The mayor stood trembling as he stared up towards the Governess. He had never seen such a beautiful sight, or such a terrifying one. The governess stood over eighty feet tall. Scarlett’s voluptuous body, all curves and perfectly placed lumps, towered over the congregation of men. The only thing in Pompeii that stood higher than her was the city’s enormous coliseum, which stood nearly twice her height. The men barely stood as high as her ankle. Even Cleopatra, at fifteen feet tall, didn’t quite come up to her knees.
From the angle he was standing at, the mayor could barely see past her immense breasts to her face. She stood still, but the ground still rumbled slightly as she shifted her weight. Her size was awe-inspiring. She was almost as tall as Cybele, though with her more voluptuous frame, Scarlett could well be the heaviest goddess in the Empire. Her ass was full and round, her hips wide. Her breasts were nearly as big as her head, huge and round, and were almost too big for her corset’s bustier. She weighed forty tons: her breasts alone weighed as much as a full-grown rhinoceros. Each. If you looked closely you could see the outline of her body slaves moving subtly through her bustier, but as huge as her breasts were, it was easy to miss them.
The mayor wasn’t looking up, though: he was too scared for that. Instead, he looked down, at her feet. Her feet were splashed with a deep red, as if she had been stomping on grapes. Bits and pieces of the “grapes” were wedged between her toes. In fact, when she was younger, she once tried stomping grapes. Scarlett soon found a field slave, who was also stomping grapes, and decided to stomp him instead. The mayor felt the goddess’ beauty overpowering. The mayor stared at her feet. Even with their immense size, and even covered in human blood and entrails, they were somehow thin, feminine, even delicate. The mayor had never been attracted to feet before, not like this. It had been years since he had felt this kind of attraction to any woman. But Scarlett was no ordinary woman. There was something about Scarlett’s body that pulled men in. Not all men, mind you, and not always. But as often as not, they found her irresistible, like a fly finds the sweet scent of a pitcher plant.
The governess was in a mix of hunger and lust. She hadn’t yet noticed her daughter Cleopatra, who was standing not that far in front of her. Cleopatra didn’t try to get her attention. Not yet. Cleo wasn’t known for self-control or maturity, but she was at least usually wise enough to leave Scarlett alone when her mother was in one of her moods. And right now, Scarlett was definitely in one of her moods. “It’s been a long journey… I’m soooo hungry…”
For the first time, the mayor’s men heard the Governess speak. Her voice was effortlessly sultry, rough yet silky in a way that somehow matched her dark, sensual appearance. She spoke slowly, seductively, and with a surprising quiet. She had rarely needed to raise her voice: when she spoke, all listened.
She rubbed her hands luxuriously against the curves of her body, up her thighs and around her hips. Reaching up into her immense brassiere, she grabbed one leather-clad slave, then another, from off her nipples. She hated to eat her last titslaves, but she had never been hungrier. She reached beneath her panties and stuck the slaves into her wet pussy, moaning vigorously as they went in and out. She wanted badly to climax, to finish the slaves crushed inside her godlike pussy. This time, however, her lust was overpowered by another sort of hunger. She pulled the slaves out, their bodies still dripping wet with her fluids. Tilting her head back, she dangled them just around her mouth. The governess wrapped her long tongue around the slaves, sensuously licking her own rich, creamy fluids from their bodies. She lowered their tiny bodies down toward her thick, wet lips. They lips were just wide enough for the two slaves to go down side by side. Slowly, she slid them down between her lips, which were opened ever so slightly. She loved the sensation of men rubbing against the inside of her lips. But she was hungry. She opened her mouth more fully, and quickly swallowed. “Mmmm…” she said with a seductive smile on her lips.
But she still had another slave. Her clitslave was still in the front of her panties, wedged tight between her labia as the slave sucked nonstop on her basketball-sized clit. Scarlett reached one hand down her panties with a mix of lust and urgency. She grabbed him forcefully, rubbing him hard against her clitoris. The slave felt Scarlett’s huge hand squeezing him, her fingers almost as long as his body. Her thick labia pressed against him. “Yes,” Scarlett moaned to herself. She rubbed harder and harder.
Scarlett had her back turned to the mayor’s men. The men knew better than to flee, not that they would have anyway. They were too transfixed to look away, let alone run away. A group of the guards were standing immediately behind the goddess. They looked up at the beautiful, towering figure.
For a normal woman to perform such a display would be degrading, debasing, humiliating. But for a goddess like her, it was different. With a goddess, even an act of self-gratification somehow made them seem all the more stunning. They weren’t common men or women. For a normal person to kill another for their own pleasure is evil, barbaric, disgusting—it goes against the natural order of things, as the priests said. But with a goddess, it was different. They were the natural order. They were, in a sense, nature, just as much as they were women. In a goddess’ most mundane movements was the implacable force of a hurricane, the impossible majesty of a sunrise, the delicate beauty of a dancing girl. And, in Scarlett’s case, the implacable desire of a lusty, wicked queen. But she wasn’t merely beautiful, or feminine, or lusty, or indulgent, or a woman. She was beauty itself, femininity itself, lust itself, indulgence itself, womanhood itself. It was because of that, as much as it was because of their immense size, that the goddesses were so powerful. The goddesses, after all, were more than merely powerful: they were power itself.
The guards weren’t pondering this at the time, however. They weren’t thinking much of anything. They merely stared at her, their eyes full of lust, utterly in awe of the goddess’ incredible beauty and power. Even from behind, they could see her right hand rubbing sensually against her labia, her left hand rubbing her huge breasts. She was the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen, and with her exaggerated hourglass figure, she was certainly the most womanly. Her long legs were as thick as redwoods, yet were still beautiful and feminine, and somehow at once delicate and devastatingly powerful. Her perfect, round ass was over 25 feet across, bigger than most houses and as heavy as a boulder. Her ass was uncovered, save for a pair of revealing panties. They were made from a delicate black fabric that contrasted with her mostly red corset.
Scarlett moaned again, louder, and her legs began to quiver with excitement. Then, abruptly, she fell back, with a clumsy yet feminine motion. She was going to fall on top of a group of guards, crushing them. The guards may have had enough time to get away, but most of them just stood there, staring, open-mouthed. Eight guards were below her, another few just to her sides. One of them said ‘yes,’ faintly, right before she fell on them. Then her immense ass hit the ground, shaking the earth and sending faint ripples through the fat of her womanly ass. Blood sprayed on impact, than slowly ran from under her body. But Scarlett paid all of this little heed. She barely noticed herself falling, and the feeling of men crushed under her was just one of many pleasant sensations. Even as she fell, she never stopped rubbing the slave against her pussy.
The slave felt some of his ribs crack, but with the rush of endorphins there was little real pain. He felt an incredible ecstasy, as Scarlett’s powerful hands rubbed him hard against the outer wall of her vagina. She was sitting on the ground now, legs open, using the slave’s body for her pleasure. His entire existence was devoted to pleasing her. ‘Use me,’ he thought to himself, as Scarlett pressed harder and faster. He felt his shoulders dislocate, but it didn’t matter. His body vibrated as she moaned again, louder this time. ‘Crush my pitiful body! My life is yours to destroy, goddess! Crush me against your beautiful, powerful pussy!’
She did. Scarlett came, letting out a series of long, powerful moans as her back arched. Her head craned back. With her left hand, Scarlett grabbed her huge left breast as hard as she could, squeezing and kneading it. With her right, she pressed uncontrollably against her labia. To the slave, the palm of Scarlett’s immense hand was as huge and solid as a brick wall. As she pressed harder and harder, the pressure built up more and more. The slave felt his bones breaking, his head being crushed between her head and her huge clitoris. Her clit was soft, and gave way, but only so much. Scarlett’s head quickly jolted back as she roared again. With Scarlett’s loud, ecstatic moans, you could barely hear the slave’s muffled screaming, “Crush me as you come Scarle—“ before his internal organs were crushed and his skull was smashed like a watermelon.* The crunch, however, was more than audible. A trickle of dark blood ran down her panties, but was difficult to see against the black fabric. A look of satisfaction, then relief, showed on her face.
Now that her urge was satisfied for now, Scarlett’s mind turned back to her other hunger. Her right hand was still down her panties. She took the body of the slave, still warm, crushed beyond recognition within the intact leather bodysuit, covered in his blood and her body’s fluids. Without giving it a thought, she unceremoniously tossed the slave into her mouth, and swallowed. She then looked over to her side. Two of the mayor’s men were running away, both nearly out of her reach. With a quick, brutal motion, she effortlessly grabbed them both, stuffed them in her mouth, and greedily swallowed. The rest of the mayor’s men now stood among a scattered crowd of onlookers that had gathered tentatively around the courtyard. All of them simply stared at Scarlett, stunned.
For now, Scarlett was almost satisfied. Almost. She slowly remembered her mission, and looked around, taking note of the world around her. After a minute, the governess looked down and saw Bast, then Cleopatra. Her beautiful daughter looked up at her, a look of humility on her thin, delicate face. Cleopatra had been slowly growing ever since her small binge earlier that day. 20 years old, she had grown to be almost 21 feet tall. Cleo wasn’t shocked by her mother's obscene displays: she had seen her mother perform similar acts many, many times before. In fact, she kind of enjoyed it.
In some ways, Cleo was deeply immature. She had lead a sheltered, privileged life, and had little interest in learning to function like a mature adult. In other ways, however, she was extremely worldly. As Scarlett’s daughter, she had seen heard about her mother performing so many twisted, violent sexual acts that it all seemed completely normal. Beyond eating the odd slave, however, Cleopatra hadn’t yet indulged in all that much herself. But she was getting older. It was only so long until her mother declared her a goddess, and only so long before she got to try the Red Spice...
"Mom!"
“My poor little daughter, you’re wasting away! You never should have run away from me! You’re half-starved!”
In fact, Cleo still looked quite healthy. While her hips were narrow and her waist was thin, she still had full, round breasts. She wore a tight black corset that matched her black hair and stood in contrast to her vanilla skin. Scarlett, however, was used to seeing Cleo looking much fuller. The governess leaned towards her daughter, stretched out her hand, and began to stroke her daughter’s upper body. Her daughter giggled. Scarlett looked at the guard who was still wedged in Cleo’s bustier. The guard’s upper body was wedged between Cleo’s breasts, while his legs hung out from the bottom of Cleo’s bustier, hanging in front of the waist of her corset. His feet hung just past her navel.
Oh, I see you found a snack? These commoners are dirty. Only the finest foodslaves are good enough for my precious little daughter. I hate to see you so thin, but I can feed you soon enough. ” Even talking to her daughter, Scarlett’s deep, feminine voice was rich, and almost sultry.
“Nope! This one’s my friend, I’m going to keep him forever!” Cleo playfully licked the guard who was wedged between her breasts. Her voice was higher, more youthful, standing in sharp contrast to her mature, womanly body.
Bast looked up to the Governess.
“Your grace and beauty, I received a letter from Cybelle herself. She offers her full hospitality. The entire city and its men are yours. You can use them for whatever you please.”
“Good. I’m still hungry. And my daughter needs to eat...”