Grant grabbed the tiny and his cigarette in one swift motion.  Grasping both in his left hand he brought them both to his face.  The breath left Jack’s lungs once when he was squeezed between Grant’s fingers and again when he looked into Grant’s eyes.  It was like coming face to face with a god in the flesh.  Grant was so close to climax.  He had one more tiny to finish the job, so he was going to make it count.

“Alright, little guy.  Maybe you’ll have better luck.  Tell me who you are and what you hope to do with your life.  It better be good, because if you disappoint me, I’ve got some extra special punishments in store.”

Jack gulped audibly.  His body began to shut down from the pressure of being judged by Grant.  He was in the presence of Death Incarnate.  Every friend he’d had that came before him disappeared in a gruesome fashion.  Then, he spoke without thinking.

“My name is Jack.  I honestly had many dreams, but none of them matter anymore!  After all, my future is up to your whims.  My life is held in your cruel uncaring grasp.  If you wante-”

*SMACK*

Jack was slapped hard in the face.  Jack was a bit stunned.  He hadn’t even seen what hit him.  At least, he thought he had been slapped.  That assumption was called into question by an oozing sensation trailing from his forehead down to his eyes.  Jack wiggled a hand free and tried to feel whatever was snaking its way down his face.  A white, oozing strand stretched between his head and palm as he brought his hand back.

Looking down, it became clear what had happened.  Grant’s masturbation had finally come to bear fruits.  The sofa cushion, the hardwood floor, and Jack himself had been splattered by his ejaculation.

Grant had felt a bit awkward about the whole thing.  He had even planned to bring out his old snuff box to really get himself in the mood.  But now his fun had ended prematurely.  Grant was coming off his power high, and didn’t want to even bother.  Jack’s reverence and humility in the face of his executioner had, in fact, saved him in the end.

Jack felt Grant’s grip loosen.  Jack grasps at Grant’s fingers to hold on, as the drop down to the hardwood floor is staggering at his size.  Grant indifferently dropped the small man to the ground.  Time stopped for Jack as he was embraced by empty air.  Jack collapsed to the ground with a thud that echoed through his body.  His legs snapped like cheap tent poles in a hurricane.  One of his ribs cracked.  His fingers bent at an awkward angle from when he tried to catch his fall.  Yet still he lived.

Jack looked up at the mammoth that dropped him.  His cowhide boots stretched like a canyon wall into the sky.  Grant leant down and pierced Jack with his judging gaze.

“Look, Jack.  I’m really not in the mood right now.  So why don’t you clean off my boots?  If you do a good enough job, I’ll let you go free.  How does that sound, bug?”

Jack was stunned by the opportunity he was just given.  Dragging his body forward, he closed the short distance between himself and the boot with more difficulty than he would have liked.  Having nothing to clean the boots with, Jack desperately licked the side of Grant’s boot.  It was dusty and a bit metallic, but Jack didn’t find it as horrible as he thought he was going to.  He looked up at the half-naked god that had just a few moments ago destroyed his friends for his own sexual gratification, looking for any sign that his act of submission pleased the sadistic giant.

Grant was smoking the last cigarette, only glancing down every once in a while to make sure Jack was doing his job.  He was actually making a shocking amount of progress, already cleaning off the toe section of the second boot.  As his cig wound down to its end, Jack had licked the boots spotless.  The crippled little bug awaited his final judgment.

“Not bad, little guy.  Well, I’m a man of my word!  You’re free to leave if you want.”

Jack’s heart leapt in his chest.  He had secured his own safety through obedience to his new deity.  He briefly considered hiding in Grant’s house to watch him pass his unfair verdicts on other unsuspecting college students, but he suddenly got the feeling something was terribly wrong.  Grant had finished his cig, but instead of grinding it out in the ashtray, he dropped it to the floor, right next to his body.  Grant lifted his right foot over the cigarette butt.  Jack realized he too was in its shadow.

He crawled away as fast as he could, but with his hands and legs as busted up as they were. There was no way to get out.  Jack couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong.  He had appeased this behemoth!  He was being let free!  What had he done to have this all turn around on him.

Grant saw Jack begging for forgiveness.  He went on and on about being sorry about whatever it was that had made him go back on his word about freeing him.  Grant wasn’t completely sure why his prisoners always believed him when he said they could go free, but it always amused him.  Obviously he lied about that.  After all, if Jack had gone to the authorities, Grant could get in serious trouble once all the missing persons cases started connecting up to him.  Whatever the reason, the Jack’s screams for forgiveness were getting Grant hard again.

Grant pressed the sole of his boot onto the cigarette grinding it underneath him along with Jack’s body.  He took his time mixing his guts and cigarette ash under his foot, spreading the dirty red stain around.  Grant finally let up and took off his shoes to get a better look at his handiwork.  Nothing was even slightly recognizable about the small victim.

Now that he had no more victims to play with, Grant slipped on some underwear and his pants.  Digging through his pants pockets, he found what he was looking for, the cigarette packet.  He still had about 8 cigarettes left of the original 25 before he finished the pack.  He knew smoking a pack a day wasn’t great for his health, but it certainly was worse for the health of the little people he surrounded himself with, and that was all that mattered to him.  The night was still young, and if he hurried, he could still raid a bar or two to finish off the night, and his pack.

Grant put his boots back on and went to find his next group of tiny people, leaving bloody footprints behind him.