The water had been getting cold and so Laura had stepped out. She sat by the water with some crumbled building beneath her arse and let the sun dry her. A towel would have been nice to have, but she didn't, a thing she had not considered before slipping into the water. But while the sun was shining, it wasn't so bad.

Her breaths were deep and relaxed and she meditated for a while. It would take her little minions some time to clean the city and she was going to give it to them. If she'd not entirely destroy the city in the end, she didn't know yet. For know, it was good to have them work for her just like an immensely larger Lauraville.

She meant to have her teeth cleaned, her nails and hair cut and her pussy satisfied a few more times before the cities fate was to be decided. If they pleased her well, who knew, maybe Laura would be in a gentle mood. Sure enough, she'd take a few people with her to eat on her way home.

She wondered what Janna was doing, hoping that she wasn't worried sick for her. A part of her wished that Janna could see her know as well, with enough food, after taking a pleasurable bath, in a big city she had turned into her personal spa. And all that on her own, without Janna's help. Some time spent alone was good for their relationship, Laura reasoned, and a change of scenery as well. They had been sitting on top of each other too long in that constricting spaceship.

She must have dozed off at some point because when she opened her eyes again she found herself in dire need of a bowel movement. What she had eaten wanted out, or else it was pushing out what she had eaten before. Janna, the biologist, would be able to tell for sure. The idea of taking a dump on someone's home and laugh at their faces afterwards crossed her mind, but she didn't want to walk around a city full of filth.

So, she got up and out the city with a few steps. The land stretched far and was littered with tiny farms with little tiny fields and pastures next to them. When she had first come, she had only had eyes for the city she meant to destroy. The quick, small stream outside the city was the one she intended to use as a water supply for herself. It would be cleaner than the large Bodir, was her reasoning, but she needed water to clean herself too. So, she went along the bank of the Bodir until she had covered a comfortable distance, squatted down and did her dirty business in a little whole she dug with her hands.

“Come out!” She commanded with a laugh, standing over one of the farms she had decided to play with on her way back.

She was hoping that there would be anyone in there at all. No people or farm animals were in evidence, but she thought to have heard at least a frightened cow inside.

Her dainty toes played with the wood and straw roof until part of it collapsed and the farmer's family, too intent on not leaving their land and life behind before, came running out. The slowest and smallest of the five, Laura squashed beneath her big toe before lazily stepping into the path of the others with her other foot.

“Look what I'm doing to your home!” She laughed and put her foot down on it.

It was a large longhouse, for it was living space and stable both, and so only half of it was buried under her foot. Laughing some more, she trampled the rest of it flat along with the animals inside. The farmers looked on in horror as their home, possessions and livelihood perished in seconds.

“Run.” Laura whispered to them from above. “If you reach the city before me, I let you live!”

They didn't even make it to the next farm before Laura had killed all of them, grabbing them one by one with her bare toes and playfully squishing them in between. The last one, a female, she brought to a fall, pushed her two big toes on top of her and pulled her in half while crushing her flat at the same time.

Full of glee she noted that some fled city folk had seemed to have taken refuge in a few other farms. The peasants wore earthen colours by necessity, their work was a dirty one. The city folk by enlarge could afford to wear lighter colours and finer clothing as well. For the Thorwalsh that meant lots of their typical sailcloth pants with longitudinal stripes, fur-lined leather vests, cloaks, tunics and robes, linen shirts and even helmets and armour in one or two cases.

“You are so stupid!” She taunted them as she marched naked over the land, crushing people under her feet. “Did you think this was far enough to escape me?!”

Her nether region tingled with new excitement as people popped, burst and crumbled under her weight. Strong, proud, Viking-ish people, crushed to nothing under the soft, bare soles of a mere college girl. Laura remembered the conversation she had with Bera and Arva and also the tirade of the darker-skinned girl she had ended up eating after she annoyed her. Perhaps they did deserve a little of what she did to them. Not the farmers she squished though, and least of all the little ones.

After killing a few dozen people, she started herding the rest of them over a few more farms and towards the east gate of the city. It was tiresome work but not lacking in entertainment, she found. They were headless, but could be guided if she placed her feet right, like a herd of bugs. There were those who would not let themselves be guided though, perhaps because they were too stupid to understand or thought themselves brave or especially smart, and Laura had her toes make short work of them.

All in all, less than half a hundred arrived at the city.

She had pushed the east gate down with her foot before and it provided an obstacle that fit surprisingly well into the wall. It had basically been a tower-like structure over a gap in the dike and palisade that allowed people to go through while holding the earth aside and allowing for an extra story of fighters to be on top of it and rain down arrows and stones and what not in case of an attack. That it didn't have gates spoke of the confidence the Thorwalsh had in their fighting ability. Perhaps they thought that if they could close the gap with a tight formation they'd be able to kill more enemies, and perhaps they were right, or else they simply didn't think it likely that Thorwal would be attacked from land any time soon.

Right now, the rubble was in the way of getting the people Laura had herded together back into the city but she didn't want to destroy the obstacle and create a way out in turn. She drummed her fingers on her chin, thinking. It was a little imperfect because the rubble might allow climbers with enough capability and time to get down and away. No matter how much power Arva and Bera might hold, some people might think themselves their dearest and try to make an escape anyway.

Already the small crowd before her was drizzling away in all directions along the walls. Sighing, Laura crouched and plucked them up with her fingers, putting them back in front of the gate, one after the other. One tasty looking lad went into her mouth and down her gullet and the next one followed soon after. And then she was eating again, hopping after her tiny morsels before gathering them up and devouring them. It was horrible for them, as evident by their screaming, but Laura thought it was quite funny. When she was relaxed, everything seemed to be better, even, or especially, hunting for her food.

Maybe she could go out and hunt a while for the others who had gotten away. What she had eaten and crushed just now had just been a small portion of them for sure. She wondered where they were. Villages nearby, especially along the coastline seemed a likely option, but the smartest ones would run and run and run all the way to the other end of the world.

Then, there were also those still at sea to consider. They would go away and land somewhere else, when water or food would be running low, or maybe they'd see their fellow Thorwalsh cleaning up the city under her rule and decide to come back. She might be able to lure them back too, if she sent out the one ship she still had floating in the winter-harbour.

The tiny people had made good progress on the corpses, she saw. It had a gruesome touch of the old Nazi-documentaries Laura had seen in history class, the way they hauled the dead onto wagons and carts and drove them away towards the sea.

'Am I this bad?' An uncomfortable feeling spread in her stomach region.

She did not want to think about it and banished the thought. It had the potential to ruin everything. Still, a stale trace of the bitter taste remained.

Sighing, she stepped back into the city, careful not to tread on anyone alive. The main streets weren't narrow at all, so wide in fact, that she could just place her feet next to each other on them, even more in some places. She wanted to go where no people were for once, so she turned right to the hetman's families' compound next to the winter-harbour she had utterly destroyed.

She was going to call for Arva and Bera from there and have them assemble a group of people to go to work on her body. In the spaceship, cutting finger- and toenails was done with a pair of scissors from Janna's science equipment to dissect stuff. The hair between her legs and armpits Laura had had removed by her villagers once before. But now, she had neither of those things and both areas were in need of tending to again.

But to her surprise, she found both Bera and Arva in the smashed stockade after she arrived. Next to all the rubble, she had almost overlooked and sat down on them. Their faces were in remarkably bad shapes, which was to say that Arva had cried and Bera looked as dark and gloomy as a graveyard.

“What's the matter?” It broke out of Laura before she could think.

Of course. They were the daughters and nieces of hetwomen as they had told her, though Laura couldn't remember the names of whom exactly.

“You killed a lot of our family.” Bera explained with little words.

'Yes, but that was when I didn't know you yet.' Laura's mind was going into defence.

She felt bad though, and couldn't help it for a moment, before she remembered the arguments she had used to convince them earlier.

'Imagine how many families of poor fuckers you have snuffed out, you raiding hypocrites.'

“Well, now you know what that feels like.” She offered. “I bet you don't feel so much like raiding any more, do you?”

“They were utterly defenceless against you!” Arva screamed with a broken voice, her tiny fists balled in helpless rage.

“Most likely just like the inhabitants of any village you assault. Come on now, don't be stupid.”

“Two wrongs don't make a right!” Arva spat against her, unwilling to submit to reason.

'Oh yeah, like I haven't heard that one before.'

“Bla, bla, bla.” Laura mouthed annoyed. “Tell you what, the day you guys stop raiding, I'll stop killing people.”

Hell would freeze over before Thorwal would stop fighting, that much she had learned.

Bera placed a hand on her sister's shoulder and brought her to silence: “What do you want?”

No 'what do you wish' or 'what can we do for you', or 'how may we be of service'. The tone was rougher now, but that was a game two could play and Laura was sitting at the decidedly longer lever.

“I want my nails cut.” She replied briskly. “Make it happen. Afterwards I want my hair trimmed.”

Laura made to sit down in spite of their presence forcing them to flee from her naked butt. Some wooden beams and boards cracked and crushed beneath her.

“Might...” Bera began, a little out of breath from the sudden run. “Might we do this somewhere else? You are sitting on...there are still some of our...”

“I don't care.” Laura interrupted her. “You better be quick or I'll crush someone not dead yet.”

The common people inside the walls seemed to have changed somewhat, she noted with suspicion. They were still fearful and uncomfortable in her presence but not so headless as once and as the ones Laura had just eaten had been. Pedicure was the first order of business.

Arva and Bera seemed to have decided to stay away from her for now, but organized fifteen people who seemed adequate enough for the job. They all looked like seasoned craftsmen and women and some even wore leather aprons or had tools hanging from their belts.

“You are to cut the nails on my fingers first.” Laura informed them. “I want them short, smooth and even. What are your professions?”

They exchanged a few uneasy glances before one after the other gave answer.

“Carpenter! Smith! Butcher! Barber! Stonemason! Barber! Smith! Woodcarver! Bonecarver! Stonemason! Carpenter!” And so forth.

'Smart.' Laura thought, Arva and Bera had a real hand for this.

Given the size and thickness of her nails to them, these professions seemed most appropriate, plus she highly doubted to able to find any actual pedicurists here. She put her hands down and spread her fingers to let them go to work.

“Hey you, butchers.” Laura grinned from above. “If you cut my skin or hurt me, I'll pull your little heads off. That goes for any of you.”

Of course, they knew that already. Their tiny discussion could only be described as cute, as the little craftsmen discussed how best to service her. Her nails weren't overly long or anything, just a little longer than she liked to wear them, neatly trimmed down. She had never been one for fancy, long nails. She found them gross and impractical.

“Hack it off with an axe, then do the fine work with hammer and chisel.” One bearded, grumbling man suggested.

“Too uneven.” A tall, young woman remarked. “We should get a really sharp knife and try that.”

“Cut this with a knife?” Another man knocked onto Laura's nail with a knuckle. “Are you mad?”

“Oh, you haven't seen my knives, fool.”

“Why don't we try both, see what works best?”

“I don't think there's much room for error here, though.”

“We could carve it off, layer by layer, that should give us the finest result!”

“Yah, if you want to sit here until tomorrow.”

“My nails aren't too hard for you, are they?” Laura asked amused.

A bolder man stepped forth, rubbed his hands over the material and leaned on the end of her nail, trying how flexible it was. Laura could barely feel anything and didn't know if he could either.

“We've never cut nails like these before.” He responded in the plumb, practical tone of a handyman. “But it should be doable. I say we go with a bone-saw first and work with finer tools after, make it nice and smooth, just like she wants.”

That seemed to convince them well enough. The saw tickled a little but their tiny hands and close proximity to their work did a finer job than Laura ever could with Janna's scissors. She was well pleased. Her toenails proved a little harder but they got the job done just as well. Then it was to her pubes.

The barbers proved most adapt at this task of course, but with Laura's snatch longer than they were tall, they faced the problem of getting high enough to their work. She offered to lift them onto her abdomen but they decided to go with ladders, stacked chests and wooden beams instead. It was getting really intimate, even a little uncomfortable, if truth be told. The tiny people were faced with the largest vagina and butt-hole they ever saw and Laura had a group of complete strangers crawl all over her private parts, and not for sex.

They cut hair for hair, holding the balance between doing a clean job and not injuring her, with the sharp knives of the barbers. It took a while, but they did a better job than Laura could ever hope to do herself. When she had gotten used to the feeling a little, her pussy tingled again. These tiny, helpless worms were doing this obviously uncomfortable thing to her, forced to service her without choice.

When they were done, a female hair-cutter admired her handiwork for just a little too long, forgetting what exactly she was looking at. Laura's fingers caught her from behind and pushed her forward, face first into her folds. That reminded her well enough.

“Do you like it?” Laura asked teasingly while the woman gurgled, protested and fought.

The others looked on, helpless. Laura leaned back and pushed the woman into her vagina, relishing her struggles.

“My womanhood likes to eat people like you.” She told the onlookers.

She had her way with that poor woman for a while, fingering herself in front of her helpless servants.

“You are...a beautiful...woman!” One tiny handyman managed to say, visibly struggling with it.

“Oh, do you want to join in, little man?” Laura spread herself open with her fingers, revealing her wet pinkness to him.

The little woman wriggled and struggled until she came tumbling out, wheezing and coughing. If the little man was offering to please her, why not, Laura thought. Who knew, perhaps he'd do a better job than she could herself at this task as well. Maybe she'd get her dildo from the winter-harbour and show him what sort of cock she needed too.

“Er, I'd rather not.” He waved off. “But I think there is something beautiful we might do about your hair.”

“My hair?” She asked intrigued. “What, the hair on my head?”

“Yes.” He nodded, pulling his own long hair behind an ear with a hand.

Many Thorwalsh men liked to wear their hair long. It was another thing that set them apart from the other peoples Laura had seen. She wore her own hair in a simple ponytail, bound by an increasingly worn-out hairband.

“I'm thinking to shorten your braid a little and make other, smaller ones to go with it, like the ones I have.” He suggested into the blue and raised a blond braid of hair on his temple.

Laura leaned in close to be able to see. He looked handsome with his blond beard that stopped on length with his hair just above his Adam's apple and his nordic, icy blue eyes and he seemed to be a man who took good care of his appearance. His braids were held in place by little metal rings or clips, it seemed.

“How do you mean to fix them?” Laura asked, playing with a strand of her own hair.

She was excited to try this thing, her head-hair was in need of a shortening for sure, but she had to make sure that they were capable of this.

“We'll use ropes for now.” He suggested after a look that proved that he was not unafraid of the idea he had put into her head. “Perhaps in time we could cast-forge bronze or copper rings with fitting ornamentations to match your beauty?”

That had Laura hooked even more and she would not let herself be put off by the helpless glance he shot at one who was presumably a smith.

“I agree.” She decided, trying to hide her excitement. “But I don't have to tell you what happens if you botch this.”

“Oh, if I botch this I'll kill myself gladly.” He replied meekly, tiny and forlorn. “I couldn't bare to go on living.”

Laura giggled amused: “You're a talker. Let's see what you can do.”

She shifted away from them and laid down so that the back of her head was on on the ground. The destroyed home of Arva and Bera's family was just large enough for her to do so. She removed her hairband and pulled her hair out so that they might work on it too. This was even better than she had imagined. With her ears so close to them, she could hear their every word.

“Barbers, a test of your skill.” The tiny man announced softly and Laura was sure she could hear a cynic chuckle.

“Hammar Ingvarson, you'll be the death of us all.” A woman whispered enraged.

“Perhaps you should get that off you before you get it into her hair.” Hammar replied with a laugh. “And no need to thank me for saving you.”

“Perhaps I should cut off your manhood and shove it into your mouth.” The woman spat, walking away.

“They're like ropes all on their own, almost.” Someone said, holding a strand of Laura's hair in their hands. “Perhaps a few together would make fine rigging.”

“Come on now, they're not that thick.” Someone else replied. “They're more like a sturdy thread.”

“And smooth as silk and shiny as velvet.” Hammar concluded suggestively, probably knowing that Laura could hear.

She giggled again.

“We'll need a trestle or a gantry to get up there.”

“Then we shall make one. Don't use ladders. If she moves her head you might fall off.”

“Oh, I need to get the hair beneath my arms cut too.” Laura remembered. “If two of you with tools could walk up to my hand.”

They did, and Laura placed them one on each of her soft, naked breasts before lifting her arms to let them go to work on her. She remembered that it tickled, but she was relaxed and willing to follow through with it.

“She likes to remove her hair like those southern girls.” Someone took note. “Perhaps she might prefer a southern style as well?”

“And you know how to make one?” Someone else replied in turn. “She has a slight wave, but those southern bitches like their hair far more curlier than that, how do we do that?”

“Bugger off, the both of you, we're doing what Hammar said.” The grumbling man's voice threw in. “I'll see if I can't find some ropemakers, they might help us with the bloody braids.”

Laura was gleaming inside. It was funny, exciting and refreshing all at once, and it didn't even involve killing anyone. They built some kind of scaffolding around her head while the barbers debated were best to cut to reduce the length of her hair without making it too short or look scruffy. It was easy to take the Thorwalsh for uncivilised barbarians, just as the Vikings, or better the peoples they descended from, had been seen by the Romans. They were not uncivilised at all, but their culture seemed somewhat unique and peculiar and they probably lacked some niceties other peoples had.

“Pull!”

“Uraah!”

“Good, now that strand!”

They pulled on her hair but were far too weak to ever hurt her. To start the braiding high up on her head the group of people had to work together and audibly expend themselves.

“Twist! No, that way! Good! We're getting somewhere!”

Her armpits were finished and the tiny workers climbed over to in between Laura's breasts. Instead of letting them down however, she entertained herself by grabbing each of them in one hand and massaging them into her boobs, rubbing their tiny, struggling forms onto her nipples. She felt fresher, cleaner already. Making the deal had been a good idea and she couldn't wait to see how her new hairstyle would turn out.

“Hold! Hold fast! How do we fix the bloody thing?!”

“Rope is too crude and thick for this, try the leather.”

Laura released her toys and put them down on the ground before it was done. She didn't want to end up killing them. When they told her to rise and inspect herself she was as giddy as a schoolgirl, but also slightly worried that they had messed her up. What would Janna say if she came back to her looking like some scarecrow? She'd laugh and make fun of her, when all that Laura wanted was to be beautiful.

The tiny people's reaction was a little suspect, as though they had to try hard to find something positive about their work, but when Laura stood up and went over to the winter-harbour to take a look at her reflection in the water she was more than pleased. With the canal blocked, the water did not stir any more, and so she could see herself as good as she could hope to do in lack of a mirror. Oh how much she wanted a mirror and maybe a proper hairbrush. How great the weight of these little, mundane, every-day things was when she didn't have them.

As it turned out, the little craftsmen had just been a little perfectionist, for obvious reasons. One of the braids they had framed her face with, was a little unsymmetrical but that was the worst of it already. The ends of her new braids they had fixed with immensely thick strings of leather, probably cowhide or something, that they had tightly bound and braided together to make a long one. Crafted by such fine, tiny hands, the bindings looked like unfathomably expensive accessoires to her giant eye. They had un-knotted and disentangled her hair quite well too. Laura wondered why she had not made any tiny people do this for her earlier. She could make them do anything she wanted, if it was within their power.

She was back over her servants with a few bouncing steps and they looked up to her, tremblingly awaiting her judgement.

“Well...” She began as cold and uncaring, frowning and disapproving as she could.

Their faces slipped in horror, all except for tiny Hammar Ingvarson's.

“It's perfect!” She exclaimed with a grateful laugh. “I love it! Oh, let me take another look!”

She went back to the lake and looked at her reflection again before she held her hair up behind her head and tried her new style combined with the hairband she had put on her wrist in the meantime. It looked a little Indian that way, but not in a way she didn't approve of either.

“Oh, you people are artisans!” She said when she was back in front of them, kneeling so that they would not have to crane their necks too much. “You each deserve a kiss!”

She took each of them one after the other and planted a grateful, wet kiss upon their tiny heads. They suffered it with visible discomfort, especially the two Laura had rubbed on her tits.

“We...urgh!” Hammar laughed when Laura kissed his golden head last. “We are delighted that you are pleased!”

“Hmhm.” Laura chuckled behind her lips. “And would you like to please me some more?”

He knew she was hinting at her nether parts, the hard realization was written plainly on his face.

“If that is your wish.” He replied meekly but Laura only burst out into laughter.

“I am only teasing you.” She grinned. “But there is something you might still be able to do for me.”

'Perhaps. Maybe.' It was a big and difficult task she had in mind, one that might stretch their abilities a little too far.

“You are able to make clothes, right?”

“Yes.” Hammar clutched against Laura's thumb and pulled himself up.

“My shirt is a mess.” She went on. “I was wondering if you could patch it up? It might be a little too big for you though. It needs to be sturdy enough that it doesn't tear when I wear it.”

“I understand.” He replied, thinking. “We have tailors, also those that make sails. I'll be dammed if we didn't try to please you!”

“Fine then, but don't ruin it.” Laura set him down. “I'll get my shirt, you'll get the craftsmen.”

“You are doing very well.” She added to the others in hopes of finally wiping those annoying frowns off their faces.

Her clothes were by the dungeon keep where she had left them, on the hill where sheep grazed over the cliffs. Her way led her all the way across the city and over the canal. Everywhere, people were still busy, though the over all picture had greatly improved, with most of the squished corpses gone already. Most folk hid in nearby houses when she passed but Laura couldn't blame them for that.

Wagons full of flesh were being dumped into the evening tide that now went up all the way to the cliffs where before she had been able to place her feet onto the pebble shore. Before taking her clothes, she opened the gates of the dungeon keep again, freeing those she had trapped there. More people meant more servants and a faster clean-up.

She even toyed with the idea of having the prisoners in the tower released, but decided against it. They had to be in there for a reason, most of them anyway.

On her way to retrieve her shoes and socks from the south-east side of the city, she took a closer look at the main harbour. The entrance to the basin was as narrow as three or fours ships were wide, a circumstance that way created by a long arm, created artificially and of stone, with a wall on it's seaside with towers on it. Underestimating her own weight, Laura tried balancing on the less than ten meter wide construction. It broke and crumbled, which brought much of the wall and many towers to fall but it did not seem as though anyone was on it.

So not to fall herself, she danced over quickly, destroying the seemingly ages old structure or at least damaging it severely.

'Whoopsie.'

Her shoes still bore the mark of smashed people. Laura meant to give them a thorough scrub, as she meant to give the rest of her clothes. It was all dirty as it always was, but since she had been spending so much time without cleaning them, it was especially so. Sleeping on the ground had not helped either.

There were not many hours left before sundown though, and sleeping naked was probably ill advised. It was getting fresh, even outside the water and Laura yearned to put on some clothes. Most likely, cleaning her clothes would have to wait until tomorrow. But where would she sleep, she asked herself. There were places in the city that seemed drier and cleaner than the bare ground outside the walls, but what would the tiny population do when she slumbered? Would they try to cut her throat or something, gauge out her eyes, shovel earth into her nose to suffocate her?

Laura didn't even know if they were able to do any of that, least of all without waking her, but a sliver of paranoid discomfort remained. As with most questions that posed real, actual problems, Laura put it off until later.

“She wants to know what material this is!” Hammar called up to her after she had unfolded her shirt and put it down to where she had gotten her hair cut.

A tiny group of tailors, presumably, was walking on her garment, inspecting the damage.

'Cotton.' Laura thought with a frown. 'But what's the bloody word for cotton?”

“Tree...wool.” She stammered helplessly.

“Tree-wool, yes, cotton!” Hammar answered the question for her.

The language was simple.

“I've never seen no tree-wool like this.” The woman who had asked complained to him. “And it's burned. Look!”

“Yeah...” Laura crouched and frowned. “Some people with catapults did this.”

Hammar gave her a long, interested look before he turned to the tailor: “What if we patch it with sailcloth?”

“And what do we use to attach the patching?” She replied. “You said it was to be sturdy enough so she doesn't tear it.”

“It's impossible, isn't it?” Laura asked, disappointment in her voice.

Hammar's hand was in his beard as he looked down, left and right and back at one of the holes.

“What if we make holes over all around, no cutting, just tear open the pattern a little bit?” He asked aloud.

“And then what?” The woman dusted off her skirt after standing.

“We work in the most flexible rigging we have and weave over the gap like a net.”

“I don't know anything about that.” The woman lifted her hands. “Only that wind and weather will go through as before.”

“Not if we work sailcloth into the rigging though, yes, that might work.”

Hammar was astoundingly excited about this project, a true craftsman who loved his work.

“I think we found a way!” He called up to Laura who blessed him with a smile.

“How long will it take?”

That was impossible to say, even for him, but Laura decided to take him up on his offer to work through the night, even if that meant sleeping without a shirt. It would be cool in the night in any case, which got her a new idea. Fires. She could have them build large fires that would warm her.

But before exploring that plan, she meant to wash her panties at least. She had practically no choice but to step right back into the dirt again, she knew that and accepted it, but a minimum of standards had to be maintained. For the little people her clothes would be too big and heavy once soaked with water, so washing was a task she had to perform herself. Washing, that meant soaking the clothes in water and rubbing the fabric against itself to get the dirt out. In lack of any detergent or even soap, that was tiresome work and often produced unsatisfying results, but it was the best thing Laura could do at her size.

She did not know if the Thorwalsh people had a thing like soap. She didn't even know how soap was made, thinking that it had to be some complicated, chemical process. But it couldn't hurt to ask. She had not failed to notice that the Thorwalers' linens were white and clean, that their hair didn't look unwashed and that they didn't smell bad. They had to have some way to do that.

“Hammar?” She asked from above as he was busy arguing with a ropemaker about the thickness and quality of the rigging they'd need. “How do you wash your clothes?”

He looked up, startled. Maybe he hadn't expected her to call him by his name, or maybe he had not expected her to wash her clothes at all.

“Don't tell me you give them to your wife.” She laughed. “I know Thorwal doesn't work that way.”

Thorwal would probably be the wet dream of her crazy women's studies professor, she judged. The genders weren't completely equal of course, only one could biologically bear children and the other was still larger and stronger, but they seemed less divided here than in Andergast by a long shot.

“He doesn't have a wife, he likes men!” The female tailor burst out laughing.

The older, stout woman was still around, looking at the beginnings of work on Laura's shirt with a sceptical glance and her hands on her hips. She wore a shirt, apron and a cloth over her hair, which made her look much more womanly than any of those women and girls styling themselves shield-maids. This type of person existed anywhere. No society would function without the tough-as-leather aunty-type of women who nattered, complained and gossiped but carried any load they must. She'd know about washing clothes for sure.

“That's not true!” Hammar Ingvarson reddened. “I just haven't found the right girl yet!”

“Ha, aye, and when you found her, she'll have a beard, arms like trees and be two meters tall!” The woman chuckled.

Most of the tiny people looked up nervously, the ones who joined into the merriment were few.

Laura giggled heartily and bowed down to the woman: “You're not afraid of me?”

Her face hardened and it took her a while to respond: “No! If you kill me, I'll go and see my god and my husband, my mother and father, and my three sons that died to the sword!”

Pride and defiance were in her voice but she couldn't cloak her fear entirely. It had lost all the facility of washerwomen's talk from a moment ago. That was another cross Laura had to bear. She was a stranger anywhere and frightening to all, though she had done more than her part to make them fear and hate her in this city more than anywhere else, except perhaps her own little village. Maybe if she went to some other place she could try not being a murderous monster for once, but that chance had passed for Thorwal as soon as she had stepped over the city walls.

“Who said anything about killing you?” Laura acted more hurt than she had any justification to be. “I want to wash my clothes, you look like you would know a thing or two about that.”

Hammar was on site to intervene and assist but Laura didn't want him to. She wanted to resolve this with the woman herself, show that she was capable of doing so without using her size. She had been showing her friendly side for a while and not killed anyone and not destroyed anything except for that thing in the harbour, and she hadn't even meant to break that either. But there was no way to bring Hammar to silence without using her power, or at least she couldn't figure out a way in time.

“Just put them in water, let them soak for a while and rub!” He suggested. “I fear they are too big for us to boil them.”

“You go back to patching her tunic!” The woman waved him off. “You've got your foolish hands full with that! I'll show her how to wash those garments, I won't have it said I'm not doing my part!”

There it was again, that heart-lifting lightness Laura wanted to be part of but couldn't. The woman even beat Hammar off with a towel she drew from the belt of her apron and he ducked away, unable not to laugh.

“Let me have a look at that!” The tailor beckoned to the panties in Laura's hands.

“That's as big as a bloody sail!” She said, inspecting it after Laura had laid it out for her. “I've never washed no bloody sail before! And the other things are even bigger!”

Laura's jeans, bra and socks were piled up on the ground, next to the shirt that was undergoing it's repairs.

“These are undergarments!”

The woman had not known what she was looking at before noticing the unmistakable stain on the fabric where Laura's crotch sat when she wore it.

“Ah, we women, that cannot be helped!” The woman went on, scratching at the dirt with her tiny fingernail.

Laura understood what the saying 'airing one's dirty laundry in public' meant now. It was awkward and terribly violating to her privacy, but then again, she stood bare naked over an entire city, showing off her private parts to all of them, whether they liked it or not. But apparently, conversing over crotch-stains in underpants helped the woman see Laura more as human than a monster.

“It stinks! You should change into fresh ones, underpants should be changed weekly!” All at once it felt like she was speaking to a daughter or a niece.

And everyone heard, everyone now knew about Laura's stinking underwear.

'Underpants should be changed daily.' She thought bitterly.

“I only have this one.” She said. “How do I get it clean?”

“Ayayayay...” The woman shook her head in disapproval, looking terribly ironic, standing on the stain that Laura's vagina had made.

“Hammar is right. It's too big, we cannot boil it.” She continued after a while, hands on her hips, still staring at the mess. “Saltwater, I'd say, to get the stink out, and fresh, clean water afterwards so that it can dry. Saltwater doesn't dry so well, and you don't want that salt there, believe me.”

Laura almost chuckled awkwardly, but decided not to. She felt the dire urge to dress and hoped that this intimate conversation didn't continue for much longer.

“Maybe there is something that could facilitate the process?” She asked.

“Why not use soap?!” Hammar called over, a rope in his hands.

And there it was. Such a mundane thing that regular people of Laura's and Janna's age barely ever thought about, that could make such a large difference. As it turned out, the Thorwalsh did have soap, though it was usually too expensive to waste on cleaning clothes. For Laura, an exception was made of course and she did not have to pay anything either. They collected bars and pieces of soap where they found them and brought them to her into the winter-harbour where she washed first her panties and then her other clothes as well.

It was easy to squish a tiny piece of soap into the fabric and then rub to make it work. The tailor woman, who's name was Ragna Ragnasdottir, approved. Laura tried to mould surplus pieces of soap together to make a big one with some success, even though the piece she gained was barely that of a penny. Still, it was a thing she meant to take with her when she would leave, along with her unexpected sex toy.

Three alchemists had been living in Thorwal before she arrived, and making soap had been their main occupation. One was confirmed dead, the other missing and unaccounted for, but the third, an old Garethian immigrant by the name of Alrik Oilboiler, promised to make a large piece of soap for her. His workshop had been destroyed under her foot, as had another, but a third Alchemist's home and workplace was still standing and he agreed to use it in place of his own.

She had thought that alchemists tried to turn iron into gold or sell snake-oil love-potions or something like that, but as it happened, they were chemists of sorts that could produce quite useful things such as soap, paper, glue and other things. There was a huge number of ways to produce soap, she learned, and all involved some kind of oil or fat combined with other ingredients. The simplest combination was animal fat and coal dust, not sounding very aromatic and not smelling the part as well, but it got the job done well enough and was the kind of soap most readily available.

The Thorwalsh were bending over backwards trying to accommodate Laura, making good on their end of the deal. Laura rewarded them by being friendly and not killing anyone for now. If truth be told, she was as astounded about that as they probably were. She had not planned it this way, but it certainly felt right.

She had spent an eternity wringing out the water from her clothes but they were still wet and the sun would be gone within another hour or two. They were clean now, as clean as they had not been in a long while and that made her happy. She was tired too and looked forward towards the night, although she did not know where and how she would spend it yet. The day had been exhausting with all the cleaning and washing, bathing and trimming, and crushing and killing thousands.

The fishers out at sea had joined the waiting ships when they returned and found their city in turmoil. There was quite a fleet of them now and, no doubt, they would have quite the interesting conversation over there. Maybe tomorrow Laura would try and swim out there if they were still there.

“Arva, Bera, I want you!” She called into the city as she walked about in search for a place to sleep.

An old man had failed to step out of her path, occupied with dragging a large wooden beam off the street. Laura was allowed to kill as per the deal. Maybe she should crush someone just so not to lose the taste for it. She stomped her foot on the ground a little to get a reaction from him. Nothing.

“Are you deaf?” Laura asked but still gained no hint of a reply. “Hey!”

She stomped harder and the man looked up. He must have felt the tremor in the ground. Their eyes met and she could see his widen. He was an old bear without hair on his head but a mighty beard instead and of burly, thick stature. Dropping his wooden beam, he scurried to the side, waving her past.

He shouted something up at her, but it was absolutely unintelligible. He was deaf indeed, and Laura decided against crushing him. Instead, she bowed a little, smiled and took the beam he'd been struggling with to the side of the road. To her, it was only slightly larger than a match.

“Uarghu!” He shouted up at her, or something along those lines.

“You are welcome.” Laura replied with a nod.

It might just as well have been an insult but she chose not to care. She couldn't well crush someone for unlearning how to speak after going deaf.

The market place just north of the harbour was long and wide enough to let her spend the night there. It had been cleaned thoroughly and was cobbled, so she wouldn't get near as dirty if she slept there. When she walked or sat on pavement, she left dents in the ground as well, though not as deep. The tiny people would have all hands full for months after she was gone, repairing the damage. That could not be helped though. Laura was what she was, huge and heavy.

“What do you require?” A man's voice shouted up at her.

And what a man he was. Laura took note of his queerly shining, dark blue vest right away and thought the rest of him was clad in a weird sort of leather, half blue, half skin coloured, before she noticed his little, tiny cock swinging freely between his legs as he walked. He was naked, except for his vest, and that lend him a strange look at first glance. On the one hand he looked fearsome with his crude tattoos, hard, muscular swimmer's body and bare, bony skull but on the other he looked ready to hit a pride parade on earth. He seemed utterly unafraid too.

Laura crouched down towards him to get a better look: “And who are you?”

He was someone important. Everything about him just screamed it. She had seen some such barely clad little men before, some in this city before her feet had come down on their heads, and one at Jarl Kalf's who had been a Swafnir priest. None of them at looked this enticing, however.

“I am Thorgun Swafnirson!” His smile gleamed, eyes shining so brightly that Laura felt impaled by them at once.

He came closer yet, uncaring. Faced with such a sudden and unexpected display of manly boldness Laura clutched her clothes tighter to her body. It was a weird reaction as she noticed a moment later, for one because she could turn him into a stamp with a single step, and also because he had a full view of her vagina while she was crouching. She changed that immediately and fell back onto her behind, sitting cross-legged.

He stopped in front of her leg and regarded it like a boulder he meant to climb. This man was not afraid of challenges, Laura knew at once, and it seemed that he had chosen her as his next. He looked like a man who took what he wanted, with or without consent but not in a way that was necessarily unkind.

“How may I be of service to you?” He asked, looking up at her with that smile of his.

Laura had almost forgotten.

“I asked for Bera and Arva.” She replied, making sure her tone expressed sufficient disapproval. “Did they send you so that they didn't have to come themselves?”

To be fair, the last time they had sent someone else to service Laura it had worked out far better than she could have expected but she disliked her orders not being obeyed.

“I offered to go in their stead.” Thorgun replied with a shrug. “They have suffered a great loss and I wanted to see you up close anyway.”

Laura couldn't help but laugh. It didn't happen often that someone volunteered to be close to her, not often at all.

“You may laugh, but the loss of so many loved ones at once is a blow not easily stomached.” He frowned. “Even though we live in the knowledge that they live in and feast forever in the watery halls of our god.”

“I, uh, no!” She stammered, hastily trying to solve the misunderstanding. “It was only because you...because you said you wanted to see me from up close! I'm sorry if I killed any of their family, really, I wish I'd never stepped on their home!”

Now he laughed, but darkly: “Ah, better not say that to their faces!”

“Why not?” Laura was puzzled. “Maybe I should apologise to them, maybe...”

He shook his head and pursed his lips before looking deeply into her eyes.

“That is not a wound an apology can heal.” He explained. “Only time can, if at all. If you apologised it might hurt even more, like rubbing salt into an open cut.”

“I understand.” She replied, downtrodden. “You all must hate me for what I did to your city. And your god.”

The wet clothes were cold and heavy in her arms. She found it hard to understand her own feelings. On the one hand, she had crushed and killed so many people that it had gotten hard to care about it, but on the other she wondered how many unique persona she had snuffed out, how much skill, how many interesting stories, how many new and exciting ideas. He seemed to weigh her words for a few moments.

“In the sea, the realm of our god, the big fish eat the little fish. It is the way it has always been, and always will be!”

It was strange that he would try to save her from having a guilty conscience but perhaps that was what priests were born to do. He was a priest, there was no doubt about it.

“And that I misused your little statue, your god's...penis?” The word came shy over her lips.

“Oh, what's a member for if not for that?” He asked mischievously. “If you ask me, you've done our god a greater service than anyone ever could!”

Laura looked at him, aghast by the flirty undertone. It couldn't be, he couldn't really be flirting with her. Not with her, gigantic as she was, not as tiny as he was in comparison and most of all not while they were both naked. His cock swung left and right between his legs as he stood broad legged. She couldn't help it and started giggling before breaking into fully fledged laughter.

He joined in with a chuckle: “I see that I have amused you, what else can I do for you?”

'I hope you're not hinting at sex, little guy.' She thought, narrowing her eyes. 'You're a tough one but this booty will fuck you flat if you let me try.'

It might have been his skimpy clothes, his dirty, lascivious smirks, or the general, manly ease with which he acted, something about him screamed hot, dirty sex and Laura's loins were listening. Her strange, fearful reaction had not been the only reaction provoked by his intoxicating appearance and Laura had almost forgotten what she had wanted of Arva and Bera in the first place.

“I want to spend the night here, on the market place.” She said quickly, determined to ignore any hints, whether they had been real or imagined. “And I want a fire.”

“A fire, eh?” He grinned, regarding her leg. “To warm you in the night?”

He stretched out his hand and touched her. His tiny hand ran quickly over the fine hairs on her skin. Laura was blessed with such fine leg hair that she did not really ever require to shave her legs, which had always come welcome in summer. To her eye, her hairs were neigh invisible but the tiny man could see them, everyone, and the feeling his tiny hand produced as he ran it across without touching her actual skin was incredible. It tickled abominably, so much so that Laura immediately withdrew, but she could not deny that it had something playful, tingling to it.

'And so the ninety something kilo guy made the nine thousand ton goddess flinch away.' She thought in amazement.

He must have thought the same thing, because he laughed heartily.

“You shouldn't tickle me.” She scolded him. “I could have gone the other way and crushed you.”

“Where's the fun if there is no risk in it?” He asked in reply, still laughing.

He lunched forward and did it again, tickling her, but Laura was prepared now and refused to flinch, even though that took a real effort of concentrated restraint on her part. The hairs on her neck stood upright and her whole body shuddered. He upped his game and started running down the length of her leg, hand stretched out.

“Hey!” Laura called, meaning it to sound like a warning but it came out as laugh instead.

She moved back further and moved a hand to keep him away. As a result, her clothes tumbled half off of her, exposing a breast.

“Ah, there's something I'd like to tickle!” His smile flashed as he wrestled with her fingers.

He was strong, but not so strong as that he might have stood a chance.

“You're a queer priest.” Laura shook her head in disbelief, unsure what to make of him.

“Ah, and what makes a priest in your eyes?” He challenged her. “Is it to squint over dusty books in some temple, scratching a withered, unused cock through thick, moth-eaten robes with a hand that has never so much as touched an axe?”

She wasn't sure if she was expected to reply to that, but she shrugged and said: “Yes?”

“No!” He replied, laughing. “Those who separate their warriors and their wise will have their thinking done by cowards and their fighting done by fools!”

“Whoa!” She giggled and folded her hands to perform a mock bow. “Master, I had no idea you were so wise!”

He laughed with her, so hard that his back was arching and his cock swinging around wildly. He loved to laugh, that much was clear, and he loved life and didn't seem to even be capable of fear. Laura was enjoying him a great deal, he was fun to be around.

“Besides...” He began after calming down. “Those who tell themselves they can't touch pretty girls start diddling little boys before long.”

“So, you like touching pretty girls, huh?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Again, his smile flashed, enticing, mischievous, dirty: “Oh, that goes both ways, for the most part.”

He grinned. Laura made her eyes roll sarcastically and looked away but her lips played into a smile all on their own.

She knew the role of the winning player, alpha male he was playing all too well. Now it was up to her to say something clever and knock him down a peg to keep him coming. Besides that she could fall into his arms and tell him how awesome he was like some bimbo, or turn bitter, cynical and offended like those girls styling themselves feminists. She could also just pick him up and eat him, but nothing would spoil the fun this man had in him as sure as that.

She had almost asked him if he thought she was pretty, but she would not give him that yet. He stroked her finger that was still holding him at bay and she realized that she was touching him already.

“Oh, that's how you get girls to touch you.” She showed a scolding grin and drew her hand away. “First you touch them without permission and then they touch you to get you off of them.”

“Ha, that's how it works, in Thorwal, sometimes.” He admitted with a shrug. “They hit me too.”

“So? And what do you do?”

“Why, I hit them back!” He smiled broadly.

That was off-putting.

“You mean, you beat up a girl and have your way with her?”

His eyes showed understanding: “Or she beats me up and has her way with me, oft as not.”

Laura was unsure how to reply. Thorwalsh women were a feisty lot, to be sure, perhaps they practised a more violent form of sexuality.

“We tend not to beat each other beyond consciousness though.” He went on, explaining. “There is a certain playfulness to it, in the end at least. Few things are as intimate as fighting and sometimes it's the best way to show your desire, why not?”

“So, if I wanted you, you'd be okay with me just sitting on you and doing it?”

She had expected him to swallow and say something of an excuse like Hammar had done, but he only laughed again. She imagined putting him on his back and fucking him on the cobble stones, she being on top, letting her pussy crash down on him again and again until she came, if that would work at all. Her butt cheeks would push craters into the pavement and between them there would be a wet, red splotch; him, crushed to a smoothie, mingled with her cum. It had a certain appeal to it, but talking to him was preferable for now.

“You are hinting at rape.” He smirked. “But could it be rape if I enjoyed it just as much as you do?”

That led down a road Laura did not want to go but she could not help but admire his fearlessness. Was it bravery though, or did he simply not care whether she killed him or not, or was he playing her somehow, she wondered. If he was playing her he was winning, because Laura chose to change the subject.

“What about my fire?” She asked. “I'm think here, on that what used to be a building.”

“Ah.” His smile soured somewhat. “I was hoping to get that idea out of your head. Fire, you'll need a big one, and you may well end up burning us down.”

'Ah, still saving the city, are we?' She mused. 'And you offer to let me fuck you to death for it, you little hero.'

“If it gets out of control, I'll put it out.” She promised diplomatically. “I just need someone to start it.”

“So?” He opened his vest with his hands, revealing more nakedness and rune tattoos to her. “I carry neither steel nor flint nor tinder!”

She returned a tired look: “I will have my fire, one way or another.”

She could ask someone else, anyone, and someone would get her a decent fire started so not to end up being digested by her.

“We are preparing food for you, a feast!” He still defied her, smiling, unafraid of consequence. “Eat it nice and hot when it is served, that should warm you well enough, and drink as well!”

'How about I eat you nice and hot, little man.' She thought, but she still didn't want to kill him.

She wondered if it would be possible to scare him into fearing her. But what then, she asked herself, then he'd be just like all the others who feared her and that would be boring.

“I won't need too much food.” She said instead. “I had a few bites at the east gate earlier. They tasted really good.”

She rubbed her belly for effect and his face hardened. He understood but would not say anything.

“It's nice of you to think of my supper.” She smiled, explaining. “I'm yearning to try some more Thorwalsh cooking. And that way, I won't have to eat any of you! Well, maybe I'll throw some of you in for the flavour, unless...”

Even in defeat he smiled and chuckled and that was cute. He whistled at two men who passed a street adjacent to market square and told them to build a fire on the ruins of the new market hall. The old market hall had been build of stone, not very high, with a wooden roof. The new one had been built from wood, much higher, roof made of reed. Laura had made ruins of both of them with merely a few steps.

It didn't take the men very long to get the fire going. Steadily, they fed more wood to it to make it bigger until, at some point, Laura could start to blow and feed larger pieces to it, turning it greater and greater still, to the size she required. Her gigantic breath got so much oxygen into the fire that it crackled and burned with enormous ferocity and even the huge beams that had been supporting the new market hall caught flame.

“And here I thought you were a giantess, not a dragon.” Throgun commented with a weary look at the sparks flying up into the sky.

Dragon. That was what the word must have meant, she thought, or something along those lines. It sounded older and queerer than most other words and would be difficult to pronounce. She dismissed her tiny helpers without harming them and they were glad to get away. The tiny priest stayed though, keeping her company.

“I will put it out if it gets out of control.” She promised again to soothe his worries.

“I'll wake you up and see that you do!” He agreed, smiling.

He was sweating in the warmth already while it had barely started to get through Laura's skin.

'And if you haven't convinced me to have sex with you by then you might even be alive to do it.'

She held up her panties first to dry them which wouldn't take too long. She was tired, she recognized, and no wonder. It had been an exhausting day that was finally at an end. For Thorwal it would have been quite a roller coaster ride too. From the brink of destruction they had saved themselves by becoming her hosts and the hotel kitchen would soon be calling for supper to keep their only guest from eating any more of the staff. Laura had gotten used to going to sleep at sundown and felt that that was quite a healthy thing. Right now there was still some light left however, and with the fire it could not get dark entirely either way.

“Ahhh, so big and yet so beautiful!” Thorgun praised her.

She was no longer hiding her nakedness and his advances were getting obvious if they had not been before. Laura wondered what his game was now. She had gotten her fire and he had gotten her promise not to eat any of his people. She was also obviously willing to wait for supper and occupied enough by drying her clothes at the fire.

“I thought you Thorwalsh took it up with each other with your fists, not sweet words?” She asked amused.

“Oh, sweet words are as much a part of it here as anywhere, but a maid might reply with her fists if the desire is not shared so mutually.”

That made Laura giggle again: “And then you beat each other up and fuck anyway.”

“Sometimes.” He smirked. “But that doesn't work if the woman I desired was so big that she could swat me like a fly.”

Not for the first time she wondered if he was serious. There was an easy way to find out but that had a good chance of killing him. Instead, Laura decided to go for some straight talking.

“Look, little man, there is no way you can really desire me. I'm too big for you. What do you think to gain by wooing me other than broken bones?”

He took a deep breath for great words.

“I have been to the world and back!” He proclaimed. “I have seen Gareth, Festum, Tuzak and Al'Anfa and I have known many women, adventures and challenges all!”

So he saw her as a challenge, entertainment, another conquest, a story to tell. Perhaps he was mad, she had not considered that possibility. One name rang a bell though. She had heard it from that brown skinned girl she had killed so gruesomely.

“Al'Anfa?” She repeated. “Tell me about it, is it warm there, is it far to go?”

Making him tell her a story was a good, she decided and it worked, his fervour cooled down a little.

“Ah, it's a slavers' city, it is true.” He smiled happily. “But it is so much more if one dares to look! Al'Anfa is a hot place of many pleasures and excitements! The pleasure-houses can fulfil near any fantasy and then there are shows of theatre and mock-fighting, or you can go to the arena if you want to see real blood!”

“Oooh.” Laura made to keep him talking. “Did you ever fight in the arena?”

“No!” He admitted. “But I sailed with corsairs there and boarded many fat merchant ships, nibbled on sweets, spiced wines, dates and the sweetest southern fruit. I visited the jungle-tribes and traded slavers' heads for fishes, fought through the greatest storms around Cape Brabak and stole the most beautiful daughter of the richest trading-house in the world!”

A warm, exciting, tropical kind of place. Laura had been right to follow her gut and inquire about it. It sounded just like the place to go and spend the winter with Janna.

“That doesn't sound very nice, that you would just tear her away from her home.” She said, scolding, though it was all in play.

“Oh, she wasn't happy at her home!” He promised. “She wanted to see the world! She travelled all the way back north with me and became the happy wife of a thrall's son, working the farms outside the city!”

“Your story seems far fetched, but if it's true, she's probably dead now.” Laura made her point. “I most likely stepped on her or ate her. Do you understand?”

“That's a befitting end to a story like hers!” He grinned. “What's a story without a fine ending?”

She sighed: “Is that what you want? A befitting end to your story? Because that's what you're going to get if you keep this up.”

“I do not wish to die, if that's what you're asking. But I have known the fiercest of she-warriors turn into loving, gentle creatures when their lust was sated, she-lions turned into purring kittens! I heard of what Arva and Bera did to you and how it changed you.”

Laura understood, it was still about the city after all. The plan wasn't as stupid as it might seem at first glance. After Bera and Arva had made Laura cum, the worst she had done was rubbing some people on some places without killing them. She had killed those outside the walls however, and he could not have overlooked that. Maybe he feared that the next time she wanted to kill there were only the ones inside the city left.

“Oh, so you want to satisfy me before I get that craving again and maybe end up killing people.” She acknowledged. “Or maybe you have noticed that the more you pursue me the more I push you away.”

Reverse psychology might be at play here too, and Laura did not like to be played any more.

“Hahaha!” He laughed and slapped his thigh.

This time Laura did not join. He was starting to make her uncomfortable.

“I wanted to learn who you are, this giant monster as you have been called, that came to our city to kill us all. But what I found is just a fawn, frightened of her own shadow!”

He had to be mad.

“Careful now, you said you didn't wish to die.” She warned.

“Ah, I have to stir you somehow!” He shouted without a care in the world. “If you can't stir a woman's lust, stir her anger! I already told you how that works.”

'Yeah, violence, then violent foreplay and finally sex and purring kittens after that.'

Her panties were dry and she regarded them with satisfaction. They had not been this clean since she got here and her sex was clean, shaven and ready as well. If he insisted on pleasuring her, why not. A little sex, a nice supper and a nightcap, all what good hotel-stay entailed.

“I've had about enough of you stirring me for now.” She told him. “But if you are a man of your words then step into my underclothes.”

“Ah, haha!” He laughed and came forward.

She put her panties on the ground and he regarded it for a moment to figure out where her crotch would be when she wore it. True to his words, he stepped in and laid down, utterly unafraid.

'Alright little guy, you seem to always get what you want. Let's see what you can do.'

She was careful not to spill him out as she pulled on the garment over her legs but afterwards she pulled it a little tighter, feeling him nestled against her nether lips. Her arousal had come and gone but she was still a little wet and he squirmed hard to wedge himself in. It was a little different. Laura could use people as toys or force them to pleasure her actively but he did it all on his own. It didn't feel bad to be desired, it felt good.

Still she went back to drying her clothes first. He was but a little guy, just over three centimetres tall, and he would never be enough to fill her. But just as his tiny hands had been able to trigger the hair on her legs, they were able to trigger her higher up as well and he squirmed hard and strong.

A gasp escaped her when he pushed himself up from the fabric of her underpants and inside her. That felt good, she wasn't able to deny it. Focused on him, down there, she had almost absent-mindedly burned her jeans at the fire. She crab-walked awkwardly a few steps and carefully laid out her pants over the roofs of some undamaged houses to let them dry on their own. Her bra and socks she put on larger buildings, then it was back to the fire. The one beneath her bra had cracked and complained about the weight, but that didn't matter now.

Her panties had loosened and he had slipped out of her but she pulled in tight again and gave him a gentle push to help him back inside, then another to swallow him completely. Whether he was fighting to please her or fighting for air she did not know. He had chosen this and she wouldn't let him out before he was done.

She put some more wood onto the fire which signified the inequality of the 'sex' they were having. A pleasurable, gentle rub at a camp fire for her, a fight of live and death in a wet, sticky hole for him. She wondered if he was able to enjoy it, she was curious and she had to do something to keep him from sliding out as well as gravity did not work in her favour crouching as she was.

Laura pulled down her panties and let him tumble out to get a look at him before she would seal him in completely. His was glistening, drenched with her juices and his vest was gone somehow. Completely naked he made an even more enticing sight and she did not fail to notice that he was hard. His cock was big for tiny people's standards, she judged, but just a pitifully tiny prick to her. Still, it signified that he did enjoy it after all, and that was something utterly new. She had tried to give tiny men erections, more to tease them and humiliate them than anything else, but it had never worked until now.

She changed her mind that instant.

While he still tried to squirm his way back inside her she fished him out and put him down gently by the fire where everything was to be perfect for him. He looked irritated and disappointed for a second before her wet tongue sloshed over the length of his body. Laura didn't mind her own juices in her mouth, not so long as they were having sex. His cock was just large enough to get it in between her pursing lips and he was just tall enough so that she could look past her nose into those deep, stunning eyes of his.

She added hot saliva to make it as good for him as she could. She was good at giving head to a normal sized cock, it came easy to her. With Thorgun it was more difficult because for one she did not want to rip his member off but also had to produce enough stimulation. He twitched a little and moaned hard while his eyes still seemed unable to fathom his luck.

'There I have you, you cute little rascal.' She though amused. 'You didn't expect this.'

Her spit was running down his thighs and even though it was technically difficult, pleasing his tiny cock wasn't near as exhausting as a real large one that would make her have to fight her gag reflex and physically strain her. Her hand went in between her thighs and played with herself but soon her loins demanded that it was their turn again. She was a bit too hasty as she moved over him and the cobbles beneath her knees paid the price, with him she was more gentle, straddling him just so that she could feel his cock rub on her nether lips. It was good enough for three tiny times only, but Laura knew she couldn't give in to her pussy and let it smother him to death. Just once she spread her legs and let it go down upon him with carefully applied weight, more and more until she could feel him squirm in terror. That was good for her, but it was killing him, she knew.

But the urge was already getting too strong.

'He wants this.' She told herself, reasoning against common sense. 'And now he's getting it.'

Her labia was pinning and crushing his arms and legs against the cobblestones so that he couldn't move. And yet, her pussy wanted more. But any more weight and his limbs would brake beneath her. She moved up swiftly, maybe he'd find a position that might still save his life somehow. He curled to a ball, of all things, and Laura feared she'd bulldoze him flat when she moved back down. But when she did, he squirmed for the way inside her, knowing where it was by now, and he slipped in and started pleasuring her as before. A moment later the way out was sealed by the ground beneath Laura's panties and he couldn't slip out any more.

She closed her eyes and let him work her. It was good enough, the pleasure building. Before long, her pussy clenched together on him, crushing him, smothering him, but he squirmed and fought only harder. Instinctively, her hips began grinding back and forth. Had he been beneath she'd ground him to a pulp but this way she only unearthed a few stones and got some dirt on her panties all over again. It was frustrating but, like so many other things, could not be helped. Her orgasm rolled over her and him eventually and Laura shuddered, her moans echoing over the roof tops a few times.

Again, the whole city was witness to her sex, but she had gotten used to that by now, and they would too, in time. It didn't matter. A living and exuberant Thorgun Swafnirson emerged from her crotch after she pulled him out softly by a leg. He was hot and sticky, wheezing, heaving, coughing but grinning and laughing at the same time. He dangled upside down from her grasp and made himself swing back and forth like a little monkey.

“I fucked myself with your god's cock and out came you.” She laughed at him, breathing heavily. “Now you can truly call yourself Swafnirson.”

“Ah.” He gave a tired grin. “I spilled my seed inside you, that would make me a mother-fucker then, eh?!”

Laura wasn't worried about getting pregnant. That would simply be too unreal, as tiny as this guy was.

“Ew!” She said playfully and dropped him, but not on his head but into her other hand that she had stretched out beneath him.

He stood up, broad legged, deflated cock swinging.

“You said you'd kill me!” He boasted. “But here I am, alive and breathing!”

“I took care not to, little man. You ought to thank me for it.”

“Ahh, does this giantess require me again in the future, has she grown fond of me?”

She rocked her hand to put him on his arse.

“You were passable.” She mused with her lips turning into a smile. “But not as good as the girls.”

The girls, that meant Bera and Arva, though they were women, not girls, but they had been better indeed. The sex with Thorgun had not been bad and she had reached her peak but with the two shield-maids she had come harder and stronger than with him. A new thought formed in her mind, the suspicion that he had been offering himself so persistently to keep Laura from using the women for pleasure. He was protecting them, grieved and aggravated as they were.

A few too many of Bera's brisk replies or Arva's emotional outbursts and Laura might have felt that they were spoiling her vacation and decide to get rid of them. That was just a possibility though, it was just as likely that Thorgun was mad or had a kink for giant girls or something like that. In the end, it didn't matter. Laura was huge, powerful and could do what she liked. If she wanted Bera or Arva she would have them, or destroy the city.

What would be really fun though would be to share the city with Janna. They could fuck people to death in between them, stuff each other like geese and Laura could slurp people hanging from the nipples of Janna's gargantuan tits. Janna's breasts were so big that she could crush multiple people in between like a car baler as well. Laura's were big enough to pin someone, but the flesh was soft and so she had to push really hard to crush him. Yes, sharing this city with Janna would be fun, but she was out of reach. The city wouldn't last very long that way either. Janna's lust for killing had been hard to sate ever since Ludwig's keep.

“Next time, I will rock you like a ship in a storm!” The tiny boisterous priest promised and Laura giggled.

'No one ever rocked me like Janna though.'

She missed her and thinking about her made it worse. An army of people arrived with the food that had been promised, just in time to set her mind on something else. That was bad for them. If they had waited longer, Laura might have gotten up and went home. Still, in any case, she would have had to wait until morning. The sun was already half behind the horizon now but on the market square, the huge fire she built enlightened all.

The food looked interesting, a wealth of baskets, chests, barrels, pots and kettles. Food could say a lot about culture. If someone of import were asking, this could even be called research, she though amused. A lot of it would be fish, she suspected by the smells, which she did not eat very much outside of breaded sticks or maybe a nice fillet. They'd eat it, she decided, they would have a great and happy feast together and get drunk too. She wanted music as well and maybe a fist fight or some other demonstration. It would be great.