Ichika smiled, knowing that the city was hers. No one could contest her for it, not the builders, not the occupying government with its paltry guns, not even whatever questionable indigenous tribe claimed its ancestors once shat here. She tilted her head back and smiled at the blessing of the sun, and she stretched her arms out to embrace the blessing of the air, and her enormous, planetary bouba were a blessing unto themselves, and so she basked in standing one mile tall (though often she’d been much, much larger) and in possessing this territory for as long as she cared to stomp on it.
Seriously, her tits were fucking ginormous, and even some women are into this so it’s not misogynist.
Rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck, Ichika drew in many thousands of gallons of air to feed her muscles, and her rib cage pushed out her tremendously bloated bouba, twin spheres of milky-white flesh, shuddering deliciously with many thousands of gallons of succulent, life-giving milk, because that’s definitely how bouba work. Across the metropolitan area, two vast circles of darkness spread across highways, neighborhoods, skyscrapers, shuddering with the erotic thrill of what was to come which all bouba naturally transmit because I have absolutely touched an actual, living woman in real life, no doubt about this, and I should know. “Behold your doom,” spoke the colossal woman, condescending to pause and announce her intent. Her nipples protruded several meters beneath her latex catsuit, which is completely believable for a community of microscopic people to have assembled and built for her, probably before their destruction because she knows neither gratitude nor pity. “Yes, ’tis I, the great and glorious Goddess Ichika, deserving of all your worship and more. That’s right, specks, bugs, mants: all of you should worship me for my grotesquely exaggerated sexiness! Behold the grisly burlesque of my improbable curves! But rest assured that women are into this, so it’s cool.”
So saying, she groped her own enormous bouba with both hands, one hand on each bouba and then both hands on one bouba and then both hands on the other bouba, which is how sophisticated adults refer to these things, and she milked her massive milky mommies, which is also how functional, healthy adults who are just having fun without any hang-ups refer to these things, and she…
I lost track of what I was saying.
Ichika massaged her own bouba, almost a full mile above the city, because she was one mile exactly and her tits aren’t on her forehead, groping herself in anticipation of the delicious, life-giving slaughter to occur almost a full mile beneath her, depending on where your point of reference on her body was. She moaned deeply, eroticizing herself through her own bouba, and began to very sensually roll her broad, round hips in a sensual way that everyone witnessing found sensual. Yes, even other straight women, even the aces, even police horses, everyone. She ran her fingers over her hips, showing off her tremendously sexy body that everybody was into before the imminent destruction that would wipe out every single last person in this city. They knew it, and yet they were helpless beneath her boundless and radiant sexuality, which resembled some BBW models on Instagram, some of whom weren’t even heavily laden with Brazilian silicone, so in a very real, non-zero percent chance, her body was technically natural and could happen in real life. Except for the height, duh.
She flicked her own massive, protruding nipples at the ends of each bouba, just as easily as she could have flicked any skyscraper in the downtown proper, except her immense gumdrop-shaped nipple bounced back, eager for more, whereas the skyscraper would have crumbled pathetically like so much cigarette ash, you know, like when someone smokes for a long time and they don’t ash and it just gets longer and longer, and soon everyone’s stopped talking and they’re just watching this ash get longer and longer, and then like a breeze comes by and knocks it off, and it’s like it has no weight or mass at all, just POOM, down it goes. That is what the buildings would do.
Her pussy churned in anticipation of the destruction. There was nothing Ichika loved better than to methodically crush entire neighborhoods beneath gigantic platform boots, exponentially taller than even the highest skyscrapers in any city around the world, and very personally feel each soul smushed beneath them whenever she took a step. This absolutely makes physical sense and doesn’t bear scrutiny. Soon she would be picking out individual people to rapidly seduce and then slaughter within three-second intervals. It actually happens much quicker than it takes to explain, but rest assured that nonetheless tremendous quantities of adjectives will be deployed to really drive home the vision that burns so clearly in my mind, until I feel confident that you feel exactly as I do right now, even though I’m picturing Katy Perry and haven’t mentioned her at all.
“And now,” the immense giantess intoned, “prepare to meet thy doom.” Slowly and very sensually she raised one long, toned thigh, protruding from a butt cheek the size of the Ceres asteroid, and waggled her platform boot very sensually above the city. Everyone was into this, all the cishet women, all the phytoplankton in the waterways, all the gumball machines that vendors forgot to remove in the wake of the pandemic scare, and they all moaned their adoration for the extremely sensual goddess who moved in such sensually sensual ways above the city, even though they all knew they were about to die in three fucking seconds, but that’s just how hot she was. No one could resist her sensual sensuality, as lubrication dribbled down her immense thighs like rivers in a spring thaw and her glutted, engorged butt cheeks strained rebelliously against the very generous donation of ungodly proportioned latex catsuit which was totally reasonable for some hard-working, dedicated community to provide to her, even though they too knew they were about to be eradicated in an extremely sensual way like everybody else.
Ichika paused, making sure all the men saw how extremely sensual she was. She turned slightly on one platform heel, showing off her prodigious rump to the downtown population. It wasn’t always this big, but she knew from social media posts that men were super into big round butts in the last couple of years so she got hers inflated, like, through magical means, but it was totally her own decision as an empowered, informed feminist who was celebrating her sexuality, which was entirely natural and realistic and could happen in a real-world situation, and it was just a nice bonus that every single person in the entire city also admired her ass and wanted to fuck her because of it, but also took her seriously as a contributive member to a progressive society, knowing that she was much more than just two erotic planets of ass grinding against each other in an entirely realistic oversized latex catsuit, even though this was all she cared to reveal to them, this and her extremely sensual platform boots and oh yeah her gargantuan, colossal bouba that filled the skies and blotted out the sun but also her personality.
“You’re all going to die right now,” she purred, “and it’s going to be so hot. Yes, all of your dreams and aspirations re about to be wiped out in a second, everything you’ve ever valued and cherished, everything and everyone you’ve ever loved, every aspiration you held to make the world a better place for all Americans, regardless of skin color or religion or sexual orientation or physical disability, which everyone always forgets about. All of that’s going to be wiped away like it never existed, so just lie back and enjoy my incredibly erotic body as I prepare to stomp you into oblivion.” And they all did. Mothers held their children, men sought out the one man or woman they truly loved, bosses sent their underpaid workers home early, fully compensated for a whole day’s work (for all the good that would do), and they all just fucking shit themselves in terror while simultaneously cumming over and over again, helplessly orgasming in tight rotation, at the overly abundant sexuality of the mile-high giantess looming over their pathetic, stupid, measly pinnacle of civilization. So much cum.
All of a sudden, another immense giantess with massive mommy milky hips and child-bearing bouba showed up and started very erotically grinding in the airspace normally reserved for passenger jets. Ichika planted her fists on her hips and belted out, “You better not be here to stomp on my city full of worshippers! These are mine and mine alone, and they’re all waiting for me! They will not be satisfied to be wiped out by anyone else!”
The other giantess very sensually groped her own bloated and distended bouba and bit her fat bottom lip as she did so. “Maybe we can destroy this city together under our mutual cum,” she said.
Torrents of vaginal fluid gushed down Ichika’s thighs like the flushing of a thousand toilets. “That would be the fucking sexiest thing I could ever think of,” she said, stomping over very sexily to the other giantess, who was already engorged and ready for her. Together they mashed their forcibly inflated huge bouba against each other in a way that made every single living person in the city wish they were also getting mashed between those tension-filled mounds of milky mommy sensuality. They strained to reach each others’ lips, huge and puffy lips that looked like they’d received injections but some women were naturally born with this kind of lips and some women were probably into it so it wasn’t misogynist or objectifying at all, but it was hard to kiss each other because their sensual bouba truly were tremendous and huge and engorged in a very natural and common way that many guys who RP as women are into.
The other perilously endowed giantess paused for a second. “Do you think any stupid, pathetic little men are checking us out?”
Ichika looked around the pathetic city for any pathetic men. It didn’t take very long because the pathetic little city was so pathetically small and pathetic. “I bet they are. There’s no way any red-blooded American, God-fearing patriot couldn’t be turned on by our incredible sexuality and sensuality.”
“That’s very true,” said the other outrageously sexual goddess who was also a mile tall. “I just wanted to make sure none of them were missing out on this incredibly hot action, because they’re all about to die, and they should all be happy that our powerful thighs clenching each other, and our jutting, bulging buttocks swaying over their pathetic, pathetic buildings of patheticness, and our gravity-defying, magnificent bouba mashing painfully amongst each other are doing so above their stupid, pathetic city right before they die. None of them deserve to see such glorious sights, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Ichiko, “but we should make sure that they can see these glorious, privileged sights before they die, even though they don’t deserve to.”
“I don’t feel their tiny, pathetic eyes burning against my skin, which is best of all, even though it’s pathetic and I hate it.”
“I can’t get off until I know that all these stupid, pathetic, tiny bugs are getting off to me, which they shouldn’t because they don’t deserve it.”
“I know! But they’d better.”
“Or else!”
The two extremely sensual and erotic giantesses laughed and laughed until their gross bouba almost snapped off from their chests and launched into the atmosphere, immediately creating two new and habitable moons around the pathetic Earth, moons that some actual women are genuinely into so it’s not misogynistic or objectifying, it’s just good storytelling, and I don’t understand why every woman isn’t a fan of all my work.
“Before we explosively cum and drown out this city, that we’re also doing to stomp into dust,” Ichika said, “I just wanted to thank my author for writing me in this completely realistic way, and my saying so is proof that this isn’t misogynistic or objectifying, because I as a living entity have chosen to exist this way.”