Conducive
Scott Grildrig
27-Dec-2022
Disclaimer: This story is not safe for work. It is not safe for school. It is not safe for the home. It is not safe on the road. It is not safe in bed. Don't read this while eating, mowing the lawn, or in the bathroom. Obviously, do not read this if underage. If you do, I will hunt you down and practice my screaming on you. Do not read this story aloud to friends or family members as a proxy for saying grace before Thanksgiving dinner. Do not read it while making love, without using finger puppets to act out some of the racier bits. This story is naughty. It's explicit. It's hyper messy. You have been warned. It's not for the gentle of heart, unless you're seeking court evidence proving how unhinged the rest of us are. Do not read this story in Alaska or New Jersey. Offer void in Mordor.
Karl Weber's appetite for revenge was paramount, coloring every thought, driving every decision. At night he dreamed of retribution. It was his abiding passion upon waking, his central focus spanning every day. To call it an obsession would be like comparing a ripple to a tsunami. The origin and motivation for revenge no longer mattered. Honestly, he scarcely recalled what led to this raging desire.
Likewise, Karl Weber didn't aspire to a quick or simple fate. His target was an entire city. A fusion bomb would be too merciful. A plague too slow and uncertain. He considered floods, earthquakes. He contemplated volcanoes, tornadoes, destruction raining from the burning sky. Nothing offered the combination of screaming fear with the right pacing. Nothing fed the sadistic ache impelling his need to see the city and its people suffer.
You may rightly ask, how could he hope to achieve any of these things? It's not normally in the purview of individuals to dictate the demise of cities. However, Karl Weber was an adept practitioner of the Dark Arts. We'll not delve into the fascinating details of how this happened, or where he ultimately obtained the dusty Grimoire of Kauket, a Heka of Old Egypt. It suffices that the spidery text hinted at older and more dire tomes scribed in the depths of time, when powers malicious as they were powerful played with the cosmos. Yet in the end, even this book did not answer every need. A fragment of a Sumerian clay tablet, purloined from a museum that will go unnamed, unlocked the key to the Grimoire, without which no magus could hope to survive the requisite spells.
And so Karl Weber entered the dark forest of Angrod Paal to perform a ceremony so old and so fraught with peril that no record existed of it having been essayed. At the midnight of a new moon, in the bitter cold of winter, he etched cabalistic symbols on a freshly flayed skin. The grim parchment alchemized into an abyss upon which each newly scribed hieroglyph floated, green and poisonous.
Murmuring words memorized from the Kauket he meticulously walled himself within the eldritch text. Grim shades gathered, summoned by his charm. They filled the night with hissing whispers, urging him to step off the hide and breach the symbols. He shrugged off their frail, grasping fingers. The portal completed; he slashed both arms with an ancient bronze akinakes. Falling blood formed ruddy strands, binding his wrists to the hide.
Karl Weber took a deep breath, and crying out a single arcane word pulled with all his mortal strength. Red lightning struck from the sky. He crumpled and lost consciousness.
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Only the hide remained, charred and smoking, when he awoke. No forest surrounded him, neither the numbing cold of winter. Shaking his head to clear it, he slowly rose to consider his situation.
A black bridge, wide as an urban street, fashioned from hoary stone, covered in noxious lichen provided a precarious platform, bearing neither kerb nor rail. Churning incarnadine light, rising from beneath the stonework, offered the only illumination. He stepped to the edge and glanced down. One look sufficed. Hell presented itself in all of its awful intensity. He beheld the plight of countless damned souls wrapped in fetters of unrestrained torment, they formed faintly screaming extrusions, creeping like worms over red burning embers. Heart pounding, he stumbled back.
To the right the bridge led into darkness. To the left it dove under diaphanous folds in a towering veil of purple silk, set between red cliffs. Nothing in the Grimoire described this place. But Karl Weber, driven by primal vengeance, cared not a wit. He strode forward, pushing his way through the veil.
The space beyond burned hot and humid. The stone span continued, vanishing into the inky blackness. To the sides vast ruddy walls fenced him in. The silk veil remained, a way of escape, for whatever comfort that offered. Karl Weber looked up, and was captivated.
Far above, unearthly flames curled and flared in the contours of an inverted wedge. Like the veil they shone in mesmerizing colors of purpurate and amethyst. The downward point of the wedge devolved into vivid blue flame, an arcing line, like chained lightning, flickering from side to side in mesmerizing patterns. From time to time, phosphorescant globules dropped free, sizzling in the air, fading before striking him or the bridge.
"You've gone to a lot of trouble to stare at my cunt," murmured an amused feminine voice, throbbing with unholy power. "Would a closer look be more to your liking?"
Karl Weber swore viciously as the blue flames descended. Spinning on one heel he sprang for the purple veil, diving through it, clinging to the bridge, which heaved from the impact of a terrifyingly huge body. A gust of displaced air flicked him towards the edge, where he barely saved himself, clutching frantically at the black stone. Mocking laughter, soft but pervasive, shook his bones. The crimson luminosity of Hell brightened, revealing a gigantic form seated on the bridge with thighs spread wide.
Long hair, black as a raven's wing framed a face topped by twin horns. A smile of playful malice revealed alabaster fangs. Beneath black arching eyebrows shone eyes of radiant purple, matching the hue of her loincloth. A similarly colored strip of silk emphasized rather than hid the massive swell of her breasts. Smooth, crimson flesh reflected the tormenting flames of Hell. In the shadows beyond, a long tail of daunting proportions flicked into view, swaying like a snake, tipped with an inverted heart.
"Any last words," she asked pleasantly, "before having my way with your puny, insignificant little body?" Leaning forward, she casually threatened to press him beneath the weight of her mountainous tits.
"Agrath deva su…shit!" yelled Karl Weber, as he scuttled back from an enormous nipple shrouded in silk.
"A spell against me?" she asked in delight, swinging her huge breasts back, nearly knocking him from the bridge. "Make it quick. I haven't crushed a mortal under these tits in millennia." She shifted closer. "They ache to feel your slippery guts."
"Agrath deva su mani, Tucara!" Karl shrieked as he was batted off the span. All the harrowing torture of the Underworld spun beneath him as he plummeted, landing with bone jarring suddenness into a vast open palm.
"Congratulations, speck. You've done your research," Tucara said appreciatively. Using her free hand she picked up him by one leg, dangling his tiny body in front of her face. Let's see if you can properly finish the rest of it." Her voice took on terrifying potency as she chanted, "Kila neev, dason dacor mani."
"Tucara, ru!" Karl Weber cried out. "Tucara, noll! Tucara, jir!"
"Is that all?" asked the demoness, arching an eyebrow
"What do you mean?" he yelled, wracking his mind, trying to recollect if he'd omitted anything from the cursed texts.
"Nothing," she smirked, waving him around aimlessly as she gestured. "Wish granted, mortal. I'm not allowed to kill you, and I'm obligated to obey your heart's desire. Assuming you know how to properly frame it. We must observe the conventions, afterall. Right?" And she brought him back to her piercing eyes.
Karl Weber nearly commanded her to stop waving him around, biting his lip before the utterance could be made. Tucara paused a moment; gave him a mocking smile and carefully set him down on the bridge between her huge thighs, close to the silken cloth draped over her glowing pubes.
"Relate to me this wish of yours," she urged.
Nothing else, no other request could have drawn his eyes away from the veiled womanhood towering over him. He swallowed and looked up at her amused face, framed between daunting breasts.
As passionately as Karl Weber yearned for unholy retribution, the Grimoire of Kauket warned that a calm mind and a steady hand were paramount to any hope of success. He composed himself and chanted the requisite lines of the spell of revealing. Between his spread arms a vision of the city materialized, the essence of his malignant zeal. Sweat beaded on his brow as the image rose from his embrace, expanding in size, slowly rotating, until it spun before the interested gaze of the demoness. With a harsh cry he clapped his hands together, sealing the conjuration.
"Let me guess," said Tucara, speculatively tapping a sharp tooth with an equally sharp purple fingernail. "You'd like this place to experience some misfortune. Maybe a volcano or a flood. An earthquake, fiery hail, or a plague."
"I want you to destroy it, personally. Crush it, obliterate it, along with all of the people living there," Karl Weber cried out, his rage clear in every spat out word. "At this size. Over the course of a night. Sparing no one. I demand that you do it as cruelly, as violently, and as malevolently as possible." He took a shuddering breath, containing the emotions surging within him. "And I want to watch, demoness. I want to witness every last thing you do to them."
"You know how to offer a gal a fun time," Tucara murmured. "What the fuck did they do to you to deserve this?"
"That doesn't matter," said Karl Weber dismissively. "Grant me my wish."
"Destroy the city, take my time, let you watch. Anything else?"
"When you're done, I'm free. My soul is free. Hell won't bind me."
"When I'm done," Tucara mused. "Okay. Fair warning, I can't promise that your obviously demented little soul won't be claimed by some of my compatriots at a later date."
"Let me worry about that," he snarled.
"Oh, I will," she smirked. "Let's get this party started." She snapped her fingers, and Karl Weber's tiny body collapsed to the ground between her colossal thighs, like a puppet with its strings cut.
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Karl Weber awoke with his face planted in gravel. It wasn't the gravel that roused him so much, as the way it slapped his face every few seconds. His bleary mind snapped alert as he registered that a deep, thunderous booming sound came a little while after every gravel kiss. In a wild rush he surged to his feet, spitting out small stones.
He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, near to its northern edge, granting him a lofty view of the city he so deeply despised. To the west a thin line of orange and red marked where the sun had departed from the day. To the east a massive feminine form more than a thousand feet tall slowly swayed towards the forest of buildings. Lights shining from countless windows illuminated her. As she came closer, she became easier to see.
She wasn't attired in the guise he expected. The purple loincloth still dangled from her hips. The strip of purple silk still stretched across her heavy breasts. But in lieu of her demonic form she bore a mane of long, honey blonde hair. Her once ruddy flesh had become light and tanned. No sign of her tail remained. Even from a distance he discerned eyes of jade gazing with playful lust at the city spread out before her. Karl Weber frowned. There was something familiar about this form.
"I should hope so," she announced in answer to his thought, her voice easily carrying across the city blocks. "You lusted for her even as she tried to teach you the workings of algebra. I like her breasts," she added, hefting them with her hands.
Karl Weber felt ice run down his spine. He snarled and raised a threatening finger. But before he could say anything she interrupted.
"Are you blushing?" Tucara crowed. "You really had it bad for her, didn't you? This is going to be even more fun than I expected," and she brushed her long hair back from her smiling face.
Radiating an aura of wanton power, she advanced on the forest of buildings. like a lover eager for carnal embraces. Pausing on the verges of the city, she slowly traced her fingers up her thighs to her belly, from her belly to her breasts, up her neck and into her long blonde hair, lifting it with her fingers, letting it cascade down against her back as her full hips slowly gyrated with growing need.
It wasn't what Karl Weber expected. He sought the unrestrained violence of Hell, the cruel and unspeakable torments of a demon high in the unholy hierarchy. The fact that it might take on a lascivious form surprised him. But as long as the people of the city suffered, he decided that he didn't give a damn.
He did care about the next bit.
"Hi there," said Tucara, placing her hands on her wide hips. "I'm your apocalypse for this evening, here to crush and kill every last one of you little, squirming fucks. All courtesy of Karl Weber," and she gestured in his direction. A ray of profane light lit him from below, revealing him for all to see. "Karl Weber is the reason why I'm going to indulge my desires with you. Karl Weber is the reason you're going to die under my new, sexy body." The light went out.
Cursing loudly, he dashed for the nearest maintenance door, only to find it locked shut. Two more doors were similarly barred. He prayed that anyone seeking retribution would be too busy trying to survive to confront him on the matter.
By the time he turned back, Tucara had waded into the city. The gleeful expression on her face, and the slow pace of her steps told him that she was making a game of trodding upon anything in her path. And while he approved of this way of snuffing out lives, the buildings blocked his line of sight; prevented him from beholding the suffering he craved.
"Did you think I forgot?" Tucara chided. She snapped her fingers.
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Karl Weber cried out and stumbled, slamming into a man running next to him, who swore and pushed back. That led to another impact. He gasped, pumping his arms, fleeing for his life. A deep, booming thud accompanied a sickening lurch of the ground beneath his pounding feet. Waving his arms he somehow kept his stride. Others, less fortunate, tripped and fell. Another bone jarring thud ended their shrieks of terror.
"What the fuck! What the fuck!" he panted.
A frantic glance over his shoulder confirmed his fear. Tucara loomed over him, vast and indomitable as a mountain, taking slow, deliberate strides forward into the fleeing crowds. Her hips swayed suggestively, smashing noisily against the skyscrapers lining the street, shattering walls, breaking windows, sending the debris raining down.
Sadistic delight shone on her face as she gazed down over heavy tits at the tiny men and women trailing the mob. Several stumbled, two rolled over, howling in horror, raising their arms in a futile bid to fend off her descending sole. She slowly stepped on them, taking her time, making them last, before crushing the guts out of their puny bodies.
The pavement broke and sank with a loud report, like a rifle crack, sending out long, jagged cracks. For a moment her full weight pressed down, massive toes splaying a little, causing the tiny bodies to ooze warm and wet beneath her bare sole. When her huge foot lifted with a wet sucking sound, glistening viscera and gore tacked from the shattered roadbed to her sole. Revealed in her deep print were mashed and mangled bodies, surrounded by glistening guts, pressed flat into the imprint left by the ball of her foot. The flattened faces were still recognizable, giving a chilling hint of what they felt at the very end.
"I do like stepping on you little fucks," she purred as she trod on more tiny people. One man was only partially squished. She left him there, shrieking and convulsing, clutching at legs jellied by her merciless toes.
"The contract," Karl Weber howled. "You're not allowed to kill me!" His chest burned, his muscles ached as he fought to stay a step ahead of the playful demoness.
"That's true," she replied. "But you're not you at the moment."
"What?" he stammered.
"This is pleasant," Tucara chuckled. "I see everything you see. I know everything you feel, especially your trembling fear. It's quite intoxicating. Take a look at your hands."
He lifted them as he ran. He looked. In shock, Karl Weber realized that they weren't his own, bearing thicker fingers, and wearing a ring. Glancing down he saw sneakers and pants not his own. "I don't understand," he wailed, jostled by the crowd, enveloped by screaming men and women.
"Let me educate you," Tucara murmured, as she continued her murderous stroll. "To quote: I want to watch. I want to witness it all. My dear little speck, how better to watch and witness than to be a part of the fun?" She took a long step, her bare foot sweeping over Karl Weber's head, planting itself in the midst of the squealing people with an obscene sound of squishing, guts and blood squirting thickly in all directions.
Karl Weber spun, trying to flee the other way. Half of the packed throngs had the same idea, leading to churning, chaotic tumble of bodies. He was kicked, punched, and finally knocked over.
Lying on his back, looking up in a haze of pain he spotted the demoness looming over him. One hand was braced on the building next to her, the other lay beneath her diaphanous loincloth, its slow motion against her womanhood causing it to flutter and move rhythmically.
"This is what it's like to be stepped on," she told him.
He whimpered and tried to move, but fleeing men and women roughly crawled over him, pinning him down, making it impossible to push himself up as the giantess slowly brought her gigantic bare foot over him. Karl Weber screamed threats, he yelled impotent incantations, he pleaded and begged as her colossal sole filled the sky.
The ghastly remains of other victims were plastered here and there against the soft, wrinkled flesh, framed in white, splintered bone, splattered organs, and wet, dripping blood. He sobbed, turning his head to the side, as he felt the heat radiating from her, and the first touch of her flesh.
Pinned beneath the weight of her foot, Karl Weber writhed in claustrophobic horror. Some people, piled one upon another, were already being crushed to death, their screams of anguish sounding loud and shrill from mere inches away. He clawed frantically as her huge foot, he pushed, he twisted and tried to crawl free.
"I can feel you," Tucara breathed in a husky voice. "Let me return the favor."
She pressed down a little, squeezing a shrill squeal of pain as the air was forced from Karl Weber's lungs, followed by a burning sensation in his throat and mouth as his stomach was mercilessly compressed. She eased up a tiny bit, and he sobbed in a breathful of air.
"That was nice," she purred maliciously. "How about some blood?".
Once more she gave him a taste of her weight. Once more the air was forced from his body. His fingers curled into fists. His body jerked and convulsed as the pressure mounted. He felt blood and gore from other bodies oozing around him. Sparks danced in his eyes as he tried to shriek in agony, but couldn't. Something broke inside, and bright red blood gushed from his mouth. Again, Tucara eased up. Karl Weber choked and gagged, trying to draw a breath.
"That's enough teasing," said Tucara, as she lightly brushed her soft, bare sole against his puny, pain ridden body. "Let's see what your guts look like."
"No!" he shrieked. But the ponderous, immovable weight returned, and this time it didn't stop. His lungs collapsed as Tucara stepped on him. His ribs bent and snapped like wet twigs. Hot daggers of agony swept through him as his legs crunched into bloody jelly. His pelvis twisted, crunched and shattered. She pressed down harder. His guts were forced up into his chest, into his throat, bulging through the skin, until his flesh burst. In a haze of torment he felt his skull crack and his brains squish out through the splintering bone.
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Karl Weber jerked and yelled in shock, finding himself once more lying face down in the gravel on top of the skyscraper. He sobbed and gasped for air before rolling over, frantically probing at his body with hands and fingers. In a rush he levered himself to his feet, stumbling to the edge of the building, clutching at the encircling wall.
In the distance Tucara looked down at her feet with a smile, while slowly twisting her gigantic toes back and forth over the body he had occupied.
"That's enough, bitch!" he shouted in anger. "I won't witness any more stuff."
"Won't? That's not how it works," she murmured, still concentrating on the ground below, playfully smearing the mess around. She withdrew dripping fingers from under her loincloth, rubbing them together, enjoying the nice way they slipped over each other. "Let me correct you on your misunderstanding of the situation."
Bending down she scooped up a handful of ululating little men and women. Some dribbled between her wet fingers, plunging the length of her gigantic body to splatter on the pavement at her feet. The remainder fought for space in the palm of her enormous hand.
Lifting them higher, she cast a smile of pure sweet malice in his direction. "You didn't like being stepped on, maybe you'll prefer this." And she snapping the fingers of her free hand.
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Karl Weber yelped as he was kicked in the head, knocking him onto his belly towards open space. He lashed back with his own foot, eliciting an angry yell. As his eyes focused, he discerned a dizzying view. With a shock he looked over the edge of Tucara's enormous hand at the street far below. Ice filled his veins as he scurried back into the tangle of bodies in her palm. Glancing around wildly, his gaze was caught and drawn directly into vast, purple eyes.
"Is this better?" she asked with a derisive smirk, her hot breath washing over him and the people held in her great hand. "You're not on the ground. You're not threatened by my bare toes."
The men and women jostled him with renewed fear. Up until now they'd been too terrified to do more than whimper. But then one woman screamed, followed by another. Karl Weber spotted what unleashed their terror. Tucara's gigantic fingers were curling over them like a cresting wave. Even as he watched they slowly closed, lifting the pile of bodies in the palm of her hand, packing them tighter and tighter into an ever dwindling space.
Swearing loudly, he fought his way to the top of the pile, keenly aware of her amused regard. Through dirty tactics he secured his spot atop the mass of people, but nothing could fend off those huge fingers. They bore down with implacable strength, pressing him into the thrashing limbs of those beneath. In a narrow space between her index and middle finger he managed to press one arm and shoulder. Turning her hand she smiled and gave him a wet lick with the tip of a tongue big enough to lap up a bus.
"I'm sorry you won't be able to look into their eyes as I crush the life out of them," she murmured against her fist. "But I think you'll agree everything else will make up for it."
Muffled screams warned Karl Weber that she was tensing her fingers, tightening her grip, squeezing the bodies of the tiny men and women. He squirmed and gasped, trying to wriggle up further between her massive fingers, to no avail.
Some of the cries scaled up into shrieks. Wet crunching sounds crackled and burbled in the space between the giantess' fingers, and still she squeezed. Karl Weber yelled as he felt his left leg twisting, caught in the welter of wiggling bodies. Tucara smiled, increasing the pressure. Shrieks turned into liquid gurgles as tiny chests were compressed, breaking ribs, spewing hot, wet viscera. He howled as his leg broke. A tide of guts and gore welled up in Tucara's gigantic hand as she playfully worked her fingers, breaking the tiny people, squeezing the life's blood out of them, letting it rain onto the screaming mobs in the streets.
Hammering his one free fist against her finger, Karl Weber screamed in impotent rage, even as the grisly tide welled up around his trapped body. Eyes wide, he stared at Tucara in white hot agony. She blew him a little kiss, finally letting her fingers press together around him.
Taking her time, savoring the liquid crunches, she slowly and deliberately crushed the living guts out of him, along with every little man and woman caught in her hand. Karl Weber's eyes bulged in their sockets. His tongue, thick and heavy, protruded from his mouth. His palpitating heart, squeezed from all sides, pounded harder and harder, before finally bursting within his chest.
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The gravel roof dug into his cheek. Every bone, every muscle aching with remembered agony. He could still taste his own blood and guts. For a moment he considered laying there, pretending to still be unconscious.
"You're delicious," Tucara purred, denying him any reprieve.
Groaning, Karl Weber levered himself up into a hunched posture, and turned his head towards the giantess, still several city blocks away. She sensually lapped at the huge fingers that cruelly pulped so many little people.
"Would you like me to eat you alive?" she asked with a cute toss of her blonde hair.
He flipped his middle finger, eliciting a feminine chuckle, while she sucked on each of her fingers. Standing up straight he rubbed his back. He needed a rest from this madness.
"Not happening," the giantess informed him. And her fingers snapped loudly.
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Karl Weber stumbled back into the person behind him, who mumbled an apology and helped him regain his balance. Lifting his hand before his face he snarled in angry resignation. Once more he occupied a body other than his own, this time much shorter than average.
"Thought I'd change things up a little," lilted a mocking voice.
Casting around wildly he realized that he was at the front of a crowd of people packed into a hallway, looking out through lofty skyscraper windows. People leaned to the right, while looking to the left. He was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on when Tucara stepped fully into view. Or rather, part of her did.
"Fuck me," he swore at the sight of a breast big enough to crush a house flat. The demoness tugged away the swatch of purple silk, revealing a huge, hard nipple set within a brown aureole pointed straight at him.
He tried to push back through the crowd. But the people, mesmerized by the sight in front of them, showed no inclination to cease their gawking. Nervous voices made lewd comments. Phones were raised, capturing the moment, or streaming it to friends.
Karl Weber knew better than to yell a warning. These idiots wouldn't know life threatening peril if it sat on their face and wiggled. Instead he sidled between the windows and the mob, hopeful that it would be easier to escape along the side. Unfortunately for this plan, the giantess drew the crowd in tighter with her next bit of frolicsome play.
Her gigantic left hand lifted into view, bearing a writhing mass of humanity. All voices went silent in the hall, quiet enough to hear faint cries of panic as Tucara spilled the hapless men and women over her heavy tit. Her right hand cupped beneath her breast, so that only a few of her little toys dribbled free, plummeting from sight. The rest squirmed and fought around her great nipple. Tiny hands clutched at her. Tiny feet kicked against her aureole. A moan of licentious delight rumbled through the building. The crowd surged forward for a better view, pressing Karl Weber against the glass.
And, just as fast, they quickly stumbled back.
In one smooth motion that shook the building Tucara pressed her ponderous breast against the windows. The glass crackled ominously within its frame, and the lights flickered. Men and women, caught by the weight of the immense tit twitched and writhed, but could do little more. Some had been pinned with arms and legs twisted, with silently screaming faces showing the anguish tearing through them.
Those caught between the glass and the giantess' hard nipple suffered most. Pressed back into her aureole, it was still hard enough to splinter tiny bones. One man was being slowly squeezed to death directly in front of Karl Weber, with mere inches of glass separating the two of them.
The man's mouth moved silently, gasping for air, struggling to cry out. He jerked and spasmed as Tucara playfully rubbed her massive tits against the skyscraper. Tortured flesh began to smear under the fearsome pressure. The man's chest burst in crimson gore. His body literally dissolved as the demoness ground herself against him. Nor was he the only one. Even those trapped against softer flesh began to tear and rip, dismembered and smudged in long gruesome streaks against the windows, stirred around by a huge, rock-hard nipple.
As mesmerized as the crowd had been, this went well beyond what they were willing to witness. Karl Weber felt the pressure against him ease as men and women fled from the grisly sight of so many being turned into jelly. Or at least they would have, if colossal fingers, plunged into the guts of the building, hadn't blocked their flight. Walls crumpled, parts of the ceiling caved in. A dozen or more people plunged screaming to their deaths through gaps in the floor. The rest were penned in with nowhere to flee.
"That's enough voyeuristic fun, don't you think?" said Tucara. "This is a participatory sport for you helpless little squirmers."
The pressure of her tits mounted against the glass. Cracks rayed through it. The frames and wall bulged inwards. With a hideous crunch the facade shattered, sloughing away from the face of the building. A draught of cool air carried in the shrill cries of those in the streets far below, while Tucara gleefully pressed her heavy tit deeper into the building, widening the hole.
Karl Weber snarled in a mix of rage and fear. Tearing at the people closest to him he tried to push back deeper into the crowd. Anything to get out of the front row. But his smaller form didn't have the heft needed to make any progress. And he felt himself being driven towards the huge bloodstain breast as Tucara eagerly cupped the tiny men and women against naked flesh.
Stepping back from the building, she leaned against the skyscraper immediately behind her, causing it to shift on its foundations. All to better look down and enjoy the sight of the tiny forms struggling beneath the cruel weight of her massive fingers. With slow, deliberate motions she washed her teats with the little people, anointing them in the gore, grinding them against her hard nipples, spilling them into her deep cleavage.
Through it all Karl Weber was hopelessly tossed, finally securing a tenuous grip on the base of the giantess' right nipple. He clung there, gaining a tiny measure of safety as the former voyeurs were forcibly swirled around him.
When Tucara paused in her ministrations, he knew exactly what was coming next.
"Well damn," she murmured in response to his thought. "Have I become predictable?" Her merciless fingers clenched, squeezing the tiny men and women against soft, heavy breasts. "Too bad, I'm still going to do it."
Once more Karl Weber was given an intimate view of the suffering. People cried out, their fingers clutching in desperation at the very flesh they were being pressed into. Hands of terrifying size squeezed, bending backs, compressing ribs. Those caught in the valley between her tits squirmed wildly as she pressed her breasts together. The struggles increased, adding to her growing lust. They smothered, unable to breathe, and still she squeezed. They gurgled and choked, as tiny flesh began to compress, and still she squeezed. They're suffering teased her lust for cruelty, her desire to kill them. Huge fingers clenched, and until those caught in her cleavage along with the rest trapped under her hands began to break, to burst, to pop. Tucara moaned in delight as she played, tossing her head, savagely crushing the defenseless little people herself, paying special attention to those pinned around her aching nipples.
Which is why Karl Weber found himself floundering in the bloody ruination of his comrades, sputtering and gasping. He shrieked as the demoness' play grew increasingly fierce and wanton, grinding her squirming toys against herself, saving one for last.
When her huge fingers lifted away, Karl Weber sobbed. Both of his hands clutched at her towering nipple, which throbbed against his palms. Bending his head he brushed his face against one arm to wipe some of the blood. He was still trying to clear his vision when Tucara's breast lifted, nearly unseating him. He wrapped his arms around her teat, hugging it fiercely. When the motion ceased a preternatural silence fell, not complete, the distant panic of the city still filled the air. But the immediate sounds were gone, replaced by heavy sounds of breathing, carrying gusts of hot air.
Slowly, Karl Weber turned his head, unwilling to loosen his grip. His eyes slid to the side, and in his peripheral vision he beheld colossal smiling lips.
"It sucks to be you," whispered Tucara, her voice battering him.
And with that she parted her lips, and dipped her head down. Karl Weber shrieked and let go, pushing away with hands and feet. But it was too late. Tucara's lips fastened around her soft tit, enveloping her hard nipple in humid darkness. Her gigantic tongue quickly found his tiny body, and with deft ease she licked and lapped him around her nipple, battering him, pressing him against it, her cruel sport growing ever more violent.
He fought. He struggled. Lashing out, he punched and kicked in an extremity of fear and terror. A rumble of feminine approval shook him so fiercely he nearly passed out. His left arm, caught at an awkward angle, crunched within his shoulder joint. Tucara's huge, questing tongue forced his legs apart with its thickness, and he howled as his cock and balls were smeared, even as his legs were pulled from his hips.
Something smooth and hard pressed into his belly. The fingers of his right hand pushed at it, detecting the unyielding surface of a tooth. With a throaty purr Tucara nibbled mercilessly at her nipple with him caught between. Bones broke within his body as she bore down until his puny flesh split. With a lick she drew him into her mouth, tossed him like a piece of candy, and swallowed him alive. He squealed and struggled as her throat muscled dragged him down. And when he plunged into her stomach he thrashed helplessly in the scalding liquid dissolving his mortified flesh.
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When he felt the gravel against his face Karl Weber devised a plan. No longer willing to let the demoness invest his senses into the bodies of others, he decided to fling himself from the roof. Whether he'd be able to claim it was her fault and a breach of the magical contract could be sorted out later. With that, he sprang to his feet, running towards the edge of the roof, and promptly skidded to a stop, with his arms waving for balance.
A long veil of purple silk filled the space before him, draped between hips wider than the building. Obscured, but not hidden, he saw Tucara's honey colored pubes, and a portion of her distended nether lips.
"You were out longer than the other times," the giantess explained. "The acid took a while to finish you off. I decided to come over and see how you were doing. And look, I brought friends."
Karl Weber gritted his teeth and tipped his head back. The demoness' bare breasts still bore smears from her play. Her smile, playful and malicious, directed him to her hands, where she held scores of helpless men and women. Before he could turn and run, she bent down, her tits swaying over him, vast and heavy. The people howled as she let them fall to the roof, blocking any escape in that direction.
Standing back to her full height she gave him a mocking smile. "Whatever shall we play next?" she asked, while she playfully swayed her massive hips from side to side.
Snarling in fury, he flipped his finger at her.
"It's like you're reading my mind," she murmured.
Reaching to the side she unclasped the chain holding her loincloth, gathering it in her hand. Lifting it to her face she pressed it beneath her nose and breathed deeply, before tossing it aside. "I am so ready for you," she said, licking her lips.
Snarling, Karl Weber plunged back into the crowd, forcing a path into their midst. His hope of pushing through to the other side of the building was swiftly dashed.
"It's him!" cried a woman. "He's the reason she's killing everyone!"
"You fucker," yelled a man. Others joined in. And suddenly Karl Weber was accosted from all sides, slapped and punched, kicked and pushed. Blood spilled from his nose as he was hit in the face. He gasped and gagged from the impact of a foot against his balls.
The building rocked, generating fresh screams as panic-stricken faces looked up. Karl Weber didn't look, he was covering his face with his arms. But he felt it when the closest people were pressed into him. He stumbled, fought to maintain his balance, and dropped his arms.
Huge fingers created a fence around the mob, forcing them slowly and inexorably into the space between Tucara's legs. She straddled a corner of the building, her thighs nestled against the stone. With her loincloth gone there was no impediment to the frightened men and women. Step-by-step they were pressed beneath her distended nether lips, despite their attempts to dig their heels into the shifting gravel.
Karl Weber found it impossible to look away. Her honey colored pubes rose over their heads like a soft, curling forest. Vast folds of pussy flesh framed the perilous depths of her cunt, coming to a point where a hood of flesh tried in vain to cover her hard clitoris.
And all of it was moist. All of it was wet. It dripped with the essence of pure, gigantic lust. He trembled as she playfully clenched and relaxed her cunt, affording the howling mob a glimpse into her aching vagina. In response to their cries, fresh dollops of nectar oozed from her massive pussy and fell free, some striking with enough force to crush tiny bodies against the unyielding surface of the roof.
As her giant fingers guided the helpless little men and women where she wanted them most, Tucara slowly, sensuously swayed her vast hips, as if dancing to the music of her lust. The sight of so much flesh moving overhead triggered claustrophobic terror in many. Some, driven mad with fear, tried to climb her fingers. She hummed tunelessly as she flicked them back, her inner thighs bumping gleefully against the skyscraper, making it tremble.
"I'm going to fuck you, Karl Weber," she purred huskily. Bending her knees slightly, Tucara dipped down, her pussy lips nearly brushing the heads of the mob. Smiling sadistically at the cries echoing off her thighs, she rose up again, and continued to sway.
The chief subject of her play could barely think, much less plan. Bodies smacked into him from all sides. A woman in front of him was slapped down by a dollop of fragrant cream, splashing him in the pleasure of the demoness. A fresh round of cries tugged his attention skyward in time to see her left hand delving down, combing through her pubes, plucking at the curling hairs, before wandering lower. She lightly teased her clit, petting it, rolling it between thumb and finger, before sliding her fingers down over her colossal vulva. Back and forth they slid over the heads of the people, and the crowd moaned in abject terror at the sight.
Tucara's second and third fingers plunged deeper, sliding effortlessly into her voracious cunt. With powerful slurping sounds she slowly and deliberately pumped her towering fingers in and out, disdainfully masturbating over the puny men and women. A fresh flood of honey spilled down, forming a growing pool that spread across the roof. No one escaped, no one could hide as she dripped fragrant juices onto her defenseless prey.
"I want you," she purred. "I want all of you. I want to fuck you. To crush you. To smear you to death in my cunt. I'm going to use you. Finger you inside of me. And then I'm going to cum all over you as your guts spill out. All because of Karl Weber."
Her fingers slowly slid free, drawing long, draping strands, which snapped into thick droplets. As her hand slid from sight, she sank down once more, still swaying, still bumping into the skyscraper. Lower and lower she came, her distended nether lips closing the distance.
A multitude of hands rose, desperate to fend off that salacious roof. Karl Weber was among them. Sobbing in fear, with a wildly pounding heart he lifted his hands against the terrifying doom of being crushed beneath the impossible weight of her gigantic cunt. But her vulva touched down first to the sides. Caught in the middle, he and those closest to him were momentarily spared the weight of her pussy, but not the muffled cries of those further away.
A thunderous moan of feminine pleasure shook the air, as Tucara pressed scores of tiny men and women beneath her sensitive flesh. Her pussy lips splayed out, juices oozing, tiny arms and legs flailing wildly, all that could be seen of her little toys. One group was pinned by her throbbing clit, and they received the most attention for the moment.
Still swaying, she gleefully ground her huge nub into their pathetic little bodies. Bones crunched inside of tormented flesh. Men and women screamed against her clit as she used their struggles to fuel her mounting pleasure. Grasping her heavy tits, she suckled first one hard nipple, then the next, as she mercilessly rubbed herself against the roof of the building. Some of the people, dragged back and forth over the roof, were torn limb from limb. Guts, wet and glistening, spilled from others, creating a thick mire that oozed up around Tucara's throbbing clit, feeding her insatiable lust.
Her attention spread to those trapped under her folds. Squealing in agony, some were pressed flat as she bore down. Others survived longer, smothered by soft pussy flesh, or held with tiny faces beneath the flood of her flowing nectar. Reaching down, she fingered her clit as she felt them drown, smearing around the still twitching bodies.
That was nearly Karl Weber's fate. Tucara's cunt drooled with ruthless delight, filling the space with an aromatic cream that rose higher and higher around the tiny people. He struggled in it, unable to lift himself above it, pinned by the weight of nearby bodies. His world was a terrifying mix of agonized shrieks, crunching bones, bursting flesh, and cunt juices filling his mouth and nose. And over it all thundered the lascivious moans of the giantess, as she gleefully rubbed her wet pussy over her helpless fuck toys.
When she lifted up a little, light flooded in, revealing some of the carnage. With it came a draught of cool air. Karl Weber gasped and fought anew, struggling in that direction. But there was no escape.
Vast, huge fingers slipped in, tearing through the roof of the skyscraper, effortlessly lifting the tiny people lying upon it, like puny ants.
"Fuck me," Tucara rasped, as she slowly fingered the tiny living people into her aching cunt, Karl Weber among them.
Howling in an extremity of fear, he tried to squirm his way down. But Tucara used her massive fingers to stroke struggling men and women off her clit and folds, guiding them to her cunt, thrusting them in, blocking any hope of escape. Brief shafts of light shone on screaming people churning within her massive vagina, gleaming off wet, glistening flesh. The cacophony of panic was contagious, and Karl Weber screamed with them, thrashed and flailed with them. Sometimes he was trapped in tangled bodies. Other times he was pressed against slippery pussy flesh.
"Mmmm, I feel you, Karl Weber," Tucara purred, bending her head down as she concentrated on the delicious struggles inside of her pussy. "So tiny. So helpless. A screaming morsel for my hungry cunt to savor."
She stroked her nether lips, crushing those left in her folds, smearing the mess around into her own copious juices. Her clit ached for attention, and she gave it, fingers moving faster and faster, bringing her ever closer to the moment of release. Lifting her head she gazed at the city. She was surrounded by abject fear, raw animal panic, and it added to the wanton, merciless desires coursing through her huge, naked body. Every scream fueled her cruel lust. Every cry added fire to the inferno of unstoppable lust burgeoning within her.
Once more her fingers sought the sopping wet heat of her pussy, this time driven by murderous desire. Her free hand clutched at one heavy breast, squeezing her nipple. Her hips swayed, slamming massive thighs against the skyscraper. Tossing her head as she danced in place, she sent her long, honey blonde hair flying.
Deep in her cunt, her questing fingers found tiny men and women to kill, pressing them against her inner flesh, crushing their glistening guts out. She groaned in pleasure as she finger fucked them to death. But always aware, always careful to spare one puny little man trapped in the maelstrom of her pleasure.
Karl Weber was tossed wildly in the wet darkness. His senses subsumed in the crunching of flesh, the slurping of pussy juices. Massive fingers swirled him around, brushing him against torrid cunt flesh, stirring him into the viscera of mangled men and women. Through it all the demoness' voice rose in lusty exaltation, from cries of "fuck me!" to a long, thunderous scream of primal pleasure.
Pressed into her pussy flesh, nestled against the inner joint of one colossal finger, Karl Weber was spared the apocalyptic power of Tucara's orgasm. Cunt flesh squeezed from all sides with savage glee, bending and breaking little bodies, squeezing and compressing them into a gelatinous slurry as she came all over them. And each time she seemed about to relax, a fresh wave of pleasure tore through her aching cunt, sending her into another raucous climax. Her thighs closed around the skyscraper, smashing its walls inward, crushing the people trapped inside, even as she bucked her hips, as she pulped her little fuck toys.
Karl Weber lost count of how many times Tucara came, before consciousness faded.
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When he awoke there was no gravel beneath his body. Instead he was sprawled on soft flesh in the midst of a honey colored forest. A moist slurping sound made him tense. Taking a deep, shuddering breath he lifted himself up.
He was nestled in the midst of Tucara's lush, curling pubes. The sound was from her colossal fingers playing in the gory mess she'd made. From time to time she lifted them from her dripping pussy to smirk at the dripping slurry and the nectar, before sliding them back in again.
She was sitting on the street with legs spread, lounging back against buildings as she played with herself. Noticing Karl Weber's return to consciousness, she chuckled softly, and smeared some of the mess around her still hard clit, curling her toes in pleasure.
"Ready for round two?" she asked playfully.
"Fuck you," Karl Weber muttered. "Fuck you," he said louder. "Fuck you!" he shouted, climbing to his feet, staggering as she chuckled, shaking the flesh beneath him, forcing him to grab one of her pussy hairs. "When that sun rises, I am out of here," he raged, pointing to the horizon, his voice shaking as much as his hand.
"But so much of the city remains to enjoy," she noted, as she continued to finger herself. "I want to feel a bus full of passengers crunching inside of my pussy. I want to lick people up from the street. I want to get bigger, so I can straddle a skyscraper and fuck it to pieces. And I want you inside of the bus, fleeing down the road from my tongue, and standing by a window, screaming as my cunt covers it."
"I don't care what you want!" Karl Weber snapped. "The contract is binding. When the night ends, you can fuck off."
"Yes, about that," she murmured. Lifting her fingers from her pussy, she brought them close to her face, watching the strands forming and breaking as she fluttered her first and second fingers against her thumb. She suckled on them for a moment, her eyes half-lidded in bliss. "About that," she repeated. "I'm a daughter of darkness, a demon of the innermost circle. My rank in the hierarchy of Hell is beyond question." Her eyes flashed as she gazed down at the tiny man. "I alone choose when the darkness over this city ends. The night lasts as long as I want it to."
She reached for him. Ice water ran in Karl Weber's veins as the full import of her words sank in. He shrieked in impotent fury, and ducked down, fleeing between her curling pussy hairs. It was a short chase. Massive fingers closed around his puny body. Her smile was feral as she considered his tiny, squirming little body.
"We're going to have a lot of fun together," she promised, as she lowered him between her thighs, stroking his writhing body up and down the length of her wet, dripping cunt, as he screamed and screamed and screamed.
...end...
Giantess World
Story Notes:
Pretty version: https://www.deviantart.com/sgrildrig/art/Conducive-942613691
Info on the stories: https://www.deviantart.com/sgrildrig/art/Mobile-Info-on-the-Stories-941770054