The blast was breathtaking. Elsa and Arthur, which had finally finished their run on the sand-bridge and were almost at the end of the beach, fell to the floor, the mother covering the head and the ears of her son. When she recovered from the impact of the soundwaves she raised her son and herself and hinged to keep walking.
“I’m scared mom!”
“I know, Artie, I know. But we have to hurry up. We must leave the beach, and then we will go home.”
“We will be safe at home!” Artie exclaimed.
Elsa could not tell if it was a statement or a question, but as a mother she could not help herself from reassuring her child. “Of course, we will. We will go home, and have a shower, and … and then we can make some muffins!”
“I don’t want muffins, I want ice-cream!”
“We can have muffins with ice cream. How dope is that?”
“It’s … okay, I guess ...”
“It will be great!”
“Okay, but mooom …?”
“What honey?”
“Don’t use 'dope', please. It’s lame when you say it”
“What? You scoundrel! I think it’s dope when I say ‘dope’. Ah mean, em born in da hood, em-ay-nat?”
“Mom, please!” Arthur protested covering his ears.
Elsa could not hold back a big smile. She shoved her hand through her son’s long brown hair and ruffled them. He tried to protest and push the hand back, but he laughed too. In front of them there stood the ruins of an ancient world, the beach bars and kiosks completely obliterated from the slight movement of the giantess turning on her back to inquire her surroundings. It would not have been so much of a problem in itself if not for the fact that those places were inhabited until a moment before an impending doom devastated everything. This thought didn’t hit Elsa until she saw something completely obvious and horrific at the same time. An abandoned pink flip-flop planted in the sand like an extremely unusual gravestone.

Luckily, Arthur was distracted by the giants who seemed to be engaged in the complex maneuvering of their bodies in order to acquire a sitting position in the sea in front of the city’s shoreline. Elsa watched too, for some moments. The giant was sitting behind, legs spread, and he harbored his companion between them. They were sitting tens if not hundreds of meters in the sea and still there was nothing more than a thin layer of water under their bodies.

But at the moment Elsa was not worried about the leviathan-sized lovebirds behind her back. She was more worried for the possible disaster scenes awaiting her and especially Arthur among the ruins of the bars and restaurants. Then she had an idea. A stupid one indeed. But it is not stupid if it works. Elsa was not anymore young, in the conventional sense, but at 37 years of age she still maintained a very nice figure. Her skin was still soft and uniformly tanned. Her bosom was incredibly prominent but still firm. Her belly had increased consistently since those times in college when she pondered modeling, but she never traveled beyond size 8 (unless when she was pregnant of course). Her hips were large and welcoming, her ass soft and round. Anyway, like any other woman her age (the real ones, not the photo-shopped pics of Instagram models) she felt a bit ashamed for the orange-skin surface that adorned her upper thighs. Therefore she hadn’t still resolved to abandon bikini swim suits because her body was surely something to be proud of and even a little vain; but, on beach days, she tended to keep her bottom and thighs covered by a transparent, colorful, piece of cloth. It was not the proverbial towel you should always bring with yourself for a galactic travel, but in more than a few occasion it served the most different purposes egregiously.

This time it would have served very well to prevent PTSD in her son. She recalled Arthur’s attention back to her and knelt in front of him. “Arthur, listen to me! Now we have to play a game.”
“A game? Right now?”
“It is for your own safety, thrust me! I am going to blindfold you with this, I will not tighten it, but you have to promise me that you won’t touch it, and that you won’t look. You just listen to my voice and do as I say until we are on the street.”
“I don’t know ...”
“Trust me Artie, it is going to be fine!” Without waiting for any sign of consent she proceeded to remove her cloth.
“Eheh, mommy’s naked!” blurted the boy.
“What?! Oh my go ...!” Elsa looked at herself and she discovered she was wearing only her panties. Her bikini top part was not anymore on her chest. It must have just gone lose during their odyssey up to that point.
“Never mind! Here, let me finish!”
She completed the task of enveloping her son’s head in the cloth and when she felt it was secured enough she started walking keeping him in front of her, hands on his shoulders. As expected the bars and restaurants’ zone was nothing less than a battlefield. There was destruction and debris everywhere. And finally what haunted Elsa the most. There were signs of human rests. At first she could not distinguish them very well, but when she got closer she could see what is left of people when a mountain tall teenager sits on them. Only the clothes could be distinguished properly, their owners being reduced to flat caricatures of themselves. Elsa herself could not maintain the sight for too long and decided to proceed without exploring too much that gory spectacle.

Only one thing caught her attention beyond resistance. That morning, when the sun was shining, the world was normal and nobody on the beach was taller than the hills surrounding the bay, Elsa’s sight was occupied for more than a moment by a beautiful girl in white and gold. She was tall, blond, perfect skin and perfect round face. Her figure was thin heels to the neck, but her breast was huge. It could indeed rival if not surpass Elsa’s one (something rare, usually). That gorgeous body was now pale and motionless. Her light-blue eyes void and staring at the ceiling, part of which had fallen, directly on her. You could not see her legs, under the debris, but her upper part was laying there, like a Greek bust fallen on the floor. Elsa was not even frightened, she just contemplated the absolutely ephemeral condition of being humans. Then she proceeded to do something she would never recount to anybody in the future. She spoiled the blond girl breast which swelled out of the bra, still soft enough to bounce a little. Then she wore the bra herself, for the sake of decency. It didn’t match with her red pants, but it fit indeed perfectly. While walking she also procured flip-flops for herself and her son from the ruins of a beach shop.

Finally, beyond the last wooden rests there appeared the stairs that linked the beach with the city. The nightmare was over, or at least, further and further. She turned back to look one last time at the giants, just in time to learn once again that with them there was no ending anyway. In fact, the giantess was sitting and observing the city and decided to relax the muscles of her left leg while enjoying the sand on her toes. The excavation force of her foot encountered up to no resistance at all from the sand or the debris and almost any resistance also from the bricks, which the staircase to the city was made of. In that exact moment Elsa and Arthur were almost on the sidewalk where the staircase ended. The boy, freed from his bandage, run up the stairs between the palms decorating the shoreline. His mother was right behind him. But the idea of actually reaching him lasted less than one second, when the toes of the giantess erupted from beneath making the bricks explode in every direction and capturing Elsa on the tip of one of them. She screamed at her son who was screaming back in response.
“Mooooom, mooooooom!”
“Arthuuuuh … ruuun, run home, ruuu…”
The movement of the foot were slow but the ground she was trying to stand on was schaky enough to make her tumble back. Arthur was struck by the sudden separation from her mother. All around him the chaos was complete with the debris and the sand falling from the rising colossus of a foot sole in front of him, any single wrinkle bigger than a tree trunk. Elsa stopped her falling when a thick, rugged, wooden-like barrier held her firm. It towered a couple feet over her head, a curved wall hard as concrete. She held up with her hands and her feet as best as she could wondering about the new place she just discovered. It was the space between the giantess' big toe and the respective nail. Even that nothingness was big enough to host her whole laying body like nothing more than toe-dirt. Her priority was, however, to locate her son on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, she was deep enough in the “under-nail” to have her sight covered. The last thing she had seen, moments before, was her son standing in the falling debris risking to be hit or submerged until a fast shadow grabbed him from behind and dragged him away. Then the foot retreated with Elsa still trapped under the varnished nail of a teenage titaness.