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Story Notes:

Done as a writing exercise to show BucketEngineer. Like all of my stories for giantessworld, if you value your sanity and soul, you should not read these, you have been warned.  Even if this isn't immoral or insane, can you really defend having this interest if your family or co workers found out, particularly when it involves giant lolicons on drugs? Talk to a therapist about why you are masturbating to stories about giant horny cruel children torturing you and whether they'd fund research into this fetish or find that acceptable. May goddess have mercy on the souls of pedophiles.


Author's Chapter Notes:

Morally disgusting and horrifying, and there aren't even toddlers torturing men to death, yet.

Father Alexander woke to the sound of children playing in the park, he smiled as a little girl appeared within his dreams as a black haired cherub whose foot alone was the size of the church, descending from heaven and shattering the windows to Saint Liberta with the trumpeting of judgment. The unbelievers would splatter underneath the seraphic stockings of the saints. When the judgment was done and the atheists lay forever being ground beneath the angels feet he would wash her foot with a sponge, kissing the brilliant bright foot, singing praise to the lord. He didn’t know it but Father Alexander was going to get the kids their toys this Christmas after all and wouldn’t have to lie about minorities robbing him or explaining that he liked to sniff the girl’s underwear and masturbated into their reheated used diapers.

He was very dazed and confused, he remembered being a bit tipsy from hearing there was another victim speaking out against the cardinal and falling asleep on a park bench praying to Jesus not to go down with him because of certain artistic arrangements, but nothing after that, it all became a blur. He looked around after the cute little Peruvian angel with the flaming sword who made that demon with the big eyes and hairy horns burst into flames. Where were the lovely voices coming from? He looked for the children but saw nothing, he pulled out his cell phone but there was no reception, just a text from the cardinal, “Alexander, I see the light, I always thought that was a metaphor!”. Odd.

He then tried to find the road he’d been driving on thru Nevada down to Vegas to bet the children’s fund on red at roulette, but as he looked around he realized that the sand he was standing on was seemingly endless. He desperately needed to get his glasses, wherever he was in the desert the rocks here seemed almost like an ocean, he’d never seen grains of sand this large before. He remembered watching Thunderbirds as a child and the giant smoke and water droplets, could it be that his darkest fantasy had come true and he was about to climb the body of a cherub, rubbing his balls all over the Houri that those Muslim imams got to hump for eternity in their much better sounding heaven.

Lord, what have I done to deserve to shrink? Mary please have mercy, however did this come to be, he’d just been drinking some wine, making some strategic investments in Vegas and working on his cherub sculptures for the cardinal but he wasn’t like some of the other brethren who he’d seen groping lolitas who couldn’t even talk as they attended their ill fathers in the mines. There was no shortage of men more evil than he in this town, hell, they straight up worshipped the devil as a glowing green statue down in the mines because they knew he ran things in this hell hole. He has plans to study marble sculpture in Italy, now he sculpted lolicon with blender in New Jersey. Why would the almighty shrink him but let them walk free?

Father Alexander looked up and saw a blue moon eclipsing the sun, and wondered what it was. After wandering what felt like 40 years without his SUV, how did the lord walk so much? He realized this was no Israeli desert, and moons don’t have metal dots in them. He’d been shrunken in the church daycare’s family park in the sand box near the jungle gym. He looked to the west and he gazed up and screamed at what looked to be a pale horseman. As his eyes adjusted he could see that it was that poor little Rocio girl who looked like she would blow away in the autumn wind she was so skinny and her reddish brown hair like her dark acorn eyes, she was normally down here when as her mother worked in a factory ever since the father got black lung down in the mines. He iagined what it must be like, clinging to her tight white panties as she rocked back and forth, lutching on to her butt cheeks for dear life like riding a bucking bull, and whether she would feel his miniscule slaps across her sexy 12 foot tall ass. What is must feel like to be underneath her being ground into the plastic seat by her hungry baby pussy, veiled behind cotton. He could see in her eyes that she enjoyed the ryhtmic motion...

Father Alexander’s heart started to beat as he wondered how long until Sister Maggie let out a Noahs arc of girls ages 1-5 to join as recess overlapped and the playground would become a no mans land for shrunken men. He would end up a stain on a pair of black buckle shoes towering twice his height and he would naively climb them to heaven, like babel trying to form prayers to the lord and it coming out as weak whimpers.

He panicked, peeing his robes a bit and started to run to the nearest hiding place he could think of to hide from any children whom would see him as a ”toy”, the shadows of the swing. Rocio made her way to the swing from the pale plastic rocking horse. It was no good, these kids had much sharper eyes than he, she smiled an impish little smile as she looked down at him and tapped a black mary janes wrapped in two black leather straps and bronze buckles. hugging a white tower of cotton as thick as an oak tree, some 3 times as thick as his chest. He could almost hear the blood pumping through her calf muscles. Nearly to be the green viscera of ants speckled by dust from an ant hill. Alexander started to run screaming from the foot torture that awaited him beneath Rocio, he imagined the ants arms like Christ splattered against her shoes dying for the sins of a neglectful society. He ran up a sand hill and made his way to the grass, though cut earlier that week by that pedophile nephew of the cardinal who was always leaving his empty beer cans around the school yards, it came up to his chin as autumn leaves formed large canopies three times his height to hide under from the all seeing eye of the 15 story toddler titan Rocio the bug bursting willowy cherubic cutie.

It was no good thought as the leaf 4 feet infront of him crumbled and a 9 foot tall black behemoth twisted it into the grass, he wondered if the grass liked being stepped on to some extent, unlike the horrifying chandelier of insect corpses by her heels. It was horrifying, but at the same time he wanted to be those bugs beneath the judgemental foot of a cherub like Rocio, his death could be far worse, like the lords on a cross, compared to this. Jesus would have much preferred this, so he liked to think. He ran by two leaves separated what seemed like 15 feet apart through his jungle grass. He remembered his brother going to Vietnam, these grasses had to be worse than those even. He crouched down imagining if dodging  Rocios girlish gaze was anything like dodging those Vietkong child soldiers who his brother killed before he shot himself. He was on the concrete now, about 15 feet away was the base of an orange plastic park bench, unfortunately there was nowehere to hide.

He ran for it, like an idiot, without the grass and leaves he was exposed, and soon the hand of a curly black haired goddess with acorn eyes grabbed him, nearly crushing one of his ribs, as a 3 year old girl about 15 times his current size, who normally at 32 inches, was about half as tall as he was, meaning he was about two inches tall!

The initial shock made him almost piss himself, as he screamed like one of those babies from the house call with the cardinal that still haunted him. Alexander whimpered as he was dropped onto the cold hard concrete in front of a brnad new Barbie house he swore he could have sold outside of a casino in Vegas, as sister Melisa sat there motionlessly on the ground as two finger clumsily tore at her silk clothes piece by piece leaving her emeralds but otherwise in the bufftrembling, her dark Brazilian body shaved making her as smooth as their little girl goddess Rocio. She used to be a whore before getting into this religion racket, but she liked to keep her body a temple, to Ishtar the goddess she worshipped. Alexander could see looking at her ass twice as thick as his hand and her double D breasts why someone would have wanted to own her ancestors as sex slaves.

The 15 story tall three year oldt humbed her breasts, with Melisas bosom budging underneath the thumb that took up half of her body. “You spent all the money for toys and jewelry so God answered my prayers and gave me some dollies to play with!” Rocios legs formed walls of white cotton covered trees that lead to a cloud of white panties with the bimbo from Frozen on it, towering over thirty feet above him, as he gazed at the little one towering over him like that weird statue that sister Melisa had of Ishtar. He’d felt entitled to this ever since buying her those clothes as she brown skirt she’d gotten from the church, cloaked him from the sun, he’d dreamed of this many nights, rubbing his erection into toddler turds praying to God. 



Chapter End Notes:

I appreciate the reviews of chapter one, I've added more details per request but I would like more feed back before going onto the end.

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