There had been a heat advisory that morning: the newscasters on channels five and eight had not explained but instead expounded and exhorted residents to not tarry too long outside, lest the heat stroke fairy, dressed all in vivid hallucination and thirst, visit them in their dazzling and hateful ways. Such faeries often visited the Great Basin and Mojave areas often in the summer time, and the town of Boulder City, barely registered mentally or even at all when inevitably compared to its neighbor Las Vegas, was no exception. 

 

All the same, Jason had made the half mile trek from the bus stop to his apartment like he did every weekday- such was a necessity from the absence of a personal automobile, something he truly wished for at times. Still, he always brought his trusty water bottle with him (a companion since freshmen year d high school) so as to keep hydrated during his walk. 

 

Soon enough, or so it seemed, he arrived at his own place, once again taking in the familiar sites of home- the unweeded rock garden yard so popular in hot climates, the occasional cigarette butt or broken Coors bottle from his unemployed neighbor's nightly ritual. The obscenely charged over grill that had never to his memory been used (or cleaned)except that one time by Mr. Anderson on the Fourth of July during elementary. His mother's own beat up Toyota, '94 model and held together what he expected was primarily dirt and prayer. And, to his delight, the clean blue sheen of his aunt's Jetta ('10 model). That boded well, he knew- his mother always seemed happier when her dear kid sister was around. 

 

He smiled sadly to himself, shaking his head and the relaxing thought and remembrance. His mom. What an exceptional woman, he thought to himself as he dug in his pockets for an apartment key. 

 

His mother, a young lass of thirty three, had always had a distinct lack of true happiness- not that she wasn't joyful or content (so it would seem), but there wasn't much happiness to her. Constantly exhausted from her job, she struggled daily to provide a good living for her son, her only one. Most of that time life had been good, and he, to his memory, had never gone to bed hungry, for which he was completely grateful- but there was always that nagging feeling that he had such comforts at the expense of his mother's body, mind, or life. She didn't go out, she didn't meet other people. Most of her life had been spent in maternal labor that overshadowed all else. What little happiness she did get came from family and, he flushed, his own successes- she was a selfless woman, never wrapped up in herself. Ever- even to the point of self-abnegation. 

 

It shouldn't be that way, he thought to himself. It's not fair. She deserves more. 

 

He turned the key and went into his apartment, the comforting scent of chicken and rice flooding his senses. He set the key on the table next to the door and dropped his book bag (containing only his day's notes and the remnants of lunch) to the ground, only to be suddenly assaulted from a bear hug and squeal of delight. 

 

"Oh honey, my little man, Jason," a wet kiss was planted on his cheek, "welcome home, darling! How was the lab?"

 

"Hi mom," he droned, the only way a young man of eighteen could drone at his mother. "It was good. Doctor Brea says we made some pretty good progress this week. We might start final animal testing within the month, if the IRB approves it."

 

He felt a hand brush across his chin as his mother sauntered away from him, no doubt going to check the rice. 

 

"That's great, dear. And do you think they will? The IRB people, I mean?"

 

Jason shrugged, but that wasn't apparent while he pulled off his shoes.

 

"I hope so. This new compound has been like three years in the making. I hope it doesn't get stopped by someone on the board- then again, dr. Brea is pretty well known- hopefully she'll get approval soon."

 

He heard a short chopping laugh from the kitchen table, one that even felt as though a smile was behind it. 

 

"Compounds? IRB? Jeez, Jason. You've come a long way from your little kid's chemistry set when you were five, haven't you?"

 

Jason favored her with a little smile. His aunt, a fiery red headed personal trainer of twenty nine, grinned at him over from across the room. She set down her phone to look up at him. 

 

"Hi, Aunty Clare. Good to see you.

Are you staying for dinner?"

 

"Of course! Wouldn't miss out on your mom's chicken and rice for anything. Besides," she said, taking a sip of water, "I need a break from this cleanse work is having me do. I just can't handle so much lettuce."

 

"Well, I guess we can skip on the salad then," Sarah, his mother, chuckled. "Jason, it's about done. Will you set the table please?"

 

During dinner, after his mother said grace, their conversation turned a bit more serious, if not a bit disappointing. Jason had been accepted into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a few months ago, and so far the biggest hurdle was not in the amount or type of work he would be doing, but... 

 

How would he pay for it? Clocking in at around fifty grand per semester plus room and board, it was no small feat to scrounge up the money for such education. No doubt the benefits would pay off in the long run, but the initial hurdle was the price tag. He simply didn't have the cash. He'd applied for maybe dozens of scholarships that would aid him, and had been awarded quite a few- but only enough to knock the price down to thirty five thousand. Still a fat chunk of change.

 

Their last hope had come in the form of the prestigious International Academy of Scientific Research and Progress- the awarded two grants per year to students that would cover the entirety of their collegiate expenses until graduation. 

 

Full ride. Combine that with fifteen grand that he could leave home in the form of a new car... Or a fat down payment on a home for his mom...

 

Alas- it was not to be. He knew it from moment his mother had pulled out the very thin letter (top already torn off) and wearing a grin-but-bear-it look in her eyes. The news had come not as a huge blow, but instead a slow painful realization. 

 

"Honey, I know..." She huffed, "I know you were hoping for this. But we're gonna get through this, okay?"

 

The conversation lulled then, making it abundantly clear that it may not have been the case. At least, that's how Jason saw it. 

 

Dessert was an apple pie, made from scratch. He didn't taste much of it, however- his heart simply wasn't in it. 

 

Jason had excused himself shortly after dishes had been hand washed- he gave the excuse that he wasn't feeling well (it was pretty hot during the day, after all), and wanted to turn in early. No one was fooled, however, not even himself- worry washed over him in the only way anxiety and uncertainty could, doubts creeping up and planting themselves in his mind. 

 

He tinkered, if nothing else than to occupy his mind. He took apart, cleaned, dusted, checked, rechecked, and reassembled his old diode radio, each nut and bolt and wire meticulously labeled and sorted and handled in the most loving way. Each movement was planned, known. Comforting, like tying flies. 

 

He had just finished remounting the radio chassis when he heard a sharp sob come through his door. He would know that cry anywhere- his mother. 

 

On light footsteps he went over to the door, and, with years of practice that came with late night visits to their apartment's fridge, ever so quietly turned the door handle and cracked it open. 

 

Siting at the table was his mother, her beautiful blonde mane draped over her head that rest on the table, softly jumping in desperate, quiet sobs. Watching vigilantly over her was Clare, a hand pressed on her back and her own beer in hand. 

 

His heartstrings tugged. Jason suspected that it was no doubt related to his not getting the full ride, but... 

 

His lip trembled. 

 

This is bad, he thought.

 

His aunt took a draft of her drink, looking around the room in an attempt to find something to say. She made a wild gesture, then said, oddly incongruent, 

 

"Sarah, it'll be okay. You've gotten through this kind of thing before- remember those car payments? The accident? It's fine."

 

She rubbed her sister's back, huffing slightly. 

 

"Have you... Have you gone to Daryl? Have you asked him?"

 

Jason's heart skipped a beat at Clare's name dropping. Who was Daryl? Could... Could it be...?

 

"Yes," came the frustrated and muffled reply. "I went to him first and asked if we could make out a payment plan. My company's been good with that kind of thing, and Mr. Mathers has been there before."

 

Daryl. Daryl Mathers. 

 

His mother's boss, that bald asshole he met at a holiday party once. Of course, how stupid. She hasn't mentioned his father in years, and even then only in passing comment of his eyes and hair. Sarah had never told Jason who his father was, or even his name. She would often get misty eyed when the subject did come up, but no more than that. 

 

"And what did he say?" Clare inquired further, a hopeful tone in her voice, and apparently not picking up the context. 

 

His mother lifted up her head and grimaced, like it was painful for her even to say it. However, what she did say might as well have been hard to say. 

 

She swallowed and closed her eyes as she spoke.

 

"He said he would do it... But in return I'd have to do something for him. Something..." 

 

She sobbed, setting a hand to her mouth.

 

"He said he'd want me to repay him on my knees. And Clare, I swear to God, I obviously refused; I was so sure that Jason would get that full ride. But now, knowing that he didn't?" She swallowed again. "Knowing he didn't... I can't afford loans either. I was thinking that maybe... Oh god... On Tuesday I could go in and talk to him again..."

 

Jason felt his stomach fill with ice, his heart wrench free from its calcium cage.

 

His mother would do that. For him? 

 

The feelings of guilt and shame swirled around him, chilling him to the core and dizzying him. Suddenly it wasn't such a stretch to say he was ill. God, the thought of it. He couldn't decide if he was angrier or more embarrassed. Even then, the angry had complexity: at himself for not being a better student, at that swine boss of hers, and even at... Even at his saintly mother, for considering such a terrible act.

 

Fuck. FUCK!

 

He felt his fist clamp tightly on itself, the nails breaking skin. 

 

How dare he. How dare she, even. 

 

He was about to enter the room and yell when Clare did it for him.

 

"Wait Sarah, no! Hell no. Jesus Christ. Fuck no, you're not doing that.  How could you even think that? That's... That's terrible."

 

She took another swig, as did Sarah, who only looked at her pleadingly. 

 

"That's... That's gotta be against the law. Like, at work. He could get fired for that. Couldn't he?"

 

Sarah only shrugged. 

 

"That's what happened to the last girl- the guy's been in the company for a long time; I doubt that my word would do anything. Not against him, anyway."

 

Clare sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, and propping her sandaled feet on the table.

 

"And I thought guys at my gym were pervs. Sarah, you can't do it. Come on, you haven't been that way since... Well, since you were fifteen. Don't throw that away."

 

"You think I want to? Come on, Clare." She sighed as well, pushing the near empty bottle on its rim around the table. Her lips pouted in a way that Jason found adorable, and maybe a little bit of something else. "But what else can I do? Loans aren't an option. Neither is going back to mom and dad out east."

 

He heard Clare chuckle and the imperceptible sound of an eye roll. 

 

"Ha, no we cannot. I doubt they'd even talk to you- heck, they don't even talk to me."

 

Sara offered a short chortle, but not much else. The mood was somber, and not withstanding their mutual feelings on Jason's grandparents (he'd never even spoken to them), it remained so. 

 

Finally Clare placed a hand over her sister's squeezing tightly. 

 

"You're a smart girl, Sarah. Always have been. Heck, look at Jason- 18 years old and accepted into MIT. Didn't Bill Gates or the Facebook guy go there? And for chemistry! Always the top of his class, and he even outdid the teacher there. You'll find a solution together. I know it. I'll talk to my bank as well, see what they might be able to do. But Sarah, please," she squeezed again, "don't go over to that asshole. Fuck that. You're better than that." 

 

******************

 

Jason spent that night locked in writhing mental agony. The swelter of emotion that had visited him when he learned of his mother's sexual considerations was enough to bury him. Hot tears watered his pillow, like he hadn't since painful puberty and horrible love sickness had in middle school. 

 

Now even a grown man of eighteen, his tears came anyhow, and he was not ashamed of it. His mother was a beautiful woman, on so many levels. She did so much for him and took care of every little thing- moreover, she'd always been there- every recital, every game. Every science presentation. She'd wept tears like never before when he was accepted into several Ivy League schools, and even had took a brief second job to fund a trip to NASA. 

 

Everything. She was his everything. 

 

He did not share his mother's belief on Jesus- he had come to an agnostic conclusion through his studies of the natural world. However, he did often experience something of the divine when he thought of his mother. Maybe something a little earthly too. 

 

He went to his 'back room,' then, place in his mind where the noises shut out and symphonies of color swirled around. He hoped it would help him sleep.

 

There he imagined. Imagined his mother. She was standing there, all five eleven, her blonde, thin hair draped over her head and on her shoulders. She was gorgeous- a pillar of a woman who brought happiness with her wherever she went, left flowers bloom in each footstep. 

 

In this imagination, she wore a simple outfit of white adorned in gold trimming. Her bosom, full of life and power weighed heavily on her chest. Below, a narrow waste and wide womanly hips, a rump to match. 

 

She stared at him, letting him take in all of her beauty. A crown of spun gold capped her head, a halo fit for a queen of her stature. Her white robes, draped now only over one shoulder, seemed to glow, heavenly in the brazen sky. Her eyes shone brightly, the same color of sapphires in the crystal pond. 

 

Jason realized that she was looking down at him, still that serene smile on her face, her ruby red lips full and pursed. 

 

He realized that he was smaller, only the size of a bug.

 

Or no... Was... Was she a giant? Some mighty goddess?

 

The answer suddenly didn't seem to matter when she took a step forward. The ground throomed loudly, knocking him down and off his feet and onto his ass. 

 

He saw her sandal, a leather strappy thing wrapped all around her pillar of a thigh and comely foot, with adorable and perfectly formed toes sticking out, come down hard again. She was walking towards him- a skyscraper moving ever so towards him. The ground shook, but he got up anyway, and began to stand. This goddess, this queen mother of his, might step on him- and what an appropriate way- was it not right that a goddess like her should be queen over all? See everyone as bugs?

 

She loomed over him like no other- never had he been so simultaneously terrified and comforted. 

 

His goddess, his queen was here! 

 

She smiled at him, and reached down. Her perfect hands with their manicured nails scooped him up, and he welcomed them, feeling suddenly so warm and so safe. She brought him up and up, past her titanic legs, the fragrant crotch and hips, her taut stomach, and her voluminous breasts, to her smiling placid face. 

 

Her face. 

 

If only words could describe. Comfort, kindness, haven. Love only the way a mother, a creator, could. 

 

Her lips parted, and the rush of fragrant breath came rushing out, smelling of something like jasmine or lilac. Something altogether familiar yet sensual. Accompanying the blast of air was a melodious voice, rumbling out from the chest and into the eternities. 

 

"My son... My son."

 

She tilted her head to the side and brought her free hand up, stroking his back with a long, unlaquered nail. Feeling rippled through his nerves, the base of his neck down to his crotch. His toes curled involuntarily. 

 

"You've got a big decision to make here... But I know you'll make the right choice."

 

Despite the vague encouragement, Jason smiled- all would be well; his mother said so, yes? Still.

 

"You... Mom, you're not... Really a goddess, are you? Like, this isn't happening, right?"

 

She did her little head bob thing she did- when she wanted to be mysterious or coy. She'd done it when asking how her occasional date went, or when she wanted to avoid talking about something. Maddening, yet all the same endearing. 

 

"Well, no... I mean, you're sleeping, dear. I'm not really a goddess. At least, not in the strict sense. I'm just taking the form you see me as."

 

"Something from a Greek toga party?"

 

"Divinity, my little man!" She scratched the side of his head with a nail. "You think really highly of me- and your subconscious is filling in the blanks. Any response I give you, even this one, is already in you."

 

"You mean I made you all... Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman?"

 

"Isn't every mother a giant to her kids? They provide, they nurture, they protect... You're no different. Also, I'm around two hundred and eighteen feet tall to you. A little bigger than the movie." She winked at him, making him blush.

 

"Okay, okay... So, O mighty Sarah-"

 

"I'm still mom to you, young man."

 

"Er, mom... Mega mom... Heh, uh... What should I do? How can I help you? You've always been there and bent over backwards but... I feel like now I can't even help. You prevented me from working so I could work in the lab over the summer, but now we have no money. What should I do? I can't let you do... Yknow, that thing you said you would do for your boss... Right? You'd never do that... Right, mom?"

 

A sad smile crept across her lips. 

 

"You know I would, dear. I've bent over backwards for you, and believe me- I wouldn't if I didn't think there was another way..."

 

She shrugged, a very ostentatious motion. 

 

"As it stands, I'm going in Monday to smoke a pole for your education."

 

"Mom, Jesus Christ."

 

"Just sayin'."

 

He was quiet for a second. 

 

"You know I’m going to stop you, right? Any means necessary?"

 

"Of course, naturally. You were always stubborn, after all."

 

"You... You knew?"

 

"Of course. I wouldn't be here otherwise. Don’t you remember? I’m already in your subconscious."

 

"Oh."

 

He sat down in her palm, cross legged. The dream was truly something else. Part of him, but only a small part, thought this might actually be a vision. A real divinity. Maybe it was his real mom, she a goddess in mortal guise. 

 

Finally the words came to him. 

 

"You deserve better."

 

"So you say."

 

"Like, much better. Better than what life has given you."

 

She pouted her lips. 

 

"I like it well enough."

 

"It should be love, mom. You should love life. Not spend it serving others."

 

He waved his hands up high in the air. 

 

"I mean, look at you- you're a goddess for... Well, god's sake. A queen."

 

She perked her ears up.

 

"You're a lovely woman, the most beautiful, gorgeous, lovely woman I have ever seen and I am so lucky to call you mom."

 

The head bob thing again. 

 

"People don't deserve to lick the bottom of your feet. They're not worthy."

 

She nodded.

 

"Here it comes. But you're about to say... Go on..."

 

He chuckled. 

 

"But they deserve to die under your feet. Like bugs." He then smiled widely, the idea forming in his mind. He chuckled then said, "literally."

 

She nodded slowly, circling her finger around his chin lovingly, lifting it and smiling softly at him.

 

"And that's why you're dreaming, my little man."

 

She retracted her free hand and closed it. A suffusion of green glowed from the clenched fist and she closed her eyes. 

 

"This has been in your mind for many years. The idea that you're now forming. Recall that your knowledge of molecular structure and spacing was expanded several years ago. You're about to create something the world has never seen, something that will change the fabric of society and life among humans as we know it. People will die, by direct cause. And yet we may fail. But," she said with a smirk, "you're a stubborn mule and you're gonna do it anyway."

 

Her hand opened, and Jason beheld. Within lay a myriad of synthesized knowledge, conclusions that had not yet had been popularized. 

 

Mad science. 

 

Within he saw plans, processes, and most strangely, himself at the center. 

 

Best of all, he saw the results. 

 

All in her hand. All in his head. Just waiting there to be plucked up like ripe fruit. 

 

He studied it, but she closed her hand.

 

"Mom, I wasn't... I wasn't done."

 

She shook her head, cocking her eyebrow. 

 

"No, love- you won't. It's already there, waiting. You'll remember when you finish this dream, and you'll wake up with it in your head."

 

"So. Wake up, Jason."

 

He did so. He did so, with a new plan hatched in his mind. With new directions, new goals. New source material.

 

And best of all? The goddess mother Sarah vision had not lied- he remembered, and he remembered well.

 

He knew exactly what he would do for his mother, the real life goddess.

 

 

It was like riding a bike or masturbation- once you got it down in your head, once all the muscle memory and movements had combined and felt right, you never forgot it. It was the very same with the compound after his... Dream? Vision? One of those things. Whatever it was, it changed him- he had a more complete science now.

 

After the theory was in place, practice took effect- the lab manager, some witless grad student from the local university, had watched curiously at Jason's work but didn't quite understand it herself. The mystery of it, combined with the fact that Jason was a chemistry genius in par with the lab professor, let him work fairly autonomously within the lab, and any personal interests or projects he had were largely left alone- provided it didn't interfere with the lab goals.

A few reagents, time, distillation... And the formula was done. He held it in his hands, the sphere-shaped flask tingling at the touch, the vial no larger than his long finger.

 

This was it. This was what he thought... No, what his mother, his divinity, had shown him.

 

He carefully placed the vial in his pants pocket- the stabilizers would hold, wen exposed to more heat or agitation (for example, a hot bus ride home).

It occurred to him, this little plan he was forming, still had a missing component. How was he to get his mother to actually take the solution? She would not willingly- she was suspicious of scientific things, not out of mistrust, but out of not knowing enough of what it would be that she would be taking into her body. Even then, if he had told her, she never would have believed him, much less ever consented. 

He came to the conclusion that he had to play the part of the trickster, possibly even the deceiver- he had to get his mother to take in the solution without her knowing it.

 

After a quick internet search, Jason found a way- a quick few minutes of medical chemistry later, he left the lab, knowing that, if this worked (or maybe even didn't work), it was probably the last time he'd ever step foot into that laboratory. 

He pondered that. He pondered that on the way to the quick pharmacy, where he picked up some diabetic syringes. He pondered it as he paid for them, the suspicious checker eyeing him mistrustfully. He pondered it on the way home on the bus, his hand clenched round the vial that contained... What it contained. 

 

He realized that everything he's worked for, provided he was correct, would be lost. All of his work, his lab experience. All those acceptance letters to the best schools on earth. Offers from NASA and the Royal Academy of Science. All of that, his future, would be gone, traded for what he was about to give his mother- something she so desperately deserved. 

 

Was he willing? Would he be able to? Give it all up for his mother?

 

Yes, came the resounding call in his head. She's all that matters. Life isn't measured by your success in career or money, but how your family thrives. Certainly, Sarah being the only family he had (except for Clare, he supposed), it was his duty, his calling, his pleasure and want to serve her. Even if she didn't know it.

 

She would resist, he knew- even after the effects of the solution took its course on her body. She might get mad or angry or maybe even cry. 

 

But that didn't matter- as long as no one could hurt her. She would be safe- she wouldn't have to work hard, or do silly things for money. She would be respected. She would be feared. She would be a goddess, but like the one he saw in his vision. 

 

And yet.

 

He wasn't wrong, was he? This was only second guessing and self-deception, yes? The whole of his endeavors, throwing away all of his work and future just to till, honestly, a childish need for his mom to be taken care of. That wasn't... A foolish thing, was it? 

 

He shook his head.

 

No. He wasn't wrong. It was, he honestly believed, the right thing to do. The world would see his mother for who she really was- a saint and a queen and a loving and benevolent goddess. His mother deserved those things- rest from labor, to be powered upon.

 

And, he knew, as he got off the bus and palmed the two vials in his hand, would give it to her. 

 

******************

 

He waited another day, until Sunday evening, to put his plan into action. They had just finished cleaning up dinner and had sat down to watch a movie. Jason had lounged on the side while Sarah had lain on him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

The movie was something good, some romantic comedy his mother delighted in, but he had hardy paid any attention to it. Distracted, he found himself looking as the long blonde locks that draped over his shoulder and down the contours his mother's body- her head, shapely nose, her soft pink lips. Down her shoulder, her lively and full breasts. Her motherly paunch, and yet thin waist, shapely hips and her calves, down to her unsandaled feet, their perfectly formed toes occasionally twitching with each breath she took or soft touch.

 

He felt all at once enthralled and ashamed- the feelings of a deep desire welled inside of him, something he thought was only affection when he was younger. Come later to find that it was a bit more than simple familial affection.

 

Jason had never known a woman in the way a man might- girls has taken a back seat to science and as a result he never did very well with those cliquey girls in middle school, or those petty bitches in high school. 

 

There was no other, really- none but Sarah. How could there be?

 

He shifted his hand down from her shoulder to the spot just below her armpit, the heat of the day producing sweat even through her thin summer dress that served as also Sunday dress (though the preacher had looked on frowningly). 

 

He began to rub, and Sarah, half asleep already, inhaled softly at the touch.

 

"Jason," she said, "you're gonna put me to sleep."

 

He smiled at the melodious lilt of her voice. 

 

"You're already halfway there. A massage will do you good."

 

"Yes. Perhaps a back massage?"

 

He nodded. Now would be the time. 

 

"Okay. But... Do you want a glass of wine first? To help you relax, I mean?"

 

She looked up at him, quizzically. For a terrifying second everything unravelled- she knew. She knew all. She knew his desire, his intent. She knew about the vials. He was about to say sorry when she smiled at him placidly and nodded her head. 

 

"That sounds wonderful, honey. And why don't..." She hesitated for a moment, then seemed to nod, "and why don't you pour yourself a half glass as well?"

 

Jason chuckled.

 

"You don't like drinking alone?"

 

"I just think that my baby boy deserves a taste after all the hard work he's done." 

 

She leaned up and smooched him on the cheek, the way a only mother could. 

 

"Mom," Jason droned, pretending to be embarrassed but still smiling, "I'm not a baby any more."

 

She clutched him softly by the wrist and then pulled him close, reaching up and taking him by the cheeks. Irresistible. 

 

"Jason," she began softly, "you will always be my boy. Ever since you were born- you've always been my special little guy. Never forget that, or how much I love you."

 

Jason swallowed, the reality of what was about to happen sinking in further. Still, he was determined, and he would not give up.

 

He got up, sauntering over to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of red wine, a Cabernet if he recalled correctly. Something to do with the grapes used. After he pulled out a wine goblet for Sarah and a half glass for himself- he suddenly became grateful that his mother had asked him to only drink a half-measure, as he would need to drive later tonight- alcohol would've not aided him in that regard. 

 

After pouring, he clandestinely took out the vial that contained the other drug and poured some in his mother's drink, swirling it around slightly. He had added red food dye to the sleeping draft, to cover for it- not that it mattered; the red wine was dark enough, and the room unlit, so it wouldn't make a difference. 

 

Wine cups in hand, he went back to the couch, where his mother gratefully took the wine. She was about to drink when she then looked up to Jason, who was swirling his own glass. She held up the goblet to him and smiled warmly. Jason chuckled and held his own out. 

 

The glasses clinked together and they both took a long draft. 

 

Now, he supposed, there's no turning back. 

 

The movie continued in agonizing monotony, and was only made pleasurable by the massage he gave his mother- Jason couldn't pay attention to the film even if he tried. He made occasional, conservative sips at his wine, so as to look like he was drinking but not in truth- he wanted his mind as unclouded as possible.

 

Soon the drug took its course, and his mother began to nod off, her head dipping then bobbing back up. It was like she often did while sleepy, but more pronounced and frequent now. He touched her by the shoulder, and immediately she fell into his arm, resting her head on his shoulder again with a half dopey, half worried look on her face. Jason put the wine glass down, as calm as he could despite his racing heart. He flipped him mother over (not so easy a task, considering how busty she was and how wide her hips were) to face him.

 

He took her by the face in his hands, pressing gently in his grip the plush skin of this woman he so utterly adored, this saint who had warded over him for his entire life.

 

"Mom."

 

She looked up at him again with that cute little grin of hers. She was spectacularly out of it. She may not even understand what he was about to say. But he had to get it out.

 

"You've always done so much for me. You've loved, cherished me, and gave me a solid foundation. You cultivated my science, let me do wondrous things, and worked every penny for it with your blood, sweat, and tears. I could never, in a million life times, ever hope to repay you- at least, not in the conventional way."

 

She cocked an eyebrow, looking a mix of confused and motherly adoration. 

 

"I know you may not forgive me for this... For what I'm about to do. I'm sorry. But I can't ignore what has to be done, what would be right. You deserve to have everyone at your feet. You are a queen. You are a mighty warrior... a goddess. My goddess."

 

Jason leaned in, and planted his lips on Sarah's half open mouth. The kiss was full of passion, lust. Years of back logged frustration and admiration burst out in a single kiss, and Jason felt right. His mother, however, did not- she resisted, as weakly as it was. She knew on some fundamental level that this was wrong, this was against nature, against God.

 

And yet. 

 

Soon enough, the struggling stopped, and she felt herself give and fall into the kiss, reciprocating the feeling a motion. It felt... right, then. Like she had just released strong feelings. This was her boy, after all. Hers. Mayhaps, on some level, she wanted it as well- psychologically perhaps. In the end, she wanted it, and that was the truth- it could only be a kiss. Feelings welled up in her, and she felt the soft pulse and pull of desire grow within her.

 

All too briefly. 

 

Jason could have stripped his clothes off right there, but he knew he had work to do. He pulled away, this eighteen year old son of Sarah's, and she gave him a look- almost shame, were it not for the red in her cheeks. 

 

"Jason... I... Whuuu...?"

 

Her head slumped, and she passed into a dreamless, synthetic sleep.

 

*********************

 

Jason hoisted his mother's sleeping body over his shoulder as he pulled her from the car- not an easy task considering how gifted she was with her assets. The large breasts and wide hips made it difficult to navigate, but Jason was able to bring her over to the patch of dried grass without relative difficulty. As he laid her body down ever so gently and stood back up, he looked her body over. 

 

He had kept he clothes on, even after toying with the wonderful idea of having his godly mother naked in his presence. 

 

No, he thought, she deserves to choose how she lives and dresses as a goddess. 

So he kept her Sunday dress on- the black and white skirt that went just past her knees, the undershirt and over jacket that covered most of her lovely skin.

She had been barefoot on the couch and when she passed out, and Jason had considered having her remain so- but things like fence posts and sharp metal would easily cut her feet up- and harm wasn't something he could allow for his mother, now could he? 

 

He decided then to retrieve a pair of Sarah's favorite red canvas sneakers and slipped them, without socks, onto her feet; the rubber soles ought to protect from anything from harming the soft under skin , he figured.

 

It was a strangely erotic sight, his mother. He nursed a half-turgid erection while looking at her.

 

Now fully clothed, covered, and ready, Jason retrieved the vial of solution and syringe. He was just about to walk back over to her when, to his horror, another car, it's horn blaring in an abrasive F sharp, came screaming up the small dirt path and alongside his mother's own car. 

 

It was a Jetta. He could hear his Aunt Clare before even seeing her.

 

"Jason! What in the fuck are you doing?" Came the small voice from behind the headlights of the still running car. She sounded hysteric. 

 

Jason continued his work, pressing the syringe into the rubber top of the vial and drawing some out. Two millimeters ought to do it, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the smol anger storm that was approaching him. 

 

"Are you insane? What are you doing?" She seemed to balk at the thing Jason had in his hand- a vial, a syringe. 

 

"Oh Jesus," she quavered, "jason... What is that. What is that you're holding. Is that poison?"

 

"No, of course not. Auntie Clare, I-"

 

"Drugs? Coke? Oh fuck. You drugged  her. You drugged my goddamn sister."

 

"Clare, no I didn't-"

 

"I'm calling the cops. Jesus Christ, Jason."

 

"Wait, wait, auntie Clare..."

 

His hands shook and the pit in his stomach grew. This was not going well. How in the hell did she know where to find them? He supposed that don't matter- she would be stumbling to pull her phone out of her pocket either way. Jesus, even if she knew what he was doing. Or rather going to do.

 

Clare eyed him intently as she watched him drew the rest of the solution out from the vial, and then pushing out just a bit to squirt out. The action, while well advised to avoid air pockets in the bloodstream, seemed almost too cinematic for his liking.

Then again- what exactly was he doing that wasn't cinematic in the extreme?

 

"Jason," Clare quavered out again, "don't you dare touch her. Jason, no!"

 

She dropped her cell phone and dashed forward, ready to pull the vial or syringe out from his hands. The thought occurred to Jason that he might accidentally inject her- and that would be a terrible mistake. She'd likely kill them both of them.

 

Deftly switching hands and pocketing the vial, Jason knelt and hovered over Sarah with the needle just beginning to stick into her skin. Clare screamed fire and blood, and his mother, still unconscious, seemed to wince at the needle's sting.

 

Clare tried to bowl into him, but was pushed back by his free arm, his hand pushing her back. He was bigger than the both of them, and stronger to boot. Clare, despite her office as a personal trainer, was hard pressed to even make any headway. 

 

While keeping her away, Jason plunged the syringe deep into his mother's arm and pressed down on the injector, pushing the blue opaque liquid into her. 

 

Two millimeters ought to do the trick.

 

And the trick it did. 

 

Flinging the syringe aside, Jason grabbed his aunt by both arms and pulled her away from Sarah, all the while Clare screeching 'no no no what are you doing stop it why why no no.' He wanted to get a safe distance, and by the time he did (he gave it about two hundred feet, Clare was crying. When they stopped, Clare swung at him, hard. The open hand connected with his impassive face, leaving a large red mark there. She walked around him, making Jason turn his back on his mother. The light of the morning was just beginning to dawn over the Rockies. 

 

"Why, Jason. Why are you doing this? What got into your fucking head... Why can't you..."

 

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew wide. 

 

"Oh my god."

 

Her hand covered her mouth and she pointed at where Sarah lay. Jason turned and saw his mother, his love, his everything, begin to expand and grow, her skin glowing and steam rising off of her. Bigger, and bigger, and bigger, her clothes miraculously growing as well. 

 

The solution had worked.

 

The dawn had finally broken and the light poured over the El Dorado Wilderness pan. The heat had already begun to pulsate from on high and hinted at the blazing dry that would accompany the summer day. Fauna scurried under rocks to hide from the unfriendly sun, her rays shining down and baking the stone and salt dirt. 

 

Jason stood there, in the shadow of his now very giantess mother, and smiled. It had worked. The formula, the reaction. The set of chemical principles that had heretofore been unattainable. He had been able to alter matter with still retaining form and function, something before thought only theoretical by even the most esoteric of physicists and chemists. 

 

Even more amazing than the bending of physics had been the creature upon which it was wrought- Sarah, now a mighty giant. Young, beautiful, wholesome. Her full body that had all at once carried many burdens, now free in its new size. How he admired her- her scale now made every problem they had- money, tuition, education- seem so small and insignificant in comparison. How small it all seemed- and he wasn't even the one who now stood as a colossus. 

 

A beautiful, gorgeous colossus at that. 

 

He thought on that- soon the city would know, the entire world, would know her name. Her warm blue eyes. Comely blonde locks. The cute way her nose crinkled and how she wiggled her hips as she walked or was pleased by something.

 

At least, these two would know.

 

Around behind an enormous white hand, a cackle echoed in the flat, and he smiled. Rounding the pillar-like digits was Clare, wide eyed in wonder at this marvel. Taking care to watch her footing, she reached out, grabbed a pinker finger that was taller than her, and swung around like some kid at a playground. She cackled again in delight, muttering to herself 'wow, wow' as she surveyed her elder sibling.

 

"She really is my big sister now," she mused. 

 

Jason smiled at the thought, seeing the humor in it. It was always like his aunt to poke fun or find frivolity in such serious matters (this would amount to at least a page or two in every physics and chemistry and biology and history textbook on planet earth), and for that she had endeared herself to him (not that being the cool auntie hadn't done that anyway). 

 

Jason watched her play for a moment, observing her. She had worn the same outfit for at least 24 hours now, on account of seeing her on Sunday morning (it now being Monday): a white tank top that barely held down her prodigious breasts, a pair of short shorts that put on display creamy thighs and a taut musculature (evidence of the many long years of her being a personal trainer at the athletic club), and a pair of strappy flat gladiator sandals, her smallish feet showing off ten cute and bronzed toes peeping out.

 

Jason had to admit, his aunt cut a dashing figure- she was quite beautiful in her own right, and only a decade or so older than him to boot. He had recalled, early in his youth, that she been a stalwart figure to him as maybe more an older sister than a mother's sibling. Perhaps by way of her nature, Sarah had always been 'mom,' but that of Clare's was, rather, unfixed. Mutable. She distinctly remembered her playing cars with him when he was three or so, she being not much older and volunteering to watch him while his mother was away at work or attending night classes. 

 

As a result she had quit endeared herself to him- she was there during his formative years, and informed him, if only indirectly, of the hidden and secret pleasures of desire. An equal form of herself phantomized and haunted his sexual dreams, and perhaps a bit less gave him cause to emit nocturnally. 

 

She was, in truth, quite beautiful in face as well- she shared the soft blue eyes of his mother and same nasal shape, and maybe even plush lips, but one thing stood all out above others- her fiery red hair, cut short to something that might have been popular in the roaring twenties, a gift from some recessive kickback in her genetics. Neither Sarah nor Clare oft talked about their family out east, but from what information they did divulge, some young upstart low-class 'Mick' from Ireland had whittled his way into the family by way of the heart of a young doe-eyed girl in their clan of WASPs. The marriage was legitimized and the baby not aborted, and that was that.

 

Jason caught Clare looking at him, smiling softly, and hanging by one of Sarah's now very long fingers. She crooked a smile and asked,

 

"You're pretty amazing, kid. Like, holy shit. You did this."

 

The question sounded almost accusatory, and Jason couldn't  decide if t was or not. He decided to answer plainly, affirming that, yes indeed, he had grown her.

 

She seemed to nod, then stepped down, only stumbling a little. She chuckled to herself, taking steps towards him, shaking her head.

 

"I still can't believe that this is real. I'm really seeing this. Wow."

 

She reached Jason and stop next to him, folding her arms and just watching her enormous sister respirate softly in the morning light. The way that she always slept. The restless unconsciousness of a chemical sleep gave way, thankfully, to an actual slumber- something for which Jason was grateful. He couldn't stand the thought of his mom not getting enough sleep- didn't help that he was probably the one that caused any restless nights. In fact, he found humor in the fact than he had caused this one, and oh so intentionally. 

 

Still. It was for the good, he knew. He hoped.

 

"Can I ask you a question," came his aunt's voice finally. He had been anticipating this. He had prepared an answer, one that he hoped would convey any sentiment he had when he first started out with this plan of his. 

 

"Okay."

 

She looked over at him, turning her head and squinting her eyes at him, as if to bore into his answers with the utmost of scrutiny. 

 

"Why did you do this? Why would you grow Sarah? Not yourself?"

 

He hadn't thought of that, to be honest. Him growing himself part, anyhow. Why not indeed? He might stride along as a giant, mother in hand, crushing any who got in his way. 

 

No, he thought- that was his mother's lot. What she deserved. 

 

He told his reasoning- all that had transpired, his eavesdropping of their conversation, his dream (his aunt stood a bit wide eyed and agape at that statement). He got passionate about, realizing only near the end of his diatribe that he had raised his voice. How upset was he! How indignant. How much love had driven him to do such acts of depravity. He said as much and yet he found himself reasonably justified, he confessed, ending with 'I don't regret any of my decisions.' 

 

Clare seemed to take all that in, pursing her full soft lips in a pout, which Jason found rather cute. Despite her silence and thought provocation, he still felt on edge about the statement. He sis had no idea what she would do- would she call and tell someone? The police? The national guard? The government? What could they do?

 

His frustration came to a head, and it boiled and seethed.

 

"Okaaaay," Clare finally said, placing a finger to her cheek. "But answer me one thing-"

 

The dam burst, and all that boiling emotion came flooding out unbidden. He had had it. Had it. Jason exploded, making Clare startle an wince back. 

 

"No, I'm done. I'm fucking done!" Tear started to flow from his eyes. "I'm so done with the resistance. Everything that blocks my mother from having a good life. Everything. Every shit thing that happened to her. That fucker who left her pregnant. Those asshole grandparents of mine. You with your goddamn doubt."

 

He flailed his arms wildly, in almost disbelief. Disbelief that such a thing could be fathomed. 

 

"You don't know," he said, wiping his eyes but still getting his teeth. "You don't know what it's been like all these years. You don't know what she's been trough. I refuse. I refuse to let that asshole of a boss treat her like the way he does. Fuck that guy. She's never going to be his whore. So yeah, fine- go ahead and call the cops. I don't give a fuck. Fucking do it. I don't care- she's already big and only I know the counter formula, and so she's gonna fucking stay that way. She'll wreck the shit out of this place no matter what. Fuck. I..."

 

Jason buried his face in his hands, suddenly and utterly exhausted by this whole ordeal. He had agonized and agonized over his actions, before and after, and though he had always known that this was the right thing to do, it had never actually set well with him- the idea had never seemed natural, notwithstanding it. Playing God, making the apex predator. 

 

It finally overwhelmed and got to him, and he began to sob- painful lurches that somehow released the pent up frustration he had suffered through. 

 

A hand touched his shoulder, and he gasped. The fingers wrapped tightly around his shoulder and gave a loving, presence asserting squeeze. Jason looked up from his cupped hands and saw his aunt, her fiery hair draping her face and smiling at him. Her eyes, a beautiful blue like his mother's, shined with wetness and regarded him with a loving gaze. 

 

"Oh Jason," she breathed, her arms wrapping around him.

 

She held him a long while, she feeling his tears wet her white tank top strap. She squeezed and squeezed, the only way an aunt or sister might, full of not just motherly nature but a real camaraderie, the feeling and pathos that hey kid, your mother went through it a long while ago, but I just got out. Let me tell you how it really is. 

 

"I know, honey. I know. It's hard. You love her so much, I see it. You always have. But I wasn't going to lecture you, Jason..."

 

He looked at her, his own dark eyes locking with his aunt's. Clare pushed him gently to her front and grabbed his hands.

 

"You... Weren't?" He asked dumbly. She cooked her head cutely and smiled at him. 

 

"No, kid. I was actually, uh..." Clare bit her lip and dug her toe into the ground, the wave of embarrassment just now washing over her. 

 

"I was gonna ask if you had anymore of that stuff left for me."  

 

-------------------

 

Like a hot blow dryer, Sarah thought. Ever since she moved out here to the desert, that's what she thought the Las Vegas atmosphere and climate felt like. A hot, ever on blow dryer.

 

She placed arm over her still closed eyes, noting with dismay that she had fallen asleep last night on the couch.

 

Last night.

 

"Oh, look, Jason- she's waking up."

 

When did Clare get here?

 

Well, no matter, she supposed. Maybe she let herself in this morning before work- she often did that, Sarah had found. 

 

A thought came to her- what if she was here and she... Knew about last night? Would Jason have told her what had happened? She didn't think so, but the possibility was still there- that, and given the fact Clare was here, now, at a very unexpected hour...

 

Sarah shifted in nervousness, bringing her foot up and raising her knee. The ground below ground and felt like her was pushing gravel around.

 

That couldn't be right. And her foot was... 

 

She flicked it, feeling the weight of the shoe she now wore.

 

"Jason?" Her voice warbled out, suddenly more fearful than confused. What was going on? 

 

"Mom!" She sighed relief. His voice was there, still strong and so much like his father's, but somehow... Distant. Far away. 

 

"Honey, whe..." She opened her eyes when she felt the shadow pass over her- the sun, still on its long elliptical ride across the heavens, suddenly darkened and she knew, with that instinctual panic that accompanied proximity, that someone was over her. 

 

Before her was a vision- a fiery goddess with matching short hair and a smile that cut looked down at her either the sun shining behind her like a halo. 

 

"Clare? Why are we outside?"

 

The woman cocked her head and squinted her eyes playfully.

 

"Hiya, sis. Glad to see you're awake."

 

"Hi, mom!" Came that distant voice again. Sarah was about to look around her and turn away from the deity-like countenance of her sister when she saw something... Wriggling.  Her eyes, still adjusting to the morning grog and shifting shafts of sunlight, blinked and squinted.

 

It wriggled again, and this time Sarah was able to place the movements at her sisters breasts, just inside the tight cleavage that was afforded by her white shirt. 

 

"Clare, you've got... Oh my god."

 

It was her son. Her son simply sat there in her sister's breasts, one arm propping him up so as to not let him slip down further, the other waving his arm trying to direct attention. He was... Tiny! Tiny, small like a little bug. He couldn't have been more than a couple of inches tall. Why? Why in the world?

 

Sarah gasped and put her hands to her mouth, resisting the urge to reach out and grab at him. She blinked, once twice thrice, unable to accept the image she was seeing. Was that really her son?

 

"Jason, wh-wh-what happened t-t-to you? Why are you so tiny?"

 

Clare chuckled, shaking her head. She reached up a hand and placed it next to her breasts, allowing for a platform to be next to where Jason was. Then, realizing that he couldn't climb out, she giggled and plucked him up between two fingers, eliciting a whimper from his mother, a sad little noise with an accompanying reach. 

 

Clare held Jason out, his feet dangling and waving like he was having fun. Sarah bit her lip and held her two hands out, palms up, and placed them under her tiny little boy. 

 

Clare carefully set him down, continuing to lean down and watch him stumble with his mother's movements and finally gain his feet. 

 

"Jason," she whimpered again, swallowing the swelling lump in her throat. "How in... How in God's name did you get this way?"

 

Jason decided to sit down, cross legged and held his hands in his lap. He loved this, and had a hard time keeping his breathing hinged and his growing erection undetected. This was even more exciting when Clare had all but shoved him into her breasts without her even announcing. He relished the feeling of being held in those hands, so far up yet still so safe. 

 

Safe. Safe in the hands of his goddess. 

 

He looked up at his mother, her face welling with tears. The prospect, he supposed, of seeing her own son in her hands must've been terrifying indeed. Still, he was sure that it would work out in the end, and he was sure that yes, he had in fact done the right thing. 

 

"I didn't, mom- you did. Look around."

 

The little confused brow cock came then, Sarah seeming to ponder and chew on the words she said. Still, it was with that slow and utter creeping feeling that Sarah began to look around at her surroundings, and noticed something quite different.

 

The world still looked the same, yes- the ground annoys rocks still jutting and pressing into her delicate skin that covered her knees. The way the gravel crunched and shifted under the toe of her shoe. The heated air blast in past her in the atmospheric corridor, filling her lungs with the white and acrid smell of desert. 

 

But the scale. The scale of it all.

 

"Just think, Sarah," Clare began, a wide smile scratched over her mouth, her two blue eyes open with narrowed pupils, "we can do... Anything. Anything at all."

 

Sarah had the sinking feeling in her stomach, the one that told you the truth of something before even the objective fact was apparent. It was only when Sarah's eyes lighted upon Clare's Jetta that the final piece was put into place for her.

 

No, she knew, her son wasn't tiny- and this for which she felt a bitter relief- she, and she supposed, her sister...

 

They were huge.

 

The prospect was dizzying, to be honest- the realization had brought the myriad of emotions that, as far as Sarah could tell, generally spelt... Well, bad.

 

"How... What..." She stammered, looking back and forth to her son and sister. 

 

"W... Why? How? Jason, how did you do this? Why? How, how big are we?"

 

"A hundred and fifty feet, give or take?" Piped Clare helpfully. Sarah only grimaced at her, then gave the look to son, who shrugged.

 

"I used the formula you gave me," he said, a little meekly.

 

"What? That I gave you?" 

 

"Well, it's, uh... Complicated. But, hey, that doesn't matter- you're okay. I'm sorry, mom, really, I am, for all that stuff last night. The wine and stuff. But listen- you asked me why, why did I do, this, right?" He swallowed and cleared his throat, staring intently into the enormous blue orbs of his mother. He felt infinitesimally tiny, and it caused him to stutter a bit. 

 

"Mom, you..." He exhaled. He had to tell her. "I know what happened that night when you got the letter from the grant program..."

 

And so he told his story. His fears, his reasonings. All the anger he had, his revelation from his Mother On High. His drugging her and hefting her into the car. All of it. 

 

She sat there, listening. Her face was stone and he couldn't quite tell how this was going to go. 

 

Finally, after making the end of his little speech, he stood there, hands in his pockets. It was in her hands now. Literally. 

 

After a moment, she closed her eyes, and bit her lip.

 

"And so... You thought it was okay to turn me into a monster? Some freak of nature?"

 

The hardness of her words stung him bad. 

 

Clare, who had been standing there the whole time, herself listening and taking in his tale, interjected.

 

"Hey, Sarah, wait- that's not fair to Jason. He's-"

 

"Clare, it doesn't make it right!" Sarah shot back. "He turned us into these giants- how would that even help us in the slightest? How does that help our financial situation? God knows how many laws he broke. And you," she said, the sharpness and vitriol pouring from her mouth in a way that made Jason feel even smaller. He winced when Sarah reached down with two fingers and plucked him up, setting him not inches from her face. 

 

"who do you think you are, doing what you did to me last night? Jason, I am your mother! Im not... Not anything else to you. You, last night, you..."

 

She couldn't finish the sentence. What had happened last night, the kiss (or of what she remembered of it) both enraged and enthralled her. But no, that's... No. That's against God. A sin. Right?

 

Sensing that something big was coming, Clare stepped in again, this time trying to bring herself closer to her sister's face.

 

"Sarah, listen- he's given us something wonderful. Seriously! Think about it." Her eyes lit up. "We can do anything we want now. We can go anywhere, do anything. And no one can stop us. Can't you,"

She shook her head in disbelief, "can't you see? This is a gift, Sarah. Think about it! We're the world's first Giants. We're huge! And best of all we're not alone- we have each other," she wrapped an arm around Sarah, "and we have Jason." She grinned wolffishly at her, then scrunched her nose. "And he's right, you know... We don't have to worry about that problem boss of yours anymore."

 

"That's right," Jason piped up, still clutched in between two fingers. "Mom, you mean the world to me. I don't care if I can't go to college or whatever. I have you."

 

Sarah felt the words, felt their meaning... But still- this was too much. Tears welled in her baby blue eyes, and she set Jason down in one hand and wrapped her fingers around him. 

 

"Jason, you just don't understand. I can't- im not that kind of woman. I can't be that... That giant you talked about..."

 

"But you can suck a dick for him, right? What makes this the worse choice here, Sarah?"

 

The rebuttal came like a slap in the face. Sarah could hardly believe that she had heard that. Shock, then anger. And then, unbidden deposits years of Christian training and censorship, the words came flying out of her. 

 

The following argument, one that caused Jason to stop his ears from the noise, had only reached, in his memory, this intensity a few times in his life.

 

It was ugly, brutal, and words that he suspected had been flung many a time in their childhood home came out once again. Jason, still in his mother's firm grasp, had no choice but to simply stay put and endure the argument, one that might have lasted for a long while. Plus, at their size, who knew what those in the Vegas Valley might be hearing. 

 

Ugly. Brutal.

 

Distracting. 

 

Jason, despite stopping his ears, had been the first one to notice the truck amble its way down the gravel path that he in his car had taken not a few hours past. 

 

It had busted down the road at a quickened pace, but seemed to slow down on approach to the quarreling giantesses (and who wouldn't). At soon enough, it had trudged up and pulled along side the other two cars, the ropy Diesel engine cutting and ceasing from its belch of pollution from the tailpipe. 

 

Sarah was the second to notice the truck, stopping mid sentence after feeling Jason tap desperately on her wrapped finger. Clare, who had apparently been unfazed by her sibling's cessation of words, bellowed on her argument for a good five seconds before she realized that something else held her attention.

 

As all three watched the truck, Sarah had risen to her full height, keeping her son clutched tightly between her fingers. Despite all that, Jason could not help but admire... Well, his own work- how tall she was! Standing there, her feet planted firmly, she stood, he imagined, like a colossus- a mighty statue and pillar wearing a skirt and sneakers. For a moment, he was envious of the man in the truck. But not for long, he thought, being pressed against his mother's warm skin- that sort of overrode any other sort of want.

 

On the hood of the truck was a star emblazoned, the words 'Clark County Trooper' wrapped around it. Some local sheriff or officer doubt coming to inspect what in the holy hell he was seeing. 

 

Slowly, tentatively, the truck door opened with a metallic clunk and out stepped the officer. A small thing with brunette hair, the police woman kept her eyes affixed up top at the two giantesses who were now watching her intently. With a measured sort of calm, she reached back into the compartment, grabbed a cone looking thing, and softy closed the door, only once taking her eyes off of the two colossal women. 

 

Her boots kicking up only a minute dust that scattered to the pan wind, she brought the cone (which turned out to be a loudspeaker) to her mouth and clicked it on.

 

A bit of feedback, some adjustment, and the speaker cracked to life.

 

"I, uh..." The sound of her swallowing could be heard by the three, "I'm officer Miller, of, of... The Las Vegas... Fuck."

 

Th little woman trembled, tugging at Sarah's heart stings.

 

"Do you," she barked, continuing, "do you... Need help? Where are you, like, from? Are you guys okay?" Her eyes narrowed when she saw Jason locked in his mother's hand. "Sir? You, in the, uh hand. Are you okay?"

 

For the first time that day, Sarah felt the twinge of self-defense. She knew and understood that it must look like, hell, it was a strange situation. But, by God, this was her son. How dare this officer think even once about her harming him? 

 

The wave of motherly indignation passed when Sarah saw Clare shift her body and start walking towards the officer. Each thunderous step shook the ground, kicking up infinitely more dust than the tiny policewoman's own boots ever might've dreamed. The cars around her shook and trembled, and the tiny woman took a step back away.

 

It must have been a terrifying thing to witness- two sandaled feet, the skin bronzed and firm from years of physicality, crashing towards her. Each step, the worn leather of the footwear slamming into the ground, seemed to promise demise of one might have even been caught under.

 

"Hey, hey, officer, uh, Miller. I'm Clare." 

 

The officer took her eyes off the painted toes and up skyward where the once petite voice now boomed ponderously. 

 

"I'm from here... Well, Connecticut, I guess, but I live here now. So do they," she motioned back behind her.  

 

The feet stopped a good stride (Clare's, that is) away from the officer, both feet coming into line. Already spooked out of her wits, it was easy to see why she did what she did next.  As Clare leaned down to speak to the tiny ranger, the officer drew her pistol, a standard issue 9mm, and thumbed the safety off. Hands trembling, she fired two rounds helter-skelter, one missing completely the billboard face and the other burrowing itself a couple of inches (officer Miller's, that is) into Clare's skin.

 

The giantess reeled back, more shocked than anything, and the sympathetic light fled her eyes instantly. 

 

"You little bitch!"

 

A hand swooped down, angled, and flicked the pistol out of Miller's hands, causing the officer to scream and recoil back her now broken fingers.

 

She barely noticed Clare rise up, who clenched her teeth still on a rage.

 

"You little bitch, you shot me. You actually fucking shot me. Fucking asshole!" 

 

Clare raised her foot with a startling instinctuallity. The foot hovered over the woman jut a split second before it started to come down slow.

 

Miller, finally able to look away from her mangled digits, looked up and saw the well-worn leather sole get suddenly larger and larger. She began to scream, covering her head, when a  voice cut the air like a crack of lightning.

 

"Ohmygawd, Clare, no! Dont!"

 

The foot stopped short of just a few feet. She looked back, Sarah still clutching Jason tightly and holding her free hand out towards the woman.

 

"Please, Clare, don't crush her. She just... She don't know what to do."

 

Clare swiveled and set her foot down away from the officer. 

 

"But, she shot me!" Clare said, the petulant childishness of the phrase apparent even to her. 

 

"Yeah, but you're okay. You're fine. I saw the one bullet you, it didn't look like it went deep. You can't crush her. Why would you?"

 

"But she shot me," came the again weak reply. "She tried to hurt me."

 

"I don't care, Clare. Don't hurt her."

 

A scowl on her face, Clare looked back down at the tiny woman, who was on her knees trembling.

 

"Little ass," Clare said, lifting her foot and smiling wickedly. She brought it down hard, on the truck right behind the woman, crushing it flat and eliciting an exasperated noise from Sarah.

 

Giggling, and feeling rather saucy, she then reached down and plucked up the still trembling woman, who squeaked when scooped. Clare brought Miller to her face, the woman beginning to whimper when those two enormous, astronomical blue eyes clapped themselves onto her. 

 

"I wish that was you in there, little piggy. Oink oink. It would have felt great to squish you like the bug you are. But I wonder," she said, licking her full pink lips, "do cops taste like ham or bacon? I've always been curious."

 

The whimpering turned into harried little screams, the woman continuing to tremble while hanging by her arm. 

 

"Oh my god, please, please no!"

 

Her broken hand fumbled for the taser at her side opposite of the holster, but she couldn't get it undone. A pink muscly tongue reached out and dabbed at her legs, hitch she kicked wildly at the sensation.

 

"Yummy yummy in my tummy," Clare declared, and began to push Miller towards her open mouth.

 

Another hand, one less defined but no less womanly, shot out from behind and grabbed other giantess's wrist before it could place the officer inside her mouth. 

 

Clare gave Sarah an indignant look. 

 

"Goddamn it, Sarah! It doesn't matter! We're huge now, don't you get it?"

 

"Clare, it's not right. You can't eat her, that's murder, and you're no cannibal." A look like sudden disbelief passed her face. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you! Clare, this was an accident- Jason here," she said, giving her son a squeeze, "is going to take us back to his lab and make us small again. My god, Clare, I can't believe you were actually going to eat that woman. Are you out of your mind? Are you some kind of monster?"

 

A sneer.

 

"You said it yourself. You just don't wanna acknowledge it. We're different, sis. Bugs like these," she shook the woman still in her hand, who yelped out in terror at the movement, "are below us now. Who cares if they get stepped on or eaten? No one. Not God, that's for sure. We're the gods now, I guess. And who can stop us?"

 

Sarah swallowed, her eyes flickering from her sister to the tiny woman she held captive. She seemed to speak to herself in her mind. Was she weighing options? Jason certainly hoped so. Finally, she furrowed her brow and frowned at her sister. 

 

"No. It's not right. None of this is right. You can't eat her, Clare. I... Won't let you."

 

That silence hung on the air like a stale smell. The pair locked eyes and Jason might've guessed something similar to this (in tone, not situation) had happened before. The defiant youngling and more sound elder. It was times like these that his mother seemed truly... Ironically, human. 

 

"Fine," Clare said finally, lowering the tiny woman away from her mouth and Sarah's grasp. "I'm not gonna argue with someone who can't see the truth. Heck, you can so much about this little bitch, here- she's your problem."

 

He flung her wrist into the air, sending the tiny woman straight up and arcing high into the air above them. Sarah gasps aloud and used her now free hand to reach up and catch her, her natural movement arresting the velocity of the airborne cop. 

 

By the time Sarah had caught and assessed that Miller wasn't dead, Clare had already made a b-line for the road. 

 

"Hey, wait! Where are you going? You can't go that way, we have to go to the UNLV campus!"

 

Clare dismissively laughed at her sister, waving her hand. 

 

"Fuck that. I'm going to Vegas. See if I can't have some fun! I don't need you for that, that's for sure. Have fun going back to being small- like Jason will let you, ha ha ha."

 

Sarah fumed. 

 

"Clare, I'll call the police! They'll arrest you!"

 

Again the laugh.

 

"Sure, yeah, go ahead and send them my way- I need breakfast anyhow."

 

Sarah and Jason watched their other family member walk away, Jason enthralled and his mother both furious and very worried. What more could she have done? Hurt her? Like that would help. Still, they had to do something.

 

Ignoring the protests from her son, and the shaking and fetal-positioned Miller in her other hand, Sarah stalked forward, following her sister towards the waking town of Las Vegas.

 

Sarah set officer Miller down close to the highway. The woman had been near catatonic the entire time she was carried, no doubt traumatized by Clare's monstrous teasing and nearly being a late breakfast. Sarah thought about apologizing to the woman and trying to explain things, but it was no use.

 

Once down, the mother and son tried to catch up with the rogue aunt- she had bolted quite far into the sleepy suburban already, making it difficult to catch up in the first place- add the fact that Clare didn't seem to mind where she stepped in the slightest, and Sarah being overly cautious about where she stepped and how close to whom she stepped. 

 

Several cars had jolted to a halt when they saw either giantess. Honks and even occasional screams, but mostly the several thousand phones whipped out and starting to film. No doubt, they might've already been seen by millions online, and it's possible news crews were preparing segments as they walked- not that they knew any of that.

 

The disparity and distance grew between the two sisters, and soon enough Clare was a (relative) speck in the distance. Sarah, trying her hardest not to spook anyone, couldn't help but let her sister got way ahead.

 

"Mom, just walk through," Jason suggested from her hand. She furrowed her brow at the hint, pursing her lips.

 

"No, I might hurt someone."

 

"So? That doesn't matter."

 

"Jason, it..."

 

She huffed, ignoring the comment and deciding that it wasn't worth the argument. She was stuck, literally, between having to negotiate with thinking about what her son was saying, where her sister was going, and how goddamn huge she finally realized her sneakers were.

 

Why the hell did I buy these, she said, wiggling her huge toes in the huge sheet of red canvas attached to the huge rubber sole, with their huge logo plastered on her heel.

 

Still, over all, her desire to not step on  and subsequently kill anyone overrode her desire to get to her sister. She figured that she could figure out what to do about Clare once Jason got her back small again. She could call the cops, the army, someone... 

 

She gulped. 

 

What had Clare told her? That she still needed breakfast. 

 

She didn't really mean that. Did she? 

 

Sarah really didn't want to think about it. She knew on some level that she ought to care, like, a lot, about why her kid sister did what she did, but another part of her thought that was too dark a territory to peer down right at the second. Clare was a sweet girl, certainly, but that incident with the officer kind of threw her for a loop. Did we new size really affect her that much?

 

It troubled her, that thought. Sarah too was big now, startlingly so- was she too destined to become a monster and terrorizer of these tiny people (no, she thought to herself, they're just people) at her feet?

 

She looked around at the street, on the sidewalks. People had stopped and gotten out of their cars, seeing her, this buck fifty feet tall woman, but some probably still not quite believing. Most had their phones out, and the thousand little 'clicks' indicated how many pictures were being taken. And here she was in her dress and shirt. Out of habit, Sarah squeezed her thighs together, suddenly conscious of the young men (and a couple of women) who had edged closer to where she was and seeing up past the hem of her skirt.

 

"Mom, look ou-"

 

Sarah yelped when she felt something run into her foot. She brought it up, balancing on her toes and looking down at what had hit her. A sedan, green with the paint at the edge peeling off, stood there, smoke issuing out of the cracks in the engine block. The front and scrunched up, apparently warping after crashing into Sarah's sneaker. 

 

"Uh." She offered, not knowing what else to say. It then dawned on her- she had just been hit by a car. Resisting the urge to smile, Sarah peered down at the shattered windshield, and saw movement. A tiny Hispanic woman, her black hair all frayed and her head bleeding from a cut, stumbled out of the open door and feel on the ground. 

 

"Oh, Jesus," Sarah said, her voice quavering. She watched as the woman crawled slowly to her feet, shaking her and then holding her head after a sharp inhale. 

 

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you okay?" She called to her, her voice booming. The woman, her eyes wide and looking suddenly up, put her hands to her mouth and quivered.

 

"Madre de dios. Padre santo, madre en los cielos! ¿Cómo...?"

 

Sarah grimaced. She tried to think of something, anything to say to her. She didnt remember a lick of Spanish, but that wouldn't help anyway. How did one say 'vehicular negligence' in spanish?

 

"Uh... Hola?"

 

The woman screamed, her hands up to her mouth in disbelieving terror. She quickly turned round, yanked a small child out of the passenger seat, and bolted down the road and past the parked cars whose drivers had gotten out.

 

Sarah sighed aloud, watching the woman tear off into the distance, her child belting 'mamá mamá por favor me das pena'. Her own child, sitting cross-legged in her hand, started to laugh. She shook him once, frowning at him. 

 

"Oh come on," he bemoaned, "that was kind of funny."

 

She let air out of her nose, looking all around her. There was a path way to her right, to the north, and a park in the distance. This whole new... Role she had, this size... It was just a little too much for her to handle right at the moment. 

 

"There's a park over there," she said. "Jason, before we go to the university and before you make me small again," she gave him a little squeeze, "and you will," she scolded in that motherly way of hers, "I want to go sit at that park. I need to think..." 

 

Before Jason could protest, Sarah set her feet in the direction down that road, carefully stepping over a gasping crowd who had then blocked her. Jason watched enraptured as his mother so gracefully did, feeling much like being held by a goddess, a goddess that only cared briefly about the lives of her subjects. Jason wished, with all his heart, that people would have been caught under his mother's footfall, crushed like the bugs, he truly believed, that they were. 

 

-----------------------------

 

Clare followed Wigwam parkway down past Cornerstone park, watching with childlike glee as her sandals tapped loudly on the paved roads, cracking under the strain. She was grateful, then, for her choice of footwear- just enough covering to protect her from the hot pavement, but not too much to not feel like a goddess walking among mortals. It was a unique feeling, seeing her toes among the people and cars she walked about- each red painted toe nail bigger than someone's chest, cars small enough to cover an entire sedan in a single step. People scrambled out of the way to get away from her footfalls, some even diving out of the way comically. She laughed evilly as she crushed a car completely, hoping there was more than just one occupant in there. 

 

As she walked on, she pulled a palm tree from its roots, and tossed it away. It flung sideways into the storefront glass of a juice bar, bowling over, at least from what she could see, a couple of occupants- perhaps a couple on a date? 

 

One woman, a fit little blonde in workout clothes, had bolted, rather stupidly right in front of Clare to cross the road. Clare watched the woman for a second before pushing her foot and colliding with the woman in her lower section, and sent the woman sprawling to the ground. 

 

A tiny yelp, and the woman rolled on the ground clutching an ankle that was already swelling and black from blood. Clare stopped her walk and hovered over the tiny woman, planting her feet before her and hands in her hips. 

 

The tiny blonde looked up and fear shined in her eyes, she inhaling a lungful of panicked at the sight of the giant woman smiling wickedly down at her. 

 

"Whoops," Clare said, cocking her head to the side and glaring down at her. "Looks like you've got a fucked up ankle, probably can't walk anymore. Where's the fun in that?"

 

Clare shifted her weight and lifted a sandaled foot over the tiny woman, who's screams became more intense. Desperately, the woman tried to crawl away.

 

"I don't have any need for broken toys," she declared, and brought her foot down hard. The woman creeched harshly before being suddenly silenced, the squelch and crunch of bones replacing any protest. Gore seeped out from under Clare's sandal, the welling blood jumping up and lapping at her toes. She ground her foot, spreading the remains of the blonde all over her sole.

 

The feeling was beyond any adequate description- the feeling and rush of power mixed with pleasure welled inside her and travelled up her spine, as if it rode the wave with her foot stomp. Her womanhood quivered, the involuntarily pull and stretching of muscles opening herself to air she could feel even beneath her shorts, the glands pushing out lubrication in response. Her nipples hardened, her breath caught in her throat. She had just, literally, crushed a woman like a bug! 

 

Power flooded her senses and she grew maybe even lightheaded. Out of habit or disbelief, she laughed to herself, her lips curling up into a half-sneer, half-smile. Christ, that felt great. Like some release that had been waiting to get out of her since god knew when. 

 

She found herself pressing her body up and down with her hands the way a stripper might, the way she did when she felt beautiful or sexy- when she felt like she was in control... Or maybe even out of control. Conquest and her sexuality bloomed together, it seemed, and this foray into the darker but oh so lovely territory or goddesshood was no less pleasurable.

 

Not even bothering to look down at the mashed remains of her victim, Clare stalked on, searching for more fun to have. She felt, quite literally, like a girl in a sweet shop, the kind they had out back east- at her feet were now admittedly terrified people, then either in their cars or running like absolute mad. 

 

She didn't go out of her way to step on them, no, but thins certainly had a way of finding themselves being crushed underfoot- her sandal bottoms grew red and dirty with viscera, and her foot soles sticky with blood. 

 

She kicked someone, a tiny man, and they flew apart, their body bending in half on a street light. 

 

"Two points!" She belted out.

 

Growing bored of the monotony of footfalls and crushing cars and fleeing denizens, Clare veered to the left and into a small strip mall: lined with everything from a clock shop to a Chinese restaurant to a fitness joint, the place screamed 'recent development.' Most of new Henderson (as opposed to the east side) was brand new, only under two decades old, and disgustingly reminiscent of California, but with that red rock flair. 

 

She ducked her head and squatted low to peek into one of the store fronts. It was a clock shop where the inside owner had ducked under the counter to escape her gaze. Smiling to herself and at the absolute power she felt in that action, Clare let that little guy slide. Walking only a step forward (and onto a parked coup), she peered into another front, her icy blues clapping onto an elegant array of jewelry and fine precious gems. They glittered in the artificial lighting, even with Clare blocking the natural sunlight. She smiled at the plump man behind of the counters, who shook quaveringly in a three piece. 

 

"Hey there, little guy," she cooed at him, wiggling her fingers at him. "You think you got anything my size in there?" 

 

She then took a finger and tapped on the glass of the building, causing a spider crack across the front. Shit, she thought, I wasn't even trying to be hard. 

 

She marveled at her own casual and destructive strength when she realized the man was walking, rather hurriedly, to the door of store. With calm, collected nerves that betrayed his earlier quaking, the man reached over behind the wall and pulled an accordion metal protective grate across the glass barrier. It creaked and groaned, as well as one might've expected.

 

Clare simply watched him do this, a rouge eyebrow cocked and her mouth, all their pearly whites shining, slightly agape. 

 

The man finally finished, locked the bolt with a triumphant finality, and backed away from the glass, a look that was at once both hopeful and challenging. 

 

A chuckle, followed by a smirk.

 

As expected, Clare's hand burst through both the glass and the steel grate, her fingers wrapping around and pulling, no, ripping out the entirety of it and tossing it aside, where it crashed into the grocery store front and cut a curious bystander into pieces. 

 

"This is a stick up!" Clare cried out, her hand once again stretching out and inside the store. Her fingers simply burst any of the glass displays it encountered, sending emeralds and rubies and onyx and diamonds flying into the air and on the ground, catching and refracting any light that passed through them in a shower of vibrant color. 

 

She felt around, and finally reached hold of something tiny and squishy. With a cackle, she pulled out the tiny man and brought him to her face, opening her palm and looking down at him from her nose. He rolled around pathetically, trying desperately to crawl to his ass and sit up. 

 

Clare watched the spectacle with something a little like disgust, her other hand reaching back into the store.

 

"Now, that wasn't very nice of you to do that, mister..." Her voice thundered, purring and lovely and horrifying. "I just wanted to see what you had, is all... Now, let's see what you have here..."

 

Her other hand retracted and pulled out a handful of glass, wood, and a cascade of diamonds and gold and silver. She looked at them with a smile.

 

"Such pretty things... How ever will

I choose just one?" She mock gasped and laughed at her own joke. She wrapped her hand around the toy man (who squeaked) and brought him to her face. 

 

"I'm gonna need your help here, mister... Would you take a look at these?"

 

She opened her palm back up and set her other hand over the man. Like sprinkling seasoning over a meal, Clare rained glass, wood, and jewels all over the tiny man, who yelled out and held his hands up to protect himself. 

 

"Well?" She said once she was done, "choose one. What should I get?"

 

The man, sensing some hope, reached out and pulled a large diamond necklace from the pile accumulated at his hands. He held it out to her desperately. 

 

"This one!" He yelled, an accent hinting at Eastern Europe. "Take this one, please!"

 

"Hmm," Clare pondered, squinting her eyes and placing a finger on her lip. "That looks pretty nice... Might go with the dress I bought recently... What exactly is it?"

 

The man was flabbergasted. He looked up her face for any sign of hint or displeasure, but as far as he could tell, she truly wanted an appraisal. For a second he blinked, and then went, to his own surprise, into salesman mode.

 

"This, uh, uh, this a..."

He held out his fingernail to the diamond in the center, "a two carat stone, princess cut, s... No, vs grade, colorless... Surrounded by several... Um, uh, half carat stones... With several smaller ones interlaced-"

 

"I love it!" The giantess blurted out, her eyes flashing and her dazzling smile shining at him. He realized, in a sudden horrific moment of clarity, just how easily the woman could swallow him.

 

The man nodded nervously, sweat beading his brow. It hit suddenly that acquiescence, or at least rather agreement here could prove vital to his survival. He began to nod enthusiastically, at her, the held it out to her.

 

"Take it! It's yours!"

 

Clare cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him, knowingly. 

 

"Oh come on, don't be silly- you have to make a profit on this. I couldn't just take it from you- I'm not some monster after all," she laughed, her free hand reaching down and pulling off her blood-stained sandals. She wiggled her toes freely.

 

"Oh but do not worry. This one," the jeweler said, "is on the house. A gift!"

 

Clare's mirthful smirk turned into a scowl. She breathed in deeply and stuck up her lip, almost as a monstrous sneer. The man in her hand, knowing something had just gone terribly wrong, began to tremble once again. 

 

"What," she began, vitriol spilling from her mouth, "you think I'm not gonna pay for it? That, shit, you think I don't have the money? What the fuck do you think i am?"

 

The man curled into a ball and squeaked when he felt the fingers wrap around him, the shattered glass and wood and jewels piercing and digging into his skin. Some blood seeped out from between Clare's loose fingers, making her smile.

 

"I'm a working girl, I earn my keep! Sure," she laughed, "I may not be a fat jeweler like yourself, but I know how to spot the good from bad."

 

She raised her fist, the cage of fingers barely allowing her to peek through the cracks. 

 

"And I know a greedy little piggy when I see one."

 

Clare felt the bones begin to crack in her hand when she squeezed hard, followed by a disgusting pop and red stream out of the bottom where her pinky curled. 

 

"Jesus," she huffed, feeling the sudden solid become a liquid in her fist. This was incredible! She rubbed the fist together, the jagged quills of bone and rubbery slick organs poking out from the cracks of her fingers and spilling out onto the ground. 

 

"Fuuuuck," she concluded, wiping the remains of the now very departed jeweler from her hand into the side of the building. 

 

She sat there for a moment, pondering what to do. The rush of excitement and true feeling of freedom, from both the laws of man and seemingly nature itself, boggled her mind to no end. She bit her pink lip, wiggling her toes as they protruded out from under her tight, personal trainer's ass. 

 

What to do, what to do.

 

A movement caught her eye; from the next store over, someone had peaked a head out and then suddenly shot back into the door- it was the Chinese restaurant next door.

 

Curious, Clare got on all fours and crawled over to the glass front, plowing down cars and trucks in her way. She swung her head low and peeked into the place. A couple of people, young women dressed in culinary whites and hats, huddled behind a counter, one of their heads suddenly going out of view when she peeked in. 

 

Chuckling to herself, Clare tapped on the glass which again spidered, causing the gaggle of women to shriek and run to the other side of the restaurant. Instinctively, Clare shot we hand in, grabbed one of them, and pulled her out. 

 

She screamed and wailed, waving her arms and free leg and crying her eyes out, babbling in some language that certainly wasn't English. Clare dangled the woman precipitously upside down and in front of her face, getting a look at her and pouting her lips.

 

"Hey, hey," Clare said to her, and patted the tiny woman's head, "be quiet. You're gonna ruin my lunch here."

 

The woman intensified her screaming, and flailed all the harder. Clare laughed in kind and bit her lip.

 

"Now then," a lip lick. "What kind of sauce should I use? Duck sauce? Soy sauce?"

 

Clare stuck her tongue out and licked the screaming woman, who froze. Her tongue navigated up from her face to her legs, the tongue brushing between her legs. Clare laughed at the hands that shot up and covered herself. 

 

"Or maybe clam sauce? Or maybe," she finalized, giving her a little peck, "I'll just have you raw. I'll probably be hungry again in an hour anyhow."

 

The woman closed her eyes and covered her face as she was lowered down, down, down, into the pink and red maw that was Clare's mouth, her pearly white teeth ready to be watered with blood, her tongue swishing back and forth in anticipation for a delightful little meal.

 

Clare had almost wrapped her lips around the woman when shots rang out from her side. Pulling the girl out, Clare glared from where the shots came from. Some tiny man, his hands shaking as they clutched a black pistol, stood there with a few brass casings at his feet. He looked like he had just come out of the gym. He still held the pistol, arms length, and pointed it at her still.

 

Clare reached and touched where she had felt the rounds enter her skin- only a couple had, whereas the rest had simply veered off.

 

"You little fuck!" The redhead screamed, squeezing her fists in rage. She noticed, firstly, that there was no cry in pain, no hurt whimper from her hand, although she felt a bone crack. Lifting the woman to her face again, she saw that she hung limply, blood trickling from her forehead. One of the bullets, fired haphazardly, has ricocheted and took the woman in the head. 

 

"You ass," she complained, throwing down the corpse onto the ground and causing her to veritably explode, "you ruined my breakfast!"

 

In a flash of anger, Clare rose up and stalked towards the gunman. The man fired another shot, yet another, and then dropped his gun and began to bolt away. It was too late- he turned around just in time to see, feel, smell Clare's creamy sole fall on him, her pointed toes curled up. Instantly the man was eviscerated by the stomp, and he spread his gore in dozens of feet all around him. Clare ground her foot, feeling the warm blood seep between her toes and stick to her foot. She stuck her tongue out, and exhaled softly- there was something deeply erotic about snuffing a life out under her foot. It was strange, it had never occurred to her that... Well, murder, could be so much fun. 

 

Was it murder when she killed a human? She wasn't quite human anymore, she thought, a fact her dumb big sister had failed to wrap her head around. 

 

She was, literally, a goddess now. She ought to embrace that- know that each person she popped underfoot was just that- something less than. 

 

She swung her head down low again, eager to peak into the restaurant- perhaps there was still a meal waiting for her.

 

"Hello?" She called in, hopefully- then again, she thought, anyone dumb enough to stick their head out now deserved to be eaten.

 

She had began to stick her arm into the store when she heard a tire screech behind her. Glancing over we shoulder, a news van had zipped into the parking lot and had lurched to a stop about a hundred yards from her.

 

The sudden appearance of the van had...  Surprised her. Why would anyone get so close? Did they not see the trail of destruction and squished bodies all the way here? 

 

Still- it gave her an idea. Maybe this could be a useful opportunity. 

 

With a soft ayumph, Clare rose to her feet and began to saunter over to the now setting up camera crew, going out of her way to step on one final car. 

 

It was a quiet green park, one that Sarah had not, despite living in the valley for some thirteen years, had never been to. She found a patch of pristine grass marred only by the occasional brown and unwatered bit and sat down, all the while keeping Jason safely tucked in her grip. 

 

The action seemed almost ponderous to Sarah, and a bit of a novelty- never before had she thought twice about sitting on grass like that. She had stopped once to check if there might, by terrible accident, if anyone was beneath her- nothing might've made this day worse off than squashing someone with her ass.

 

She sighed, looking over the sunlit city. The sun was well into the sky and burning down onto the town, a typical summer smog rolling in. Even though she,  is substantially much larger than her former self, still felt dwarfed by the grand town. Still, the city was probably the only thing that dwarfed her now. Sarah undid her grip slightly, moving her hand over to her thigh and upturning her son onto her leg. He fell there on both feet, looking curiously up at her. 

 

She gave him a soft smile and looked away, the sensation of it all unnerving her. Even the act of looking at her son, someone she loved and adored, was now off and odd. Looking aside, she found her eyes drawn to the side of the park, where a substantial amount of people had gathered at the sidewalk with their phones and cameras out, unable or maybe unwilling to venture further in. 

 

Sarah smiled weakly and waved at them, only one or two of them returning the gesture at her. She sighed heavily. 

 

"They think I'm a monster," she began, not looking at her son, not quite looking at the folk outside the perimeter either. "All those people. They've never seen a giant. I've never seen one either. I guess I'd think I was scary too, if I were standing with them. What must it be like?"

 

"Who cares?" Jason piped up. He had taken a seat on his mother's knee and folded his arms as if to shut something out. "Who cares what they think, people like that? They don't recognize divinity when they see it. You're not a monster, mom- you're a queen. A goddess. You always have been." 

 

Sarah grimaced slightly at that mention. Did her son really believe that she was something like that? 

 

Despite her better judgment, she asked him.

 

"What do you mean by that?" She queried. "You really think I'm some kind of God? That's kind of..." She twiddled her fingers, "blasphemous. Isn't it?"

 

"I don't think so."

 

"Oh, no?"

 

"Nope. I don't think there's any God anyway."

 

"Jason..."

 

"I think that we create them. We can see things and say, 'hey that's a big sign,' but really I just think we use that to explain the unexplainable." 

 

Sarah nodded her head and pursed her lips at that. Her son had always been a bit… well, maybe too smart for his own good. She looked at him, sitting on her knee, and then down at her feet. A planter was nearby and she noticed just how it might’ve been covered completely if she had stepped on it. 

 

Heck, too smart for her own good as well.

 

A swell of motherly pride filled her breast, despite the obvious consequences of her being turned into a Sarahzilla- her son, her little boy, had done this. Sarah did not remember much at all from her education, even from the prestigious school her old-money New England parents shipped her off to- but this. This was a game changer. She might have been the world’s first giant. They had talked about them in the Bible she read nightly before her prayers, but nothing like this.

 

And all by her boy’s smarts.

 

“Hey Jason.”

 

He looked up at her hopefully with a closed and tight lip. She reached over and, with a delicate pad of her finger, tapped him on the head and tussled his hair, taking his head along with it. 

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” she smiled at him, “You did something really amazing. Reckless, stupid, yes… but amazing. You are so, so, so smart, little guy.”

 

The faintest of grins crept up on Jason’s face, trying itself and realizing that he didn't have to be secret about his pride.

"But!" Sarah barked, pointing up a finger to emphasize what she might say. Jason was familiar with the action, and snapped to attention when she did so. "But, you still did wrong. You still shouldn't have made me or Clare big." She took her hand and scope him up, placing him in the cup of her palm. She brought him to her face, her hair draping over her soft blue eyes and masking her face in patterns of sun and shadow. "And you're still going to make us small again, before we have anymore accidents like the trooper or that lady who crashed into my foot." 

 

Jason smirked at his mother, then stood up. Quickly, before Sarah could take stock, he reached out and grabbed onto his mother's blonde hair tightly. 

 

"What're you... Hey..."

 

Jason swung his legs around and laughed. 

 

"Oh come on," he droned, "you have to admit, that was kind of funny. You were hit by a car and it didn't even phase you!" 

 

Despite herself, Sarah loosened up and smiled. She knew she oughtn’t have, but… the idea of being big (or at least having someone small like this) was a playful bit in her mind. The car slamming into her foot was, truthfully, not even present as a danger. 

 

How powerful she was! How… big!

 

She shook the thought from her mind, the feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She had almost killed that woman, she concluded quickly, and that was no joke. What if, worse, she had been knocked over, fell on someone? Or tripped and stepped on the car? No laughing matter. 

 

“It… does… kind of,” she admitted to her offspring hanging precariously by her blonde hair. He chuckled in response and set his feet up on her nose, walking up on it. 

 

“Hey… what? Jason, be careful- you could fall.”

 

“You won’t let me fall. And,” she boasted, “even if I do- you’ll catch me.”

 

“Or land on your head!”

 

“On your soft stomach.”

Sarah huffed but couldn’t help but smile. Jason’s company was helping her, despite the anger she felt towards the little guy. She noticed, as the air passed by her nose, that his own hair and clothes wavered in ripples from the sudden wind. She pursed her lips and then blew, Jason yelping and being pushed upward. He slammed back into his mother’s face with a grunt.

 

“Whoops. Sorry,” she giggled. “You’re just so small.” She reached up and plucked him off of her, and with her fingers wrapped around him, she brought him to her face. 

"Now I gotcha..." 

She squeezed his little body between her fingers, feeling him there and marveling just how big she was. She could easily manipulate him and place him anywhere she needed him to be, she realized. 

 

“Boy, raising you would’ve been so much easier if you were this small growing up. I could’ve put you in my pocket and just kept you there!”

 

Jason struggled to eek out of his mother’s grip with his arms. When he found he couldn’t, he looked up at her. She smiled at him and then undid her grip, letting him rest in the hallow of her hand instead of the grip. Jason stood up and shook his clothes off, stretching a bit and rubbing the muscles that he had used hanging onto his mother’s hair. Once done, he found that Sarah was just looking at him, observing him with those huge blue orbs that he loved so much, looking at him like he might observe a chemical reaction. No doubt this was a novel experience for her as well. 

 

He walked towards her, looking at her and returning her gaze softly- that loving and almost longing look one got when thinking about their loves. It wasn’t too hard to find inspiration for himself, in fact. He locked eyes with her, making her not a little uncomfortable.

 

“Jason, what are yo-“

 

“Heymomcatchme!”

 

“Ohmahgawd-“

 

She had no time to ponder his words when he suddenly dropped in front of her eyes, leaping off the edge of her hand that he had small-stepped towards. The breath from her leapt out and she watched him fall feet first towards her breasts. Reflexively, her hand dove after him, trying to catch him- but in that instant of maternal care, she stopped, fearing she’d smack him, breaking his neck, or smash him against her. He missed her cleavage entirely, she dodging out the way and him landing with a crash into her shirt, bouncing off.

 

Sarah was not a fat woman, no- curvaceous, sure. Her wide hips and bubble breasts was split by a stomach and midriff that was all at once fit but… warm. Fuzzy, maybe. Soft. She watched as he slide down from her shirt, eventually tucking into a roll that brought him careening towards the top of her skirt. Her hands now free and acting seemingly on their own, she brought them together and made a wall for him to collide into, stopping his motion. 

 

“Hey, you could’ve gotten hurt!”

 

She tried to make a grab for him, but to no avail- the boy slipped, quite literally, through her fingers and ran down her skirt and leg. 

 

“Come back, Jason! Dammit, kid!”

 

She huffed as she watched him skirt along her skirt and down her leg. She watched with ever-increasing delight, however, at the feeling his tiny feet padding down her first cloth-covered thigh and then bare skin. She smiled, she found, when he reached her ankle and stood to turn round and look at her, his tongue raspberrying and waging at her. She returned the tongue wag and then, playfully, wiggled her feet. 

 

She yelped when she saw him fall the several feet onto the ground, next to her ankle, leaning over to take stock and make sure he wasn't hurt. But, rubber as he was, he was up on his feet and scrambled haphazardly behind her shoe, disappearing behind the huge rubber waffle sole. 

Giggling, Sarah dragged her foot away from where he was to the side, leaving an imprint in the ground and exposing him. He quickly, with a peep, ran back to the shoe for cover. She did this again and again, each time her sonorous laughs getting louder and louder. Through it all, she was having fun, and...

 

It was rather intoxicating. 

"C'mere, you..." She declared, and she reached over to grab at him. He deftly dodged, instead taking refuge in the other side of her sneaker. Quickly, instead of grabbing him again, she felt him tap the bottom of her foot repeatedly, feeling his touches with her sensitive bare feet even under sock and sole. The movement and tapping moved slowly up, and she realized that he was climbing in the grooves of her foot. Once mounted on top, he looked at her proudly and set his hands on his hips, grinning his spunky little cocksure grin. 

 

She leaned back and rested on her hands, watching him.

 

"So you've climbed Mt. Sneaker and reached Mom's Toes Peak. Do you feel accomplished?"

 

"A little."

 

"Yes, you are. But can you swing down and come up here? On the shoulder of, ha, a giant?"

 

He chuckled and looked down. He decided that he could probably hack it, and sat down on the toe of her shoe. Careful not to twitch in the slightest, Sarah watched as he descended precariously step by step down her shoelaces and onto her ankle. 

 

"Careful now."

 

As he began to climb and walk on her leg, a wicked smile split her lips and she slowly raised her knee up, steepening the incline. 

 

"Can you make it?" She teased, hearing him huff and puff all the while. When his head poked out from above her knee, she smiled and clapped.

 

"Congratulations, my little climber! You did it."

 

He sat down at her knee, flush with pride and out of air. Some of the crowd on the side had begun to clap as well. They both looked over and waved, but then smiled and started to laugh when they looked back at each other. Sarah leaned over and in to see her son, who had gone back to staring at the crowd with a grin.

 

“I think you’ve got an audience.”

 

“Me? They’re here to see you.” 

 

“Nah, they’re here to see the world’s first giant woman climber.” 

 

“Nope.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Nooooooooooo-“

 

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-“

 

The vocal endurance competition was one that they had often- usually accompanying a big but playful decision about activities or bedtimes or dinner. It often exasperated Sarah to no end, but this was something different. Almost a bit of a relief. And, she realized, that it was a bit different- she was, literally, large and in charge now. She didn’t, she found, have to take no guff from this young little thing. 

 

Jason had been repeating ‘yesyesyesyesyes’ when he realized that his mother had stopped talking was just smiling at him. He realized, too late, the implication of that smile- faster than a snake, her hand shot out and grabbed the little man and scooped him up. Sarah stood up then, the air rushing past his head and making him feel the worst vertigo. 

 

“I said,” she began, her thunderous voice clapping out into the hot Vegas air, “No, little man.” 

 

She brought him up to her face and smiled at him, pursing her lips and squinting at her little son. She laughed when she saw him struggling to push himself up again.

"I'm in charge now," she said sweetly, "and what I say goes! And,"

 

She wagged her head side to side at him, the way she always did.

 

"There's nothing a tiny guy like you can do about it."

"I could complain." He dared back at her, that cocky and mischievous look in his eye. He was testing her, she knew. How odd this was- this was both a funny little game and deadly serious- a proxy war between young adult independence and mature moderation, one played in nearly every family in every nation of every continent.

A counter attack, one to sweep.

 

"Yes, you could- but remember little Jason," she lowered him in her hand slightly to accentuate her height. "In much bigger than you, bigger than ever before. Do you remember being near my shoe? I could step on you and not even feel it. Just one quick step aaaaand..." She smacked her lips loudly. "Pop! My boy would be a pancake. Or, speaking of delicious breakfast," Sarah brought him back up to her face, pressing her puffy pink lips out and moistening them. She let him watch, with no doubt mounting anxiety, her drag her tongue across her bottom lip agonizingly slow. "I could just gobble you up." She giggled sugar-like. "Fe fi fo fum, I've never eaten anyone, buuuut..." She poked her lips out and have a small smeck to her son's head, soft and tender and full of maternal love (and maybe, Jason hoped, quite possibly full of something else). "But I've always maintained that you look so cute I could eat you up."

Jason tittered then, biting his lip and  eyeing his mother's face with something like lust, perhaps. Anticipation. Excitement.

 

"That's the spirit," he crooned, in a voice that took her off guard. It suddenly dawned on her that… well, he was enjoying this. “See? It’s easy! That’s all you have to do. I know you can do it, mom.”

 

“Do… what?”

 

He guffawed and smiled at her. 

 

“Well… being a goddess. You’re describing it so well already- all you have to do is just do it. Just believe in yourself, take that first step. Preferably on someone.”

 

Ice filled Sarah’s stomach, making her shudder and shiver. She realized that, without even knowing it, she’d fallen into being something her son wanted her to be. Sure, she might’ve realized that this whole thing was again a novel sensation, something she’d never experienced…

 

But to speak of murder so casually, even playfully?

 

She swallowed and smiled weakly at her son, who still remained in her grip. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

 

“Jason,” she began, but then stopped short- she didn’t know what to say.

 

Instead, she crouched down into the grass, gently setting down her son and letting loose her grip, dropping him down onto the soft green below. 

 

He walked out a bit and then turned, to see her without having to look so far. To him, she looked like a vision- the sun haloed her head and cast a long shadow- but her sad smile, the smile that he both loved and hated to see was there, sitting serenely on her face. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Sarah sighed out of her nose, trying to gather what she had in mind. How could she explain that she wasn’t the goddess to her son that he hoped and believed she was? How could she explain that what she was now, was just an ordinary woman who happened to be very, very, tall? She wasn’t special, not in anyway. At least, not according to her. 

 

“Jason, I’m…”

 

Her speech was cut off when she heard the siren- looking up, she saw a lone squad car fly onto the park grass and swerve to a stop a few strides away from her. Two officers, both in the dress tans marking them as Metro, burst out the car with their weapons drawn, aiming them directly at her. 

 

The someone in the crowd screamed, and the chaos began. 

 

The two gunmen opened at her, each taking shots that zipped by and onto Sarah’s head, just barely penetrating her skin.

 

“Ow, fuck!” She yelped, putting her hands up to cover her face. Big or not, those bullets still stung like hell. No wonder Clare was pissed.

 

Still, Sarah was determined to come out on top and remain civil. Sure, these little bastards were annoying and very quick to draw (especially considering she hadn't done anything), but surely they were reasonable.

With that in mind, Sarah lowered her hand and searched for the officers who were firing at her- she could find a diplomatic way out of this.

But then she saw Jason running towards them, waving his arms desperately.

 

"Stop!" He yelled, his little feet running as fast as they could, "stop shooting her, you stupid motherfuckers!" 

 

The two cops seemed to consider this, their guns still trained on the giantess, the farther one still firing. The closer one stopped shooting, and to the absolute horror of Sarah, turned his gun onto Jason. 

 

The officer fired twice at the boy, then the gun locked up- he quickly dropped the empty magazine and pulled a fresh out to load it. Sarah felt her feet moving before she even commanded them to do so, her body launching into that protective panic mode common to all nurturing creatures. She passed, she knew in a clear moment in the panic, safely over Jason who she believed was not harmed. She stopped short and reeled back her arm high into the air above her. 

 

"Don't you dare hurt my son!" 

 

Her hand came down hard, slamming into the officer and severing both limb and head. The man, his insides now resembling even the worst of an organ smoothie, flew maybe two hundred feet into the air and deposited rather messily onto the rock garden. 

 

More screams from the audience, and for good reason it seemed. The other cop shouted something and screeched into his radio. He continued to fire, a new magazine giving his gun more rounds. Sarah, still in that dangerous mode of mind, stomped over to him, covering the distance in a startlingly small amount of time. Once over him, she lifted her foot, clad in her huge sneakers, high above him, letting him see the symmetrical sole. She brought her foot down hard and fast, barely hearing the man scream out before being silenced in a disgusting crunch that was only muffled by the grass. The ground shook, the nearby squad car bouncing onto its side and breaking its windows. The trees around shook and swayed, and whatever birds that were left flew off to wherever birds might go. The crowd, now dwindled down to next to only reports and a few very interested citizens, remained but felt the shock. 

 

"Mom? Mom? Are you okay?"

 

Sarah felt her heartbeat- th-thump, th-thump, th-thump- still racing, so fast one could dance to the beat in some morbid adrenaline-filled flamenco. Her breathing was haggard, even from that short burst of energy, but she felt... Okay. She supposed. She looked over to her son, who stood there, thank God above, unharmed and untouched by bullets. 

 

She was going to respond but instead lifted her foot, swinging it away from the crater she created. In the several foot deep crater, there among the waffle and hex patterned sole imprint was the body, or rather, the remains and bloody outline, of the crushed officer. His trashed tan uniform, pistol, thick leather belt, and body armor all lay stained and reddened by the eviscerated bones, burst organs, and splattered blood and viscera of the once-man. 

 

"Holy shit, mom," Jason cried out, moving ever more apprehensive but excitedly towards the five-toed grave. His tone of voice was ecstatic edging on erotic. "You fucking crushed that guy!"

 

He looked up at her, Sarah, his giantess mother and goddess, who breathed still quickly. She looked down at the footprint, then to Jason, then to the bottom of her foot, which had still some blood and guts trapped in the little grooves, then back to the footprint.

 

"Jason," she began in a small voice, one that didn't do her form justice. She turned her gaze back to Jason, who stood there mystified. One side of her mouth twitched and almost, just almost curled up into a smile.

 

"That... That felt absolutely amazing."

 

The grin on Jason's face grew ever wider.

 

The van, with its local news logo and two perfectly trim and nonthreatening newscasters' likenesses plastered all over the side of it, zipped round the carnage and destruction like a vulture. The van's driver, Travis, had begged and pleaded his boss, some fresh young graduate from UNLV, to stop at least from afar and get some reels there. She had laughed, laughed in that way only the green could, and told him to keep driving if he still wanted a paycheck. 

 

With a grudge in his head and pit growing in his stomach, Travis reluctantly pressed down the gas peddle and swerved around the scattered debris and human remains- red testaments of just what they were going to see. In the van it was him, Lisa (little miss Pulitzer), and Rick all stuffed in the back. If Rick was averse to coming out and getting this reel, no one knew it.

 

The first reports of a giant woman seemed too far fetched- most of the phone lines had dismissed it and carried on. Then, of course, the footage rolled in- amateur video captured by the tens of thousands of cameras in every pocket of nearly every citizen, each of them filming the same event, the same morbid extravaganza, the same chaos, all from a different angle. 

 

There were reportedly two of them- one causing havoc down south on Wigwam and the other that captured someone walking down by a park. Lisa, ever the brave and reckless, had happily volunteered her crew to go and see the more active (read: dangerous) giant. 

 

As they rounded the street and into the parking lot, Travis had to refrain from gasping- in his many years as a production guy, he'd never seen anything like it. Some great works and shows he'd been on, yeah, made some pretty great stuff, but... This was something entirely unique to him.  He had a hard time believing it, truth be told. 

 

That belief, however, was turned to knowledge when he watched her stomp hard onto someone. Some poor slob had pulled a gun on her (he heard the discharge) and had paid dearly for his indiscretions against her. He watched her grind her sand hued foot into the ground, her crooked smile, all the same alluring and warning, as she ground the guy to pulp. 

 

This was it, he thought, pulling beside a wrecked sedan to stop at let the crew ready before proceeding (standard procedure was to remain at a safe distance from the scene) over to where the action was. He watched tenuously as he grabbed the miscellaneous equipment from the back of the van, helped Rick strap his camera on. He turned on the microphone for Lisa, and handed it to her as she was checking herself in the van's side mirror. They felt the rumble of footsteps as she drew near them, Rick swinging the camera towards the giant and pressing the zoom on. Above them they heard a low chuckle, growing as the giantess drew near.

 

"Fuck, fuck, okay let's do this!" Lisa screamed, yanking the mic out of Travis' hand and jumping in front of Rick with a huge grin on her face.

 

"Are we rolling? Travis! Are we rolling?"

 

The two crewmen nervously shuffled, Rick still holding the camera on its gimbal and Travis typing into his mobile console that connected to the camera. 

 

He held up a hand, two fingers and a thumb.

 

Three, he motioned. Two.

 

A point to Lisa, grinning ear to ear. 

 

"Hello, my name is Lisa Woodstock and you're watching exclusive channel 20 news. I have behind me..."

 

Travis rolled his eyes, the absolute awkwardness of it overriding the fear that accompanied his flight instinct. Even with terrible intros and cliche antics, Lisa still got to be a field reporter. Travis thought, and rumor might've suggested, that it wasn't so much her resume that had got her this position, but rather her mouth as strong knees. 

 

"Will this giant be friendly to us and leave us be," she asked, the crushed remains of the gunman not ten feet from her, "or does she have something else in mind? Let's find out." 

 

By the time Lisa had turned to face Clare, the giantess had already crouched down and loomed over them. Rick ad Travis had backed away slightly but Lisa remained undeterred. 

 

"Hello! Can you talk to us?"

 

The giantess chuckled. 

 

"Sure. You're Lisa Woodstock, right? I've always been a big fan." She grinned saccharinely at her. Something about it reminded Travis of a wolfess. "But it wouldn't be good for my back if I crouched down like this, so can I pick you up in my hands? Yknow," she bit her lip, "for a really in depth interview?"

 

"Sure!"

 

Clare set both her hands on the sides of them and brought them together, letting the crew jump up and stand on her hands. 

 

"Don't fall, now..."

 

She lifted them, like a goddess, to her face, smiling and toothy and maybe, Travis noted, with a bit of mischievousness in her eyes. Once up, Lisa brushed her skirt off and continued to talk into the camera, who was doing an admittedly admirable job with the recording. 

 

"So, uh... Forgive me, but there's no precedent here for this kind of interview... So, let's start then," she said, confident in her old standbys, "what's your name?"

 

"My name? I'm Clare. I work at, well, I guess I worked at, the Athletic Club down in Green Valley. I am, er was, a personal trainer."

 

"That explains your physique. So what made you become this giant? How did you grow?"

 

Clare blushed at the compliment, but continued on. 

 

"Well, my nephew, Jason, he's this brilliant, really smart kid. Like, a certified genius. He was helping me with my high school physics homework when he was six..."

 

And on the interview went. The whole line of questioning didn't bother Travis, no- it was pretty standard and more than once Clare had asked Lisa to repeat a muddled or confusing question. She seemed intelligent, cognizant of what she was doing, and were she not thirty times his height, Travis would have gladly bought her a drink. Maybe even a nice dinner and the club after. But the thing that really bothered him was her... Eyes. Beautiful blue, sapphires that you could swim in, but they grew... Bored. They grew... Uninterested. 

 

He had tried to get Lisa's attention, tried to warn her of the possible danger... But she ignored him. 

 

It was halfway through Lisa's question of how her childhood shaped her behaviors as a giant that Clare interrupted her. 

 

"Hold on, honey." 

 

The cutoff made Lisa bristle, of all things. She glared up at Clare expectantly. 

 

"I think your portion of the interview is over. I think what people want..."

 

She tipped her hand over and curled her finger to catch the tiny reporter. Travis, on the other hand, slid down, yelling and nearly bowling into Rick. The hand continued to lift up and up, wrapping around the little brunette, who yelped out in fear and surprise. 

 

"I think what people want," she continued, bringing the reporter up to her face, "is some hard hitting, pulse pounding action. Maybe, to see this girl in action."

 

Clare smiled and bit her lip, excited at what was to come. She took the woman and brought her down to her stomach, covered in the tight black cloth of her form-fitting shirt. She brushed the woman on her belly, still biting her lip and looking at the camera. 

 

"Are you getting this, camera guy?" She barked at him. "This is important..."

 

She felt the woman struggle push against her, fighting to not drag her face onto the cloth. He had dropped the microphone and kicked off one expensive shoe, a gift from a grateful and happy executive. Clare felt her stomach rumble, in earnest as she hasn't eaten since last night. God, she was hungry. Starving. The woman froze and started to whimper.

 

With a laugh, Clare dragged Lisa down the front of her shirt to where her shorts began. With a flick and a giggle, she pushed her hand and passenger under the black cloth, letting the woman touch silken skin and peach fuzz, rubbing her up and down. The tiny woman felt great on her skin, and she moaned as she drew a circle around her navel. She felt the tiny thing shudder, and relished the power she had over her.

 

"Mm, I thought you'd want to know how soft I keep my skin... Lots of lotion, good exercise, and of course... A healthy diet..." She let the word hang in the air, letting her get the message, "is how I keep my healthy complexion al year long. And of course, she said, swirling the girl around again and again, "a healthy dose of Vegas sun. But mostly," she said with a final pull down her skin, her stomach rumbling again, eager for its meal, "my food. And speaking of..."

 

She made a do-do-doot xylophone imitation, harkening back to the cliche days of nighty news.

 

"This just in," Clare teased, lifting her back up to her face slowly. The camera followed with rapt attention. "We've got a very special news segment for your today- an exclusive look at the digestive tract of a twenty something in real time! Our very brave, very sumptuous-looking reporter," she gave the whimpering woman a squeeze, "has bravely volunteered to go inside and experience it first hand!"

 

She brought the tiny thing, who began to cry, up to her supple pink lips. Clare's tongue reached out from between and caressed Lisa's legs, savoring the sweet and salty flavor of journalist. 

 

"I want you to know," Clare whispered, blowing air past Lisa's hair, "that I'm really, really, reeeeaaallllly looking forward to this. I'm just so hungry."

 

Lisa began to sob, placing her hands on her face, even as Clare leaned out and looked down at Rick. 

 

"Are you ready, camera guy? Here we go!"

 

She opened her mouth, the white pearls that passed for teeth glimmering in the midmorning sun. Clare lifted Lisa up high above her mouth, shifting her fingers to hold her by the waist and midriff. When Lisa dared to peek outside of her hands, panic gripped her like a vice and she started to flail desperately.

 

"Oh my god, please no! Please, please for the love of God, don't don't nooooo!"

 

That was the signal- Clare smiled with her mouth open, her tongue shifting and writhing below like a wave. She swallowed involuntarily, and Lisa saw to her horror every wet detail of Clare's hungry and waiting mouth. Her tongue wagging, saliva glistening on teeth. The back of her throat seeming to open just for her, just to take her back and become a bite for this giantess. 

 

Slowly she lowered her in, all the while savoring the sweet protests of her little snack. Her heart raced, she felt her toes wriggle and her nethers grow moister and swollen. She was really going to do this.

 

Clare felt the beating hands and feet smack across her tongue, annoying her and making it difficult to push her in. Instead, she pushed her to the side and placed her between her two sets of teeth, clamping down softy on her while letting her go. 

 

Lisa's screams grew louder and louder, muffled slightly by the cave of a mouth around separating her from the rest of them. Clare took her free hand and placed it on her hip, her mind boggling with excitement. 

 

With horror, the two cameramen watched as Clare bit down on the tiny woman, her screams becoming a train wreck of fear and blood-filled coughs and chokes. Lisa felt, in disbelief, her chest cave in and something sharp sink into her ass. Before she could realize how painful it felt, she felt the two molars close onto her head, making her tears trapped into her eye. The pressure built, and built, and built, until the nerves of her skull could take now more, and then followed by her skull cracking. She gave one last mewl before the teeth closed on her completely, and the contents of her head and chest burst out into Clare's mouth, her tastebuds detecting salt and copper.

 

The feeling was ecstatic for Clare- she had felt something then, a stirring in her lower lips and insides, as the tiny woman died between her teeth. She began, out of habit, and maybe eagerness to get on with it, to chew, pressing the Lisa's remains into the dental grinder with her blood-stained tongue. Each chew brought a burst of flavor and mystery, as well as the rest of her bones cracking and breaking under the tension. She chewed to satisfaction, making sure all of Lisa's bones were ground up to taste, and then swallowed her, back her wet and slick throat to her stomach, where the little bitch would provide a good nutrition for her body.

 

Clare's hand snaked down to her crotch, and she was unsurprised to find herself soaking through. It amazed her- the woman had died, on a whim, to give her body energy and life. She sighed.

 

If only she had been a giant sooner!

 

Her stomach, seemingly agreeing with her newfound realization that cannibalism was okay, grumbled, grateful for the meal but wanting more. Clare smirked at the thought-  the two in her hand would serve nicely for second and third course, but along with that huge appetite came other huge needs.

 

Her thoughts turned down to her wet mess of a cunt, and that she needed someone to attend to it while she sought out more to eat. 

 

Hmm, she thought, looking down at the men in her hand, he'll do. 

 

"What a great scoop," Clare mockingly said, laughing at their fear, "that woman will go down in history. But we've just received another piece of important information from an anonymous tipper..."

 

Her hand flew up and plucked Travis from his perch, who screamed his head off. 

 

"Now now, mister reporter! Don't look so glum. You've got an important job to do." She brought him up to her face and gave him a small peck. "We've heard about a shipment of fresh clams coming from down south..." 

 

She wrapped her fingers around him, and held him at the place where her shirt and shorts met. With her free thumb she held open her shorts and panties- Travis could smell the hot musk and scent of woman even from up there. He was both terrified and... Maybe a little excited as to where this was going.

 

"Why don't you go there and help out with... Um, getting shipments..." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Just go down there and be my pussy slave, okay? Maybe I'll let you live if my cunt doesn't eat or crush you. Thanks, little guy."

 

She tossed him in and guided him down, feeling his hands and legs beating on her shaved skin and out labia. Once nestled, and grinning delightedly at her little passenger, she turned her attention to Rick who was, to his credit, still filming.

 

"Looks like it's just me and you, little guy. I'll let you d-deciiii fuck!" 

 

She bit her lip and looked down, blushing. Whether Travis had intended it or not, he was giving her the experience of a lifetime. It took all of her willpower to not squeeze her legs together and crush him.

 

Wiggling her body delightedly, she tried to concentrate on Rick. 

 

"Well, I can't have two of you done there, and I don't want to spoil his work, soooooo..." 

 

She reached over and plucked the camera from his shoulder. 

 

"Gimme that."

 

Clare examined the camera and held the lens up to her face. She struck a pose and laughed. She could get used to this.

 

Holding the camera out at length and bring in Rick to her face, she began to speak at the tiny camera.

 

"Hello Las Vegas and world! My name's Clare and I'm a giant... Tess. A giantess. Yeah! I'm a lot bigger than you and as you can see, my little pal here... Hey, what's your name?"

 

"R-r-r-Rick."

 

"Ah. My pal Rick here is normal sized. Say hi to the camera Rick."

 

"H-h-hi."

 

"Great."

 

She swung wide and got a panoramic view of the city, the strip in the distance just under the smog. 

 

"And this... Alllllll this... Is now mine. I'm in charge. The boss. Fuck mayor Goodman, I'm the queen. I'm..." She smiled wide as could be and exhaled, "your goddess. And I'm coming for you, little people, and guess what?"

 

She brought Rick to her mouth and have him a long lick up his body. He started to cry. 

 

"I am very, verrryyy..."

 

With no ceremony she stuck Rick into her mouth, biting down hard and severing him at the waist and causing his legs to flail uncontrollably. She looked the camera deadeye and started to chew.

 

"Hungry."

 

With a laugh, she popped the rest of Rick in, dropped the camera, and walked on down the road, and stomped away towards the Las Vegas Strip.

 

 

Sarah had picked Jason up from the ground not soon after she heard the sirens. She had taken that time before to examine the aftermath of her little outburst in exquisite and minute detail, and it took all she had to not...

 

Well, she didn't know. She had slapped one of them apart and all but liquified another under her foot. Well. There was that. But she had done it because her son was in danger. Right?

 

She bit her lip thinking about it. It could be justifiable, sure- who would blame her? Not now, especially, considering her size? The logic built a wall of confidence about her actions, until her brain threw, as inevitable as the sunset, another stone at her defense: might she have done it differently? Had she not lost her mind and beat back that truly and wonderfully maternal instinct to safeguard her child, could she have done better? Would she have? She could have put her foot down, certainly large enough to stop bullets, in front of Jason. Or she might've reached down and scooped him up, letting her hands take the stinging shots. Or, she could have fallen down, guarding his tiny little body with her own. 

 

Or rather, should she have even bothered? Those officers had not even thought twice of shooting at him. And he wasn't even the giant. They had shot at him merely by association. By his mere presence next to her, his mother. 

 

The thought brought a knot to her stomach- it sickened her, in a way that was even sharper than the nausea that she had when looking at the bottom of her bottom of her sneaker. They had tried to hurt her son. Her little boy. 

 

Of course, maybe her disaffect towards the cops mangled corpse in her shoe's grooves had something to do with why he ended up there in the first place. That one had not she at Jason per se, but surely, she thought with a swallow, he would have. 

 

Well, hat the hell else was she supposed to feel? Yeah, it was a sin to murder. But was it? Murder? Really? Or justifiable? What good was it to let someone hurt her son? Or herself?

 

Even St. Peter carried a sword, she thought to herself. Until, of course, she thought pursing her lips, Jesus told him not to. 

 

Her thoughts, self-reflective, were snatched away by a sudden laugh from her hand. The two were just passing the road and heading due north, towards the plumes and pillars of smoke in the distance. A helicopter made circles around one particular area, from a safe distance. She looked at the boy in her hand and gave a eyebrow raise. 

 

"What's so funny?" Her voice didn't bely the introspection she just had- a trick of motherhood she had learned early on. 

 

He laughed again and shifted in her hand, looking up at her with something like amazement. 

 

"It's just... Those guys. You really crushed them. Like, gone. Like a bug."

 

Sarah and frowned and huffed slightly. How was this at all funny? 

 

"Jason, it's not funny," she heard her mouth say. "I... I killed those guys. They were police officers." Even to her, the words sounded lacking their expected emotional weight. 

 

"Yeah, but they were trying to kill you."

 

"They were trying to get you, you mean."

 

"I would've been okay."

 

"Jason, I..." 

 

She huffed again. She wasn't going to win this one. 

 

"Okay, maybe, but it wasn't cool with me. I just kind of went into overdrive and my body took over."

 

"You mean Godzilla mode?" 

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. So irreverent.

 

"No, Jason." Again, lacking that weight.

 

Sarah had continued her walk forward, down what she hoped was the least busy street to choose. Occasionally, people in their cars would turn and zip the opposite way of her, or sometimes they would simply pull to the side of the road, stumbling out of their cars and trying to take pictures. When she saw this, she often waved, a little smile curling her lips up. Why not? After what happened in the park, she could use a little good PR. 

 

Occasionally a couple of police officers would bolt towards her, stopping at a safe distance and drawing their guns. Sarah would quickly tuck Jason in her blouse pocket, and then once secured hold her hands out.

 

"No!" She would declare in a kind of finality, the same kind she used to authoritatively tell Jason it was time for bed or he had to eat something else besides fruit loops for dinner. Her voice resounded through whatever buildings might of flanked her at her legs, and cut like a fog horn through the silence. 

 

The cops stopped immediately, backing up and holding their ears. 

 

Once their attention had been obtained, she shook her head and wagged her finger.

 

"Nope," she said, all the threat she needed in that four letter word, common in any language, "nuh-uh."

 

Generally, she could walk past them without any trouble thusly after.

 

One squad car had defiantly squawked at her with its siren, and was, with sincere apologies all the while, gently upended and set on its roof. The driver and passenger has stumbled out and booked it away before the giant decided that she was less inclined to passive defense. 

 

On they walked. They had just turned north onto Las Vegas Boulevard when Jason coughed in her hand.

 

"So," he began, vaguely as he possibly could, "what does it feel like?"

 

"What does what feel like?"

 

She lifted him to her face and frowned. He had taken to set his hands in his pocket and cocking his head cutely to one side. She regarded him with a measured caution. 

 

"What's it like to be a giant?"

 

"A giant?"

 

"Yeah. Fe fi fo fum and all that."

 

"Oh. Well... I haven't ground any bones to make bread yet. Or a piquant salad dressing. So I guess it's fine."

 

"Except that one guy."

 

"Huh?"

 

"That one guy you stepped on. His bones are pretty ground."

 

"Jason..."

 

"It's true, though, isn't it?"

 

Silence for some seconds.

 

"I guess so, yes."

 

"Uh huh. So you're pretty much past the point of no return."

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"Like, you've committed to being a goddess. You've declared your godhood to people by crushing one under your foot."

 

"Only because he was going to kill you!"

 

"Well, yes, but you could've put your foot down in front of me. Or jumped in front of the bullets."

 

"Jason, t-that's not..."

 

"No, it is true. You had a choice."

 

Silence again. 

 

"Okay, fine, yes, but I'm making another one now."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yes, you little snot. I'm choosing not to follow that path anymore."

 

"Huh."

 

"Yep. I've already lost a bit of me by killing those two guys. Granted, it was defending you, but that doesn't make it right or justified. I can't hurt anyone else."

 

As if on cue to drive some narrative forward, there was a scream down below. Sarah had walked into a park car, where it was sent sprawling into another parked one and rested. She stopped to inspect any damage there might have been apart from that when two people came out of the store and starting swearing and yelling at her. She meekly waved and apologized before moving on.

 

"Well, mom, that argument falls short, given what just happened."

 

Sarah gave a face but walked on, her eyes darting around the ground to make sure no other cars or people fell under her tread. 

 

"Don't be snotty. That was an accident."

 

"Sorry. But it's true."

 

Silence. A few more footsteps. Occasional screams, tires screeching, and camera shutters. A helicopter flew overhead towards the strip. 

 

"You even said yourself that it felt incredible, mom."

 

"Yes... I did. But I feel like I'm going to lose a part of myself."

 

"You need a change of perspective," he declared. "What're those things you always ask me to do? Paragons?"

 

"Ha ha, no. Paradigms. Shift your paradigm."

 

"That's it. A paradigm shift. You need to shift your paradigm. You're no longer a human, mom- you're something else. Something mighty, a force of nature. You might be called a natural... Uh,"

 

"Disaster? You're calling me a disaster?"

 

"No mom, stop laughing. I mean you're above us now. Humans. You're a goddess, all of us at your feet. Queen Kong, Goddesszilla. Attack of the Fifty Foot Sarah. Everyone is beneath you now- small people are nothing but things to be crushed under your foot."

 

"Does that include you, Jason? You're tiny, you're a small person. Should I crush you as well?"

 

Her face was stone serious. Jason looked her up and down for any trace of mirth or sarcasm but could find none. His mother was dead serious. He screwed up his thoughts and ran a breath through him. This answer was important, he knew. He had to show his commitment. Money where his mouth was. Where her foot was. 

 

"If that's what sets you over the threshold, mom. To help you realize you're a goddess. Mom, I didn't do this to satisfy my... My whatever. I did this because you are my goddess. You've given so much, with so much taken away from you. You deserve to be a queen. The queen of America or the world or whatever. Hell, I've already given up my career and future for you, to fulfill this... This desire. What more might it be to give up my life for you? Put me on the ground, mom."

 

"Jason..."

 

"No, mom. Seriously. Crush me. Crush me under that lovely and soft sole of yours. Let me feel your weight. Give me the honor of being the sacrifice that brings the world it's true goddess. When i squish under you, I'll be happy. I'll be happy in knowing you're getting everything you ever deserved."

 

Sarah had remained silent the entire time he had spoken his impassioned bit. It had felt like something he had practiced in his head, somewhat smooth and very dramatic. 

 

A few more blocks of walking. Jason had cast his eyes down at the ground and watched people flee his mother or take pictures of her. 

 

Finally, she spoke up.

 

"Jason."

 

His eyes flew up and at her. She was biting her lip and looking down at her tiny son in her hand. She had stopped walking, and stood in the middle of the road, disregarding of the cars that looked so much like models at her shoes, each small enough to be covered completely, should she have a mind to. Should she have the paradigm shift to. 

 

She brought him up to her face, holding him by the chest between two fingers. She examined him not unkindly, his hair and skin and eyes. The way his chin dimpled, his cheek bones just like her own. The way that this boy... Her boy, had turned into a fine man. Brilliant, handsome. How he had grown from being almost book obsessed to the point of a savant to a brilliant scientist who often corrected PhDs. His manly face, stubbled and pockmarked. His muscles, small as they were. He looked so much like his father, and yet... A man so different. So much better. 

 

Surprising even herself, Sarah brought him to her lips and pressed him against them, letting the full force of the kiss envelope him and letting her fall into it. 

 

Years of unknown, not even acknowledged desire welled out of her, and the same feeling of release and pull that had bothered her so last night came up again, but as of now it was so much more... Received.

 

She pulled him back with a smeck and smiled at him. 

 

"So," she purred, "you think I'm your goddess, huh?"

 

"Yeah. I don't think I have to tell you what you mean to me."

 

"No." 

 

She gave him a soft squeeze and held him to her breast. 

 

"I guess... I could be okay with that."

 

She slipped him in between her cleavage and giggled. 

 

"I guess I can live with that. But, in not hurting anyone else. Okay? Not unless I have to. Or..."

 

She shook her head. 

 

"No. I'm not."

 

Jason laughed and wiggled into a more comfy position. This turn of events he had been most... Happy with.

 

"Well," he said, "it's a start."

 

------------------

 

They had found Clare sitting in the lap of the Luxor Sphinx, lounging and picking her teeth with a small white something. When Sarah had first seen her she had been horrified by the blood at her bare feet, hands, and  mouth, but Jason had guffawed when they realized that the small white something had actually been the snapped femur of her latest snack.

 

"She was pretty, too," she confessed, when Jason had pointed it out. 

 

Clare had looked her big sister up and down, noting with something like lust the splatter of gore at one shoe- a telltale sign of some shift, perhaps. She hoped.

 

"So," she crooned magnanimously at her sis, extending one bloodied toe out to the sky, "you've finally come to your senses, huh Sarah?"

 

Sarah shifted uncomfortably from one to another foot and frowned. 

 

"I don't know what you mean."

 

Clare chuckled and hopped out of her Sphinxian chair and walked towards her, kicking a parked car aside and into the landscaping. 

 

"I think you do..." She smiled when she saw Jason sitting betwixt Sarah's doughy white breasts. "In more ways than one."

 

She put her hand up to caress Sarah's shoulder and then leaned down. Her lips found and pressed against Jason and pushed him up against the walls of boob that surrounded him. Sarah gasped in surprise and shock when she realized what her sister was doing, and made to stop her... But then stopped herself. 

 

That wave of... Warmth and comfort swept over her. The same wave that she knew to be, by all accounts biblical and logical to be false and driven only by a hedonistic disregard for anything else- that same feeling she stumbled on with Jason and his... Foray into intimacy. It was wrong. Against God.

 

Wasn't it?

 

So much of what she had felt to be right in the past 24 hours had been flipped onto its head. Jason's embrace and kiss had felt ecstatic and bloomed in her feelings she'd never had before, and he was right- crushing that officer like a bug under her foot had been by all counts and indescribable, if not pleasurable feeling. 

 

Now here, with her sister kissing her son that was being held between her breasts... 

 

It felt... Great. 

 

Clare released her embrace and still gazed lovingly down at her nephew, who was beet red and whose heat could be felt even by Sarah.

 

"Thank you, little man," started, all the honey dripping from her voice, "for giving us this wonderful gift."

 

She glanced up at Sarah, who felt herself nod her head. 

 

"Will you please," she purred stroking her finger over his chest and biting her lip, "guide us in becoming goddesses? Our little master?"

 

An enthusiastic nod from Jason, who looked up to confirm with Sarah. Clare cackled with glee when she saw her consent, ad clapping her hands and cheering. 

 

"Now, big sis- the fun can really begin!"

 

------------------

 

Sarah had set Jason not without some hesitation on the head of Sphinx, at his request, to get a better view. True to form, she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other while she watched him navigate to a better vantage, something about her being a big kid in a world of toys gnawing her at the back of her mind. 

 

He asked them, rather tentatively at first (the way only someone who only recently found an abundance of power recently could), to stand in front of him.

 

"Take off..." He bit his lip, turning a bright red, "take off your clothes."

 

Sarah gaped at her son. 

 

"What? Uh, no, Jason. We're not gonna take off our clothes, right Cla- oh."

 

Clare had already pulled off her top and was working to undo the clasp to a very lacy Victoria's Not-So-Secret from her back. She gave her sister a look of nonplussed curiosity, and continued her work until her hands had stuck in the loops of her shorts and pulled down. 

 

Accompanying the soft sway of her loose breasts was the hip wiggle that shimmied down her pants and panties, the same quality and make of lace as her bra. She stepped gingerly out of her lower clothing and stood straight up, displaying herself and relishing in the warm desert sun radiating on her skin. 

 

Jason felt himself stiffen (every part of him) at the sight. Sarah, who had been watching interestedly at the spectacle of her sister, rolled her eyes when she saw the tent sprung at Jason's nethers. 

 

Still, it wasn't hard to see why, once she got over the whole... Related bit. She glanced over at Clare who had set two hands on her bronzed hips- she certainly did have a body to be admired, she had to admit. She started her work as a physical trainer some years ago after being a gym rat for god knows how long, and ever since then she seemed to have found her calling. Each muscle in her legs, her arms, her chest, had been toned if not sculpted by years of clean eating and exercise, and by God it showed. Sarah looked her up and down and couldn't help but feel that tinge of lust- her small and tough feet, spackled with viscera from victims she no doubt found. Pillars of legs, thick thighs like engines, her crotch, fragrant with an all too familiar smell of excitement, crowned by a tuft of trimmed red hair, toned abdominals, stunning and milky breasts of more petite variety, strong shoulders, a long neck, and her face, no less beautiful than in youth. The way her lips curled in knowing some secret only she were privy to (or perhaps, judging by the grim of blood, a secret she had let others in on for the low price of their lives). Blue and cold sapphires for eyes. A shapely and thin nose, and a crown of so natural red hair even to make dear oul' Eire jealous. 

 

A wave crested in Sarah then, something she never thought she might feel. Her sister was... Gorgeous. Lovely. A femme fatale stalking the night streets of Vegas. And, she thought wryly, looking at the blood on her lips, a literal man eater. 

 

"Whooa here she comes," she whispered to herself, feeling only a little cheesy for it. 

 

"Well?" 

 

The voice brought Sarah out of the trance and back into reality. She blinked once, twice, then just sort of gaped at Clare.

 

"What?" She asked, like a deer in headlights. "What is it?"

 

Clare screwed up her face and turned on the ball of her foot at her. 

 

"Your clothes. Aren't you going to take them off? I'm feeling kind of lonely out here. And besides," she brought a finger to her lip, "I've always thought your body looked great."

 

Sarah had blushed as red as Jason had been. The two sisters had been close, very close growing up, an had commented on each other's bodies throughout the age (a tradition started when a ten year old Clare had proclaimed loudly that holy crap Sarah, are you sure it's not twins). This had been different- and perhaps for the better, and not just a change in perspective. 

 

She was right, Sarah thought- despite the lean years and the motherhood, Sarah had a body that was still in the peak of womanhood. Although... 

 

Although, she'd never stripped before. At least, not for anyone but Jason's father. Perhaps a compromise.

 

With a sigh, Sarah bent down to unlace her shoes. She noted with a wry face the blood that had splattered up onto the toe of her foot, and pulled it off. She thought about looking at the sole, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. She pulled off both shoes and then her socks, a flimsy pair that Jason had no doubt chosen in haste. The ground felt hot to her soles, and she wondered if it hadn't been a bad idea to be unshod of footwear. 

 

She stood up, reaching her arms criss cross and pulling her top off. The acrid and desert sun blistered down on her skin, and her thoughts went unbidden to tanning, something she hadn't done in years. 

 

Still, it felt good. Damn good. 

 

Jason and Clare and looked at her expectantly and glanced at each other when Sarah stripped no more. Clare covered her mouth and giggled while Jason cocked his head sadly.

 

"No more, mom?"

 

Sarah shook her head, even now a little embarrassed. 

 

"Nope."

 

Clare laughed and came over to Sarah, guffawing heartily and slapping her sister's ass. Sarah yelped and covered her butt, beet red and glaring at her little sister. 

 

"Oh come on, Sarah... You've got an ass the world needs to see!"

 

"Heaaaar hear." Echoed Jason, to which Sarah frowned at him. 

 

"Look," she said, flustered, "I'm just not comfortable yet, okay? Can't I just do this please?"

 

"Gaaah, you're no fun," Clare bemoaned. 

 

"Yeah, I guess..." Jason looked at both his very bare aunt and half bare mother. "Still... Are you guys ready?"

 

"Hell yes I am!"

 

"I... Suppose... What do you want us to do?"

 

------------------------

 

The office building had sounded the evacuation as soon as the two women were in sight. They'd heard of the woman who had rampaged across the southern part of the strip and many of the faculty, supervisors included, were down to get out as soon as humanly possible. 

 

Their desire to leave turned into a desire to stay, however, when they saw the two approach their building. 

 

The two girls had circled the building predatorily, the naked one grabbing cars from the lot and piling them in front on any exit she could find. 

 

The other woman, an unassuming but very big breasted one, had allowed a few to escape out of an exit before placing her foot in front of the exit and on top of a woman who was not quite quick enough out of the door. The woman squealed loudly and then popped under Sarah's soft bare foot, spraying her sole with warm blood and causing a ripple to echo through her body. 

 

Despite her reaction, which may have not been entirely correct, Sarah felt... Powerful. Big. Still, what had that woman done to deserve being crushed?

 

She couldn't find an answer, and it surprised her, though not with too much pearl-clutching, that she was okay with that.

 

Jason had cheered her on enthusiastically, and even Clare had given a 'hell yeah.' 

 

Clare herself and punched a glass window to pieces, slamming and killing the unfortunate mail clerk who had been standing too near and shredding bystanders with a hail of broken glass. 

 

"Ooo, time for a treasure hunt!"

 

Clare dug her hand farther into the building and felt around. Her fingers brushed over tiny denizens and furniture, sometimes rubbing some between her fingers, flicking others, and, most satisfyingly, crushing some like ripe fruit in her fist. 

 

She felt the wild beatings of what she hoped was a tiny woman, and wrapped her hand, already bloodied, around her. Or him. 

 

The desperate beating and clawing and oh god oh god she hoped biting continued as she retracted her arm and bowled over the several other workers.

 

She was delighted to find her catch was a very gorgeous redhead, her green eyes flashing and diamond-like tears sparkling in the sunlight. 

 

Clare held the girl to her face, watching her back peddle hard to the wall of her fingers. She purred and let her throat rumble deeply. 

 

"Hello, honey... What's your name?"

 

The girl wailed. She couldn't have been older than twenty one, but already she had wide hips and luscious breasts. 

 

"J-Jamie... Please, please... Don't hurt me."

 

Clare smiled wickedly and smirked. 

 

"Oh no, Jamie... You don't get a choice in the matter, I'm afraid."

 

With that, Clare opened her mouth and brought Jamie up. The girl screamed in terror, and the mouth closed before she was all the way in. Clare's teeth sank deep into the woman, the woman's chest shearing off and spilling all of her insides, like a warm filling coming out of a pastry. Clare sucked the rest of the woman into her mouth and began chewing, relishing the crunch of bones and myriad of flavors.

 

"Mm," she moaned. "Perfect."

 

Both Sarah and Jason had watched the spectacle, one with a bit more abject horror than the other, but then shortly continued their work.

 

Jason had asked, if not a little bit commanded, the two giantesses to hop on the building, sitting on the top of it (which came up to about their chests). Clare did so with a gleeful yelp, kicking her foot into the window to gain a foothold, placing and squashing someone completely who stood too close to the edge. She flipped herself over and placed her ass on the building with a harrumph, and the structure quaked just slightly. Clare had held Jason in her hand then, and waved up her sister with the other. 

 

"Come on, sis! Use that big ol' ass of yours."

 

"Yeah, mom! Use that big ol... Uh."

 

Sarah shot him an icy glare, to which Clare laughed and brought Jason to her lips and smooched him on the head. When the death gaze had done, Sarah place both hands on the building and regarded it thoughtfully. It had suddenly marveled her that the building was once a monolith to her, a thing weighing tons and tons of steel and concrete. Filled with office chairs and computers and break rooms. And now, standing here taller than it... Surreal. 

 

She glanced down into the windows and peered in- the wall of people who, still, bewilderingly, were at the windows observing the giantess, looked up at her with a mixture of fear and awe. Some of younger ones, men mostly, were transfixed on her skirt or bra, a great silk sail or two huge life-sustaining skin boulders. 

 

She felt suddenly embarrassed- and enthralled, despite her best efforts. She thought it best to turn her attention back on the building. 

 

Would it hold her weight? Maybe. It had held Clare's well enough, but then again, Clare was trim and fit, where as Sarah, she admitted, had a bit of baggage in the T and A areas. It might hold them both, she thought. Then again, it might not.

 

More importantly, what about the people inside? Clare had barred many of the doors, and as far as Sarah could tell, no one had come out of the door where she had stepped on that poor woman. 

 

Still. She had come this far. 

 

Without another thought, she grit her teeth and hopped up, slamming down with her breasts and tummy onto the roof of the edifice. It held her for but a moment, and then, with a sudden lurch, the two giantesses felt down into the building, driving through floors and floors of stucco, carpet, wood, and concrete. Each I-beam sunk under them and flung down, impaling those who were unfortunate enough to be in their way. 

 

Clare had screamed like a kid on a roller coaster, but Sarah could swear she heard someone crying out for help.

 

When the dust had settled, all was quiet- not much wriggled from the collapsed building, save for two giants and a few tiny beings. 

 

One crawled, an arm missing a bloody stump replacing it, away from Sarah wordlessly. She was mouthing something, Sarah saw, but she was unsure.

 

The man, all of twenty, looked up with terror when he realized how close he was to a giant. He tried to limp away further... But didn't. 

 

Out of something that was what she hoped was mercy, Sarah reached over with her hand and crushed the man's head with her thumb. 

 

She sat there for a moment, pondering what she had just did. She realized that... Well, it had been a thing of courtesy, not mercy. 

 

"Woooohoooooo! That was fuckin' great! Wasn't that awesome, Sarah?"

 

"Yeah." 

 

You may have read that as some remorseful reply, but it wasn't- Sarah had genuinely thought it fun.

 

What in the hell was happening to her?