Frenzied radio signals crisscrossed from edge to edge of the United States. Key government officials from America, and soon any country in the surrounding hemispheres, were stowed deep inside a nuclear bunker. Every branch of the military was thrust into mad activity, planting any able-bodied soldier and pilot into each and every armored vehicle on the country’s payroll. One word buzzed on the lips of every terrified politician, seething general, and lowly private alike.
Andrea.
The call came through. After a brief wade out into the Atlantic Ocean, churning up waves towering enough to inflict hurricanes and typhoons on all countries unlucky enough to touch the same waters, the young woman was making her way back toward land. Squarely in the direction of New York.
The dark-haired, sun-kissed beauty took ownership of the entire horizon before she was within one hundred miles of the bustling coastal city. Her shapely thighs flexed and her runner’s calves bulged as she shuffled through the shallow waters of the ocean. As she stood at a staggering seventy miles in height, her slender, silky legs were the only focus of those below Earth’s atmosphere, not to mention the fluttering halo formed by her white skirt. The rest of her happy, confident form was obscured by outer space itself, though with her arms spread wide as she reached toward her next hapless destination, those on the ground could make out her face with a high-rise telescope. And they could see she was smiling ear-to-ear.
Andrea’s fingers danced and twirled through the black curls of her flowing hair. Her other hand loosely gripped the thongs of her pink flip-flops, hooked over two lazy digits. For her, stepping across the boundless waters of the Earth was as innocuous as removing one’s shoes to step barefoot through a rain puddle. Indeed, the ocean only just submerged her pretty, pedicured feet beneath the shimmering blue surface. She giggled as tidal whirlpools by the thousands tickled her ankles.
The contact high of letting the cities and mountains squish through her toes like sand was still warming her cheeks, but Andrea wanted more. Needed more. She knew that already. After trampling her hometown and the adjacent burbs into a dusty paste of rubble and tick-sized people, there was no way she could ignore the rest of the world. They had to see her. More importantly, though, they had to experience the inevitable storm of her mile-high, graceful bronze-tanned toes colliding with their sense of reality.
“I’ve always wanted to see New York,” the girl declared softly to herself, though her voice carried for nearly a hundred miles beyond. “And now it’ll get to see me, too!”
As she came nearer to the coast, she slowed her pace, ensuring to dip her toes into the water and arch her heel backward such that the hurricanes were directed away from the city. Though it was a funny idea to flood all of New York in a single elegant kick of her foot and the subsequent country-sized ocean wave, it would be a waste. Andrea intended to enjoy this game with her newest toy city. For that, she’d need it to survive just a little longer.
She held her foot aloft from the water as millions of gallons dripped away from her sleek skin in tantalizing droplets. By squinting, she could just make out a direct comparison to the city by holding her naked ped above Manhattan like a visiting alien spacecraft. The island was actually longer than her foot, but only just; her sole could’ve covered most of the building-speckled land and its eight million citizens.
Like the previous city she’d subjugated into the crevices of her toes and the oppressive weight of her heel, Andrea spied a hopeless traffic jam of cars packing the streets in a useless attempt to escape. Only by crouching down, her gorgeous looming face now taking place of the sun over New York City, could the woman make out the microbe-like movements of hundreds of thousands of rampaging people in the streets, not to mention those still entrapped in the offices which didn’t stand much taller than Andrea’s pinky toe.
“Hello down there, cuties,” Andrea whispered. Her booming murmur echoed through every concrete canyon of the metropolis. “I always heard you guys were called the Big Apple, but you’re not so big-looking to me. How about the Itsy Bitsy Tiny Apple? Honestly, a city that’s just a liiiittle bit longer than my foot can’t possibly be BIG, right?”
The screams of horrified denizens and the screech of swerving cars only multiplied. Andrea chuckled at their panic.
“It doesn’t matter what you’re called, though. I’m still going to play with you,” the giant brunette said simply. “Since I’m your goddess and all. It’s kind of my job. Sorry!”
Andrea’s foot still hoisted itself over the city, casting the majority of downtown in the shadow of her arched sole. Her heel rested comfortably in the water while her toes formed an arc over the center of the city, presenting her foot like a fleshy monument akin to Godzilla rising from the ocean.