You got him good!
Can I have your autograph!
How tall are you?
All these questions after every match. I get that they want to know these things, but I'm tired of answering them. So, I've just learned to ignore them. I know it disappoints some people, but whatever, I'm not doing this for them. I'm not doing it for the money either, I'm doing it for the thrill.
That sick perverse thrill of crushing someone's skull with your body. There's nothing like it. The warm, sticky blood of that poor boy whose life I just ended is still on my foot, and I can feel it stick to the metal with every step. It's a nice feeling. Like stepping in a bowl of warm spaghetti, or a bunch of pudding. It probably didn't taste as good as either one though.
Could you step on me sometime?
Take off your top!
What did that guy ever do to-
I could probably figure out what the rest of that guy's question was, but I didn't hear it. At that moment I stepped past the curtains, and was in the small, cramped, backstage area. Announcer-Girl was there, chewing her gum as always, while a couple of janitorial workers scurried past me. They were probably going to clean up what was left of that boy, and always asked afterwards if I wanted any souvenirs, the sick fucks.
Hey Ann, over here!
Just who I was looking for! Camera-Guy!
Hey! I say trying to keep the tone casual. I feel bad for not knowing his name even though he addressed me by mine. Did you get all that? I ask, feeling a giddiness bubble up inside of me. He's got a little station set up with four small monitors, and the images of the janitors cleaning up were sharp and crisp.
You know it! I've gotta say, you did a great job out there! He says, with extra emphasis on the great.
Great. Every time. I love Camera-Guy for what he does, but he's got a bit of a crush on me, and does an awfully poor job of hiding it. I've had to turn him down every time, but he still seems to think he'll have a chance. If not for his excellent work I'd consider trying to get him in the ring with me sometime.
Thanks. You don't think my ass looked too big, do you? I asked. I was only humoring him, wanting to speed this process along so I can get back home myself. Of course my ass didn't look too big. My ass is perfect.
Maybe a little. He says in a tone I'm sure he thinks is teasing. It's not. But sure thing, they're all already saved onto the ol' hard drive, so you can keep the masters. he says, ejecting a VHS from his working station.
Cool. I've gotta get goin' now, so I'll uh. I'll see you later. I tell him, walking away the entire time. I don't want to talk to him anymore. He annoys me. I think he said something to me as I walked away, but I didn't catch it. I needed to take a shower, and get cleaned up before I go home.
There was no one else backstage. Good. That means I can use all the hot water for myself! Doing a quick double check, I silently stash the tape into my gym bag, and head over to the shower. Those hot streams always feel nice, and I love to watch the water pooling around my feet turn red as I'm cleaned.
It's not often I get a victim that good. He was perfect. Small, blonde, pale, and male. Could there have been a bigger contrast between opponents? I'm going to need to give Ticket-Girl a pat on the back for that choice. He also seemed healthy, despite his size, and that made breaking him so much more satisfying!
Now he was gone, like so many before him. Like so many would probably go after him, but most would probably pale in comparison. Killing someone big, and powerful was satisfying sure, but I just couldn't toy with them like I had that boy. He was everything I ever wished for, and in a sick, twisted way, I wish I hadn't killed him.
'Cause then I'd get to experience it all over again. The very beginning where I played along, letting him think it was all a set up. Punting him in the ribs, and feeling them break against my foot. His cute squeals of pain. God it was so perfect! I needed to relive it!
At least I have the tapes.
Speaking of which, I feel like I'm clean enough. I've got a date with my VCR and I wouldn't miss it for the world. After making sure to check the bottom of my feet for any loose clumps of hair, I'm ready to get out of the shower. The last of that red-tinged water goes down the drain, and it feels almost symbolic to me. Hell if I know what it means though.
I love how quiet this room gets after everyone's left. It allows me the perfect amount of privacy to dry off and get dressed. I love my outfit just as much as the crowd does, but I tried to leave while still wearing it once. It didn't turn out well, and turned me off of the idea forever.
Making sure the tape is still safely tucked away in my bag, I finally feel ready to leave. Other people were still cleaning up the main room, and it looked like the boy's body was missing now. No matter, they just weren't quite as beautiful dead as they were crippled and beyond helpless.
Opening those heavy blast doors, I step outside, and am thrust back into regular civilization. No longer was I Ann, the giant murderous masked wrestler. I was Ann, the exceptionally tall girl-next-door. The college student. The telemarketer. It's not a long walk home, but when you've got a tape that's begging to be watched it feels like a hundred miles.
Giantess World
