Andrea was having the best time she'd had at work since she was first hired.

She had requested from her supervisor to have a shift on the paperwork this day, but only because it'd be easier to toy with her new objects if she were sitting down. Currently one of the kids, the boy, was at one of her feet. The left one. The beautiful woman was at the other, ironically servicing the lowest part of Andrea’s body to truly show her how much of an insect–well, a protozoa–she was compared to a goddess.

The other man was currently wedged in between Andrea’s butt cheeks, for the sole reason being that she could put him there.

Andre had the most perilous task of them all: inside her vagina. He was tasked with providing Andrea with appropriate stimulation, but not so much that he she contract her vaginal muscles and crush himself, or trigger an involuntary movement that could crush somebody else.

But right now, Andrea was doing a little something different.

Right now, she wasn't doing any work. On the desk in front of her was the girl, about 14 whom Andrea has elected to name “Miranda”.

Mir was petrified, standing straighter than an arrow while Andrea looked at her with intrigue and a faint expression of hunger.

“Miranda, do you know why you're here and everyone else is not?”

She shook her head faster than a jet turbine. “No, no ma'am.”

“That'd be ‘mistress’ or ‘goddess’ to you. Now, you are here because I've not decided to kill you yet. I want you to understand that the only reason you are not a corpse that has died to give me pleasure is because your purpose in life is to serve your goddess, and your goddess is merciful. However, I can crush any one of you at any time. Understand?

Miranda began to cry, saying, “Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Now, you’ve been very obedient since you’ve been borne to your mistress, and for that I will give you a prize. I am going to crush one of you, who I’ve not decided yet. However, because of your obedience, I’m going immunize you. In return, you must choose the luck one who gets to die to provide me with pleasure.

Miranda was quivering in fear, looking at the face of her goddess, smiling like this wasn’t a big deal.

“Well, go ahead! Say who you want to have crushed.”

Miranda didn’t want anybody to get crushed. She hadn’t had a conversation with another human being in… ever. In fact, she didn’t even really know how she knew anything she did. All she knew right now was her goddess, and the fact that if she disobeyed her, her goddess could claim Miranda’s life for her pleasure.

Miranda looked up at Andrea’s face, which was wreathed in impatience. Then she thought about who she’d miss the least.

Andrea had put all of her other new pets away, reaching into her skirt and pulling out the one she wanted. This one was within Andrea’s superior posterior, and she was having some trouble pulling him out.

Finally, her fingers locked onto the man wedged up there, and with a little effort, she managed to have him finally out of her ass and on her desk.

The man looked Andre’s age, and was a relatively tall doll with shortly-cut blonde hair. He was called “Cal”. He looked around the desk for another one of the dolls, then called out, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Andrea just held a sheepish grin.

“What? Come on, tell me.”

Andrea’s grin grew, and then she said, “I’m sorry, but-” she had to pause a moment to chuckle, “-it would seem that, you were voted off the island!” Then she burst out laughing.

Cal’s face looked up at Andrea’s and suddenly morphed into despair as he came to understand. Then he got angry.

“What, what did I do? I’ve done everything you asked, why me?!”

Andrea put a finger to her chin and wondered, “Well, in all honesty, I'm not really doing this for a reason. I'm killing you for the hell of it. Also, you're boring.”

The doll's protests of denial continued but fell on unhearing ears as he was grabbed and lifted up. Then Cal began bargaining and shouting obscenities at Andrea, but he was mistaken if he believed somewhat misogynistic remarks would make his Goddess him go.

She held him in front of her face, her amber eyes like colossal gemstones of unimaginable value to the man.

Then she dropped him.

Cal was first terrified of him splatting on the floor, but his fears were unfounded for two reasons, the main one being that Andrea's voluptuous bust was there to break his fall. He fell between her melons within her slightly unbuttoned shirt. He squirmed around in the split between the two breasts, and Andrea chuckled a little. “That tickles!”

Cal tried to dig himself out but a single finger both cut off those hopes and his life as he was pushed inside the fatty mounds to the point of invisibility.

Andrea had to keep from laughing from Cal’s moving around (both from her being ticklish and him thinking that'll actually save him) as she brought her hands up and placed each one on the side of her breast.

Then she began to push them inward.

It kind of hurt Andrea, but not nearly as much as it hurt Cal. The previously painful pressure had now become unbearable and intolerable. He attempted to resist by pushing out with his arms, but the doll could not have possibly been able to escape when a single breast was four times his size.

The pressure after a number of seconds became too much for the small doll, and his very body began to give. His flattened  state started to flatten even further as his skin began to squeeze and be crushed, and his bones proceeded to crack and crumble. Cal was mostly conscious, throughout, but the pain was absolutely excruciating. If he weren't already dead from the damage to his body, he'd have died from the pain.

Through this Andrea was just grinning and chuckling, looking down at her hot breasts with the feeling of power you get when you know a body part of yours had ended one's life.

Once the cracking and the gushing stopped, Andrea reasoned he must've become paste by now. She let go of her breasts and they fell from her hands. As they became less rigid, little rivulets of blood streamed down from them onto her chest and soaking and staining her white blouse.

Andrea was satisfied, and once again went back to writing down something for the company.

Miranda, in Andrea's purse on the table, watched the horror scene in morbid fascination as she realized that that she had led to the death of one she regarded as a human being.

With despondency, she slid down into the inner pocket of the purse that had become her home when it wasn't in a shoe. There was no getting out, and she was in her for life.

The rest of it, at least.