Miyu groans and slams her hand down on the alarm clock. She sighs into her pillow, and after a moment, she sits up on the edge of her bed, frowning. She really doesn’t want to go to work today. She stands and slips off her panties and undershirt. Miyu is of average height for a 23-year old Japanese woman. Her hair is chin-length, straight with bangs. She shuffles across her large and sparse bedroom and into the bathroom shower. The house is a mansion, huge, clean, and high tech, built in the western style. It’s also cold and empty, larger than she would ever need. She’s still not totally used to it. The City had given it to her, for her fame and her service. 

     She stares at herself blankly through the glass shower stall until it steams up completely.

***

     Miyu chews her breakfast, slumped in front of the low white table. She brings a small cup of coffee up to her mouth when an electronic chime echoes through her house, someone at the door. Miyu glances at the clock as she stands, groaning in disgust.

***

     The knocking is frantic on the big front doors. She curses as she stomps her foot into her sky-blue pumps. They have four inch heels and black soles, and are polished to a shine.

     “I’m coming, damnit!” she says. The entry room is huge, two stories tall with a shining white floor and a double staircase behind her.

     She straightens out her uniform, a short button-up jacket and even shorter skirt, all the same colour of blue with pinstripes. She pulls tight her sheer stockings and taps her cap. She doesn’t even know what kind of hat it is. It looks like maybe a flight attendant’s, but that doesn’t make any sense. None of her outfit does, not practically. It’s all for show. All for other’s enjoyment.

     She almost reaches for the door, but then grabs a bottle of Paracetamol off a small table instead. She pops two of them and then grimaces as she swallows them dry.

     “It’s time to go!” the voice on the other side of the door says. Miyu wrenches the doors open and storms outside into the morning sun. Toma scrambles after her. “You’re late!” he says. Toma is short and thin, wiry. His hair is unkempt and tufts out randomly. His suit is too large and hangs open.

“I know!” Miyu snaps at him, but she sees that is face only concerned and now possibly hurt. She softens a bit and sighs. “Come on,” she says.

     Toma rushes by her to the moped sitting in the driveway of the mansion. “Are your fingernails good?" he says. “Yes," Miyu replies. “They gave me a manicure yesterday." 

     Toma stuffs his head into a large round helmet and fumbles with the straps. Miyu stands, squinting and frowning in the low sun, trying not to let her ire rise. Hurry up and wait, she thinks. She taps her foot in the loose white gravel. She had to admit, the uniform made her legs look great.

     After a few tries the moped whines to life. Toma, now sweating, hands her a stylish white helmet. She shakes and her head and brushes it away, hopping on the back. “It’s a three minute drive!” she says. She holds on to his sides and they speed away. 

     Three minutes later they arrive in the middle of an abnormally flat dirt field. The white mansion sits in the distance, and beyond the perimeter of electrified fence and warning lights, other houses encircle them. The tall buildings of the city skyline loom in the distance. Miyu steps onto the ground and yawns, and brushing the dust off herself. 

     “Are you ready for today?” Toma says, muffled almost unintelligibly through his helmet. Miyu waves him away, staring at the ground.

     “Have a good day!” he says, and then wobbles away on the moped, picking up speed. Miyu sighs and puts her hands on her hips. She takes a few deep breaths, centering herself. Warning sirens wail in the near distance. Eventually an amplified voice echoes across the field from the observation tower: “Okay! Commence - Growth!”

***

     300-foot tall Miyu strides down the special highway constructed just for her, following the waterfront towards the city. It had been a long weekend, and she was tired, but she had forgotten how good it felt to be full-size again. Ocean wind sweeps lightly against her, and the sky is bright and peppered with cottony clouds. Office towers reflect pure gold light and deep blue on their glass surfaces, the miniature city spreading below her. She inhales through her nose. The brisk smell of the ocean and the morning fumes of the city are not an unpleasant scent, but a familiar one. Perhaps this will be good day after all, she thinks, allowing a hint of a smile to tug at her soft lips.

***

     She should have known better. At her first stop, she had said her customary greeting, crouching down gracefully with one hand in her lap and extending her other palm to the passenger platform. “Good morning! Welcome aboard the Miyu Express!” She had continued on, spouting more greetings and well wishes and then safety regulations and procedures as the group of about twenty people, each less than half of an inch tall, filed onto her waiting hand. She wasn’t allowed to rest her hand against the side of the platform, even though it would have made her hand much more steady. She had practiced breathing and other techniques, but still the minute movements of her hand were too much for regular sized people, and so according to safety procedure, they crawled on their hands and knees to the center of her palm. She likes seeing this for some reason. She had decided it was cute.

     Miyu had waited patiently for an older woman who was having trouble getting onto her hand. “She doesn’t want to jump, and she doesn’t want to lifted down,” the station manager had told her, radioing into her earpiece. She hadn’t replied, or sighed, or did anything but smile politely lest she be reprimanded by the Express executives. She had thought to herself though, people that old shouldn’t be getting on anyway. They make everyone wait. And what if they had a heart attack or something? She didn’t want to have to deal with that. Eventually the old woman had made it onto her palm somehow, sliding onto the soft but firm surface. Miyu returned to her speech and rose slowly, the whole group now in her hand.

     That was all of five minutes ago. Now Miyu sighs inwardly, her mood quickly dropping back to what it had been earlier this morning. Already the old woman is demanding that she speak to her. The Express attendant in her hand, who has a communication and medical setup built into the sleeve of Miyu’s jacket, is young and not very experienced, and somehow allows the old woman to grab the mic.

     “Miss?! Young Miss!?” she woman says.

     “How may I help you?” Miyu says, putting on a smile.

     “You need to slow down! I can’t sit still, I keep sliding about! What if I slide right off your hand? What about that?”

     Miyu would actually be happy at this moment if that were to happen. She pictured it for a second. Perhaps if she could single the old lady out, and spread her fingers a fraction of an inch...

     But before she allows a sly smile to make it across her face, she instead repeats company regulations endlessly. She quickly becomes sick of the sound of her own voice, not to mention the woman’s squawking in her ear. 

     Miyu was hoping to enjoy the walks along and through the city today. Sometimes she didn’t mind at all repeating the Places of Interest information and other tourist-y slop. Sometimes she enjoyed being completely responsible for the excited little specks ooh-ing and awe-ing and crawling about in her hand, snapping pictures. But not today.

     Today was going to be a long day.

***

     Miyu wishes that she had brought along some Paracetamol. But that was against company policy to carry enlarged personal products on the Express. Her face is strained, squinting against the sun and the heat and a headache pounding inside her skull and the voices in her ear.

     She had finally come to the end of the first tour. She had to wait once more in that uncomfortable position while the old woman struggled her way off her hand. It had taken Miyu all she had to not simply pinch the old woman up between her fingers and flick her onto the station platform.

     The second trip of the day did not go much better. On the scenic-countryside route she held in her hand a group of snooty photographers from Tokyo. The attendant in her hand was constantly relaying their complaints and concerns. They said it was too hard set up their tripods with all the wind. When she had cupped her hand slightly for them, they complained that now it was too hard to see over the edge of her palm. They wanted to get closer to edge, but that was against safety regulations. Then they wanted to linger at all the stops of interest, all of them wanting to get the perfect shot. She had to carry on schedule though, and they whined bitterly the whole way.

***

     One of the passengers on her next route through the city gets motion sick and vomits on her hand. She didn’t notice of course, until the attendant informs her. The passenger now wants to be let off immediately. This is also against regulations, of course. She wishes, as she often did, that she was allowed to wear gloves for this job. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, calming herself.

     “Miyu! You shouldn’t close your eyes when you are walking. It upsets the passengers,” the attendant says. Miyu’s eyes snap open, glaring at him intensely before she gathers herself and puts on her faux smile. She exhales in a huff.

***

     This was getting ridiculous. She was supposed to be on break, but instead they had ordered her on to the next station so that they could prepare for some rich big shots who wanted to have a personal party on her hand during the tour. She half-heartedly tries not to look furious as she heads down the highway along the waterfront, her empty hands clenched into fists.

     The highway is a massive construction of concrete and metal, a giant white sidewalk just for her, lined by guide-lights and high walls (only a few inches in height to her) marked with hazard signs and electrified fence at the top. This keeps out most of the daredevils, graffiti artists, and, she was told, the suicide attempts. 

     She had never quite managed to understand that last one. She supposes it makes sense, from a base male perspective... if they were to die, then surely there were worse ways than by a woman such as herself. She feels a shiver down in her spine thinking of this, and she doesn’t know where it comes from. Probably because it was disturbing, the thought that people wanted to die by her... but disturbing isn’t quite the right word. She doesn’t know what the word is. 

     A thought unbidden appears in her mind, an image of a hopelessly sad man bursting beneath her massive shoe. She shivers again. There was that feeling, that she can’t quite place. She shakes her head and pushes the thought away. She remembers instead the last group of people that finds their way onto the track - the perverts.

     She clenches her fists and her jaw. The thought of the horny, greasy little freaks so desperate to get a look up her skirt infuriates her, and the fact that they should be so brazen as to break all the rules and regulations and take up the time and effort of Express workers to be removed from the highway while she would stand waiting in heels for it all to pass, is almost as bad as the fact that she’s forced to wear a skirt in the first place. She tries not to hunch her shoulders and stomp the rest of the way.

     Then she notices a tiny black speck up ahead on the road. ...Could it be? It has to be. If she had not been thinking of interlopers in the first place, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him so early. Sure enough, the radio soon squawks in her ear. “Warning, there is a trespasser on the highway ahead. Stop immediately.”

     For some reason she isn’t sure of, Miyu doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even slow down.

     The radio says again, “Stop immediately! Miyu, respond!”

     Miyu reaches up to her ear and presses her finger to it. “Hello?” she says. “Are you saying something?” She struggles to keep a smirk from spreading across her face. Now she knows what she’s doing. Something she’s never done before. Something she should have done a long time ago.

     “Miyu! Stop!”

     “I think I’m getting static,” she says, tapping her ear. She doesn’t look down, but surreptitiously times her steps using her peripheral vision. Her heart beats in her chest. In another step she’ll feel the pervert crunch under her foot like an ant.

     “Miyu there’s a little boy on the track!”

     She freezes instantly, her foot raised resting on her heel. She turns it aside to see the tiny speck that was beneath her shoe. She pulls her foot back and brings a hand up to her forehead, sighing. Her face is a distressed mixture of shame, relief, frustration, and exhaustion. 

     It had been close. Only a few inches more and the boy would have been a smear on her shoe. She felt like screaming and groaning at the same time. Instead she takes a deep breath. She crouches down, like she has always done. She knows she’s supposed to just wait for the rescue crews to arrive. She can hear the sirens and see the tiny little lights on the cars approaching. But instead she rests her hand beside the tiny figure, and with her other hand, gently picks up the boy with her fingers and deposits him in her palm. She stands and brings him up to her face. She makes out that the boy is crying, and has wet his pants. For the second time that day she wishes she could be wearing gloves.

     “Good afternoon!” she says. “Welcome aboard the Miyu Express!”

     The businessmen in her hand are thoroughly drunk. She can hear their crude laughter even at her size. They try to walk and crawl around in her hand almost like children. At one point she glances down swears that one of them has his clothes off and is humping her hand, much to the amusement of the others. She looks away. She would really rather not know what was happening in her hand.

     Unfortunately she can often hear their lewd suggestions they attempt to bellow into the mic of the hapless attendant. She ignores them, but inside she’s fuming. She tries not to imagine closing her hand into a fist, hearing their screams of terror.

       She shudders again. Where are these thoughts coming from? I’m just having a bad day, that’s all, she thinks. But when she had had those thoughts, it hadn’t made her angry. She had felt calmer. Perhaps she should indulge her escapism more often. It’s dangerous thinking. But shes beginning to like it.

     She hears a convergence of sirens somewhere in the city. She’s used to the sirens, it’s a large city, but this one catches her attention. She scans the city as she walks. Then she spots it.

     A massive blaze in a residential district. She stops, staring at it. Beneath a plume of smoke as tall as herself, an apartment tower writhes in flame.

     “Hey!” a wet, cackling voice in her ear says, “what’s the hold up? We don’t have all day! Or do you want Mr. Akiyama to put his sausage on your hand again?”

     Miyu turns, bends down to the busy little street intersection beside the highway, and dumps her hand out into the street. She vaguely hears the screams of protest on the radio dying away as she stands, looking around. She’s on the sea route again. She lifts her leg and steps out onto a little dockside street that doent’t look too busy.

    She gasps a little as the ground sinks beneath her foot. She’s so used to her highway she had forgotten what it felt like walking on normal ground. But she’s in a hurry and brings her other foot forward, stepping to the edge of the water, feeling the dockside collapse and slough beneath her. The feeling is exciting, but she doesn’t have time to register it. She crouches and dips her hands into the water, cupping them. Then quickly she straightens and strides towards the smoke cloud.

    “What are you doing?” a voice in her ear says. It sounds like Express officials. She can’t be bothered to respond. She’s focused on the terrain ahead. She hurriedly places one foot in front of the other, making snap judgment calls on where the least crowded street areas are.

    She does pretty well until one foot sinks even deeper than before and she wobbles slightly, but carries on, her hands held cupped in front of her. Something in the back of her mind tells her she’s crashed through a subway tunnel, but she’s focused on the fire ahead now. It’s close.

    Suddenly mid-step there’s nowhere to go - traffic had converged around the fire, a mix of emergency vehicles, backed up traffic and rubberneckers. One foot already raised she desperately puts it down amongst a block of small houses, praying they’re empty. She barely feels one building crunch under her shoe, but she can’t worry about it now. The firefighters have cleared the perimeter of the tower and it’s there she manages to put her other foot.

    The tower is many stories high and comes up to her thigh. The fire is about halfway up, and on several levels. She crouches and tips her hands forward like a spout, pouring the water carefully into the building. It hisses as she moves her hands around, dousing the flame. When her hands are empty, all that remains of the blaze is a large black ring around the tower, steaming and smoking. She can see into the burnt out interior. A few flames still lick inside, and she leans forward and blows, putting out them out.

    Then she sees all the little figures in the windows above the burnt out section. An amplified voice from one of the firetrucks below says, “You have to get them out of there! The building is unstable!”

    Miyu studies the building for a moment and the puts her palms up to the windows. “Okay!” she says, “Jump!” She doesn’t know how long it takes to get everyone out of the building. It could have been a few minutes or half an hour. Some had jumped eagerly from the smoke filled structures, others were reluctant, scared, or hurt. But she had just held her hands out and eventually everyone made it out. She exhales in relief, wiping her brow of soot and sweat.     She stands painfully, wincing at the stiffness in her body. She looks out at the city below her, momentarily lost.

    A voice from below says, “Don’t move!”

    She looks down. There are too many tiny cars and bodies at her feet, and she is tired. She brushes her hair back behind her ears.

    The little megaphone voice continues, “Don’t take one step! You are in a precarious position. You shouldn’t have left the highway! Now we have to take account of every action of yours. Don’t move or you will do more damage!”

She dimly recognizes the voice as one of the Express executives. Now she’s  forced to stand once more. She can’t even move her feet. All she can do is shift her weight from one to the other.

    “I just want to go home,” she says, to nobody in particular, wiping her face with dirty hands.

    After a while, she becomes aware of a din from below. Tilting her head, she can see a crowd shouting angrily at her feet. Eventually, the voice returns, sounding sheepish and disgruntled. “Ahem. Well, uh, Toma here and, the people from the tower agree that uh, you have earned your rest for today and you may go home.”

    The crowd erupts into cheers. Miya can’t help but smile. To the crowd she bows slightly and says, “Thank you.”

    “Ahem, be aware however, that police and city agents will be at your home tomorrow morning to take account of all events that transpired today. Uh... have a good day, and... thank you.”

***

    Miyu had taken her shoes off and was carrying them hooked in her fingers as she walked the highway back home. At first the feel of her stockinged feet on the road had felt good compared to being in the shoes, but now her heels are sore and she just wants to be home. She has to walk all the way back to her home, which holds the only area of open space in the city. She needed the space to shrink, something about a size-changing field around her. Being close to buildings and other things in the city would be a hazard, apparently.

    Finally she stepped into the middle of the now tiny field, closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

***

    Toma holds open all the doors for her, rushing ahead and frantically about. He looks constantly like he’s about to hold on to her, offering himself for physical support, but she’s not quite that tired.

      When they get to her bedroom she drops her shoes on the floor and collapses onto the bed face-first. She can already feel herself falling asleep. “Toma,” she mumbles. She doesn’t even hear his response, but says “Will you rub my feet?” she says. She’s too sleepy to notice his hesitation, to see his trembling lip and hands. She had almost fallen asleep when she feels his hands on her tired soles. “Mmm,” she says, enjoying the firm rubbing. “That feels good,” she says tiredly before passing out.

      She doesn’t hear his whispered voice say, “Yes, Mistress.”

     When Miyu wakes up, it’s past 12:30 am. She rolls over in bed and tries to recall how she got there. She has only a vague memory of Toma, but he is always there. She sits up slowly, and undoes her uniform before getting into the shower. Once again she stares blearily at her reflection until she can’t see herself anymore.

***

     Miyu turns on the news, chewing on some midnight leftovers and wearing only a silk robe. The cooks and maids had gone home. She never sees them around anyway. Toma was nowhere to be found. That shouldn’t be surprising at this hour, but it feels kind of odd. Usually he is always around, fussing over her. She decides to enjoy the moment of peace.

     On the news is a shot of her hand dumping the business-men into the middle of the street. They scream and yelp as they tumble onto the pavement. One of them has his pants down and he hits the pavement face-first. There’s a shower of breaking sake bottles and glasses. A large crowd stares at them.

     Next there’s an interview with the young attendant who had been in her hand. He’s sopping wet. Apparently he had held on to her sleave until she had dipped her hands in the ocean, and he had been swept out to sea. Fortunately he made it back to shore.

    The news woman just starts to introduce the segment about the fire rescue when Miyu hears the chime of the doorbell. She glances at the time. Who would that be? Probably Toma. Hopefully it wasn’t reporters. If they had climbed the fence around her home, she would be angry.

    She walks down the carpeted staircase and crosses the large greeting room to the front doors. She opens them.

    “Hello- Oh my God!” she says. Two men in black with pantihose obscuring their faces push through the door. One of them, taller, is pointing a gun at her. Miyu backs away.

    “Do you know who we are?!” One of the men says.

      Miyu shakes her head.

      “You!” he says. “You killed our family today!”

    “What?” Miyu says, breathlessly.

    The man sounds on the edge of tears. He holds a polaroid up to her face. Miyu bumps into the back wall, cornered. In the photo she manages to make out a house behind a row of four people.

    “You see?!” The man rages. “That is our parents! That was our house! You killed them, you destroyed everything!”

    “No!” Miyu says. “No, I didn’t! I - I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

    “You killed them!” he says, “And you deny it?”

    “It was an accident!” Miyu screams desperately.

    “Now we will avenge them. Are you read to die?” the man says, raising the gun.

    “NO!” Miyu says.

    She grows.

      Miyu expands rapidly, her robe bursting at the sleeves and falling off her giant form. The men falter, stepping back as they watch the naked woman transforming before them.

    Miyu stops as her head touches the ceiling, almost two stories high. She stares down at the men, panting, in shock at her own involuntary growth.

    The man raises his gun weakly, and after a moment, fires.

    Miyu gasps at the noise and the sudden pain in her torso, under her left breast. She looks down, cupping her breast aside. There’s a tiny little black mark on her skin, and a crimson line dribbles slowly down her stomach.

    Then, she laughs.

    The men look at each other.

    Miyu doesn’t remember the last time she had a good laugh, but she’s having one now. She laughs hard. She bends her knees and throws her head back, laughing at the ceiling above her nose. Then she looks down again and wipes the blood away with one finger, grinning. She sucks her finger clean.

    The men scramble towards the door, tripping over each other. Miyu steps in front of them, stomping her foot. They crash into her leg and fall. She laughs again. Even standing, their had heads had reached only to her hips.

    Rolling onto his back, the man with the gun raises it again. Miyu bends down and slaps it out of his hand, sending it clattering across the room and the man yelps in pain.

    She reaches down with both hands grabs one man in each. She lifts them up, her hands wrapped around their necks. She laughs down at them as they struggle, flailing their limbs. She can barely see their scared little eyes above her hands.

    Miyu looks at her open front door thoughtfully. She doesn’t want the little men to escape. She doesn’t know why, but this was too good to pass up, too perfect, whatever it was that was happening. It was fun.

    She kicks her front doors shut. The men scream at her to let them go.

    “Shut up,” she says, pressing her thumbs into their faces.

      After a few moments, she gets an idea. She’s never tried this before. Not really. She remembered when the scientists had tried to get her to do it, but she had been scared and hadn’t really tried. She had only pretended that it wasn’t possible, and eventually they left her alone. She grins. She knows she can do it now.

    She grins even wider when her mind returned to the present to find one of the men struggling desperately, unable to breath against her thumb, while the other was already weakening, going limp from lack of air. She takes a deep, contented breath, and then shrinks.

    She returns to her normal size. The men had shrank with her, now miniaturized. This is good, she thinks. But it could be better. Still, for now it’s good enough. She lets them drop the floor. She watches, amused as they gasp for breath and look around confused, touching the shiny white floor in shock.

    Miyu knows they are criminals. She knows they’re low class. They probably don’t have any other connections. Probably nobody else knows they had ever come to her house. They’re completely at her mercy now. She can do anything she wants to them.

    She shivers.

    Eventually one of them tries to get up and run, but before he can get to his feet Miyu presses her bare foot down on him. She smiles at feeling of the body squirming under her foot, which covers his whole torso. He writhes onto his back, and her foot settles nicely onto him, his limbs extending in all directions. The feeling of his clothes is nice against her sole. He screams, and she presses harder, laughing as she feels his ribs and pelvis snap and shift, as his screams turn to shrieks. She leans down again, her smile widening as more things pop and crumple beneath her shifting weight. She pinches the pantihose between her thumb and fingernails, and pulls it off the mans head, his shrieks becoming slightly more audible.

    Now she finally understands. That feeling that had nagged her before. That pull that she had pushed away, and didn’t know why. This was it. It was power. No, it’s more than just that. It it’s using her power to get what she wants. It’s using her own power... for her own amusement.

    It feels wonderful.

    The other man, the taller one, gets to his knees and looks like he’s about to run, either to the aid of his friend or for the door.

    “Don’t move,” Miyu says to him, pointing, and he freezes instantly. She chuckles. “Now,” she says, “both of you take off your clothes.”

      They stop squirming and look at her.

      “Now,” she says, lifting her foot above the broken one menacingly.

    He struggles in immense pain with his clothes, unable to stand, while the other strips quickly.

      “Help him," Miyu orders.

      The tall one rushes over to his partner and starts to pull his clothes off. The other cries out in pain, but they manage to strip him down anyway.

      “All of your clothes,” Miyu says.

      The able man hesitates for a second, but then whips off his underwear and pulls off his partner’s as well. Miyu leans down, inspecting them. She giggles. “They’re tiny,” she says, as the tall one tries meekly to hide his privates beneath his hands.

    “Now,” she says, towering over them, her hands on her hips. “What to do with you two?” She studies them for a moment, two pathetic specimens of humanity. “You two are really stupid, did you know that? I mean, unbelievably moronic. Who are you again?”

    The standing man stutters, “S-S-S-Sora.” The other man groans. “And th-that is H-H-Haru!”

    “H-H-Haru!” Miyu mocks. “I don’t care about your names. Did you really think you could just ring the front doorbell and walk into the home of a Giantess?”

      She really liked the sound of that. She had always felt trepidation at naming herself, almost guilty of what she was. But not now. This is who she is. She can finally see it now. She feels a little lightheaded, like this was all a dream, too good to be real. But she stays focused, reveling in it.

    “Answer me,” she orders.

    “You k-killed our p-parents,” he says.

    “Oh yes, now I remember.” She dragged her finger across her tiny wound. It didn’t even hurt anymore. “You thought you could walk in here and shoot me for it, is that it?”

    The little man starts shaking.

      A shiver of delight runs down Miyu’s spine. “Answer me, you little shit. That’s your last warning. The next time you don’t listen, maybe I’ll step on you.”      God this felt good.

    “N-n-no, please! We’re sorry!”

    “Are you the one who had the gun?” she asks.

    He hesitates, shaking. Miyu raises her foot over the other one.

    “Yes it was me!” he says quickly. “Please, please don’t kill my brother!”

    “Oh,” Miyu says, “Your brother is it? Of course he is. Tell me, how did I kill your family?” She didn’t really give a fuck, but was merely curious.

    “Th-the picture,” he says. He points to the polaroid on the floor by the wall.

“That was our house... our... our parents were in it... you stepped on it...” He starts to shake harder. It’s more like shuddering, she realizes. He’s crying.

      Oh, this is too good. A tingling feeling spreads up through her chest. She becomes vaguely aware that her nipples are hard.

    “Oh yes,” She says. “I vaguely remember stepping on a house today.” She sees the men wince visibly, and she smiles. “I remember the feeling... of it crunching under my shoe...”

      That warm feeling rushes through her again as she sees both of them weeping. “Now look at you,” she says. “You’ve failed, miserably. You tried to avenge your parents, who I killed without even noticing. And now you’re tiny and crying on my floor at my feet. Pathetic.” She crosses her arms above them. “I could crush you to death, just for being in my home. In fact...” Her eyes lit up. “Yes. I think I will.”

    “No, please!” Sora says, sinking to his knees. “Please!”

    Oh yes, Miyu thinks, shivering again. “Good, that is exactly what I want. Get your brother up on his knees. I want you both to beg for your lives.”

      She watches as they struggle to get Haru up. She loves seeing them both on their hands and knees.

      Miyu grows again, reveling in the feeling, the physical expression of power. When she reaches ceiling height again she extends her leg forward. “Kiss my foot.”

    They slowly bend their heads and press their lips to her toes. She giggles. “Beg for your lives.”

    “Please! Please don’t kill us!”

    "Keep kissing. You’re my slaves. I want you to beg and kiss at the same time,” she says.

    “Please!” they murmur through kisses.

      She can feel their tiny lips tickling. “Now,” she says, “Don’t take your mouths off my toes, or I will squash you. Understand?”

    They nod.

    “Good.” Miyu shrinks. Sora and Haru shrink with her, their mouths pressed to her feet. She stops when she’s back to normal, and then kicks them off. She raises her bare foot over them.

    The doorbell chimes again. She glares at the door. “More of your friends?” She says.

    As the chimes turn to forceful banging on the door, Miyu grows again to ceiling height, and steps towards the door. The new intruder is using his weight to try to force the doors open. Miyu waits, timing it carefully, and then quickly snaps the doors open. A figure tumbles inside and sprawls onto her floor, and she quickly kneels down over him, pressing her palm into his back and shrinking them both.

    When she reaches normal height she rolls the little man over. The first thing she notices is that he is not wearing any kind of mask.

    She peers down at the little man, his chest puffing in and out with fear. “Toma?” she says.

    “Miyu?” his tiny voice replies. “Are you okay? What is happening?”

    “Oh for God’s sake,” Miyu says, slamming the door. She picks him up and carries him to across the room. She drops him on the stairs. “Stay there,” she orders. “Don’t speak.” She sighs and turns around. Something catches her eye. A sly smile spreads across her face. It felt good to smile like that. She didn’t have to hold back now.

    She turns and walks over to the wall. She finds the polaroid and lifts it up, studying it closely for the first time. There’s the modest little house, and the four people in front of it, the two brothers and their parents smiling proudly. She laughs softly to herself, and looks at the little specks on the floor.

      “Nobody move,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

    Miyu had gone upstairs to her room searching for her laptop, but had found something even better. When she returned to the greeting room, she was wearing sheer tights and carried her laptop and a large paper shopping bag. She almost forgot about Toma, stepping over him onto the white floor. She finds the two-inch forms of Sora and Haru, and puts the laptop down on the floor near them. Then she sits cross-legged in front of it, and starts typing. She searches until she finds exactly what she’s looking for. It isn’t hard.

    She spins the laptop around and hits play. It’s a news clip on a video site. Someone on the internet had cut it down to a short loop.

    “Was this your house?” she asks mockingly. The video shows in slow motion her right foot coming down on the small house. It’s a perfect view of it collapsing completely into splinters and dust beneath her shoe, and then her sole rising away from it before it loops back to the beginning. There’s even sound, the slow, inexorable crashing. Miyu sees the little men crying in despair.

      “I thought so! Look, I brought something for you.” Out of the shopping bag she pulls out her blue pumps, slamming them down in front of the men. She laughs as they crawl backwards in alarm. “I thought you’d like them?” she says. She pushes the laptop aside, leaving it playing so that they can still see it, and stretches her legs out on either side of the men. “I like them,” she says. Miyu hovers her left foot above the men, never tiring of seeing them squirm. She wiggles her toes, and then pulls a shoe on. She settles it lightly beside them again, and then lifts the right shoe. She turns it in her hand, inspecting the sole. “Oh look,” she says delightedly, seeing the sole caked with a layer of smashed materials. “Is that your house? Look at all the little debris stuck to the bottom. It must be your house!” She laughs. “How lucky for you, its still there! Here, you need a closer look.”

    She pulls the shoe on above their heads. Before lowering it though, she says, “Hmm. Something’s still not right though. Oh, I know.”

      Miyu grows. She grows until the two-inch men before her become ant-sized specks. “Oh yes,” she says. “That feels right.” They are now the same ratio as when she is full sized in the city. She slowly draws her right foot inwards on it’s side, her sole like an approaching wall. “How’s the view?” she says.

    Sora backs away, and Haru tries to crawl. “Aw, are you afraid you’ll see your little parents all squashed on my shoe?” She brings her other foot up behind them until they are trapped between the two imposing black walls. “I could squish you right now, between my shoes like ants.” She shivers again, this time with her whole body. This is even better than before. This was the right size.

    “No. You need to be punished more. Because you are too pathetic and stupid to be killed so quickly.” She enjoys watching them writhe in abject horror between her soles for a while, until she gets another idea.

    “You, climb onto my left shoe,” she said, planting her left foot flat behind him. She watches Sora slowly struggle up her left shoe. When he finally reaches the summit, she moves both her feet forward and then touches them together lightly, toe against sole. Haru now lay under the arch of her left foot, and Sora was standing on top of it, before the wall of the flattened remains of his home that was her right sole.

      “Clean my sole,” Miyu said, and felt a shudder rise up inside her. Sora hesitated. It looked like maybe he was going to collapse from shaking so much."I warned you about hesitating," she said. “Do you want me to kill your brother now? It would be easy. He looks like he fits right under my high heel."

      She raised her ankle and pushed Haru under her  heel. She watched with glee as the tiny Sora on her shoe reproachfully touched her other sole. She couldn’t help but start rubbing and pinching her bare nipples as the tiny man started pulling little chunks of material off, shuddering with tears, as the video still played in the background. She could feel the warmth and wetness of her pussy already and she tilted her head back, moaning. This was too good. She had to try not to lower her heel an inch by accident, or she would probably cum instantaneously if she crushed Haru.

    Soon she could see Sora tiring, his chest heaving as she struggled to pull off the mashed bits of wood and crumbling concrete embedded into her sole. He put his little hands on his knees, panting and wiping his face on his arm. “Don’t stop,” she warns, enjoying seeing him work even more desperately. “Or my heel will come down and your brother will be crushed.”

    She watches as Sora grabs onto a large chunk of material and heaves and heaves. It doesn’t come off. He braces himself against the sole and she can see his little muscles quivering with effort, and she moans slightly, squeezing her breasts. Then the little piece comes off and Sora falls backward onto her foot. He stares at what in horror at what was underneath that particular chunk of debris, his hands rising to his mouth. Miyu leans forward, hardly believing what she sees. “Oh my God, is that your parents on my shoe?” she says, bursting into laughter as she realizes why the chunk was so hard to get off.

      There, on her sole, is a sticky red stain. She can almost make out two human-shaped splotches of mashed clothing and skin embedded with bits of debris or gore in the dark, wet spot. She watches Sora reeling, seemingly blinded. “Clean it!" she orders gleefully. “You’re stopping!" she warns him, dropping her heel down half an inch. Sora rises, stumbling, one arm across his face. He makes his way to the wall of gore, weeping.

    Miyu slips her fingers into her sopping wet pussy, gasping in delight. She had never felt it this wet before. She pushes in deep, and slides them out, seeing them coated up to her knuckle. She starts rubbing circles around her clit, moaning happily. “Clean my shoe, slave,” she says, breathily.

    Sora puts his hands into the red mess but soon doubles over, grabbing his stomach.

      “Don’t you dare be sick on my shoe,” Miyu says.

      Sora stumbles over to the edge, tripping on the steep incline and sliding down into a heap on the floor where he vomits on himself.

    Miyu gives him a moment, closing her eyes and sliding her hand into herself again, enjoying the feeling building up inside her. This was so exciting.

    Finally she peers down through half-lidded eyes at Sora and says, “You stopped.” Then, as slowly as she can, she starts lowering her left heel.

    “No!” Sora squeals, scrambling on his hands and knees across the floor towards where his brother lay under the towering heel. Haru seemed too weak to even be able to crawl away now, merely rolling onto his side. Miyu finger fucks herself faster, watching it all play out.

    She can barely feel it, but she knows by the seeing his weak struggles that her heel is resting on Haru’s body when Sora reaches him. Sora grabs his brother’s arms and tries to pull him out from under the massive black tip of the heel, but he can’t.  The sight pushes Miyu over the edge and she gasps, orgasming. She presses down with her heel as her leg starts to quiver, and she feels the tiny thing crunch. She cries out in pleasure.She sees Sora fall backwards holding on to two disembodied arms, and she can’t handle the feeling of ecstasy this sight brings, she needs more. Still fingering herself urgently, she brings her right foot back towards him. She holds the sole of her shoe above his tiny form for as many short seconds as she can bear before pressing it down on him and feeling him crunch. She cries out in bliss at the feeling, at the sight of a jet of blood that spurts out onto her other shoe, at the video of their parent’s death playing in the background, and at the thought that she had crushed him with the part of her shoe that had his parent’s remains stuck to it. She grinds her foot, arching her back. The thought of how entirely pathetic the two men had been keeps her orgasm going many times longer than she had ever thought possible.

     Miyu lay on her back on the cool floor panting for some time. When eventually she sits up again, she smiles in delight at the sight of the blood stains and the large pool of cum on the floor. She puts her face in her hand and sighs contentedly.

     Soon she pulls off her pumps, letting them clatter to the floor, and then her sheer tights. Stiffly she stands and stretches, avoiding the fluids on the floor with her bare feet. She starts to walk towards the stairs. She looks back and feels arousal inside her again. She still wants more, but she will have to settle for masturbating to the memory of this evening in the shower.

    When she turns, shes notices the shape on the stairs. “Toma,” she says in exasperation. She had totally forgotten about him. “Toma, what...”

      She stares at him. His small form appears to be asleep, sprawled across the second and third steps, but more surprisingly, his pants are open and he holds his limp penis in his hand, cum dribbling slowly down his fingers. “Toma!” she says.

     Toma starts awake, looking about. He sees the massive form of Miyu standing hands on hips before him. Then he remembers what he had been doing and frantically tries to zip himself up.

    “No!” Miyu says, instantly slipping back into her dominant manner. “Take it off. Take all your clothes off. Now!”

    Toma doesn’t hesitate like the others. Almost unbelievably quickly all his clothes fly off his body. Then after a moment, he blushes and covers himself.

    “No,” Miyu says. “I want to see.”

    Timidly, Toma removes his hands to reveal his erection.

      Miyu laughs. “Good. I want to see you worship me with your body.”

Somehow she had always known that Toma worshipped her in this manner. But like all those other thoughts, she had pushed them away before they could materialize in her mind.

     Taking a breath and growing up to the ceiling, she steps forward and extends her massive barefoot. “Worship my toe.”

    Toma only hesitates for a split second because he can’t quite believe this is happening. He lunges forward, wrapping his arms around her big toe and kisses it and licks it ferverently. Miyu giggles and shrinks down to her regular size, bringing Toma now to two inches tall, standing completely on the second step.

    “So, you like what you saw?” She asks slyly. Toma nods enthusiastically, not breaking from his worship. She chuckles. She likes that. “You’re such a good little slave,” says. She fondles her nipples, now hard again. “Now,” she says, and presses her foot forward onto him on the raised stair, trapping him beneath her sole so that only his head appears between her big and second toes. “Worship me some more.”

      Toma knows what she means. She giggles at the sight of his tiny little head bobbing up down between her toes as he humps the pad of her foot. She wiggles her toes slightly, enjoying the feel of the lush carpet and the warm little body under her foot, and the ticklish little erection rubbing against her. She sighs contentedly and again slips her fingers into her moist vagina.

    She had just discovered she loved being worshiped as much as she loved ending lives. She thinks about that vaguely, moaning at her own touch. She looks down at Toma under her foot. “I could crush you under there, little man. Would you like that?” She pressed her foot into the stair lightly, scrunching her toes in the carpet. She could barely see Toma’s head writhe and his face turn red. “Would you cum under my foot with your tiny little penis? Would you orgasm before I squished you? I think I would,” she said smiling. She saw with delight Toma was still trying to hump her foot, even under all the added pressure.

    She thought about actually doing it, seeing his head pop and feeling him squish under her bare foot. Her fingers pushed deeper into her self, speeding up.

      He was completely innocent. And that was what made it the most exciting to her. Killing someone completely innocent, just for her own pleasure... she shivered. That’s when she felt a wet warmth spreading under her foot and saw little Toma’s head shuddering. She orgasmed instantly, seeing his complete devotion to her. She pressed more of her weight into that foot as she gasped and moaned, losing herself.

    After a long moment she sighed, and lifted her foot very lightly. Toma was still there, intact, his tiny chest heaving although he did not himself move. Miyu decided she was relieved. She knew that somehow she would need Toma and his servitude in her future. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, she thought as she she stepped over him and went up the stairs, but it was going to be big. Things had changed. For now though, she needed a shower.

Chapter 6: The New Yu

     She had stood tall and studied herself proudly in the mirror of the shower until the steam had obscured her, like clouds forming around a mountain.

      After her shower Miyu had returned to the greeting room and pushed Toma onto his back with her foot. She had enlarged him to about two feet tall and said, “Clean the floor. And my shoes. There can’t be any trace of those two ever being here. Stay in my room when you’re done.” Then she had gone to bed.

***

      The next morning she had awoke early and happily. She found Toma sleeping on the carpet at the foot of her bed and she smiled. She touched him with her toe and shrank him down to half an inch. She had looked for a place to hide him, and eventually opened her closet and put him in one of her dress shoes. Then she had breakfast.

    The officials had asked her many questions. They asked if she remembered stepping on any houses or vehicles, or otherwise injuring any people during the fire. She said she didn’t. They asked if they could examine her work pumps, and she let them. They didn’t find anything at all. They were spotless. Then they showed her pictures of Sora and Haru and asked if she had seen either of them last night. She said she hadn’t. Finally they congratulated her on being a good Samaritan and informed her that there would be a ceremony in about a week’s time. They were going to demolish the old burnt-out tower and erect a new one in it’s stead, and that they wanted her to do the demolishing. She said she would be happy to. They also told her she had to take the week off work while they let things settle, but that she would still receive full wages. She agreed. Then they had left.

     After that Miyu had gone upstairs again and dumped Toma onto the carpet, where she rested her big toe on his body and ordered him to worship her. She masturbated until she orgasmed, and then flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. In her head, Miyu thinks of the possibilities. She has a week to prepare. Her hand drifts between her legs as she makes plans.