A new day begins, and with it, fresh horrors. As the sun creeps up over the city's skyline, the dark visages of two distant mountains take form against the horizon. I feel a rhythmic, pulsing rattle beneath my feet; the familiar omen of what's to come. Standing on a crowded street corner, I watch with helpless abandon as hundreds of pedestrians and drivers go about their business, totally unaware of what's coming. I don't bother to warn them. I never do. It makes no difference. Each day ends with the same immutable outcome. And I'm the only one who remembers.
The rattling turns to quaking. A few heads look about with confusion, but no one seems particularly alarmed. Heavier now. Dull thumps resonate throughout the city, shaking its 10 million inhabitants. Five on the Richter Scale. Then six. Soon seven. The thumping is audible now, each quake accompanied by a distant thunder. The sky darkens once more, as the sun vanishes behind the mountains it had only just risen above.
A man, standing in the middle of the street, mouth agape in a vacant expression of utter disbelief, drops a coffee cup. I follow his gaze, already knowing what he's seen. But it still takes me a moment to process, to realign my brain's expectations of scale and perspective, today moreso than usual. Looking down the street, I anticipate the usual monstrosities, sixty stories tall; roaming colossi unleashing havoc on the ants beneath their feet. This time I don't see them. It's hard to see anything, given how dark the sky has become.
No, wait. I look upward. More darkness. My head arches back, almost as far as I can crane my neck, I'm gazing straight up. I find the edges of the darkness, tracing out its vast boundaries against the blue, but still struggling to discern its full shape. My eyes adjust to low light, and more details come into view. Oh God. Now I see it. Now I see her. Her generous lips, almost certainly miles across, curve into a wicked smile. She's never been this big. Her titanic figure dominates a hemisphere of sky. Her eyes, two vast cerulean lakes, focus on a microscopic point leagues below; she's staring at me. My body tingles at the knowledge that I have become the focus of a god’s attention. I swoon a little, under those big beautiful eyes of hers, as I often do, but I also tremble at the cruelty that lingers behind them.
Moon-sized hands emerge from behind her, and two powerfully-built arms embrace her waist. Their owner's face rises above her shoulder and rests on it. Another set of eyes stare down at me beyond the heavens. Mark and Amber. Humanity's eternal overlords.
They still remember me, I whisper, or maybe screamed. I might've just said it in my head, only to you. It's hard to know amongst the pandemonium unfolding around me, the apoplectic meltdown of 10 million self-aware dust mites. Nonetheless, in an ocean of chaos, I'm noticed. It'd been months since they glanced in my direction, since Amber, my love, even acknowledged my existence. Maybe she misses me, misses the intimacy of taking her little toy woman out of her cage and playing exclusively with her.
We used to be alone together, the only two beings in an entire universe controlled by Amber. I would spend days beneath her feet, licking and kissing them while Amber pleasured herself, aroused by the limitless power she could exhibit over me. When she would get bored of this, she would slowly lower her foot onto me, pressing me into the floor and squishing my body under her flesh. The feeling of Amber’s sole encompassing my entire being was like all aspects of our relationship: equal parts pain and pleasure.
But one tiny woman isn’t enough to satisfy Amber’s desires, and one day, from somewhere - or perhaps from nowhere - Mark arrived. The two of them would play with me together, or sometimes just one of them would enjoy me while the other simply watched. Mark could be just as cruel as Amber. Sometimes he would simply hold me in his hand and squeeze until I broke. Sometimes Amber would dangle me by a leg and drop me into Mark’s mouth, or he would do the same for her, and I would be swallowed whole - or worse, chewed. Amber would occasionally turn me into Mark’s cock, and he would thrust me inside her over and over again. But even that would get dull.
It didn’t matter. Amber’s imagination was a machine in perpetual motion, churning out new exhibitions of godly pleasures with unending innovation. New victims emerged, only to be subsumed into the aether once more by the mere scrape of Amber’s flip-flop. Games were devised, and tiny people would fight for their very survival, or run and hide while Amber and Mark hunted them down and ate them.
Today there would be no game. Mark's lunar left hand stretches outward, his open palm facing the city. Maybe he'll crush us all with one swat, but rarely do the giants end the day so quickly. A nearby woman, wetting herself in ontological shock, begins to rise into the air. Soon, dozens more join her, as some unseen force compels an arbitrary selection of citizenry toward Mark's hand. So lazy Mark, lazy as usual. I much prefer Amber's methods of gathering specimens. She's more physical, more tactile, rarely resorting to Mark's telepathic hijinks. Nevertheless, up they go, thousands of specks drifting toward oblivion.
A scattered dust cloud of sentient motes converges into a dark mass as it approaches Mark's grasp. A thousand explorers make their landing on planet Mark, touching down on its exotic pink ridges. Satisfied with his collection, he swings his hand around Amber's body. It disappears for a moment, then reemerges behind her ass. She giggles a bit, and I see her bare glutes flex, providing a firm surface upon which to welcome Mark's touch and all that came with it. He slaps his palm against her cheek, squeezes her gluteal flesh tight, then runs his hand upward, leaving behind only the red smears of pulverized bodies. Amber laughs again, her nipples growing erect as they often do when waves of humanity break upon her rock.
Oh God. That slap. It was so far away we haven't even heard the sound yet. I throw myself to the ground and bury my head in my jacket, covering my ears. Stupid people, stupid stupid stupid, you should all be doing the same. The sound comes, arriving with a Krakatoan force, shattering every window on every building for a hundred miles in every direction. I'm slammed to the ground so hard I think for a moment that I was hit by a nearby vehicle and pinned under it, but no. My body was nearly broken beneath the mere force of air, the resulting atmospheric detonation of a man's hand meeting a woman's ass. There's your reminder of how small we are; when the giants' slightest gesture nearly upends our existence.
Seconds go by like hours. I regain the strength and courage to uncover my head and look up. The streets around me are getting emptier. More specks are lifted into the air, ultimately finding themselves once more in Mark's monolithic hands. Amber turns to face him, idly brushing her fingers through a million tons of auburn hair. She's so fucking perfect. She's as beautiful as she is wicked. I love that about her. I love how happy she is to be Goddess. I love how much she loves being infinitely above me. Maybe that's why I'm still here, why I still matter to her. She wants a point of reference, a microscopic human against which she measures her gigascopic self. A real human, not like the simulated ones she crushes en masse.
Mark's hands, now coated with tiny beings stuck to his palms, turn upwards and rise, traveling along the toned ridges of Amber's abdominals. They collide with her body once more, this time more gently, as he cups her breasts, atomizing thousands of people against her supple flesh. He squeezes. Amber's breasts are extraordinarily sensitive, and she responds with a visible moan. Another eruption is coming.
I duck again, once again wrapping my coat around my head, anything to muffle the deafening blast of sexual gratification. It arrives, a freight train of ecstasy, rumbling through my body, I feel it in my bones, every molecule of my being quivers under Amber's slightest exhalation. This, and this alone, Mark can give to her. I look up again, at the two perfect beings in whose presence I am not even worthy to exist. She, the voluptuous brunette who stole my heart, and he, the muscular Adonis of her creation. His only purpose is to humble me; I'm sure of it.
The streets are emptier now, and dark specks merely appear on Mark's ridiculous pectorals. Amber’s gargantuan white teeth glisten in the sunlight as she cracks a smile. Her left hand rises, and oh-so delicately presses against his chest, squishing the nothings beneath into even less than nothing. She stares at the remainder, those living few who escaped her wrath between her fingers. They won't live long. She leans inward, and her continental tongue oozes out of her cavernous maw. The pink behemoth lands on Mark's chest, and slithers across its vastness, taking with it countless morsels. She swallows, but the offering is far, far too meager to satisfy her insatiable appetites. It always is.
I blink, and everything changes. I can barely breathe now; like I'm suddenly on Everest, but what little air is around me is sweltering hot and oppressively humid. I'm alone on this peak, and it doesn't take me long to know precisely where I am. I've been here before, many times, but never at this scale. I look up at the two titans, staring down at me, their heads far closer than before. I'm standing on a head of an altogether different variety; the tip of Mark's throbbing cock. I can feel the blood pulsing through his erection, or maybe it's just my legs shaking out of fright. But either way, I know how this day will end.
The fleshy sky before me begins to move downward, as Amber crouches to be more on my pathetic level. She’s so close, so big, even her mouth extends well beyond my periphery. But I can make out its upward slope, curving into her mischievous smirk. A dimple forms on her cheek the size of a crater. Her dimples beguiled me once, as did everything else about that cute girl next door whose sweetness proved only skin deep. She doesn’t say anything; doesn’t have to. She’s a show, not tell kind of girl, and she always shows me the same thing. She is infinite, and I am nothing.
Lips part, and I am slowly thrust into a black void. The ground beneath me quakes and jostles, and I hear the slurping noise of giant lips sucking a giant cock. I lose my footing, fall, rise, fall again; I’m swept away by the current of a viscid, scalding-hot goo. My body is carried back, then down. I’m falling, certainly I’ve been swallowed, along with a torrent of Mark’s semen. The day ends just like yesterday, just like every day, in darkness.
A new day begins. Amber is holding me in her hand, the way a girl holds her favorite doll. She pets my hair with something resembling affection. I practically melt in the warmth of her hand. It’s been a long time since she’s done this, been gentle, granted me a momentary reprieve, showed me anything but contempt. “So small,” she whispers, caressing my head between her long fingers. “I want to show you something,” she says.
I’m no longer in her hand. I struggle to regain my bearings, when a loud smack erupts behind me. I turn, only to find a massive flip-flop had careened into the ground, being dangled by a familiar set of toes. I’m an inch tall, hidden away underneath Amber’s school desk. The other students, from what I can tell, look to be college age. Distant heels click clack against the floor. I hear the voice of the professor address the class. It’s my voice.
I peer around the desk’s metal leg, and what I see is perplexing. It’s me - I’m the professor. I’m her teacher? Just as I’m lost in confusion, Amber’s hand swoops down and collects me. I’m deposited on an open notebook on her desk, looking up at her gorgeous face. A pink bubble emerges from her lips and pops as she giggles at me. She’s scribbling with a pencil, working her way across the paper. I miss the cue to get out of the way, and a graphite shaft sends me rolling. I tumble a bit, find my footing, and stand again. She grabs me, raising me in the air so I can get a bird’s-eye view of her work. She’s a talented artist, I’ll give her that. She’s drawn my likeness, being smooshed under a heel - presumably hers. She flips through her notebook, revealing dozens of sketches of her and Mark squishing her classmates, eating them, being worshiped by them. I look around, sure enough, Mark is sitting at a nearby desk.
Slam. Her professor - me? - plunks down a small stack of papers on Amber’s desk. I - she - whatever! - make a disappointed look at Amber, as I point at a red “D-” at the top of the paper. The professor walks off, continuing to return graded tests to the other students. I read the red notes below the barely passing grade. “Are you even trying? I’m disappointed.” Why would Amber fantasize about this? She dangles me in front of her face, and the contempt has returned.
“I hate math,” she whispers, “and I hate you. And I hate this stupid class. And I don’t want to take it a third time.” Oh no. Fuck. It clicks. I get it. She’s a right-brained girl forced to live in my left-brained world, constantly failing, constantly being made to feel inadequate, stupid, small. I failed her; forced her to repeat the same torture she was trying to escape. And now, this is her revenge. A simple imaginary inversion, where I’m the small one, I’m in her world, where she makes the rules, where some cute guy from her class can tag along for some mayhem, where I am infinitely humbled for all time.
“Now you’re getting it,” she says. I find myself shrinking again. Amber sticks her tongue out, revealing a wet wad of gum. She drops my dwindling form onto its sticky surface. My stomach wrenches as the ground rockets upwards, then I nearly vomit, barely maintain consciousness, as the ground careens downward with me on it. Her huge fingers border my sides, pinching the gum, bringing it upwards again. I barely make out what’s happening before it ends, before she slams the gum into the underside of the desk, where I’ll remain, until another day begins.