“C’mon… do something!”

Amelia stared down at the petri dish in frustration as she crossed her legs. Though dismounted from her colossal mechanized suit of wires and machinery, she still donned a black cloak, fitted with a jumpsuit and leather boots. Amelia reclined briefly in her rough, utilitarian metal chair, then stared back at the dish.

Within, the tiny figure trembled. Fearfully, he was looking at Amelia, spread eagle on the plastic plate. The tweezers in Amelia’s hand glimmered in his view, and he appeared to desire nothing more than to leave this place, but as he was poked and prodded, he reasoned stillness was likely his best chance of survival.

Amelia leaned her elbow on the table, sighing. The experiment was going nowhere.

“Well… maybe new specimens will be more interesting to work with,” she said as she pushed her chair out in order to stand up. “I still need to find the ones that got out –”

CRUNCH!

Stopping mid-thought, Amelia glanced down at the floor beneath her. At her feet, one of the small denizens she had crafted – an escapee, presumably – was currently screaming and trying her best to crawl away, distraught.

“There you are! And what about…”

Then, as it dawned, Amelia slowly, gradually, lifted her boot up. Beneath, the bloodied splotch of the third specimen. She had crushed him under her boot.

“Hmmmm…” lamented Amelia. “Only two left. Now I’ll have to collect more even sooner!”

Turning to embark in her suit, Amelia took a last look at the trembling denizen, crawling away. It was, however, more or less petrified as it stared at the viscera of its former companion. Amelia pondered. She recalled again the feeling of the first one under her boot. And curiosity struck her.

“Time to submit this feeling to scientific rigor,” Amelia mused to herself, positioning her foot in the air above the denizen, who was now crying and screeching. “Does it still feel as good the second time?”

And Amelia dropped the boot.

The splatter was rapid, loud, crunchy, and satisfying. On the cold linoleum floor, Amelia twisted and ground her foot into the tiles. A few green digits went up beneath her armor, a number to which she paid no mind.

Dragging her foot down the floor to create a blood-red streak, Amelia grinned.

“I believe I have a new null hypothesis to experiment upon.”

“Experiment 240. Taste test.”

Amelia spoke into the recorder, once again at the same table. The same petri dish containing the same tiny was there, though this time asleep. Amelia didn't do anything to put him to sleep, per se. It was likely a result of the various exertions placed upon him as a result of his struggling, in addition to the lack of raw stored energy his tiny, fragile, inhuman body possessed.

Amelia put the tape recorder down, and she prodded him with one rather short pointer finger. This woke him up a bit, as he groggily came to before once again expressing shock at gazing up into Amelia’s giddy face, silhouetted by neon lights.

“Well, no use in dallying,” Amelia said to herself and only herself.

Using her thumb and forefinger, Amelia plucked the man, struggling, screaming, and crying incomprehensibly into her mouth.

“Hmm,” she emoted, swishing him from side to side between her cheeks, tongue, and teeth, showering him with saliva as he caught the ocassional glimpse of daylight and freedom through the opening in her full mouth. “Raffer savory, wiff a…”

Another violent churn of the man within her mouth.

“… Shalty! Jusht a ffinch of shalt.”

As Amelia sampled the denizen, she jotted down notes on a nearby pad. The nonchalant drag of her pen almost entirely drowned out the muffled, waterlogged shrieks from within Amelia’s locked jowls.

She paused in her writing. Then, with utter lack of concern, she locked the tiny man in her mouth between her molars. And she chomped down.

The screaming sharply increased in pitch, then ceased. A warmth spread throughout Amelia’s mouth, and she smiled. Chewing and crushing the man into a sour slurry, Amelia swallowed before once again attending to her notepad.

Tastes… pleasant. More data needed. Additional experiments imminent.

“Experiment 267. Pressure test.”

The singular chair was like a dentists’ seat. The pleather cushions, the hard armrests, the adjustable back; it was, by all rights, rather normally-constructed and mundane. Amelia stood in front of it, hand on her chin. In her other hand was a minuscule woman, struggling and seeking to escape, pushing and pleading the nonsensical facsimile of British English these failed denizens typically communicated through. Despite the language barrier, Amelia was quite certain as to what the tiny creature desired.

Crystal clear.

Amelia opened her hand above the chair, allowing the woman to bounce and roll into the indentation. Before she could get her bearings, a powerful, beautiful, celestial eclipse of a derriere, wreathed in the smoothed fabric of her taut jumpsuit, began to descend, granting the tiny woman only enough time to put her hands up in abject hopelessness, before it made contact with both her and the seat.

Amelia sat down. Her behind depressed the soft cushions of the chair, though by bracing herself on the floor and armrests she kept from completely relaxing.

“Hmm…” Amelia only wished to take in the moment before she would force herself to jot down her observations. She stood and pulled out a notebook, writing in it, Ten Newtons: safe.

The tiny that had just been unearthed breathed laboriously, sprawled out in the indentation, immeasurably grateful and euphoric that sanitized electronic lights had once again blessed her and the air was purified.

She hadn’t time to rest though, as Amelia soon descended again. “No, no!” she screamed, before being completely entrapped beneath Amelia once more. Amelia shifted slightly, still bracing herself, until a few minutes passed and lifting up. The tiny was now visibly red, clothes a bit compressed to her body by the accumulation of sweat.

Twenty Newtons: safe, with stress.

And then she sat down again, despite the doll’s pleading to the contrary.

This repeated again and again and again.

Thirty Newtons: Some stress.

Again.

Fifty Newtons: Some minor skeletal abrasion.

Again.

Seventy Newtons: Internal bruising and bleeding.

Each time the doll became more and more haggard, desperate, and disheveled. Her clothes tore, her ribs cracked gradually, blood was gushing out the occassional orifice. Until finally, Amelia stood up for the second to last time. Her butt hung overhead, graceful yet utilitarian, ready to accomplish the final step of the experiment. Sliding her jumpsuit pants down and around her thighs, Amelia winked and blushed, before slamming her ass down on the chair.

The seat buckled under the force, creaking and partially obscuring the violent, audible combination of Splat and Crunch that followed. Amelia ground her hard-working, sweaty ass all in the divot, feeling her become nice and smooth and incorporated into the crack of her flesh before finally ascending and turning to examine her handiwork.

On the seat, a star-shaped stain coated the tan material. Contorting her head back, a similarly star-shaped impression had been left on her butt proper, along with streaks and strips of blood from sliding her behind too and fro.

One Hundred and Ten Newtons: Complete and utter flattening.

The data had been collected, sure, and Amelia was satisfied. But despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel she had been having… fun.

An odd word to her these days. Odder still given what led to this fun.

Whatever the case, it was the perfect excuse for a final experiment.

Amelia entered the electronic chamber, fresh from terrorizing the recently-made Miniature Car. In her hand, Amelia held a metallic capsule, rattling dully with dozens and dozens of those… objects. It had been a bit difficult corralling them into the box; denizens tend to be resistant to leaving their cars except in very particular cases. Reluctantly, there collateral damage, but nothing major. To Amelia, anyway.

Looking at the room, it was barren and austere, perhaps the size of a large bedroom. This would certainly do, and the calibrations for the machinery should automatically collect the data she needed. Nodding, Amelia gave the container a playful shake, eliciting odd screams from inside, before pulling off her boots and kicking them aside. She felt the electric hum of machinery emanate up into her body through her bare, aged, tough soles, and she smiled. It was a rare feeling, and she knew soon she’d feel something even rarer.

Amelia unlocked the capsule and overturned it. Dozens and dozens of the Miniature Car’s denizens came pouring out, all coalescing into a weird, undulating pile that gradually dispersed as they all came to from the bumpy ride to the engine car.

The crowd was gathering, meandering awkwardly while vaguely being aware of the cloaked giant that loomed over them, staring with a detached interest before she pulled out a voice recorder and pressed the red button.

“This is the Conductor. Experiment 295… the…”

Amelia fidgets. As she shuffled her feet, each time a slightly sticky-sounding smack sounded from her soles as they stepped on and off the smooth plasteel floor.

“Ahem, uhhh… oh yes! Experiment 2…”

The people below were cowering. Every time she opened her mouth, and reminded them of her existence, they got more stock still. It was as though they were trying in raw desperation to avoid being seen by moving as slow as possible. But they still trembled. Goodness, did they tremble.

“… will be testing… the…”

Every moment that went on, Amelia tapped her toes on the floor. Once. Twice. Again. Like a metronome. The group weren’t even much taller than her toes. They were so small. So… abusable.

Amelia felt it well up inside her. The desire.

Sighing, Amelia breathed out a tired-sounding, “Bollocks,” then threw the tape recorder over her shoulder. The machine smashed against the wall, and at that sound, she lifted her foot up and brought it down against the first segment of the crowd she could find.

“Haha!” she cheered, feeling for the first time in a long time that euphoria, the pleasure, the devil-may-care desire. She twisted and ground her foot as the high-pitched screams floated into her ears, and Amelia couldn’t help but feel enraptured as she felt the warmth and roughly-smooth stickiness of the mangled bodies utterly disintegrate into mush. She dragged her foot across the floor, creating a streak of bright red like a scar across the ground. Tinies saw her apocalyptic rampage and struggled to run in any direction but toward her, but they slipped from both haphazard speed and from sliding in the blood of their smashed comrades. She picked them up and tossed them in her mouth, her incisors beheading them before tearing them apart, her canines ripping through their tender flesh, her molars crunching and compressing them into a delicious red slurry, before swallowing them up like a common appetizer. And then she grabbed another set, and the cycle repeated itself.

“This is a delight! I don’t even know why I bothered with those charts and recordings!” Amelia was absolutely red, both from blushing and from the blood that was coating her lower extremities. Every step was an action of unmatched brutality, and she wanted more. It made her feel so incredibly good, and warm, and hot. Even now, crushing and smashing and stomping and destroying dozens and dozens of tinies per second, it wasn’t enough. Until finally:

“Come here, you!” Amelia pounced. She crouched down, hands on the floor and getting coated in blood. Finding the nearest screaming escapees, she plucked them in her coated hand and shoved them into her pants. Through the dark, humid cave, they made their way to her vagina, already leaking with an amount of Amelia’s own sticky juices.

As Amelia began to masturbate, the sounds of her own grunts and groans and moans provided the most immaculate cherry on top to the shrieks and yelps and cries and lamentations coming from both inside her own body and from the rest of the room, banging helplessly on impossibly tall doors and walls too insurmountable to scale, crevices too well-constructed to infiltrate. So much that even as Amelia climaxed, even as she screamed in the utmost of pleasure, even as her vaginal walls compressed and clutched their inhabitants, becoming a fleshy tomb as they were utterly destroyed and drowned and suffocated, even as Amelia fell back, panting, to catch her breath, she still had not had enough.

She hadn’t had anywhere close to enough.

Sitting up, she looked back over the desperate denizens. And she knew that once she had crushed them, she would need more.

Many, many more.

And so she stood up, eliciting even more deranged screams, preparing to finish this quite minute first course. There were a lot of courses waiting. And if she wished, she could make an endless amount of train cars to satisfy her. That was a guarantee.