Andropolis was one of the largest, most progressive, sprawling cities in the world. Over Six Million people hustled and bustled throughout the arteries of the city. The huge, downtown area, with hundreds of skyscrapers—none of them record holders, but several of them quite close—teamed with humanity. As many dwellings that existed in the monolithic, man-made mountains, the huge city could never hope to support the current population of commuters who took advantage of the mass transit system to get to work. Many of their homes lay in outlying cities, the burbs, and the more hip downtown parts of the cities that had puny-by-comparison buildings merely ten stories tall or less.

The cool air propelled the citizens with a brisk step as the sun shone on them. It had been balmy for weeks, and the ideal weather showed no sign of letting up.

The people moved quickly, but not hurriedly, industriously, but not in a mindless-lock step. Art, commerce, science, and spirituality all seemed to shine on the huge city and its people. Dozens of skyscrapers were being finished; a huge marathon was in progress; an outdoor music festival that shattered previous attendance records echoed through one of the largest parks in the middle of a city. It was the perfect day to live in Andropolis, a perfect beacon of man’s crowning achievement.

Then, a peculiar thing happened.

The sky went absolutely black, not even a star or the moon visible above. Then everything went back to normal a second later. Most of the citizens just thought they had a brief dizzy spell, or had low blood sugar or something. Then, as some of them got their bearing, they looked up and noticed the blue sky looked different. No cloud wafted by above, where previously, puffy, post-card perfect clouds dotted the sky. And were there, lines in the sky? Seams that ran up the edge of the sky…maybe contrails of a large jet?

A few hundred miles away from the downtown area, people in the burbs, rural areas, and outlying, smaller cities noticed a new phenomenon: a wall appeared out of nowhere. It was blue, and rough, and in some cases, bisected a neighbor’s house, or a larger vehicle, or even a river that seemed to run up to it and stop.

Left to their own thoughts, they contemplated what was going on, not much talking among themselves about the new occurrences. In fact, many of them—ranging in the millions—were busy enough inside that they didn’t notice any change at all.

Everyone in Andropolis, however, did feel the first resounding tremor.

It echoed through the city, a staccato CLACK that rang the windows on the skyscrapers like bells. Then, a low rumble followed that shook the buildings on their foundations. Many people lost their footing. Furniture fell over. Condemned buildings on the outskirts of the city that were scheduled for demolition to make way for a new museum crumbled in on them selves. A few dozen window washers, hanging on the outside of a crystalline skyscraper plummeted to their deaths.

Before the people of Andropolis could wonder what was going on… Another CLACK and rumble. Many more people fell down. After they shook off the slight pain they opened their eyes…looked into the strange, new sky, and saw Her.

Diane, truth be told, didn’t have to do much around the company she owned. She was a master at delegation. But still, “heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

She looked at all of her employees as servants in her court, and she was the queen. That was on a day she was charitable. She really viewed herself as a goddess, and them as her worshippers. People who worshipped her in a way she liked, often were rewarded, or at least not punished. That is, if she were in a fair mood.

She delighted in making examples of her “worshippers” just because she could. She loved humiliating her employees in any way she could. She wore heels to accentuate her already towering six-foot tall figure. As tall as her heels reached, she wore a shorter hemline. Her amazing legs stretched and rippled with feminine muscle as she casually strode around her domain.

Her top ranking officers were other females, often also amazons. And as she liked hiring tall women, she loved hiring short men for the middle management and lower positions. Some of the poor guys barely came up to her large chest. She smiled at the thought, also reflecting on the fact her shoulder-length, brunette hairstyle cost more than they made in a month.

As much as she enjoyed her station, it was still hard work making sure all the people paid tribute to her, and kept the money coming in. Exploiting workers made her tingle. She loved dominating them, but even a goddess needs a break.

She headed to her favorite spot to relax.

Much of her company’s fortune came from scientific development. That scientific development was broken down into two main parts:

 Gadgets to make tiny-minded consumers froth with lust.

And military applications.

She made no bones about the fact it was not in her best interest to benefit mankind, but destroying and exploiting mankind definitely benefited her.

She stood up from her mahogany desk in her well-appointed office. She pulled down her impossibly short skirt and tugged up her black stockings. She loved when a peek of garter was visible as she walked.

She propelled herself toward her door that was on the far side of her office, which was bigger than many of her employee’s whole apartments.

She loved the clicks her designer pumps made on the floor, whether it was the staccato, gun-blast report on her marble office tile, or the THUD they made on the carpeted hallways, or the ground shaking rumble they made as she walked around in her favorite place. Those patent-leather pumps cost more than many of her employee’s cars. As comfy as they were, she couldn’t wait to take them off and feel the cool air on her stocking-clad feet. Her long toes wiggled in anticipation at the thought. She felt the light sweat between her toes and smiled thinking about how soon, “that would be their problem.” The supple leather of her pump stretch like a second, sensual skin as she flexed her toes.

Right before she reached the door, she grabbed a powerful magnifying glass she had custom made out of a drawer under an ancient vase adorned with images of the goddess who was her name sake, Diana. She reached her hand toward the vase, as she pretended to grab one of the images of Diana. It looked as if the goddess fit in her hand.

All powerful, she thought. I could destroy your whole world. She contemplated dashing the vase to the floor, heedless of the six-figure price tag, to demonstrate she could destroy the world of this tiny goddess. That was symbolic. She hungered for the real thing. She rubbed her long thighs together to squeeze her pussy in an attempt to bide her most sensitive area’s anticipation.

She turned to walk out the door of her office, an almost imperceptible wobble in her stride, the product of her lust.

“Only call if it’s urgent, Lisa. I need to unwind.” She let the word “unwind” roll past her lips in a breathy, husky sigh.

Diane tapped the side of her magnifying glass on her ruby-red lips and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at her secretary.

Lisa smiled and nodded.

“A solo adventure this time, Lisa. But finish your data entry, and you might get a little reward. And, track down what’s taking so long on the quantum matter dislocator app. They’re on thin ice. I’m likely to eat their department alive!”

Lisa’s smile slid into a toothy grin as she jotted on a pad of paper.

With Diane’s lengthy, Amazonian strides, it didn’t take long to reach the now-defunct Quantum Projects department. She wanted it close.

She didn’t care about it at first, nerds being nerdy. Blah, blah, wolf, wolf. All she cared about at first is: will it make me money.

Nevertheless, as she was daydreaming during a meeting, something caught her that made the project very interesting indeed. And yes, the late Professor Markus had found a way to make her a boat load of money, but even more importantly, he found a way to give her more of what she desired that eclipsed even money: power.

Her mind raced at the possibilities. She poured money into the department more than any other, but all under cooked, secret books. Progress was steady, but painfully slow until finally, the good Professor Markus presented the working prototype. It was delicious. It was amazing. It was Hers.

It was not an ethical decision that caused her to hide the Quantum Matter Dislocator from the world. It was, if anything the opposite. Greed. Lust. Perversion.

And now she was here. She put her thumb on the electronic lock, then her eye up to another scanner. The door whirred open softly. She walked in, her pace quickening.

At first glance, one would wonder what all the fuss was about. Diane stood at a console in a small room. The devices themselves didn’t look finished. There were a few cables here and there, circuit board parts casually wired into bigger machines, and a large door right in the center of the far wall.

Diane paid none of this any mind as she started manipulating the console with perfectly manicured, long fingers.

She lazily slid a bar back and forth that changed both the Scaling Factor, and the Field Area bubble. She kept going back and forth with the scaling factor. Several zeroes appeared behind the decimal point before any actual number.

Next was a drop down menu with the heading: “Law of Physics Mode”

She chose: BLENDED.

More choices about gravity, sound waves, and moisture surface tension appeared, and she worked with them. Never had scientific parameters gotten her so hot. She felt her breathing get heavier, and sweat rolled down the arch of her foot in her hot stockings.

She selected a location next. She remembered the look of confusion when she demanded the Professor’s team install a database of cities so she wouldn’t have to look up latitude and longitude. If only he were alive to see. Her laugh at the idea was not kind.

She scrolled through the locations and settled for one towards the top. Andropolis. A HUGE city. Now hers.

A bit more fiddling, and she was done.

She stood to her full height, an almost blank expression on her face, her lips quivering.

She pressed ACTIVATE.

The lights dimmed briefly. Then without much fanfare, a light above the door illuminated green.

She walked toward the door and pressed the open button. The door slowly parted and a light, cool breeze buffeted her hair around.

She was no longer a goddess in metaphor. But, to the inhabitants of Andropolis and the surrounding area, she was a real deity.

She took her first step through the door.

“Mayday! Mayday!”

The sirens blared as an automated voice droned, collision warning! Over and over.

The take off had gone smoothly from the crowded Andropolis airport. The calm breeze had offered little turbulence as the double-decker plane ascended toward 30,000 feet.

A bizarre darkness had filled the sky, then everything seemed to return to normal, but the radar had gone haywire as it pinged solid, huge masses in front of them where there appeared to be only blue sky.

“The hell?” Captain Perez had said.

“Uh, yeah. Do we divert our course?” the copilot then asked.

Then, the blue sky opened, as if elevator doors. What they had seen next made no sense!

A huge, black mass, had to be more than a mile wide entered their view. It was shiny, and sheer, and rose straight up, much farther than they could see…and down to the ground farther too.

Then a shockwave of air, and an explosive rumble greeted them.

This was no instrument error! “Mayday! Mayday!” But the captain didn’t know what to tell the tower.

He pulled back on the yoke to try to get out of the collision path with the huge mass, but maneuvering one of the largest planes known to man was not a nimble feat. The momentum of the plane still carried it toward the object that more-than-filled their windows. As they turned, the object filled the passengers’ windows too. It was still miles away, as it garnered quizzical looks from the passengers. Then they heard another boom, and another shockwave!

The plane banked and the people in the right of the plane could see up, up, and more up into the sky, and what now looked like a leg to them. The leg disappeared in a skirt so far in the distance it shifted toward the blue color of atmospheric distortion.

The commuters on the left got a view of the ground, or what should be the ground. Instead they saw a black leather shoe that reached far past where their plane was in the air. They could only imagine the fate of that which was under the pump.

They didn’t see, but her other leg moved forward, the shockwave buffeting the plane once again, almost leveling it in the air. The next thing the passengers saw was the slick black stocking of the leg, filling their view on the right side…more…and more…and more.

The individual strands of the stocking, sheer and minute as they were, seemed hundreds of feet thick as they filled the windows.

Diane barely felt the explosion her shin caused. But, as she visited this place more and more, she became more attuned to…the little things. And the tiny bit of warmth made her smile.

Bryn Dale’s citizens worked in Andropolis, played in Andropolis…but it was nowhere near good enough for them to live in. They called Bryn Dale a bedroom community. It was one of the most opulent suburbs in the country. It was about an hour’s commute to Andropolis proper, but far enough from the hurly burly that they didn’t smell the smog, or have to deal with the crowds.

Strict neighborhood associations made sure a structure was imposed to the city. No “McMansions”—the real kind only. Perfectly manicured lawns. Christmas lights that didn’t blink—but you had to have some Christmas lights, regardless of your faith or lack thereof. And, dear lord, you better have the right kind of mailbox.

All told, Bryn Dale was several square miles of Shangri-La, with property values in the millions per lot.

Many of the homeowners were in Andropolis, working, or being trust fund kids enjoying the music festival. But, many thousands were working from home, or enjoying their status as idle-rich. An army of a few hundred proles also attended to the well-off residents’ yards and homes to make sure they were in top notch…and just a bit better than the neighbors’.

The sky went black for a second. Almost none of the residents or workers noticed. How could that directly concern them anyway?

About a dozen miles in the distance, against all probability…the sky split on the side.

The air whooshed as the pressure changed. The did not notice Diane, or at least they didn’t notice she was a towering, Amazonian goddess. Nor did they comprehend what happened when her leg, around 20 miles high, swung forward.

They did notice when her stiletto heel impacted the ground and took out an opulent shopping center.

One moment, entitled, upper crust shoppers milled about. Then…they didn’t. Their lives ended in a split second. They barely had time to notice the roof caving in on them before the thin heel drove the whole mall and surrounding area into the bedrock of the earth.

The people in the immediate vicinity were flung to their feet, and blasted into the air by a hurricane-force wind. Many of them died in mid air, many splattered into other buildings.

The surrounding buildings shook on their foundation. Many of them collapsed.

The onlookers out of the immediate blast area stared in awe. A sleek, monolith that seemed miles tall descended from heaven and now stood where the totem to commerce known as the mall once was.

A few miles away, in the city of Bryn dale, confusion slowly moved the complacent citizens. They all felt the tremors, but they were far enough away from the impact and their houses-well built enough not to suffer any real damage. Most of them ran out of the house, and looked in the distance at the stiletto heel rising up into the sky. They followed it up. Most did not comprehend what they saw. Then, as they saw the sole blot out their entire sky, many of the women, guys with foot fetishes, and transvestites knew all too well what they saw. It was the sole of a shoe. It was not the very slight scuffing—hundreds of feet deep to them, or the SUV size clumps of dust. The words “Le Petit Mort” in genuine gold leaf were stamped on the sole. They knew that for a their sky, their heaven, had been replaced by one of the most expensive designer shoe brands money could buy.

Their world quickly got darker. The letters got bigger. Tiny, ornate golden letters, now hundreds of feet tall, and embossed dozens of feet deep got bigger, and bigger.

Whether they knew they were going to be sacrificed under a goddess’s sole or not, the entire populace screamed.

Crush!

The entire suburb—gone.

Millions in property lost, thousands of lives. A billow of dust, more than kicked up in any bomb in human history, any volcano rushed toward the surrounding area. The debris tore people apart, flung cars in the road hundreds of feet. The merciless shoe did not stop at the ground. It compressed the rresidue of the human fleas and their homes down to the bedrock once again.

People a few miles away, snapped their head around at the impact of the stiletto, but were mesmerized as her sole descended. There towering past the clouds, her shoe filled their horizon. They felt the air displace too, but it had settled tremendously compared to those in the immediate blast zone. They could see their world reflected in the shiny leather. They could see the shoe bend in the toe section as she relished the feeling of being in the tiny world. And their attention, fully on the deity, now saw her other foot come in the door in slow motion, and knew their world was hers now.

Diane, for her part, did not know if she stepped on completely empty area, or the city of Bryn Dale. She did relish the tiny crunch, and following softness as her shoe settled. Her eyes were on the bigger prize of Andropolis, a few steps away.

Countless tiny citizens vanished under Diane’s brief travel to the “large” city of Andropolis. Her cruel pumps erased several small communities, and moss-like forests in one step.

Now that she had the tiny world’s attention, it was quite clear that they did not, in fact, have hers.

People a few miles from her feet could barely see past her knees as she sauntered around languidly. But people over 50 miles or so away, incidentally 50 miles tall was what some pundits were estimating her height to be, could see all of her.

She was gorgeous. She was sexy. And she had an aloof, oblivious look on her face. And therein, surly lay the answer. She didn’t even know the ant-sized people were down at her feet. Ants, in point of fact, would be humongous monsters to them actually on her scale. The reason she trod on them and killed them by the…it had to be close to a million by now, the reason her sexy, deadly pump claimed their lives and destroyed their property so callously, so indifferently, is that this towering goddess didn’t know they were down there!

After, all, when was the last time you noticed crushing an ant beneath your feet?

They posited, then, that they must get her attention. And, unlike ants, they could do it! They had the technology to pull it off!

Those fortunate enough to survive her foot falls, or the resulting tremors, and wind displacement that issued forth with each step got to work to try to communicate with them. They had hope. They would cope with this nightmare version of the new normal that manifested in the form of this oblivious, sexy goddess.

The logical, reasonable people of this world, however, in no way outnumber the easily frightened, the irrational, the superstitious. A glance at who tends to get elected to office, or how many churches line the streets will attest to that.

In their world, the sky was falling in as close to any literal way possible they could have ever dreamed. In a flash, belief structures were upturned. The very real, very powerful goddess they witnessed first hand usurped vague notions of invisible people who lived in the sky and lorded over them in the afterlife. They did not have the nonsensical metaphor of a burning bush or the like. They had a woman, immense beyond anything they had ever seen besides the planet they clung to desperately, walking around their city. She was their new religion. They worshipped her. The true goddess.

Like most modern, living religions, her appearance, her being, and her actions were wildly interpreted. Many people decided in quick order to worship only parts of her. Her feet were a popular choice as that’s the only part of her that they had truly contacted.

Many, broke her feet down into more discrete parts still. Her stiletto heel was a towering column of rapturous divinity. Her sole was an apocalypse-bringing judge, jury and executioner. Some favored her left foot over her right.

Many saw her as a goddess of fertility, as destructive as she had been, and took advantage of the short skirt to fetishize her panties, and what lie beneath, in both the sense of a religious proxy for a higher being, and in the sense of a sexual preference. She was undeniable woman. A pinup fantasy that both spoke to male lust and female power. The universal symbol for her femininity was her womanhood.

Every body part of hers was a sense of worship for many people who could not possibly comprehend the full being of Her, and like many fetishists who developed a fixation at a young age, they often focused on the first part of Her they saw.

Where some religious zealots who abandoned their previous ways and the logical scientists both put stock in her equally was her eyes. Her lake-sized, blue violet eyes had mysticism to them, and hope in the salivation of their tiny lives lay with her eyes. They needed Her to know that they were down at her feet, under her feet, ready to communicate with Her, worship her, whatever She wanted as long as She noticed them.

As her feet approached the city, her sensual walk seemed slow and sultry…but yet her feet were moving mind-numbingly fast. How could something that big move that fast?

They all paused working, worshipping, going mad, whatever they were doing, to witness her as she approached the city of Andropolis. Whereas the lives she claimed in the burbs totaled an absurd amount, if she took one step on the skyscrapers that were not nearly as tall as her heel, hell not even as tall as the pointed toe of her pump, all hope would be lost!

And it was with resounding cheers they noticed she paused in front of their city and looked down on them from on high.

Her stance was almost as wide as the city even though her skirt constricted her movements and made her feet relatively close together. Her expression changed as she looked down at them. Her aloof, superior expression held, then several square miles of her perfect face transformed into a grin.

The attention of the tiny citizens was ripped away from her face to her foot once again.

TAP.

Most of the in the heart of the city couldn’t see her feet because of the skyscrapers blocking the view. That changed as she lifted her foot slightly, about a mile and a half high, and let it drop. Not a slam, not even a step, a tap. Her tap sent ripples through the city and shook foundations again. The proud, well-designed edifices stood their ground against the colossus. They rippled but did not break. The gem-like, shiny structures distorted and shook, creaked and groaned, but stood thrusting into the sky, the tallest things until a few minutes ago the tiny citizens had ever experienced.

Her smile expanded and teeth that seemed almost as big as, or possibly bigger than, any of their buildings showed.

Should she address her worshippers? She wasn’t quite clear if the tiny beings could even make out what she said. Her voice was a low, echoing, booming thunder role. She knew her faintest whisper could actually knock down skyscrapers. The thought made her tingle. She rocked back left and right on her feet, rubbing her legs together.

It was all she could do to walk to the city…Andropolis, wasn’t it? She had such a primal need to dominate the little city and it’s people, to feel it yield to her flesh, to her will, to her whim. It existed solely because she allowed it… for now.

She wanted to run with leaping bounds, but then she might encounter a pile of dust instead of majestic, almost-toe-tall skyscrapers. Also, not very seductive. Not very lady like. Not, conduct befitting a goddess.

Goddess. That’s what she was. This tiny city she towered over was a manifestation of how she really felt…hell, she should be taller. That city should be the size of her toe.

Her catwalk-style of getting to the city was excruciatingly slow for her, even though she was probably going hundreds of miles per hour.

She wanted to tell the tiny city, “You’re mine now. I own you. You are my toys, my worshippers, my servants, my slaves, my snacks, and you will all be my sacrifices.” She wanted to say that, but as she pondered before, she didn’t think they’d understand her.

And she did not become one of the most powerful executives in the world through talk.

Action.

She bit her lip and exhaled. The tiny people were almost 50 miles below her, or her hot exhale would have killed thousands. She raised her stocking-clad heel from her pump and gently lowered her toes right up to the edge of the downtown area.

Heaven. If she was a goddess, this was her heaven. Her feet were sweaty and hot cooped up in the sexy, leather prison of her shoes. Her feet were large, even at her regular Amazonian stature, something she had been shy about at a younger age, but she knew her feet were sexy, perfectly pedicured, and one of her best features in a collection of amazing features.

Without delay, she removed her other foot.

She inhaled sharply, taking in the smell of her own foot. Leather, her feminine sweat, and the expensive lotion she used drifted up to her nostrils. It had been a long day, and her feet were so hot and sweaty, and smelled more than usual.

As she felt her feet settle into the soft ground below her, obliterating more suburbs, she saw a phenomenon she was used to, but never got tired of.

The air in the city had been cool, and almost devoid of humidity. The same could not be said for the air surrounding her feet. The heat inside her shoe had approached 100 degrees F, and the humidity was approaching 100%. The foot odor-laden heat wave clashed with the air in the little city and a storm front materialized immediately. Her view of the city was temporarily obstructed as the clouds formed…her toes sat there almost touching the skyscrapers on the outer edge of the city, and the big one towered over them more than twice as high. They wiggled very slightly, raising up miles in the air, and coming down gently. She caused more tiny tremors, but wafted the storm front into even more fierceness. Her stocking sheathed toes were a never-ending engine of heat and humidity.

About now, it should start raining, she though. She couldn’t see it, but it was about time. Good thing she thought her own foot odor was sexy, and that she liked when her toes were a bit sweaty. She could really smell them now.

That meant, so too could those tiny dust mites. And she knew that the rain that was falling was none other than her foot sweat. The vapor of her feet hit the cool air and saturated the sky more than it could possibly hope to hold.

She would have them as sacrifices. They would all be hers to crush, and eat, and fuck. But first, she would humiliate them. Baptizing them in Her foot sweat was a delicious start.

She closed her eyes and imagined what was going on under the ankle-high clouds. Confusion, chaos, and revulsion. Some saw her divine sweat as punishment, some as reward. Many were discovering latent foot fetishes, of that she had no doubt. The utter control she had over them without even doing anything made her pussy start to wet. Her whim was their world. Look at the chaos her toe wiggles caused. She had no doiubt crushed a few hundred or thousand people, but she change3d their weather.

She could easily shoo away the clouds with a wave of her foot, but she wanted to soak the city in her foot sweat. Probably not enough to drown anyone, but they were all wet down there. She carefully stepped back to look down at the cloud-covered city again.

She looked at the rest of the room and noticed it was a pretty good haul. Not only had she gotten Andropolis, but there were some pretty big cities near-by too.

Diane took another soft step, feeling the ground under her feet. It was so sensual, like a good foot massage. The ground tried to splay up through her toes, and almost touched her arch, but her stockings prevented that. She felt those sweaty, stockings that she loved hugging her legs and feet so well, dry off a bit as she rubbed her feet on the tiny landscape.

Out of the corner of her massive eye, she spotted movement below. The little freeway—it had to be almost a 10 lane affair—filled with frenzied motorists trying to flee from under the tiny, churning clouds.

“Flea” she thought. “That’s what you all are! And I want you to stay right where you are in your little, sexy city.”

Diane started walking slowly around the city. Her first step knocked one of her pumps over and it helped chase some of the clouds away over the city, but added even more to the odor of her feet and leather that was now their only source of air. They looked into the towering insole of her shoe, that rose above the clouds and imagined the torture that it must be to occupy that insole with her all-powerful foot. Some could even see the dirty patches under where her toes had worn. The big toe print was over a square mile.

Diane walked, creating a “moat to contain the motes.” From her perspective it looked like a soft foot print, but in reality her curvy foot tortured the ground under it, leaving a compressed, hundred-foot-deep chasm with slick sweaty sides.

Every step she took made her hornier. And every step she delayed planting right down in the middle of the city made her hornier still! Her panties were sopping wet at this point.

As she was about half-way around the city, she noticed a large, grey patch on the ground that was a college town with several large drom structures.

She paused, and pivoted on her heels. There was barely enough room between Andropolis and this unnamed, far-smaller city for the length of her foot. She regarded the tiny college town. She tucked her magnifying glass in her cleavage and lifted her skirt slowly.

It rose miles and miles, revealing the top of her stockings then her wet, black thong. She shifted on her feet slightly…still a seismic evnet to those below. Her toes wiggled in anticipation, stretching the fabric of her sheer stockings like phantoms in another dimension trying to break into ours. She hooked her long, perfectly manicured, red nails into the waistband string of her thong. She ever-so-slowly pulled down the left side, exposing her pussy, miles above in the air. Then she pulled down the right, undulating her hips to help it slide, and because she knew how to move her body to seduce.

Her wet panties slid down her sinewy, thighs that were in the double digts in length. She rotated slightly so her feet made a little stepping ciricle, and her ass was eventually hanging over the smaller town, whatever it was.

The ground under feet smashed farther and farther into berdrock, as she twirled. She picked up her left foot and spread it far to the side, crushing yet more new ground and people. Then she picked her right foot and spread it far to the side. She was far from doing the splits, but her long legs were in a wide v shape with  skirt up around her hips. Her pussy was glistening and her lips were swollen for millions to see.

She gyrated her perfect ass over the city a few more times as she moved her feet back together and let her skirt slide down.

She looked over her shoulder, barely noticing the little town as she dropped the tiny, lacy, soaked panties on it, covering it. Three quaqrters of the whole town vanished under the incalculable weight of her smallest article of clothing.

A few hundred survived in an empty space left by a leg band, and the panties bunched in such a way that a wrinkle or two of the crotch hovered in the air a few thousand feet. Those under the wrinkle could smell her sex all around them. And before they could look up at the new sky that was their lacy prison that let the sun shine through in sensual patterns made by the lace—

BOOM!

Tiny drops of her juices hit the ground. Where the foot odor had caused a driving, torrential rain, no one got hurt.

Her pussy nectar however fell in drops as big as houses.

The foot-rain caused a minor flood here or there, nothing people couldn’t wade through. The pussy juice that fell from the sky crushed people…then slowly rolled out in a tidal wave that caught fleeing crowds and held them in the viscous liquid. It drowned the little people slowly, their mouths filling with her sex, and then eventually crushed them under the tremendous weight.

Diane continued to walk around Andropolis, feeling the earth squish under her toes, and feeling the cool breeze on her newly exposed pussy. Almost done, and it looked like the rain was letting up soon.

The insignificant citizens stood in awe. They fled (though to where, no one could say). They passed out. Some, in true Lovecraftian fashion, went mad. Many found themselves aroused. Many found themselves ashamed. But, with the exception of coma patients, no one in Andropolis could look away from the monstrous, gargantuan, pumps that defied logic, physics, and the boundaries of sanity itself.

Time stood still as the behemoth, arrogant beauty’s shoes towered over their city, over their very lives. All doubt that she now saw them down there in the dust at her feet was erased. Many scholors maintain the last thing we should do is make ourselves known to far superior extraterrestrials, and that thought was going through many of the heads of the more rational dust mites in the city right now.

Blissful anonymity, being dust on the floor of this goddess, may have been preferable. Now that they had Her attention, what would she do with it? And in fact, was she always aware of them? She always had the control. The thought she stumbled upon them seemed more and more absurd, but certainly not the most absurd prospect of their current situation. If she were unaware of them, the collateral damage would be epic, but now that she knew they were down there, her’s to play with…What now?

In answer to their silent question, one of her feet twisted, torturing a few square miles of earth. To her, a subtle motion she could not have noticed, but to them, a world-changing, landscape-forming event. The tiny twist was but the start. Her heel popped out of her pump.

The tiny people, even with skyscrapers blocking their views, saw her heel rise into the sky.

First: They saw the visual of her black stocking-clad heel rise, every inch to her almost a mile to them. They also saw the supple leather of her pump wrinkle in sand-dune sized waves then relax. Her megalithic toes moved under her pump’s front like beautiful demons waiting to unleash on the earth.

Second: The audio took a while to reach them, but then a sonic boom rattled them and their little city. A sucking sound followed as her damp foot pulled out of the leather pump. Then the deafening creak of leather flooded over them.

Thirds: The heat, the air, the smell rushed at them like a marauding spirit, hungry to consume their city. The cool humidity free air was conquered by the air surrounding her foot trapped in her shoe. They smelled expensive leather, perfume, lotion, and the sensual aroma of her sweaty foot itself. And it intensified.

This titanic foot then lifted out of her shoe the rest of the way. It hovered there for a while as her long toes flexed and stretched the stocking’s black, silky fabric. Her toes seemed like long, behemoth monsters with a mind of their own as they wiggled, enjoying the new found freedom. None of them could ever hope to contain these monsters. Only She could, and she did it casually. She caged them in her stocking, the bars of wich were delicate strands wider than many of their streets—not fishnets, but tiny, delicate strands. And to make sure the beasts were subdued even more, she put them in the leather prison with walls thicker than most homes. And she would release these toes, like the gods of old would release the Kraken, to take their toll on humanity. And she chose to release them now.

With a nimbleness that belied their massive size, her toes sat down right next to a few dozen skyscrapers. Her big toe almost touched the nearest one. An old bank built in the city only a decade ago pitched toward her toe as she let her foot sink into the soft ground. The sparkling glass of the mighty edifice fogged up as the heat from her foot, especially between her toes rushed headlong into the city with a vengeance.

Where as the stiletto heel looked like a giant, fetishized doomsday machine, her foot was soft and curvy. Her foot was big, even on her scale. More so, her foot was lanky, with long toes, narrow sole, relatively speaking, and an incredibly high arch. Her soft, perfect foot looked like it would be kinder to the small city, but the damage was much worse.

If this goddess were a puny 50 feet tall, it may hurt more to be stepped on with the unyielding sole and sword-like heel of her pump. Her foot’s sole would softly envelop you, hurt, crush some bones, but maybe a sturdy person could survive, especially if vital organs slipped between toes or under her arch.

Her massive foot didn’t have the negative space of her pump between sole and heel. Admittedly, the land in this negative space of her pump was wracked by tremors and gale winds, but there were survivors. Now that she took her shoe off, her soft sole more than doubled the surface area she contacted with. The relative soft, yielding quality of her skin made no difference at this scale. Some survivors had brief hope as they looked up at her wrinkly arch thousands of feet above, but it sank slowly to crush then out too as it settled into the soft ground like the earth was wet sand.

The process repeated with her other foot. This time she freed her foot more quickly from her prison, and subsequently the tremors hit harder. She lightly dragged her toes’ tips on the ground by the city, knocking out an industrial park.

Another storm front of hot, foot-odor-laden air rushed in as many of the tiny citizens saw her red toenail polish through her stretching, wiggling hose. Those nails got bigger, it seemed, as she dragged her toes closer.

Right when they got up to the edge of another part of the downtown skyscraper cluster, they rested on the ground, and the remainder of her lanky foot followed. Such a gentle act, but she still caused more earthquakes.

Business people tried to flee the side of the skyscraper closest to her foot, but were unable to move because of the tremors. They witnessed the advancing toenails rip through a mall at about 80 miles per hour. Debris flew; crowds tried to flee but were crushed immediately.

Finally the toes settled. The people on the lower ¾ of the building saw her big toe rest right on the edge of the sprawling parking lot across the highway that stood sill with rush-hour traffic. The area lay in shadow of her black stockings, under the curve of her toe.

Many sighed in relief that the jammed parking lot and highway loop were spared, but as her toes settled, they splayed. And sank into the ground. Without even moving, her toe flattened under her fantastic weight, and stretched the stockings as they slowly rolled over the parking lot…then the highway…

Closer.

As her stockings stretched, the holes in the tiny weave became wide enough to engulf cars and people. Most were outright smashed under the cable-like strands or hundreds of tons of toe flesh. Some, however, sucked up into the holes between her stocking strands and miraculously found themselves spared, if not partially crushed, in her toe prints that loomed overhead like caverns. More still sucked up between her toes, through her stockings in the furnace-like heat of that negative space that towered over them some thousands of feet. Hundreds of survivors in various states of being crushed along with many dozens of vehicles stuck to her toes like dust, or rested right on the inside of her stockings between her toes. The light barely got in. Many passed out from the heat. Her smell was all around them, dominating them, ruling them.

Closer.

She picked up even more dust mote people in her stockings, sticking them to her flesh in a layer of sweat, dozens of feet thick in places. Some drowned in the small pools of sweat stuck in her toe prints. Over a hundred between her toes looked up as they heard a sound like an ocean crashing. The light shimmered and bent 2500 feet up as they saw a drop of sweat bead up in the crevice of her toe. It hung there for a minute, growing, quivering. The sweltering heat that had already claimed some to heatstroke made the sweat drop almost look refreshing. Then it started crashing toward the tiny people as they clung to the wet stocking between her toes. The surface started pristine and spherical, but as it gained momentum, it ripped, and white caps distorted the blob. It fell quickly, but slow motion. So hard to gain perspective. It splashed down on dozens of survivors farther back in the toe prison. 180 feet of toe sweat then galloped and rolled toward the survivors. They attempted to flee on the sticky, strands of the ropes of her stocking as even more peole were being pushed up through thte strands. The death toll in her stocking numbered in the hundreds under the drop of sweat. Some crushed, some torn asuner, some drowned. All humiliated sacrifices to her.

Closer.

 Her toe’s tip advanced on the skyscraper. Her toes appeared to be shorter than the skyscraper, but as it drew nearer, the reality dawned on them, that they were about half as tall…maybe. The glass fogged as her sultry foot emanated heat. Outside they could hear wrenching of metal, concrete collapsing and screams, both rising in a cacophony, and cutting short immediately in tremendous ripping and crushing noises.

The fog on the windows grew thicker as her toes rested right outside the glass, almost as if she were playing a game with them.

In the heart of the city, the people frantically craned their necks between the feet at the edge of the skyscraper district, and her face looming above with a dominant, beautiful grin. Many could see up her skirt, though it fell to shadow before their vision could even reach the garters on her thighs. Her breasts looked like they would fall out of her low cut top, and surly crush the little metropolis.

As the tiny people tried to breath, all of their air was replaced by the air inside her shoe, wafting off her foot with even more force than before. They could feel her foot sweat accumulating on them, and her face above seemed to fade as clouds formed over them.

Their hair and clothes blew in the hot wind as they heard the first thunder crack rip through the sky. Her face and everything above her ankle all but vanished is the roiling, humid storm that formed overhead.

Rain fell from the sky with a vengence. Many of the citizens thought the rain was some sort of magic spell she cast on them. It would not have been the most absurd notion that thrust itself into their reality within the last few minutes. The drops seemed different somehow to the insignificant population. The beads that formed were bigger, somehow shinier, maybe oilier.

Inevitably, the tiny people tasted the rain, some by accident as if the rain found its way in their mouths by a will of its own. Some tasted the drops on purpose.

The foot fetishists in the crowd immediately knew what this new rain was, and it was all too obvious in retrospect. The most supremely divine foot they had ever had the honorific pleasure to be in the presence of, baptized them in its sweat that fell like rain. The sweat drops invaded every square inch of exposed skin, and soaked their clothes. None of them had rain gear on this warm, clear day. Well-coiffed hair fell in sultry strands as it soaked up the goddess’s foot sweat rain.

Puddles started to form. Lower-lying areas began to flood. Cars had trouble moving in some of the streets that were in valleys. Gutters filled to the brim. Basements filled. Many of the cars had windows or convertible tops down, and Her foot sweat soaked and ruined upholstery. The grassy ground under the feet of the thousands of citizens at the music festival got more and more muddy. It got impossible to hold their footing. The crowd panicked with nowhere to go, and trampled many fellow members.

The water supply had been low in the dry weather—nothing to worry about, but it was about ¼ capacity before the fall rains came and filled it back up. The drinking water now was becoming more and more of her salty, oily foot sweat. Her new subjects had no choice but to drink it, bather in it, wash their clothes in it. The concentration became more and more hot, pungent goddess sweat and less and less cool, clear water.

The rain continued to inundate their little world. Lightning crashed into the little city. One bolt nailed a tall apartment building. Bricks crumbled off the façade and struck milling, fleeing speck-sized people.

Windshield wipers furiously tried to wipe the rain away, but it seemed to stick to the glass. Many motorists tried to run the air conditioning to stave off the new, oppressive wave of heat from her feet. The vent blasted the smell fo her divine feet right in their faces, as the odor had completely supplanted all air in the city before she arrived. The motorists sat in their cars, many sitting in sweat soaked seats as they had not had time to roll their windows up with the sudden weather change. Every motorist had a single, heard-mentality thought echoing in their brains: Flee the city! This thought, of course, resulted in almost no one moving. The moved toward the edge of the skyscraper infested ant hill they called home, and attempted to get from under the localized cloud that served as a physical manifestation of her rule over them. They could see her stocking covered ankles between the peaks of the skyscrapers and the low clouds…and behind that: sunlight. Like good little bugs, they were drawn to the light. Focussed on the bright salvation.

A thunder clap much louder than the others work them from their fixation, as if they were punished for daring to obsess over anything but their new owner.

But this was not thunder. The goddess began waling around the city, slowly, languidly, almost daintily. The tremors and destruction did not care about her ginger, light steps. The city still shook like a monolithic event was occurring: her simple steps. Her foot falls were trivial, incidental, inconsequential to her (if not slightly pleasurable foreplay before the main event). An after thought. Not really a thought at all. She needed a place to step, to feel the soft ground yiled to her hot sole. This action was automatic.

The storm cloud began to swirl slowly, affected by her saunter around the city’s outskirts. Two and a half miles of an eight-lane highway fell in the shadow of her foot. Derbris from revious steps that had stuck to the outside of her stocking, and some that had slid into the holes in the weave of her stocking rained down. Rocks, busses, trees, and people, hundreds of people fell. Some were still fairly in tact, some already crushed into red masses. The vehicles fell in a range of states as well. Some almost entirely intact with screaming people inside, some all but flattened into a two-dimensional sheet.

The smell and the heat got incredibly intense under the shadow of her foot on the little roadway. Wind picked cars up and whirled them around. Then the stocking enveloped ball of her foot came down in the distance. Her toes splayed above and slowly came down on the other side of the road. The highway might have been spared under the massive space between her toes and the ball of her foot, but the stocking came down upon them like death itself. The fine strands crushed most of the vehicles outright. The threads, almost imperceptible at her scale, were columns of coiling, slick, wet, black crushing force, over 50 foot thick. Once again, many “lucky” survivors found themselves in the holes in the fine weave, only to be spared—for the monet—under toe prints, mired in sweat, or in an even hotter confine between her massive toes. The populating in her stockings, an ever-changing number, started rivaling that of entire towns or villages.

And she picked up settlers in a new area.

Her foot sunk into the soft eart in a way that made her arch touch the ground. Her arch was so delicately sculpted, and high, not to mention wrinkly as she flexed her foot that there were several square miles of her sole that her stocking did not flex flatly on. The heat did not come to a head, nor did sweat accumulate as severely as around the toes, but it was still an extreme of inertia, and flexing, moving, sticky flesh, and collisions with other survivors, and the smell…the smell totally dominated them here too. If these once proud humans at the top of the food chain had not been reduced to panicky bugs, they would have found the spirituality in complete submission to Her. But as it stood, they had only space for two thoughts:

I want to survive.

I know I will not.

So many lives had been claimed, or changed forever. History had been completely re-written for so many. And that was merely the first step she took around the little city.

Many survivors were crushed who had previously found salvation stuck to her goddess skin in wrinkles, and in curves as her foot that was their new world splayed more and compressed more as it was the only tie between her and the tiny world, the only thing bearing her weight, as she lifted her other foot.

The pilots in the Airbus A380 went through the flight check. They took the job seriously, but there was a small amount of ennui that snuck into their routine on the clear day. These things damn near flew themselves.

The pilots, as well as the almost 800 passengers, felt the first tremors and thought it odd. The tremors got worse and The crew hastened through the check to get off the shaking ground.

“Tower, we clear?” the copilot asked over the radio.

No reply.

Little did they know, the tower was busy coping with the loss of another large craft on Diane’s shin, and countless other impossible reports.

The tremors increased and the craft rocked on its tiny wheels. The pilots looked at eachother in bafflment as they tried to contact the tower again.

As the craft rocked even more wildly, the pilots realized it was not a matter of staying on schedule, but maybe surviving as they feared the ground may open up to swallow their buffeted craft.

They had no idea what was causing the tremors, but made the decision to get airborne.

Darkness fell over them as storm clouds rolled in.

It was now or never.

The plane started taxiing down the runway as the world seemed to go mad around them. The crew bounced around the cabin in a flurry of activity for pre-flight check, and before they were even most of the way done, they punched it.

The clouds got incredibly thick as the plane started barrel-assing down the tarmac. It had to reach 170 mph before it could start to think about getting off the ground with the largest jet in the world, and a full compliment of passengers.

Sparks flew as a wing hit the ground on the plane’s haul down the runway. The captain pulled on the yoke to compensate and they picked up momentum. The passengers held on for dear life as the huge craft lurched on the listing ground.

The plane bounced in the air with a remor, caught flight for a brief moment, and slammed back into the ground. The crew recovered and did what they could to right the plane. The captain pulled up on the yoke as hard as he could and the plane rose into the air triumphantly if shakily. The seismic doom of the ground fell behind the craft.

The captain sighed with relief as the rest of the crew turned on all manner of lights as they entered the clouds. The captain paid close attention to the radar and radioed any other craft in the area that he took off without advisement of the tower in order to try to escape disaster.

Turbulence hit the craft as it plunged into the clouds. This was like no other cloud they had seen. Thick, impenetrable, hot, and sticky. The windshield wipers could not scrape the moisture off very effectively. Beads of rain ran down the fuselage and clung, weighing it down. Pilot, not passenger could see anyting out of the window. They became aware of more turbulence, but the pilot deftly compensated.

If the radar was to be trusted, the craft should poke out of the clouds soon. As the pilot thought this, the craft did poke out into the sun. The crew cheered!

Just then Diane’s foot lifted and unknowingly hovered over the tiny jet. Their world once again became dark. They had not seen Diane approach from the other side of the city. Diane certainly had not seen the 250 foot long plane that registered as not even 1/10 of an inch to her.

Diane’s heel settled on the ground first as the ball of her foot hovered over them. The plane was booking at over 200 mph now, and Diane’s foot was narrow at 13,000 feet wide, not to mention she stepped liesurly, not in any rush.

They may just make it! They saw light under the incomprehensible sole. But the sole got closer to them, and the air became turbulent again as the toes wiggled and flexed, displacing massive amounts of air.

Gently, her foot descended, and the upper arch caught them! The strands of her stocking snagged the first, but the downward momentum of the foot, pressed them mercilessly miles down until the plane smashed between the sole and the ground. The passengers had little time to ponder their fate as the foot claimed them. Some saw all the way down to the heel, still on the ground, as her arch rose above them. The sight made no sens, but it was still indeed, their last.

When Diane picked her foot back up, the plane was smashed and caught in her stocking’s moist fabric like an incredibly tiny crushed gnat.