise skin. 

She felt her form grow red hot. Her body was drenched in heat as if she had just bathed in the lava lakes in the hells below. The beating of her heart was all she could comprehend above the mournful wail of the souls within her. When she opened her eyes, Herthrimdaz found herself on her back, fingers thrusting hard and fast into her wet pussy, her free hand tending her breast and pinching a nipple. She was gasping, moaning, screaming her pleasure out for all to hear.

But it was not enough. She grabbed a handful of whatever she could get. Herthrimdaz clawed an unscared piece of the city, dragged it up and slammed it against her breast. Mortals and debris fell, sprinkling onto the desolation closer to the imp’s body. She felt the humans pop, the buildings shatter against her breast. Mortals fell from the heavens, plummeting to their deaths and breaking apart once they collided with Herthrimdaz’s body. 

It was so close now. 

Another handful but this set of Varudin found its way into her snatch instead. Scores of humans were rubbed against Herthrimdaz’s labia, some had the great honour of being decimated against her erect clitoris. Wreckage, corpses and a few lucky humans found their way into Herthrimdaz’s vagina. Their fortune was short-lived as the frantic feral fingering turned any within her into paste, reducing them into streaks of crimson against the walls of her pussy. 

And yet she wanted more. She demanded more. More handfuls of humans, more of the city in her grasp, more sacrifices and souls. Hundreds of men and women, poor and rich, strong and weak, all were there for one purpose and one purpose only; to satisfy her lust. All who existed in this fetid kingdom, this miserable city, they lived only to die for the sake of Herthrimdaz’s pleasure.    

Her excitement peaked and was now rushing forth like a geyser. Her thighs slammed together, a seismic clap booming as the imp trembled and cried out a great lustful moan that rolled over the hills and valleys of the doomed kingdom. She clenched her womanhood and cum spurted out. 

A sticky and warm flood of fluids coursed its way through the avenues and the terraces, carrying with it the cadavers and the ruins of Varudin. Fleeing survivors were swept from their feet and drowned beneath her cum. It pooled into her the craters and crevices, it engulfed the wreckage and debris within the districts, overwhelming all in what seemed an unending torrent of the imp’s cum. And still she kept on. Herthrimdaz kept fingering her pussy more and more. The first few souls that died beneath her onslaught of cum came flowing in, and now the suffering of thousands claimed by her fluids only egged her to continue. 

Then she felt what she really wanted. Now Herthrimdaz could will it to happen. The ground groaned and crumbled; the shadows lengthened. 

Souls came pouring in. These deaths were different now. Their memories were of Herthrimdaz's body growing larger with every passing moment as she fingered herself. Her form vibrated as a bassy rumble emanated. Herthrimdaz's physique pushed out in all directions, swallowing anything in her path. Neighbourhoods and streets, warehouses and taverns, even the fortifications that withstood her initial assault, it was all being crushed as Herthrimdaz grew larger and thicker and more voluptuous than before. She beheld the humans' thoughts, how they would flee before her growing form only to be caught and flattened. All their deaths served to make the imp even hornier than before and filed her growth. Beyond the wracks of pleasure, she could feel the city dying beneath her. Building and human alike were being mowed down whilst her body expanded ever outward. 

Summoning all her strength, Herthrimdaz sat upright. Where before she could make out the structures that littered Varudin, she was growing at such a rate that they were pitifully small, like little toys becoming smaller and smaller with each passing moment. Her hips were ploughing through anything, she could feel her buxomness ass decimating structures and mortal as they ploughed through, her feet pushed out and flattened all in its way. The earth cracked beneath her ever-increasing weight. Fissures began swallowing up swathes of the poor quarters. Herthrimdaz's moans rolled over the hills echoing far and wide for all to hear. 

"More..." Herthrimdaz boomed, her voice so deep and weighty humans from leagues around would feel it on their chest. The imp dragged a portion of the city in her grasp. Before she could only scrape up some buildings, now she was digging into entire districts. Hundreds died in a single instance as her mighty fingers cleaved through the earth. She rose a hunk of Varudin to her mouth, minute dots spilling out and falling hundreds of feet. Clenching her hand, she shattered the piece of the city in her hand. Her tongue leered out and lapped all the scraps from her palm. Souls swarmed and their view was only of the gargantuan Herthrimdaz, how her mighty hand crushed them or her massive tongue collided with them.

Herthrimdaz looked down. Her backside had seen to the death of this half of Varudin. From her mountainous ass cheeks to her thighs down to her feet, her ascendence to greater heights saw to the end of everything this side of the river. She had to make sure all of them were gone. "I need more..." Herthrimdaz planted her hands, pushed herself up and then dropped her butt back down. Incomprehensible weight slammed down onto the earth. A shockwave of displaced air erupted around her ass, blasting through whatever had not been crushed during her growth. It raced through the city, wiping out everything and anything, tearing it to shreds. An earthquake of cataclysmic proportions buckled the land. The ground shifted and broke to try and accommodate the magnanimity of the enormous imp. She squirmed and wiggled, her enormously thick and rotund ass grinding and creating lesser tremors that tortured the earth. 

The fire within was fading. Herthrimdaz heaved for air as the rush departed. She craved for it again, lusted for it. She looked around for something, anything to stimulate her like that.  

To her right was the remainder of Varudin. The rich half of the city was in a broken state. Enduring her earthquakes during her growth had decimated most things. Yet somehow the glittering spires of the cathedrals and basilicas remained. How tall and mighty they looked before. Now they stood like an overgrown blade of grass before her. She could only guess how much she had grown. Herthrimdaz could only assume she must have been a thousand if not more feet in height now. One thousand, two thousand, the exact measurement did not matter. This was the height of the powerful, the strong.

As Herthrimdaz leaned over to grab one of the spires, she felt slow, sluggish even. Such was her height, all her movements were reduced in speed. It did not matter. All she cared for was the thrill of growth once more, to feel the land crack and die as it struggled to comprehend her increasingly curvaceous physique. "This one will do!" Herthrimdaz boomed as she carefully plucked up a marble spire. Her fingers crushed anything surrounding it, flattening the nearby cathedrals entirely. Hundred-foot-long structures decimated with a mere tap of her fingertip. 

It took all her focus and concentration to stop her from shattering it in her grasp. Herthrimdaz dragged the spire over to her yawning maw of a pussy. "You look like just the right size to me." She pressed the spire into her cunt. Herthrimdaz shivered and gasped at the touch of cold stone. She moaned as she pushed the crumbled stonework further in, delighting at how deep it was getting. Herthrimdaz coaxed it in and out, quivering with each motion as it worked its way around inside her. "F-Fuck me..." 

Herthrimdaz began to roll to her right. She was large enough now to cover the breadth of the city. She faced the remaining portion of the city and blasted it with her lustful moaning, her frantic breathing eradicating the bridges, walls and mansions. Herthrimdaz lifted her leg and kept using the dwindling spire as her dildo. "How does it feel humans," Herthrimdaz groaned out, "To know your works are my mere fuck toy now?"

She dragged out the spire for one final thrust and it broke apart in her hand. Herthrimdaz gritted her teeth. So close now, so close, just a bit more and she can reach heights unfathomed. Moving into position, Herthrimdaz dangled her breasts above the dregs of Varudin. The mere swaying of such colossal boobs shook the earth. "Stare at them whilst you can vermin," Herthrimdaz cupped them and pressed them together, revelling in their sheer size. A drop of milk leaked from her tit, spilling from her breast and onto the city. It crashed down and flooded a district of the Varudin, flattening houses upon impact as her fluids flooded the surrounding neighbourhoods. Herthrimdaz kept fondling her boobs, cupping, massing and then dropping them. She would lean in, threatening to crush the city before pulling back and laughing, purring all the while, “Consider it your greatest honour, to die beneath my boobs~."

With her final taunt, Herthrimdaz lowered her chest. Her erect nipples, large as castles now, were the first to make contact. Herthrimdaz felt a tingle shoot up her spine as she could feel them shattering guildhalls, statues and cathedrals alike beneath them. Her boobs then fully slammed into the earth. Smoke bellowed all around, the land convulsed whilst Herthrimdaz giggled to herself all the while. Those once proud cathedrals and basically, so tall and grand crumbled into dust beneath her bust. Tens of thousands perished underneath her breasts, ground into a crimson paste as they were overwhelmed and squished by the weight of her boobs. Each breast tended to such slaughter and genocide, easily eradicating all that stood before it. Her chest bored into the ground and then the earth trembled as it tried to comprehend the vast heft of Herthrimdaz's boobs landing back down. 

And there it was. Herthrimdaz tended to her womanhood, masturbating wild and crazy as the last essences in Varudin came to her. All the glorious deaths of so many joined into one. The fresh taste of those crushed by her boobs was the most vivid in her mind. She could conjure images of the sun blocking boobs hanging high in the air, an imp's voice dark and terrible bursting their eardrums with its taunt. They ran and fled as her chest came back down, the shadows growing ever darker as the rumble and sway of Herthrimdaz's boobs drew ever closer. The humans bumped and ran into one another, each determining themselves onto a path they thought best to escape the gargantuan breasts bearing down. Each of them watched in terror as their life’s work crumbled before her boobs, their luxury and extravagance breaking to the crushing weight of Herthrimdaz's bust. Then they were pinned, their bodies shattering and exploding into bits of viscera as they were smothered entirely by the most prodigious and immense breasts in the mortal world.

Herthrimdaz winced, gasped. The fire before was nothing now. Despoling mortals and their false idols in one fell swoop made it seem like a sun had birthed with her. The imp trembled, her fingers slammed into her pussy and she saw the land rolling away from her, the ravaged Varudin quickly enveloped by her body. Cum gushed out and flooded whatever remain before being swiftly crushed beneath her growth. Distant mountains seemed minuscule now, the hills small bumps, the valleys minor dips. Lakes became as puddles, forests like misplaced patches of deep greenery. Soon all she could see was white. Her growth sent her rocketing up in the cloudscape. Herthrimdaz's head emerged beyond. For a moment, there was a rolling carpet of white that blocked her view of the world below and the crystal clear blue sky above. 

"Oh-" Her voice became that of a god. The bass and power of each annunciation would be enough to break cities apart. Her new size, however many leagues tall she was now, imbued her with such strength that even her words could level the land. Even now, clouds scattered before her, clearing the sky for her to see just how tall she had grown. 

Varudin was gone. Her ass had consumed all of it beneath her. Even the surrounding lands were not spared for her butt. Her cheeks rose higher than any mountain, her ass broader than any range. She went to wipe the cum from her thighs and found her movements obscenely slow. It was like trying to move through the tar pits in hell. The wind dragged against her and made any motion come to a near crawl. The price of magnanimity she supposed. She must have been several thousand feet if not tens of thousands of feet taller now. 

Then she spotted another city. It was a tiny stain of brown and grey upon the unceasing green. Herthrimdaz licked her lips. Varudin was a start, now the apocalypse truly started.