Selina was coughing, eyes streaming from the tear gas, lungs burning. She'd been riding out the riot near her cell, preferring not to get into anything physical, not to get involved. Her role as smuggler gave a certain carté blanc from the civil war going. That was as long as she didn't pick a side, which she had no intention of doing.

Away from the majority of the violence she'd actually been quite relaxed. A spectator, not a participant. That didn't stop the winces seeing her friends at war. She knew this is how it had to be in times like this - a great clash, a climax, a crescendo of fists clashing and bones breaking -  but she hated it. When everything built up to this level of anger, it had to happen before things calmed back down. Just like the heat. Just like the swollen clouds bleeding into the dry earth, blood was spilled on the concrete. It saddened her knowing they were fighting over such insignificant things. Territory. Patches of a prison no one owned. Pride. It was stupid, but necessary for the ecosystem to reset.

Guards had arrived eventually, and somehow the riot kicked into an even more erratic, higher gear. The animosity towards each other was never as intense as anger directed at the guards. Her face had scrunched into a cringed when a molotov soared across the hall, crashing into riot shields and spreading flames. She'd smuggled that in. Rolls of flaming toilet paper followed, chairs and DIY weapons hurled into the wall of shields. Selina mused that the more intense hatred was probably a power thing. Being powerless for years, taking abuse and not being able to dish any back. Bottled emotions coming free for a tiny window of time. A lot of rage was untethered. Even so, the guard's prescence usually signified the candle burning brightest before going out. Casually covering her nose and mouth with a pillow case, content to bare with the irritant gas, she waited for this bouth of madness to end.

Through bleary, water logged eyes she saw the rioters and guards stumble as a unit. Mother nature apparently had plans to keep this riot going, joining the inmates in revolt. Selina had never felt so much as a tremor here before and wondered if an earthquake were actually starting. It couldn't have been an explosion, could it? She'd survived a few earthquakes in her travels and knew she shouldn't be under the gangway above. She needed a big sturdy door to stand under. Running through the tear gas, abandoning her safe haven, squinting, she went for the big double doors that were closest. The doors that led to medbay.

Once she broke through the cloud of opaque fumes she piled into a group of stony inmates, apologising.

Following their stunned gaze, her own jaw slowly gaped open in shock. The whole wall was coming apart, swelling outwards, a malignant tumour. Grey cement becoming more visible, tiles spreading apart, cracking, falling off of the wall as it expanded.

The intense force on the wall relented and things shifted marginally back into place. That was only a momentary reprieve for the building. The world moved. Selina fell, air punched out of her as the ground rose up to meet her, concrete and steel and ceramic zipping overhead as everything rumbled. When the dust had cleared Selina found herself only a few feet from the wreckage. Only a few feet from a K13 member, half crushed by rubble and crying out in pain. "Hang on!" She wheezed, throat coated in mould and a layer of what used to be a wall.

Jagged shapes stabbed at Selina's knees as she moved to try and pull the crushed woman free. The hill began to move. Her brain screeched to a halt. The shapes she could see moving were familiar but the scale was... Impossible. Still on her knees, she looked up and up and up, eyes widening in awe, her mind filling in the gaps, figuring out what had just happened. Amber was moving. Shaking dust from her face and hair. Gathering herself up, looming larger and bigger after the charge that sent her through the wall. Guards and inmates alike clattered backwards as one.

Her truly titanic form made Selina's head spin, sending her thoughts stuttered and skipped like a needle on an old vinyl record. This shouldn't be possible. Vásquez was huge but this shattered Selina's understanding of size. This was far from human. Mythical. A momster from a tale sung around fires. A building moving right in front of her. As the white mass moved one Lobos member, desperately trying to get free from the weight that crushed her, was swallowed by Amber's car crusher of a breast. The giant noticed the bug squirming under her tit and laughed a short, sharp chorlte, booming loudly enough for Selina to clasp her hands over their ears.

The poor woman, pinned under the bricks and cement was consumed by a wave of pillowy, dough as she clawed and screamed. Selina imagined it would be like the world's biggest, heaviest, strudiest water bed gradually rolling onto you. Amber's full weight and strength came down harder, a sinister smile splitting her face. Selina wasn't sure if the cracking sounds was the debris or the woman. The woman that had just been turned to mush...

Amber leaned back, eclipsing the lights and plunging Selina and a number of inmates into a deeper darkness. A bloody shadow, an outline, was all that was left of the Lobos member. A tower of white skin rose, Amber got to her feet, making dust fill the air again. God, she didn't look real. Boulder like muscles stretched her ivory skin tight, veins thicker than Selina's wrist made a purple road map over her arms and shoulders and legs. Her curves flared outrageously outwards, refusing gravity and sitting perkily on her body. She should have looked amazing but all the smuggler could think was that she looked grotesque. Too muscular, too curvy. Too much. Angry red lines ran along the swells, shimmering when they caught the light. Too much, too fast.

Fleeing inmates snapped Selina back to life. "Aw, don't leave. The party is just getting started!" Amber's voice echoed from what seemed miles above. The woman Selina had been trying to help was still alive, still feverishly trying to push the weight of the fallen wall off of her. The latina couldn't leave her. She reached forwards, hands clasping the woman's.

"It's okay, I think that I can pu-" thunder struck, the world rumbling angrily. Selina closed her eyes, jekred forwards, black hair whipping in ribbons around her face. When she opened her eyes back up she was facing five plump, fat digits and a foot the length of a dinning table. She was still holding the lifeless hands in her own. The arms disappeared under the aryan's sole. Selina tilted her head back slowly, looking up along shins and knees to see parted thighs and a massive set of fingers working in and out of a vagina that could eat a tree. Beyond the abs, above the out cropping of mammary, Selina could just about see Amber's gray - blue eyes sparkling, corners crinkled by a smile.

"Oopsie." She snidely said, drumming her toes, subtle vibrations reaching Selina through the ground. The hands went limp in Selina's and she let them fall, crestfallen. Someone wrapped an arm around the latina's throat, pulling her up.

"What do we do with her?" A gruff question was asked behind her head.

"Keep her somewhere for now. When I own this prison I'll crack her open and suck that purple shit straight out of her. See if it makes me grow some more." Amber winked and proceeded to turn her attention away from the smuggler, looking out to the terrified inmates trying to escape her. It was time for the fun to really begin.

Selina watched, still mentally struggling to comprehend everything. Amber's first stop was the cattle herding themselves away from her on the gangway. She laughed at the hoarde charging away along the metal walkway. A single mass collapsing in on itself, trying to create distance from the threat. As Amber approached, people threw themselves over the edge, abandoning ship. It didn't help. A pillar flung forwards, shin acting catching people mid air, arching up and sending bodies flying across the hall. She outpaced the retreating group.

Amber went up onto her toes, calves bunching, and coiled her upper body away. It was like a car crash, Amber swinging her chest at the gangway, breasts, two massive flail ends mowing bodies down, shattering them, smushing them against the metal and the walls. The pack had been split, some escaping, others trapped by tit. Not even the gangway could handle her, groaning under the weight, bending and sagging. The trapped inmates did a 180, trying to run the way they'd come. Amber's hands came up under the walkway on either side of her bust. Her biceps flooded with strength, purple highways pumping power into them. The metal creaked and deformed, coming away from the wall, keeping the inmates trapped. Gargantuan knots along her back engorged, swelling muscles making the red lines look like they were widening. The whole section of metal was twisted, ripped free, women tumbling over the edges.

Amber absentmindedly stomped then from existence, her focus drawn to one woman in particular. Releasing the walkway with one hand, letting people and bodies fall, she plucked a nation member free.

"Wendy, is that you?" She dropped the walkway, the new toy more interesting than the old one. "It is!" She squealed to the writhing, living doll, encircled by her fingers. A devilish grin formed. "It's been a while, right? But..." She looked up, lips pulled into a feigned, thoughtful frown. She tapped her chin with one finger. "I think the last time we talked you said something meeeean." She croned

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Cried the doll, sobbing and pleading, wriggling in the tight grip.

"I think you called me a flat, white, crack whore." Her teeth shone like a sharks moments before a bite was taken. Selina expected her eyes to roll back, as a great White's would.

"I was wrong, I didn't-didn't mean it!" Amber's fingers gripped the woman around her waist, leaving her large melons free. Well, large in a relativly normal sense of scale. The busty woman had clashed with Amber time and time again, making fun of her 'bee stings'. Wendy was proud of her own F cup breasts and had boasted about them relentlessly. Now they were a target for abuse.

"But these things," Amber roughly pinched a breast, squeezing it like a blueberry, "just don't seem that big anymore." The woman was screaming, sensitive tissue being mashed by her monstrous oppressor. Wendy was released, torture technique abruptly changing. "Not like these!" Amber cackled twisting her torso again, suddenly and slapping a breast against her captive. The blood stained mountain rocked the small woman back, head swimming from the impact. "Right?" She grunted, another titslap. "Tell me how fucking BIG my girls have gotten!" Roared the aryan. Earlier she'd used her bust to devistate a crowd... This, a single person taking all the weight and impact, was barbaric.

Wendy's nose and mouth were bleeding. "They-they're huge!" She, amazingly, managed to say. "Fucking huge!"

"Aren't they just?" Amber asked dreamily, gently rocking her breasts back and forth. "So much better than yours, right?" There was feverish nodding, but not enough. "Say they're fucking perfect."

"They're perfect! Perfect, okay?! Just, please let me go!"

"Perfect." Purred Amber, enjoying the way the word rolled off of her tongue. Wendy was face to breast, praying she'd make it out of this alive. Seeing the woman there, hanging directly in front of tits that rivalled her entire body, an idea formed. Amber pinched an arm and let Wendy dangling by it. "I just had a thought..." She quipped, pushing her biceps against her breasts. "Maybe you need," She hung the woman over the line of cleavage she'd created. "A more intimate experience..." Lowering Wendy into the hills she forced her legs into the valley. "To know that I'm not..." The inmate struggled, slowly being sucked deeper into the chasm. Her hands sunk into the pale ocean, her own chest finally being gobbled down. "That." Amber used a single finger to push her toy completely in. The smile dropped. "I'm not!" Now she grabbed her breasts by the sides, fingers digging in, pushing them together viciously. "FUCKING." She pulled them apart and smashed them together, a clap of skin on skin radiating out. "FLAT!" Again, the tits separated and smashed together. "ANY. MORE." Each syllable came with it's own explosive clap of breast. Blood tricked out from the orbs, down the long, chiseled middle line of abdominal muscle. A river going down to Amber's taunt belly button. She let another pulverised body fall and sighed contentedly. "That's what real boobs look like, bitch." She laughed.

The exits to the holding cells had become congested, a mad rush for the exits creating a panicked, human gridlock. The stampede had slowed to a grind and now the gaggle of inmates felt an icy chill roll across them. A shadow cast over them. A gaze freezing their blood. Amber scanned the terrified faces, looking for anyone who might have slighted her, eager to continue her vendetta on cell block B.

Jennifer glanced at the screens, seeing Amber playing with all the terrified inmates. She'd lost track of the red overalls in the pixelated images, distracted by Cassandra. She knew Trish and Vásquez had left early on but prayed Jessica and Selina had made it as well. "What do you mean 'fight fire with fire'?" Asked Jennifer looking back to Cassandra.

The woman was still running calculations, holding a finger up to Jennifer. She tapped something into the keyboard and then looked to the inmate. "We need a last resort." She said grimly.

"Which is?"

"Well, something that can level the playing field." She took a deep breath, hesitation creeping in. "A concentrated version of G37... G38."

Jennifer felt a shiver of excitement run through her but contained it. "So..." She blinked a few times. "You can make something that can get us up to that size?" She pointed to the psychotic, giant shape on camera. Never, even in her wildest dreams, had she imagined that was possible. Now hearing that it was, a whole colour pallette of emotions awoke.

"Us? No. One person." That dulled the excitement somewhat. "I don't have enough materials to make more than one dose... And... Fuck, I don't know if it's going to work or if it's going to kill someone." Her lips quivered, and Jennifer's excitement took another blow. This wasn't some magic size elixir. Suddenly, reality seemed to sink in for Cassandra. Memories flooding back. Stomach turning memories. Her fire like resolve flickered. "Aw, fuck... Maybe this is a bad idea. We can just wait for -"

"No." Jennifer was shocked by the force in her own voice. "Do it. You need to. This aryan bitch is - every second you don't is a second she's torturing someone. Someone else dying." Cassandra looked to the security camera feed. She couldn't precisely make out what was happening but knew Jennifer was right. Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she weighed her options.

"Fine. But this is a last resort, got it? If the guard's can't take her down and - and people are going to die... Then, only then can we try this. Because seriously, the numbers." She cast a fretful look to the other monitor. To the numbers. "They don't look good."

Sighing, Jennifer nodded, her giddiness tempered into a steely determination.


Grunts and shouts ricocheted around the showers. Trish had led Vásquez there, forcing the 10 foot woman to squeeze through tiny corridors, the smaller woman picking at her like a vulture. She'd land a punch or a kick, flitting out of reach while Vásquez's mobility was hindered. Using agility and space to her advantage, she'd been doing well, frustrating her predator further.

That didn't change the anxiety gnawing at her whenever she got close. It would just take one slip up for Vásquez to pin her down and maul her like an enraged jaguar. Reaching the entrance to the showers had been a sobering, dreadful reminder that she'd run out of space. Vásquez was stuck in the doorframe, waist caught, one arm uselessly pinned by the nearby wall. Trish took advantage, swinging haymakers into the latina. Punches that would have shattered and broken bones were absorbed by Vásquez, hardly doing anything more than superficial damage.

Ultimately, it just heated the hot blooded woman more. Her temper spiked into a fury and Trish back pedalled, Vásquez letting out an ear splitting shout. Trish's face drained of blood as she watched veins swell across Vásquez's neck and shoulders, eyes wildly peeling into madness stricken balls of flame. Placing her hands on the walls either side of the frame, she pushed. Her body quaked, throbbing, muscles expanding with effort, overfilling the door frame. It creaked, plaster and tiles cracking. "Oh shit." Whispered Trish, darting out of the way as the walls immediately surrounding the latina came apart and sent Vásquez stumbling into the bathrooms. She landed on her forearms and knees, rising back up quickly. Fuck. This was the end of the line.

Trish blocked the first punch that came. The fist was wide enough that she needed to block with both arms. Her forearms felt numb from that single blow, fingers tingling with pins and needles. She'd been pushed back, pressing against a tiled wall, the wall that joined the bathroom and the changing rooms behind her.  Dropping low, she barely avoided the stomping kick directed at her head. It turned the edge of the wall into chunks.

One hit. That's all Vásquez had to land and the fight would be so lopsided that Trish wouldn't be able to come back. "Not so mouthy now, are you?" Vásquez said, stalking Trish deeper into the showers. "Why don't you stay still?"

"Because I'd fucking die." Trish replied, vaulting over a waist high partition.

A bark of a laugh bubbled out of Vásquez. "Fair enough." Trish felt a familiar sickening feeling. This bitch was having fun. The caramel giant stepped one foot over the waist high wall in the shower, to her it was mid thigh.

'Now or never.' Trish thought to herself, sprinting forwards, powerful legs propelling her at an astounding speed. She dove into a kick, hoping to topple over the woman while she was unstable and escape the way she'd come. Vásquez's instincts were too sharp though. Even bent forwards, one leg on each side of the short wall, she absorbed the kick like she was concrete and caught Trish's leg. Now the balance was reversed, Vásquez was grounded and Trish was desperately trying to stay upright. Pulling, pushing and toying with Trish, she kept her dancing, hopping on one foot. Vásquez stepped over the wall completely and, with a smirk, pulled her in. Trish jumped up, trying to kick with the other leg, a last ditch attempt. It didn't work and, in an impressive act of strength, Vásquez swung her opponent around, a human baseball bat. Letting her sail through the air, she released her, catapulting Trish into a far wall in the showers. She crashed against the tiles, pain in her back and sides. She couldn't concentrate on that though. She needed to -

In a flash, while Trish was groggily trying to get up, Vásquez skidded into a front mount, straddling her hips with an immense weight. A knee shuffled forwards to pin one hand down, the other was snatched up by the wrist, held over Trish's head.

A fist concaved her stomach, almost flattening the woman, Trish felt the air leave her. She flexed her abs, bracing for a second and third punch. Vásquez was taking this slow on purpose. "So, what did you do to Jennifer?" She asked again.

Trish took ragged, painful breaths. "I already told you I didn't do shit." The knuckles were only there for a moment, filling her vision. Head bouncing off of the tiles, lights winked in her eyes, occipital lobe having been slapped off the back of her skull.

"You're gonna tell me or I'm gonna take you apart piece by piece." Shit. This wasn't a beat down. This was torture. Trish struggled. Bucking her hips, kicking her legs, flexing her arms. The size disparity was too big. Vásquez was just too much for her to handle, too strong, too dominant. With her heart sinking, Trish thought it would be easier to bend the prison bars than break out of this.

"Fuck, I dont know!" Shouted Trish, honestly. "They didn't tell me it was her dose!" Another blow to the ribs made a cracking sound, the urge to vomit hitting.

Her head was abruptly pinned back to the tiles thumb digging into one cheek while fingers dug into the other. An angry face grew closer until it was all Trish could see. Nose to nose, she spoke. "See, that sounded like the truth, but you been bullshittin' me for a while. I know you think I'm fucking stupid. I've heard the rumours. I've seen you two around. All fucking friendly. Shit, she-" Vásquez turned her head for a half second and switched words quickly. "I think blondie has more fucking balls than YOU think. She wouldn't stab me in the back like a pussy. Not unless you did something. Said something." The fingers dug more sharply, Vásquez's expression screwing up further.

"Shit, I didn't think you'd stab me in the back either." The hold on her face tightened, Trish's jaw beginning to feel like it would shatter under the ridiculous grip strength. Vásquez scowled down. "Though you had the integrity to come from the fuckin' front. But I guess I gave you more credit than you des-ARRRRRGH!" The thick fingers left Trish's face. Vásquez reeled backwards, swinging her arm out at someone. Trish couldn't tell what was happening until the mountainous body on top of her shifted out of view, rolling to the side, away from a new assault.

Jessica had finally arrived. She'd managed to sink a blade into the titan twice in a vicious, veiled attack. Then an elbow had whipped out and she'd been forced back, leaving the blade stuck in Vásquez's muscled flank. Gingerly moving, Vásquez felt around for the knife. "Wow, literally stabbing me in the back? Fucking shameless." Scoffed the massive woman.

Jessica hauled a dizzy Trish to her feet. Trish took stock: A concussion, a split lip, a bloody nose, some fractured ribs maybe too. Not enough to keep her out of this fight. Not by a long shot. "You good?"

"Good enough. Took your fucking time." Trish retorted.

"Yeah, shits been fucking crazy all the way here. Did a bomb go off or some shit?" Trish looked at her confused. "Alright, guess you didn't feel it."

"Enough chatter, putas." Vásquez talked loud. "Let's get this shit done." Hunched over, her massive form occupied a large section of the showers. Splitting the massive square into sections were a number of the waist high walls Trish had tried to utilise earlier. Now Vásquez was using it as a barrier.

"Surround her." Trish said, jutting her chin to the left. They split, spreading out, Vásquez backed up, looking left and right. This was going to be difficult.


Across the prison Smith shoved a guard into the armoury. He'd been mopping up all the cowards that came his way, guiding them to better weapons and armour. He kept the fear out of his voice, poker face instilling a calm in the horrified guards. It wasn't play time anymore. This wasn't the time for non-lethal measures. Fuck cattle prods. It was time to go in guns blazing. Tear gas and rifles and shotguns. It was time to put these women in their place once and for all.

Smith had downed the last of his liquid courage while a hard drive filled with recordings of their sessions. Then he'd come to gather his men. As soon as his men were prepped, he'd be heading out to evac. They'd be his distraction for escape. No use taking risks, after all.