Slowly, like an all-powerful demon emerging from hell, Megan stepped out of the subway station into the surface. One hundred and fifty feet tall, the 20 year old hardly needed to apply pressure to break through the subway's stony ceiling, since her strength had increased as well. As she stood on solid ground, Megan looked down. The multi-storey buildings were about shin-level with her, trees hardly reached her knees, cars were about half as long as her feet, while the people hardly reached the size of her pinky fingernail. Brushing the last of the debris from the subway station off, she began walking down the street, slowly, to add to the menace.

Megan didn't care where she stepped. If something or someone would get in her way and get squashed, too bad.

The giantess crushed cars under her heavy boots, their tiny frames crunching like rusty soda cans. Sometimes, she bent over a little and tore a tree out off the ground, holding its many-branched crown between her fingers and uprooting it with a quick twitch of her biceps. Megan deliberately crushed a newspaper stall or two under her feet, savouring the sensation as it surrendered to her immense weight.

Soon, a traffic pile had formed in front of her, since everybody tried to flee from this behemoth of a woman, not caring about the traffic rules any longer. Cars honked, people ran. As Megan approached the pile, she saw some of the tinies open the car doors and running away.

They were the smart ones.

Because the 150 foot Megan simply walked through the traffic pile, crushing scores of cars on her way to the TV studio. Dozens of cars were flattened within a few seconds, their puny metal frames squeezed together like in a car compactor and their windows shattered. Megan stepped on a few cars only partially, so that their front or back was flat but the rest relatively intact (not that it matted to their owners).

People inside were squashed and compacted along with their cars, for the giantess didn't care at all she was killing. Megan was the big girl now, and only what she wanted was important. Tinies stupid enough not to leave their puny cars and get out of her way were not worthy to take into account. So they were stepped on without an afterthought.

Megan looked down. How tiny everything was! Her black leather boots could cover the cars easily, like they were matchboxes. And the people... mites, that is what they were. Megan could hardly feel their puny bodies crush under her thick, rubber soles, but she saw the snow slowly turn red on either side of her feet.

Soon, she left the street and entered one of the main roads of London. The people there, having seen her head and shoulder tower over the buildings already, were now trying to get away from her. Like a swarm of termites, they wriggled in front of Megan's feet, screaming and cursing.

The giantess saw them and smiled. She had an idea.

Megan bent down over the mob. Her shadow eclipsed them menacingly.

"I want an ice-cream," she said. "You know what my favorite flavor is? Humans. Tiny, insignificant humans! Mmmm!"

With her enormous hands, each about 35 feet long, Megan scooped huge amounts of snow from the roofs of the houses surrounding her, not caring she took a few tiles along with it. Then she dropped the white, frozen mass on the mob, covering at least a dozen people. Before they could free themselves, Megan had scooped that snow up again and kneaded it into a snowball, smothering those inside or pressing them to mush between her enormous hands.

She repeated the procedure two times. Then she went to a nearby church, grabbed its spire and broke it off with a twitch of her biceps. Holding the spire upside down, it resembled an ice cone. Megan picked up the three snowballs, full of people, and place them on the spire, thus making herself a gruesome ice-cream.

The giantess admired her handiwork briefly before licking it. Her enormous tongue, moist with hot saliva, melted the snow and licked up the people, who were consumed like raisins. Those that were still alive would die soon as the couldn't survive the fall from her mouth into her stomach, and even if, the lack of air and the giantess' strong digestive fluids would make short work of them.

Megan, licking, continued her walk through London, stepping on cars, trees and people. Everything crunched nicely under her heavy leather boots, while the muddy snow again slowly turned red from the blood of countless squashed tinies.

Gazing around her, Megan didn't pay attention to the destruction on the ground. She didn't even feel it, as her boots' rubber soles were about 1,5 feet thick. Not even that double decker bus vanishing under her left foot with its red-lacquered metal squeaking was noticed. The young giantess was too occupied searching for the studio were undoubtedly the insulting jury and the candidates deemed fit for the live shows were.

As she finally spotted it, four city blocks lay in ruins, dotted with countless corpses, snapped trees and flattened cars and traffic signs. Megan, having finished her ice-cream, tossed the spire-cone away and walked straight to the large building, ploughing right through a row of houses and smashing her legs through a large flat, splattering the masonry and its tiny occupants like a sand castle being hit by a motorcycle. Megan didn't care. She had another thought. The time for revenge had finally come!