Star Wars was forgotten as the crowd stared at a giant Elly on the movie screen. The camera was no longer holding still; sometimes we saw her from far away with part of the city's skyline in front of her, sometimes there was a closeup on her hand or her foot as she destroyed another vehicle or building.
Elly rampaged through New York (except it was really Toronto, as in so many movies, a thought that wouldn't leave my hysterical head) for another ten minutes. She waded through a river, pausing to lash out with one leg and destroy a bridge. Her five-hundred-foot-tall form moved along streets too narrow for her, knocking down skyscrapers on either side with her shoulders and elbows. At one intersection her curvaceous hips brushed the upper floors of a pair of residential blocks and sent broken window-glass and chunks of masonry raining down on the sidewalks and streets below. "This tickles a little," she said, her voice still echoing across the city.
Laughing, she stood with hands on hips (a very familiar pose I'd seen a thousand times- but never from this angle) in the background as thousands of people, most of them in their underwear or pajamas, fled the city in the foreground. Her laughter rolled like thunder across the urban landscape, overpowering the smaller sounds of honking horns and human fear. After a few more seconds of this dramatic shot, she looked down at the fleeing people and cars and a wicked look came over her face- another thing I'd seen many times before.
She focused her attention on a stream of traffic entering a tunnel; frowning now, she walked to the blocks just past the entrance. It was a mile away, almost thirty steps for her, and the camera lingered on the chaos caused by each successive footfall. A small park, a row of red brick townhouses, a street lined with little stores... all vanished beneath the soles of her black high-heeled sandals. Elly lowered herself to her knees, reaching out to steady herself by placing one hand on the roof of a tall building; it broke apart under the weight of her hand and she said, "Oops!"
Then she half-hopped and slammed her shins and the backs of her feet against the pavement. Ten more buildings collapsed, sending dust roiling away in all directions, obscuring my wife from view. When that dust cleared a few moments later, the ground under her shapely legs had dropped twenty or thirty feet. It wasn't much distance, not to her- less then the length of her index finger- but enough to spell the doom of everyone in the now-destroyed tunnel.
Army helicopters came, dramatically lit from below by swift-moving searchlights; more searchlights were focused on Elly from all parts of Toronto/New York. Several helicopters hovered and began shooting rockets at her, and this time they managed to rip and scorch her dress a little- but her skin was unblemished beneath it. She rose from her kneeling position and lunged forward at the same time, covering a quarter-mile in no time at all, surprising one pilot. She siezed his copter and threw it into another; both broke up with a cinematically-appropriate fireball and fell to street level in flaming pieces. The rest of the choppers retreated, but the range on their missles was long- strange, for an action movie to be so realistic- miles and miles. They hit her over and over again, until the remains of her dress fell away, leaving her in panties. She wasn't wearing a bra. I tried to remember if that was the case before we came to the theater, but couldn't.
One of the clips holding her hair pinned close to her head was broken by another explosion and her black locks spilled down past her left ear. For the first time since cutting loose, she looked pissed off... Elly unfastened the other clip and shook her hair down, luxuriantly, like a model in a shampoo commercial. She also rotated her shoulders and gave her breasts a nice wiggle, as blatant as a dancer on a pole, and this seemed to improve her mood.
"You want a show, do you?" her voice echoed from the speakers, blanketing the city. Tanks had been rolling closer and now began shooting at her legs. They couldn't break the skin, but the ankle-strap of one shoe broke as she stepped forward to meet them in the street. Elly lost her balance as her high-heeled sandal slid away, falling and flattening the tanks beneath her thighs and stomach. She got up, barefoot now. One toe was still hooked in the straps of a ruined shoe and she kicked it off, sending it through the upper floors of an office tower.
Elly looked speculatively down at her flaming panties, hooked two fingers in the elastic strap and tore them away from her body. Her pubic hair, shaved down to the popular landing strip shape, looked perfect. Everyone in the theater was seeing something that was supposed to be reserved for me. Despite the unreality of the situation, I felt a moment of despair.
The camera lingered on my wife's pubic hair for a few more loving seconds, then the "preview" went to a series of jump-cuts, showing flashes of more destruction: a wave in the river knocked over tiny boats as Elly waded past; another bridge, this one being crushed beneath her breasts... words appeared on the screen: NOTHING CAN STOP HER. For an instant, she was rubbing her pussy lips against a fifteen-story building, holding it steady with one giant hand and moaning. SHE IS A LAW UNTO HERSELF. Elly spilled a handful of screaming people from the palm of her hand into her waiting, smiling mouth, chewed and swallowed them, grinned at the camera with red staining her perfect teeth. THIS SUMMER, PREPARE FOR ATTACK. A giant female hand crushed a tanker truck, which exploded... the camera followed the hand, trailing burning gasoline and smoke, hundreds of feet into the air. Elly held the hand up in the moonlight, frowning, and said, "Oh, darn... I broke a nail!" ATTACK OF THE 500-FOOT WOMAN.
I hyperventilated, closed my eyes and felt like I was falling... then a hand closed over my wrist and Elly whispered, "Calm down. Don't say anything."
I opened my eyes, said "How- what-"
She said, "That's for me to know," and grinned. For a split second I expected to see her lips stained with the blood of tiny victims... but there was nothing. She was fully clothed, her short black dress and sandals unburned and un-ruined. Nobody around me seemed to have any idea that she was the naked giantess from the preview. In fact, nobody was staring at the screen in stunned silence anymore. They were just watching an ad for a British crime flick like nothing weird had happened at all.
Elly said, quietly, "They didn't see any of it."
I blinked several times, slowly, then pointed at my head. "It was all in here?"
"Not exactly," she said. "Now it's time for the movie, I'll tell you a few things later."
Giantess World
