Boom..

The sound snapped me from my night time musings. The room shook. The swinging lamp casting monstrous, moving shadows over that awful wallpaper. I held my breath, hoping it was just leftover imagery from some forgotten dream.

Boom..

There was no mistake this time, the shudder was stronger, accented with the distant crackling and cries of terror, rocking me back and forth in the bed.

Boom..

I huddled, my duvet a fortress that could keep out all comers. A sanctuary of warmth and safety. Nothing outside could get in.

Boom..

The house shook violently, and there was a new sound. One I had expected since I woke. Tiles shattering down from the roof, beams splintering. The whole house seeming to lift up with the unseen force above. I felt the patters and thuds strike the blanket. Plaster that crumbled away from the ceiling, raising white dust clouds when they struck, coating my blanket with powder.

I felt and heard the moment the roof was torn away. Splintering away from walls with as little effort as tearing paper. I heard the chatters and crash of it falling, the groans of some other home. The thought flickered into my head. I couldn't help it:

There go the neighbours..

I huddled tighter.

I could practically sense the looming figure above. That gleeful grin hidden in darkness. And yet still the touch of fingers made me jolt, exposing that hidden lump of blankets for what it was. They curled around bed and body, snagging against the duvet, trapping me in my own nest. And you lifted me, bed and all, past the broken crown that was once a home, past the length of your naked body and far over the orange specks of street lights and the frantic scurrying people abandoning their homes to you.

I saw none of this. Your grip now trapping me, turning my fortress into a prison. I struggled to free myself from that heat. Your fingers came for me, I felt the weight of them exploring my body on the other side, rolling me back and forth, making me swear and struggle uselessly against them. Then I felt it tip, and despite clawing at the sheets to stay atop the bed, I slid helplessly down and thudded on your palm, the blanket aside, exposing my naked body to the air.

I heard the crunch as your fingers closed around my bed, reducing it to a rain of splinters that scattered over the streets. You were kneeling. The folded limb carelessly resting atop rows of homes and crumpled cars. And behind you, I could see a wide swathe of black cleaving through the lights of the town. The path you had cut to find me.

You didn't let me look at it long though, rolling your hand to toss me onto my back. I clutched at the blanket like it was my saving grace. The one thing that could shield me. Of course you pinched it and yanked it away, tugging it free from my fingers so fast that it hurt. And there I was. Naked and shivering on your palm, my face burning with embarrassment and anger.

I showed you my middle finger but you only chuckled, the sound throbbing through the streets that crossed the ground under you. MY streets, and then..

“You're adorable when you're angry.”

Your voice was surprisingly soft, yet it had a deep, thrumming quality that threw it back in echoes from the fear filled streets. You seemed to find the whole thing highly amusing. I hissed and writhed in impotent fury and attacked you with a barrage of the most select swear words. That seemed to amuse you more. And you shrugged them off in the same way you'd shrug away the most deadly attacks of the armies of the world and, like those attacks, my anger made you smile.

“You promised a story..”

Your hand tipped and I yelped, thinking I was to be pitched into the air, discarded to fall and perish amongst the surge of people below. I scrabbled at your hand, wedging my fingers into the gaps between yours, clinging there, only to realise you weren't letting me fall. You were leaning forwards.

My home crumbled beneath you, your arm reaching forwards to where my dust coated desk stood, and the minute rectangle of my phone atop it. You knew I wrote everything on there.

You were far too large to pluck such a device from the table, and so your fingers drove through the floor and brickwork like it was made of nothing, and closed your hand on a mixture of debris and wood, centred about that precious phone. You offered me your hand and somehow, miraculously, the phone still lay stop the desktop, shattered and broken through it was. You waited patiently for me to retrieve it. You didn't need to ask. I did it. Stumbling from finger to finger, trying not to peer down the gaps that showed the ground hundreds of feet below. Then I clambered up the rubble, scattering it down under me until I could snatch that little rectangle.

I held it close to my chest. Like it was precious, stumbling back to my spot on your clear hand and, the second I was clear of the other, you moved it so fast I felt the air tug at my hair, dragging it along with the rubble you tossed aside. Screams rose from where it peppered my neighbourhood. I wondered if I knew any of the poor souls that perished there.

You nodded at me and I scowled, shivering when you lowered yourself, making your immense body comfortable over the homes of hundreds of people. Those foolish enough to remain cowering inside were simply buried beneath the weight of your body crushing their tiny homes atop them. You were clearly enjoying it. I could tell by your hard cock emerging from the darkness between your legs. I turned away and you chuckled, bringing my body down the length of yours to one thigh.

I blushed. I actually burned, your manhood towered over my body, patterned with veins and streaked with little splotches of blood where you had clearly enjoyed someone or the other en - route. And that's where you left me, splayed, tiny and naked over your leg, a dizzying drop on one side, and your cock on the other, pulsing and eager.

I looked up, plaintive and afraid, your immense body was like a skyscraper in itself. I could hear the lazy devastation you wreaked, dragging your fingers through the streets, shunting aside cars and crushing houses, reducing the floods of little people to smears over the ground. You weren't looking at them, but at me. As though, despite that you were clearly enjoying it, much of this destruction was for me.

“You want me to write? Here??”

I had to shout up to make sure you heard. My voice felt pathetically small and reedy, caught ad dashed apart on the wind. But you heard. I could tell by that very smug grin, that half nod as you lifted your hand from broken streets to show me the people you had stolen.

They huddled and scrambled away from your quivering cock, yelling when they saw how hard you were. Some called to me, but what could I do but watch you sift their living bodies across your palm and bring them closer and closer. I couldn't help myself, I leant forwards too. Just as eager to see those people perish against your hardness.

“Inspiration.”

You grinned and brought them beneath you, so close I could see their hands reaching desperately for mine, the pleading in their eyes. Lives brought up to breathe in your musk and tickle your cock. They grew more frantic, screaming and panicking, some bracing their backs against your palm while their limbs lifted to stave off your weight. I felt, rather than heard your eager growl of pleasure, savouring the tickle of so many people, and the awful hollow crackling as you started to break them against you.

And I groaned back, the phone forgotten on the sloping curve of your leg, one hand moving downwards as I pictured breaking those masses of people against myself..

Your fingers stopped me, a single fingertip pinning my hand in place. You grinned and nodded to the phone.

“You should be writing.. when you finish, I'll make you big. Unless I finish first…”

I swiped at the finger, but you distracted me with a thunderous groan, tightening your grip so I could hear all those screams. Blood was oozing from your fingers, making frothy bubbles and slowly falling droplets. I stared as your length rose into view, your hand dragging down a slow mash of living and dying people. Your tip streaked with blood as you flayed their bodies against your manhood. Never once stopping your grinning down at me.

“If you take too long I might just decide to make myself larger instead.. find the Gherkin.. see how it feels to press through all those packed floors of people…”

I swore at you again, and you responded with a squeeze that made me shudder. Thick slippery remains of people coating your fingers, running down over your balls. I growled. My own wetness untouched, forced instead to pick up that phone and focus on the story.

The words on the bright screen swam before my eyes, the floor moving under me while you brutalised the people before me. Stroking them up and down, tearing through stringy guts and coating yourself in warm gore. The air was filled with the scent of blood and your welling cum.

I wrote. Glancing up when I thought you were distracted. Long enough to meet the eyes of some poor, miniscule woman while you thrust slowly through the clutched bodies. Her eyes wide in a scream when you tore her in half. Your other hand braced over puny structures, curling through homes like paper, folding them to so much debris in your palm.

Your looped fingers squished against your balls, moving slowly, painfully slowly. How the hell you had the restraint I'll never know.

“Waiting for me?”

I mused aloud, softly. I had no idea if you heard. I crossed my legs on my own wetness, turned back to the screen and tap, tap, tapped that keyboard, attempting to spin a tale that might get me in position to play.

Crunch..

You twisted and the screams stopped, sticky guts joining your swollen member to your bloodsoaked palm. A few hundred people crushed to death for you.

I was aware of a sudden silence, too caught up in staring at the gore soaked mess of your cock to realise I hadn't been writing. And you were staring down at me. Your eyes gleaming. It was an expression that frightened and thrilled me. I had almost forgotten my position was just as precarious as theirs. I snatched for the phone. We both knew I'd been caught staring. My hand shook and the screen blurred. I looked up just in time for the bloody, ridged wall of your fingers to swipe me. Red slicked my naked body, and yet I increased my grip on the phone, biting my tongue as you swept me aside. The world span. Lights and you and darkness whirling, making me dizzy.

Until I splattered against your cock. Splayed out, my fingers soaked in the mess that covered you, your pulse throbbing beneath me. I tasted the deaths of all those people you'd used. They hadn't been enough. Just a pretty painting to adorn your colossal figure. Your hand hovered over me, and I stared at the cruel, mangled remains. So easy for me to be little more than that..

But I grinned instead, running my minute tongue over you, clearing the tiniest stripe of blood. Tasting your skin. And I turned, coated in redness, it matting my hair and soaking my skin, I gave you the most mischievous, innocent look I could muster, spreading my arms atop your murderous cock. I swept them through the warm slop, piling it and sweeping it, moving both arms and legs to form a “snow” angel. My tiny form far from angelic in the pattern I made. I knew I had you then..

“Did you write?”

“Yes.”

“And finished it?”

I smirked and glanced down at my screen.

“I wrote something..”

You said nothing, and I turned, free at last to look out across the scape of lights and buildings, the skyscrapers sparkling temptation in the distance. My mind moved to thoughts on how they'd feel against my naked body, how the shrieking hoards of people would scream when pressed underfoot. But most of all…

“I wrote about you..”

“You said the story was couples…”

“I just need… inspiration..”

You beamed and your fingertip traced up between my legs, stroking my skin, pinning my body lightly against you. Your response was low but made me shiver in pleasure, electric tingling running through every vein and nerve. I felt you move, felt my skin creep against yours. Growing bigger.. and bigger.. crumbling the little houses beneath me, pressing my tits up over your chest.

We kissed, deeply, tongues entwined as we tasted the other.

I felt your fingers stroke a line along the curve of my body, seeking out the sopping warmth of my sex. I felt the first, screaming motes writhe in my depths while you gazed into my eyes, your voice a hungry growl that thundered over our city..

“I think I can help with that…”