When I was a little girl, I used to love stomping on ants.  It was funny.  There they are, minding their own business, dragging a piece of popcorn back to their farm, like it was going to fit through the tiny hole on the top, when SLAM!  Dead, squished.  Haha.  

It was better with people.  As I approached the Stratosphere, I couldn't believe how many people were still in town.  They knew about me the second I left that lake.  I'm guessing it was the little fucker I let go.  Maybe it was a dumb idea at the time, but the look on his face was priceless.  And I won't lie, in the past hour, I've giggled to myself more than a couple of times knowing he's stuck with that image and sound in his head for the rest of his pathetic life.  

The Stratosphere towered above me.  I wondered what it would be like to be that tall, eventually deciding I was glad to be 200 feet - it's much more intimate.  I looked down to see a cliche - a news van screaming around a corner, slamming on their breaks, and then unloading a news anchor and her cameraman.  I admired her courage and stomped her partner.  Splat!  Haha.  I admired her courage even more when she picked up his camera and continued shooting/narrating.  I picked her up and placed her on top of the hotel part of the tower.  Have a bird's-eye view sweetie, this is going to be amazing.  Besides, this time around, I want everyone to see.  

I turned back around, looking south across the strip.  I counted maybe twenty people in the vicinity.  What the fuck were they thinking?  The reports are out, I have eaten like twenty people.  My gurgling stomach can testify.  I have stepped on like fifty, as evident from my blood-soaked soles. A priest of some sort, or just an idiot in robes was standing in the middle of Las Vegas Blvd, his arms raised and chanting.  I kicked the annoying little fuck and most of him landed in the Bellagio fountain.

Gazing back down there was a group of frat guys laughing and egging each other on.  I got down on my knees in front of them.  "Come on dude!  Go get her man, she's all yours, she WANTS you, haha!"  They shoved the youngest of the group forward.  "Sup, baby?"  This was just beyond bizarre.  Eating this asshole wasn't cruel enough.  I stood back up and kept walking down the strip, ignoring the college boys.  

Something little men should know about a giantess.  Or at least this one.  You don't turn me on.  You are pathetic ants.  Don't get any big ideas about me shoving you up my pussy, or rubbing you back and forth against my clit.  I don't do shit that turns YOU on.  I would get nothing from it, so it's not happening.  And no, you're not going up my ass either, that shit doesn't feel good, the whole fantasy is all in your head.  Basically, when I see you, I have three choices: kill you immediately, kill you slowly and painfully, or ignore you.  There are billions of people, and I'm not going to waste my time on all of them.  Those four idiots wanted me to do something to them.  I don't do what you want me to.  I'm a fucking goddess.  I do what I want, and I don't think you'd ever like it when I do it to you.  So just a word of advice to all you morons out there who think you'll gain my favor.  You won't, if you're lucky, you won't even be worth killing.  If you're unlucky, you won't have time to react to my toe squishing you into the ground.  If you're more unlucky, it's down the trap for some suffocation and skin-melting fun.  

Speaking of, guy in a suit is trying to sneak away from his parked car.  I hate guys in suits.  I hope people understand what the suit is.  When a guy wanted me to whip his ass with a cat-o-nine, or walk on his face, crap down his throat, any of that submissive shit, it was a guy in a suit.  "I am dominant all day, sometimes I want a change of pace," they'll justify.  No, toolbox, it's not the guy I see that's the mask.  You're this submissive bitch all the time.  It's the suit that's the disguise.  It's the way you behave 95% of the time that's the act.  For whatever reason, they always expect me to dangle them in front of my face, talk to them, coo them.  Nope, off the ground, flying through the air at insane speeds straight into my mouth, and typically right down my throat.  On to the next.  It all happens so fast, and it's so unlike anything you've ever experienced that I doubt most of them know what's really happening until they are sitting there in my tummy wondering what's next.  What's next?  Haha, what the fuck do you think is next?  Game over loser, haha.  No different for this guy, I only chew for the benefit of those watching, and no one seemed to care that I was eating this particular guy.  He mattered to me for only the three seconds between when I first saw him, and when I swallowed him alive.  See?  Told you, a submissive little bitch.  

I continue to meander down the street, ensuring anyone dumb enough to approach me is dealt with.  I haven't decided if I like squishing with the ball of my foot, or my toe.  The ball stomp is more powerful and abrupt.  Splat, dead.  The toe squish is a little more demeaning though.  Instead of my weight coming down on you, it's my muscles pushing down, and it always results in a little more time for a reaction.  "AAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!" Squish.  "NNOOOOOooooo!" Splat.  HEEEEELLLLLllll..." Crunch.  Yeah, definitely the toe squish, if I've got the time.  I'm into this for the brief moment when you get that I'm about to destroy you.  For that instance when you swing from a person with hopes and dreams, friends and family, and plans for the weekend to not being around for the weekend.  Just a nasty smear against the pavement.  Haha.  And since I'm not hunting anyone specific, yet, the entire reason you're that smear in front of your work is because you were late today.  You usually start at 9:00, but your kids didn't like the eggs you made, so you had to fire up some waffles instead, and you didn't make it to the parking lot until 9:17.  And you didn't make it to the sidewalk in front of your building until 9:23.  And then I saw you and stepped on you.  Haha.  Adds greater meaning to the phrase: "wrong place, wrong time."  My tummy is full of wrong place, wrong time.  Haha.  Your wife and kids are cashing your policy in, and in a couple of months, some new guy will be screwing her and your kids may even call him daddy, simply because you were there, and I felt like it.  Smush.  Smear.  Oops.  

Finally it seems like the national guard has gotten most of the city evacuated.  As I reach the end of the strip, I see the line in the sand.  How cute, the little army has set up sandbags and partitions.  Are they for me???  In typical military style, they shoot first.  As soon as the last rescue choppers lifted off the ground, the barrage began.  Cannons I guess.  I felt nothing.  I continued to stand there about a football field away from their little barrier, hands on my hips, scowl draped across my pretty face, waiting.  The next attack was missiles.  I counted twelve vapor trails streaking towards me.  BOOM!   When the dust settled, nothing had changed aside from the crater I was standing in.  They've had their fun, now it's my turn.  

I crouched and pounced, covering the distance between me and the troops within mili-seconds.  First I reached down and picked up the tank, lifting it over my head in one hand, pivoting and throwing it to the ground on top of about ten little soldiers.  It landed with a low thud, and bounced on its axis a couple of times, taking out a couple more uniformed losers.  No time to admire my handiwork though as there were still a few dozen little lives to extinguish.  As I started stomping them to death, one of the tiny condemned pulled out a sword and stuck it into my foot.  It actually hurt and I lifted my foot off the ground in pain.  To my surprise, he didn't let go and came up with my foot.  I wrapped my hand around him, viciously ripping him and his sword out of me, and chucked him as far as I could.  He may have landed in Henderson, but I was too busy to admire the toss.  Again and again I mashed them into non-existence, stepping on and kicking them as quickly as I saw them.  When they were all but gone, I moved for their leaders.   The stripes on their arms may as well have been suits.  Cowards hanging back as their force was slaughtered.  As I approached the general, or corporal, or whoever the guy in charge was, he pulled out a bullhorn.  No BS.  "You have declared war on the US government.  We have no choice but to respond accordingly.  What have you to say for yourself?"  

He obviously hasn't been paying attention if he thinks I'll address him.  I get down onto my knees, and then onto all fours, bringing my face close to him.  I open my mouth, several times his height, allowing him to feel my warm, humid breath.  One of his inferiors turned to run so I figured I'd help him, flicking the tiny speck with such force he tore in two, both pieces of his body spinning off sending showers of blood, like pinwheels with sparklers raining sparks into the sky.  I say THAT for myself, haha!  Quickly I turned back to the remaining officers and clamped my jaws around one of them, ripping him off the ground and tilting my head back to send him into my throat.  I swallowed him and looked back at the general, smiling as I did so.  "You cannot hope to defeat the might of the United States Armed Forces, you MUST stand down!"  He blasted through his bullhorn.  I stood up to my full height, placing a foot on each side of him, and crouched.  I hope he enjoyed the view staring up between my legs, my pussy hovering a couple dozen feet over his head.  

As I turned to leave the scene, most of my little toys already played with, I couldn't help but laugh at the sound the little man made as he drowned in my piss.  So nasty!  For shits and giggles, I walked over to The Hotel and planted a hand on each side of the tower.  With all my might, I pushed, and it broke in two about twenty floors up, the top half falling to the parking lot below with a tremendous groan and crash.

I made sure to grab my little reporter on my way back north, tossing her, camera and all, into my mouth.  It was tricky swallowing her without the camera, but I pulled it off, taking the camera back out of my mouth and placing it back in the tiny news van before finally leaving the strip, headed for the next destination of my plan.  I know about a hundred guys that would kill for that footage.  Maybe more appropriately I know at least that many who would die to have been her.  A couple dozen so far, HAVE died like her.  Haha.  Can't imagine how much that would suck.  The couple moments of pleasure at the thought of being dominated so completely by me couldn't possibly be worth the next minute or so.  The volunteers were all just short-sighted idiots.