As she approached Scarlett, Bast slowed to take in the wonderland around her. Thousands of people were gathered around in some kind of mad festival, dancing and running and laughing and screaming, worshiping and sacrificing and begging to be spared, sometimes all at once. Blood ran down through the cracks in the cobblestones, bones cracked under the revelers' feet, and no one seemed to care. And there in the middle of all the glorious chaos was Scarlett, ravenous as ever.

She was sprawled out in the center of the crowd. On top of what had been the crowd.

The moaning. Scarlett's moans of pleasure rang out for a dozen miles in every direction. It should have been ear-piercing, and yet instead of pain, Bast was overcome with a sensation of overwhelming pleasure. And then, another sensation, even more powerful: a desire for more. 

'Scarlett. What a woman,' thought Bast. 'What a Goddess. 'How lucky am I to have a literal sex-goddess as my boss? Scarlett. Sexy Scarlett. Vuloptuous Scarlett. Insatiable Scarlett. Beautiful, pure Scar-- okay, maybe pure isn't the right word to use. But gods, look at her. Eighty five feet of woman. Only I dare say, she looks like she's gotten a bit taller. And maybe a bit thicker, too. Those tits... My goddess. They look like they're going to burst. I need her... Now... Those tits...'

Bast stared at Scarlett, stared at her thick hips and slender waist, at her dark features and her mountainous, engorged breasts. Bast stared at the crimson that covered much of her chest, the crimson that somehow, rather than making her look barbaric, somehow made her all the more regal... Bast stared and stared, until her mind emptied, and the world outside of Scarlett faded away. She walked towards Bast slowly, half-awake, as the goddess' beauty drew her in like a fly to a pitcher plant. 

***

Desire. It was what drove Scarlett. Desire was her animus, her reason for being, and right now it was in full force. Thousands of people were gathered around her, and she wanted all of them, needed all of them. 

"Ahh, yes... Yes... All of you, come here... Worship me... Worship my tits..."

The crowd could scarcely disobey her command. The little people gathered close around her, doing their best to reach up to grope her. Scarlett grabbed them by the handful, crushing them between her breasts, and stuffing them up her every orifice. Too much, for Scarlett, was never enough. 

The sensations. There were so many of them, and Scarlett savored each one. The dozens of little people squirming around inside of her belly, gasping for air that they would never find, their thin skin gnawed at by the acid of her stomach. The dozens more stuffed into her pussy, tight as they would fit, squirming hopelessly, drowning in the thick juices of her vaginal fluids. More of them crushed between her breasts, and under her ass, as she writhed around in pleasure. And there were more sensations yet... The warm euphoria of her already gigantic body, growing larger and larger. A day ago, she had been eighty feet tall... Now, she was easily over a hundred, and growing larger. With every passing moment, the little people seemed to grow smaller, their tiny, helpless bodies growing weaker by the moment. And the greatest sensation of all: power.

Then there was the fullness of her tits, growing heavier by the moment, so big that she could hardly see over them, so big that she could no longer lift them. So full of milk... So ready for release... The pressure built up, growing in pain and pleasure, until she couldn't take it anymore. She needed release.

Scarlett lowered her breasts down, crushing dozens of men into the ground. And yet the survivors seemed not only undeterred, but driven all the further to serve their goddess. They pressed and rubbed against her breast, grabbing and pulling and sucking and biting until her skin was tinted red. But Scarlett still wanted more. She grabbed her breasts as tight as she could, crushing more men into the fat of her breasts, grabbing and kneading until it felt like her breasts would burst. And burst they did.

There was a deep rumbling that shook the very ground. A man stood in front of Scarlett's left breast, licking the inside of the hole of her nipple. A single drop of milk ran onto his tongue. Then another, and another. He lapped it all up, as the drips became more frequent, and the rumbling grew louder.

Then, in an instant, the levees burst. A torrent of milk came rushing out from her nipples in a powerful stream, with the force of an oncoming tidal wave. The twin jets tore through the crowd, eviscerating dozens of men and sending them high into the air, before their bodies crashed hard against the ground. Where the streams hit flesh or bone, it ripped through as easily as a rock might tear through a wet piece of paper. 

http://redfiredoglizard.deviantart.com/art/Milk-2-Ima-Firin-Mah-Lazor-443289984?q=gallery%3Aredfiredoglizard%2F19960461&qo=6

Scarlett marveled at the glorious carnage, but not content to merely watch, she grabbed her nipples, squeezing her breasts to enhance the stream, and maximize the destruction. The twin blasts ruptured out into the crowd like two great bursts of energy, shredding dozens one instant, then dozens more the next. And all the while, even as the pressure started to die down, a pool formed in the center of the city square. The depressed ground of the square filled with warm, thick milk, which soon became deeper a man could stand. And even so, the great force of the twin streams stirred the pool wildly, whipping it up into a chaotic sea of milk. Tall waves of milk threw men around, back and forth, as others struggled and gasped for air. 

Full image here: http://redfiredoglizard.deviantart.com/art/Milk-443089295?q=gallery%3Aredfiredoglizard%2F19960461&qo=7