Unfortunately, the awe inspiring stature of Patricia Hostettler didn’t inspire purely positive things. For many, Dr. Vale’s words during the trial about being as bugs to her had struck a chord with some that awakened more primal fears. Then there was the footage of her walking through town on the day of her engagement, dwarfing an entire small city. In much the same way that those that were attracted had an urgency to meet her,  others had an urgency to, in their minds, protect themselves from the future where Patricia Hostettler was the biggest thing on the planet.

That fear was stoked and molded, and when an anonymous source offered to outfit a disgruntled military vet and his makeshift militia, the die was cast. A small group of ten armed men trespassed onto Jeb Hostettler’s property under cover of darkness. The plan was to infiltrate her living quarters while she was sleeping, plant explosives, and end her before she knew what was coming. They had run drills, talked about contingencies, and were ready to execute.

They could tell she wasn’t asleep by the loud, wailing sound coming from the warehouse.
“Did someone get to her before us?” Asked a particularly stupid member of the team.

“No wonder your wife’s always upset with you.” The guy behind him laughed. They were both silenced by the lead man, the commander, who held up a fist to signal them to stop. He made a sequence of hand signals, and pointed to the warehouse.

“-What?”

“Christ.” He whispered. “Learn the hand signs. I’m going to scout ahead. You guys wait back here.” He said, and flipped down his night vision goggles and ran off into the night, still clearly visible by the light of the full moon.

The man reached the entrance, and slowly cracked the door open. It was amazing how much louder it was unblocked by the warehouse walls or door. He entered cautiously, keeping his eyes peeled in all directions, then turned his gaze to the bed. The target, the monstrous Patricia Hostettler, was laying on her stomach in the bed, her feet pointed to the door. She was barely moving, just wiggling, really. He couldn’t see anything of her except for her butt jiggling happily in the air, and her large feet with curling toes. Then, he saw it. Shackles. The bitch was tied up.

He jogged back to the crew to share the news. “Change of plans. She’s incapacitated. We have to strike now.” He implored, pushing his team forward. He returned to the warehouse with them in tow. She was louder than ever, her moans getting louder, then muffled as she screamed into the bed.

The would-be assassins hugged the wall as they approached the foot of the bed. Once they reached the foot of it, the commander extended a mirror on a monopod to look up and over the edge of the bed. He blushed slightly, and then quickly pulled it down.

“One other target, wearing ear protection. Let’s go up to the head of the bed and take her out quickly.” He had to nearly scream to be heard.

Trish was so close. She was gripping the bed in front of her, taking desperate handfuls of blankets and sheets in an effort to ground herself against the sensations coming from below. Her mouth was biting hard on the blankets. She was just enjoying how the cables stretched her shoulder muscles up, and turned her head to open her eyes and cast a glance down her body. So close, if I could just see my butt jiggling… she thought as her eyes scanned the bed below her. 

Wait, something is wrong. Her logical brain screamed, trying to break through the stars she was seeing. Oh shut up and let me cum, her inner goddess grumbled in response. So she did, one of her hardest orgasms since Thomas started tying her up to make love to her like this. She was just beginning to bask in the warm feeling washing over her when her logical brain rang alarm bells, sounding more clearly after her release. Trish opened her eyes again, finally recognizing what was wrong. There was a squad of ten people sneaking across the bed towards her, with rifles pointed at her face.

“Ah! Stop!” She screamed down to Thomas. Thomas didn’t, he kept rubbing and kicking her insides. Shit, what was the safe word? The crew was launching into action, taking aim and about to fire, when the woman’s big voice washed over them, nearly knocking them off their feet. “JUMBO! JUMBO!” She screamed. Jumbo? The commander thought. What the hell is she talking about? He smirked and was about to fire when he saw her muscles relax, no longer pulled tight by the cables. Shit.

They opened fire in a panic, and Trish turned her face away and blocked the shots with her hand while rising to her knees. The assassins unloaded their weapons into her as the giant woman rose in front of them. Thinking fast, Trish grabbed the blanket under their feet and pulled it down, overtaking them like a tidal wave, curling and crashing down onto them and turning their world to darkness.

Trish held her hand to her face to block the shots tearing through her impromptu blanket prison. She heard Thomas screaming and looked down at her crotch. He was still in her, his arms and shoulders desperately clutching her labia for dear life. Shit, that’s actually probably the safest place for him now, she thought as she used the hand that was blocking her face to make a shield for him.

“STOP!” She demanded as the shots rang out. One of the men was kicking his way out from under the blankets. Trish couldn’t see him through squinting down at the buzzing bag of little people firing up at her. He took a deep breath as he escaped, armed the bomb he was carrying, and tossed it. Trish saw it as it arched up and landed between her knees. Protecting Thomas was her only thought as she let the blanket go, and used her left hand to reach for the bomb. She would toss it away, and they would be safe.

It detonated as soon as her left hand covered it. The heat and the pain were intense, and then she felt nothing but cold and could hear nothing but a high pitched ringing. The shackle fell off as she lifted the stub that was once her hand to her face, and tried to comprehend the fact that she was now missing her hand. She let the blanket go in a daze, releasing her attackers who fanned out and continued to lay down fire on her.

And then, as if by magic, the pain of it went away. She couldn’t feel the burns on her wrist, and the bleeding stopped as if a valve had been turned off. The muscles began reknitting, pushing the bones back into place, and then skin grew over the muscle. The firing stopped as the squad looked up in horror as the only meaningful damage they had done to her was undone in seconds.

“Woah.” She gasped, wagging her regrown fingers in front of her face, then balled it into a fist as she turned her attention back to the men staring up at her, dumbstruck. She tilted her chin up and looked down at them with a smirk of smug superiority. The assassins knew they were fucked. 

She reacted first, picking them up one by one and pinching their guns out of their hands and tossing the weapons across the room. She managed to disarm three of them like this before they started to run away screaming. She snagged one more before he could make it off the edge of the bed, snapping him up by the legs and causing him to drop his gun. She looked at the little men running away. She furrowed her brow, and reached her fingers into herself to finally pull Thomas out and lay him down gently by the dropped gun.

“Do you know how to use that?” She boomed down to him as she fumbled with her remaining shackles. Thomas nodded dumbly, grabbing it with shaking hands. Trish turned to the four that she had captured laying on the bed, shrinking back in fear as she brought her face a few feet away from them. She pointed a finger at them and scowled.

“Do whatever Thomas says or I swear…” She warned in a whisper of her booming voice, letting their minds fill in the blanks about what a woman her size could do to them. She gave the one that threw the bomb a small shove that sent them tumbling to the blankets, then rolled off the bed to reveal Thomas training the rifle at them, completely naked except for ear protection, bottom half entirely covered in Trish’s wetness, legs trembling from the effort of just having satisfied the massive woman. “Uh, don’t move.” He said, fighting the urge to watch Trish rise to chase after the men.

Trish bounded after the fleeing men running across her floor, her heavy footsteps behind them made them dig deep and run faster. The soldiers nearly shat themselves as they saw her determined and angry eyes locked on them from more than fifty feet up. 

Two of them stopped and turned to fire up at her, an act of idiotic defiance that was soon silenced when Trish grabbed one in each hand. She shifted them into one hand and used the other to flick the guns from them, sending them flying across the warehouse. She shifted back on her feet, turned, and tossed them forty feet to the bed where Thomas held the others at gunpoint.

“Watch these ones too.” She ordered. Thomas gave her a nod as she bounded off to get the rest. Six down, four to go.

Three of them were already through the door. She caught the fourth before he could slip through by thinking fast and kicking her leg over him. He ran into the side of her foot at full force, tumbling over it and skidding against the floor on the other side. She reached down and picked him up by his leg, carrying him dangling upside down as she used her other hand to open the large sliding door and ducked under it.

The others were easy to see in the moonlight, scattering out into the darkness. She looked around for a place to deposit her captive, her eyes eventually landing on the roof of the warehouse, around ninety feet tall. That’d work. She bent her legs, then launched herself up in the air, tossing the man to clatter on the roof. She’d just have to think of a way to get him down later.

As she landed, she heard a crashing sound coming from down the road. One of the security team’s SUVs had gotten some air from the force of her hop, and was coming skidding to a stop in front of the warehouse.

“Get inside my room and help Thomas.” She ordered, pointing into the warehouse. “I’m going to go get the others.” She didn’t wait to see if they were going to follow her orders before she tore off into the night.

Two were heading in one direction, another off on his own. She decided to go after the lone wolf first, making sure she kept an eye on the other two so she could chase them down next. She almost laughed at how easy it was to catch up with him. She didn’t even need to run, she could walk faster with her long legs than he could hope to sprint.

“You can’t run, just give up!” She demanded, but the man ran all the same. Soon she was above him, shielding her eyes from the bullets he fired up at her. She pressed that hand down on him slowly, until he was blanketed and pressed into the ground. She ignored the stinging feeling of the bullets until he ran out of ammo. She was on her knees over him, and looked to her right to make sure she could still see the remaining two attackers. Shit, they were making a break for the road.

She scanned her surroundings, looking for a way to handle this guy after she crushed his gun between her fingers. There was nothing out in this field. A thought occurred to her, only briefly, that this guy was trying to kill her and Thomas, so she was well within her rights to just snuff him out. She could do it easily. She could probably do it with a single finger, she thought, seeing the lengths of her fingers stretching over the small man’s body. All it would take would be a snap of the neck, like putting a rat caught in a trap out of its misery.

She shook her head. She wasn’t a killer, and with the balance of power as it was, this hardly felt like self defense anymore. Still, she needed a solution. She looked at his legs kicking wildly by her wrists. A thought came to her, but she didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeated as she moved her hand up to also cover the man’s face and stifle his screams. With the other, she pressed her finger into the man’s left shin, pinning the kicking leg to the ground as the man screamed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She screamed to try and drown out the sound of his shin bones breaking. She couldn’t help but feel the bone snapping like a toothpick under her fingertip, and she had to release him as she retched in pure disgust off to the side.

Focus Trish, She thought, wiping her mouth and pushing down how horrible she felt about it. She stood up to continue chasing the men on the road. “I’ll come back for you, I swear. I’m sorry! Uh, you started it!” She called down to the injured man as she left him there groaning.

The commander and what he assumed was the only surviving member of their squad made it to the road, just in time to see Trish standing back up to her full height. The full moon behind her cast her face in complete shadow. The light from above hit her hair, still messy from sex, and made it look like she had a silver aura around her head. She looked like the god of death.

They scrambled toward the truck as the giant began to walk to chase them, then jog, her footfalls shaking the earth as she did. The commander got into the truck and started it, eyes locked on the mirrors as he tried to pull away. Soon he was gunning it down the highway with Trish in hot pursuit. As they passed the hippy camp, the force of the footfalls sent the car alarms off again.

30, 40, 50. Come on, he urged the truck up to speed as the giantess closed in on them. They were going 55 and she was still overtaking them! The sound of her footfalls were like thunder, and each step she took gave the truck a little bit of air time.

“Buckle your seatbelts!” they heard her call from above. They scrambled for them almost involuntarily, shaken to the core by her voice shattering the night. In the rearview mirror, all he could see of her was her shins pumping, and then she raised one of her humongous feet above the truck and stomped down. The back half of the truck was flattened instantaneously, and the truck decelerated from fifty to zero. They were flying forward against their seat belts. The last thing either of them felt before passing out was their faces breaking against the deployed airbags.

The commander came to a few seconds later, feeling like he had just been hit by a truck. He had the sensation of floating, rocking gently back and forth as if adrift on the ocean. His eyes listed over outside the window to see the pale, moon stuck skin of Trish’s stomach passing by the window as she lifted the entire vehicle to her face.

“Shit.” He groaned, and looked over at this squad mate. Injured, but alive. He laid back in his chair, all out of fight. She looked through the windows at her captives, men who had just tried to kill her. The commander looked back at her with utter fear in his eyes. There was a predatory twinkle happening behind those big blue eyes.

“Heh”. A chuckle escaped her lips, but she wasn’t sure why. An excess of adrenaline? An uncomfortable chuckle to cut the tension? A funny feeling was stirring inside of her. It was like a force of curiosity, pulling her down hill. I just fucking survived an assassination attempt, totally disarmed and dominated ten men without a scratch, and now I’m holding a whole truck in my hands. What else can I do? The force asked, and before she could really regard what she was doing, she was pinching the door of the truck and peeling the doors off. Then, she shattered the windshield and bend the roof of the cab up and over their heads. Unwrapping the cab from around her injured attackers as if it were a little gift for herself.

She brought them closer to her eyes, and now her shoulders were shaking violently from the laughter. Seeing them there, totally exposed and vulnerable to her, she realized why she was laughing. It was pure, unfiltered, almost instinctual condescension.

“Pathetic.” She whispered under her breath.

The commander’s head bobbed as he went in and out of consciousness, his waking world filled with the condescending laughs of the monster. We truly are as bugs to her, he thought.

Oh my god, Thomas. She thought as the feeling began to work its way out of her system. She doubled back to retrieve the man whose leg she broke, and deposited him on the flattened bed of the pick up truck she carried on her hip. When she got back to the warehouse, she found that it  was surrounded by security guards and medics.

“Thomas? Thomas?” She asked, quickening her pace. She fell to her knees roughly to bring her face closer to the people at her ankles so she could search for him. The staff stumbled against the shockwave that fifty tons of woman dropping to the ground generated. Thomas pushed through the shaken officers he was talking to and jogged towards her, waving his hands up so she could spot him.

Trish set the mangled truck to the side, letting it fall ten feet to the ground with a loud thud to free her hands to embrace Thomas. She cupped her hands around him and snatched him up into the sky. The g-forces were almost enough to make Thomas pass out. He focused his eyes on hers looking down at him in her hands, tears starting to form at the corners as she studied him for injuries.

“Are you ok?” she whispered softly, her bottom lip pushed forward as the adrenaline from chasing her attackers flipped around to worry for him.

“Yes, thanks to you.” He said, rising to his feet to hug her face. Thomas could hear her heart beating rapidly through her mouth as she cried tears of relief. She held him there, unbothered that she was naked in front of everyone. Thomas buried his face into her soft cheek, and took deep, steady breaths for her to focus on so that she could calm down.

Trish got dressed after she managed to calm down, and an hour later the police arrived to ask their questions and take the failed assassins into custody.

Trish and Thomas answered their questions at length, with Trish clutching Thomas possessively with both hands in her lap. No, we don’t know who these people are. No, they’re probably not associated with the hippies across the road. No, no one from Trish’s side was hurt.

“Oh, I put a little man on the roof.” She said, reminded by her recounting of events. ‘Little man?,’ thought Thomas. She was using the diminutive language she used when she was indulging his fantasies to talk about this guy. He wondered what that meant as she set him on the ground. She stood and lifted her hand up.

“Jump.” She ordered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” She assured him. Thomas watched with bated breath as the man lingered on the edge 40 feet over Trish’s head, working up the courage to jump down to the monster’s outstretched hands.

“Now.” She ordered, and the force of her command compelled him to jump.

She caught him easily, closing her hands like a clamshell around him. She opened it up and held him in front of her face to study him for a minute.

The smaller man looked up at her giant face as he cowered uselessly away from it, pressing himself back into her hands. She tilted her chin up, and looked down her nose at him with an inscrutable look on her face. He may have imagined it, but he thought he detected the corner of her mouth ever so slightly twist up into a smirk. In her own time, she turned and bent down at her hips to deposit the man held in her hands roughly on the ground at her feet, and then pushed him towards the police with a nudge of her toe.

Eventually the police had exhausted their questions, and loaded the attackers into their cruisers. The paramedics lingered to check for injuries, checking her pulse by laying their hand on the inside of her wrist. Trish told them about the bomb and what had happened to her hand, and they almost didn’t believe her. Perhaps the only thing that led them to taking it seriously was the fact that she was already unbelievable as a patient. They couldn’t find anything different about her hand, but promised to contact the hospital for a more intense check up the next morning.

It was 3 AM by the time the couple was left alone, the adrenaline well out of both of their systems after the long and harrowing police interrogation.

“Were you scared?” Asked Thomas, going into psychologist mode as the two laid facing each other on the bed, the length of Thomas’s whole body ran just from the tip of her chin to her eyes.

“I was at first. But it’s hard to be scared of people that are smaller than my feet. The only time I was really scared was when you were in danger.” She said softly, brushing his cheek with her finger.

“So how do you feel now?” Thomas asked, fishing for her thoughts on it to make sure she wasn’t repressing any trauma. Trish bit her lip and looked at her tiny lover dwarfed by her hand, trying to put into words how it felt to totally dominate her attackers. Of how cold fear at ten men attacking you armed to the teeth had turned into nothing more than a game to her. Of how it felt to decide to break a man’s leg to prevent him from escaping, and of feeling his leg snap under her fingertip so effortlessly. Of what it was like to chase down a speeding, and then to lift it with ease. To hold a man’s life cupped in your hands, totally at your mercy. She wasn’t sure that he would be able to understand it without being big like her.

“I felt glad to be huge.” She said, boiling it down to its most basic form.

Thomas was taken aback. That was the first time she had ever expressed any appreciation at being big. “Well that’s a first. What in particular?”

Trish reminisced about chasing down the speeding truck and then picking it up easily, of bringing it to her face to cast her gaze into the window at the men who would dare try to hurt her. She thought about the look of terror on their faces, and the rush that gave her. She was absurdly powerful, and those that crossed her should be scared of her. Trish thought of the giant monster women that Thomas liked, and for the first time thought she understood the appeal. If she wanted to, she could have done anything she liked to them, and there was nothing they could do to stop her. Lucky for them she was so nice and peaceful. If another person had grown big like her, they might have decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle to take them all alive. Another person might have put an end to it with but a  few quick stomps of her feet… 

“Just… I was glad I was strong enough to protect you.” She half truthed, then wrapped the same finger that crushed a man’s leg just a few hours ago behind Thomas’s back to draw him to her lips.