"Do you feel like you can be so much more?" the woman lulled on the television, eying the audience seductively as if through the screen. "Like you just need a little push to go from girl... to goddess? With Teaho brand perfume, you too can unlock the inner beauty inside of you. Sign up now to be a part of the first Teaho perfume trial, and get a free dose of divinity." The woman was then overtaken by raising numbers and contact information before the commercial changed.

It was a commercial Blake had seen play hundreds of times now, sitting in his office at the New York Times. As a man who worked with news, he had heard enough about the up and coming beauty product manufacturer, Teaho. He was getting sick of it, honestly. Perfume had a market, and he understood that, but in the end it was just perfume. New York already had perfume stores.

That wasn't important right now, so he shook his head clear and focused on the task at hand. The big stories for the next paper would be due in just a few hours, so he needed to get some news and fast. With dimming interest he read off what he had gathered in his notebook: 'local bar dodges taxes', 'Donahue leading in Mayoral election', and 'potential cover-up in bay case'.

"Blake, have you heard from Trish yet? I sent her to check out what's going down out in the Atlantic, but she hasn't given me anything yet," Blake's manager suddenly said, entering the room. He shook his head.

"No, I haven't heard anything. What's this about the Atlantic, though?"

"I don't know, but I'm getting more and more curious by the minute. I thought about sending you, but I'm afraid it may be a bit too intense for my liking."

"This could be it, sir!" Blake said, overjoyed. "Just what I needed! Something dangerous, something interesting for the papers! You've got to let me check it out!" His manager gave him a strange look for just a moment and then smiled.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm. Alright, you can give it a look, but if it gets really bad, don't bother with it. I'd rather a half-hearted headline than a lost employee."

"You can count on me, sir!" Blake said, packing his things together. As he left his manager turned around and had that same strange look about him, wondering why Blake seemed so eager, but it faded with the satisfaction that he was simply a motivated worker.

However, Blake had not taken so much as ten steps outside of the building before he was stopped by a strange man holding out his hand. He wore a blue cap and jacket over a white shirt, a silver badge on his chest reading 'EDF' in large letters.

"Just where do you think you're going?" he asked Blake, catching him off guard.

"Down to the bay. I've heard there's some commotion going on and I wanted to check it out," Blake said, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"It's a chemical mishap. No one's being allowed into the bay right now. We have people working to fix the issue, but the area's under lockdown until we're one-hundred percent sure it's safe."

"Come on, I'm a journalist, you have to give me something here!"

"I told you, it's a chemical mishap. Now please--"

"But what of it? What chemical mishap?"

"That's confidential information, sir. Now, please, back away," the strange officer said with a wave of his hand, his voice beginning to tip over from peaceful quarrel to angry demand. Blake stared at him for a while before he turned down the street. But he didn't go back inside to his place of business, he continued down the streets. If there was anything Blake knew about New Yorkers, being one himself, it was that they never backed down and they knew their way around the city.

Megan closed the door to her adorned trailer and let out a sigh of relief. How many takes did they need of her saying three lines? 'Do you feel like you can be so much more, blah, blah, blah'. Not even Megan herself could deny that her situation was less than desirable, a bought out model used for little else than commercials.

She made sure the windows were all covered in their drapes and began to undress herself, down to her bra and underwear. She tossed her clothing aside, giving little care to her glamorous costume, and then took off her heels, the smooth carpet carressing her bare feet. For a moment she stood there and stretched, admiring her own beauty.

Then she knew it was time to get to business. Kneeling down under her kitchen table there was a large box. Inside it were several small jars, and inside each jar were different insects. She had collected several beetles and ants and worms... her own little black market.

Megan had no doubts that people would frown upon her hobby, and so kept it hidden. But she didn't give a fuck about it herself. She reveled in it. It took a few moments to decide which insect to choose from, but she eventually plucked out a single beetle and placed it on the carpet.

Already she was getting hot just looking at this tiny, insiginificant being at her toes. It was just too bad that the insect didn't know any better, it didn't try to escape her or fear for its life. It simply wandered about, studying everything with its antenna. Slowly Megan unclapsed her bra, falling to her feet. The beetle scurried away as her cups crashed down on top of it. Then she shimmied out of her underwear and dropped it on the bug, watching with increasing pleasure as she saw it struggle underneath. After much effort, it escaped her undergarments and continued its wander.

This is what she loved more than anything. In her truest, most natural form she could completely overpower the helpless little bugs. She could end their lives whenever she so had the fancy. Seeing it was scuttling away she placed a foot in its path, turning it around. She toyed with the beetle for a few moments, trapping it with her footsteps, before her foot came down upon it.

A light crack sounded as her foot effortlessly broke open the beetle's shell and flattened its body. Megan moaned as she felt the bug twitching underneath her, trying to resist her for its last breath. Raising her heel off the ground she cruelly twisted the ball of her foot into the carpet, grinding the beetle into mash. She tried to picture what the insect had seen in its final moments: a massive foot, a giant falling sky of fine flesh and toes smashing it to the ground.

Suddenly Megan found herself on her knees again, taking the jar of ants and pouring a handful of them onto the carpet, by the squashed remains of the beetle. The ants were much smaller and less crunchy, but there were so many of them, and they often tried to escape their inevitable demise, which made it all the more enjoyable to stamp them out.

She slowly lowered her foot into the parting horde of ants until she could feel them brushing against it, and then let it settle into the carpet, crushing a dozen or so of them. She wiggled her toes as they were tickled by ants fleeing between them. She lifted her foot and examined it, the tiny little stains and bug corpses on it sending a wave of satisfaction through her. Getting down to her knees she watched the remaining ants scatter around wildly. One seemed to stop to mourn its squished brethren. Megan picked it up with her pointer and thumb and felt it struggle with unbridled glee. She was like a goddess to them, a being of untamed beauty that slaughtered her subjects to feed her own bottomless power lust, and there was nothing they could do to refuse her their lives.

The ant exploded into a grimy goop as Megan popped it like a grape. Extending her arms she embraced the rest of the ants, pulling them towards her. Without ceremony she brought her chest down onto them. The feeling of their tiny bodies giving way to her sensitive breasts was almost too much, but she repressed the urge to masturbate and help herself get there. Taking deep breaths she reached over to the box to get a worm or two.

"Ms. Kayden! We need you back on the set!" someone called, knocking on her door. Megan looked at the fistful of worms she had grabbed with longing, but secured them back in their jar.

"Just a second!" she called back, taking a paper towel and wiping herself clean of her tiny bug massacre. With another she rubbed away the crushed remains in the carpet, even taking delight in that. They had been living things a few minutes ago. Now they were scraped away as stains.

Trying to clear her head of the wonderfully near orgasmic thoughts she dressed herself, dusting off her prize outfit and looking relatively the same as when she entered. When she opened the door and went for what was undoubtedly a few dozen more takes for a new commercial, no one would know of her little secret.