The 15th of June is always a sad day, I reflect as I wake up in another bed in another hotel room and look at the warm body next to me, trying to remember the name of the guy it belongs to. I’ve always been an early riser, not needing to sleep much in order to look great.
A quick look at the full body mirror of the suite I’m staying confirms my thought. It’s curious how extremely well I got along with my sister, considering the obvious differences between us, not only on the physical side but also in our character. It’s true that she did not have too long to experiment with it, but I just can’t picture Eileen going to bed with the first person she met at a club.
I’m considerably more liberal in that front, as in many others, but I still miss her a lot. She was kind, funny and imaginative and I’m sure that she would have supported me considerably more than Mom and Dad when I decided to become a model rather than going to college. Which, considering the fact that she was a top student, says a lot about her.
I know it’s typical enough to idealize a long lost sibling, especially when I was eight years old the last time I saw her. But Eileen and I were deeply bound.
I take the remote and switch the TV on. I don’t care about turning the volume down. Muffled sounds from my most recent lover tell me that the TV has awakened him. I don’t mind.
As every 15th of June, the images are predictable enough. And they cause the same feeling of loneliness of every year.
White letters on a red background inform the viewers about the 13th anniversary of Eileen Peterson’s growth in River City and her posterior trek through it. I see the same images of every year, the last images I’ll ever see of my sister.
Rumor has it that she is alive, but the Government will neither confirm nor deny. In a way, it’s worse than if I knew she was dead. The voiceover provides more details to what the text on screen is already saying. The number 17 appears a few times. It’s the official number of victims according to the government. Apparently, most of them were cops in the blockade that had tried to stop Eileen from wreaking more havoc in the city. She incinerated them.
The voiceover omits the fact that she did so thanks to the amazing heat vision she had just found out she possessed. And of course, it omits the fact that by the time she released it on the cops she had already been hit with hundreds of bullets.
Year after year, government and press have worked hard to picture Eileen like a monster. It makes me sick. Especially when it’s so obvious that the only reason Eileen is currently a missing person instead of the giant ruler of a city is the fact that she, out of her own will, agreed on being reduced.
I’ve tried to find out about her whereabouts these last years. I have been unsuccessful. Melancholy takes over me as more images of my sister fill the screen.
The man (Richard?) finally wakes up.
“Oh, today’s the anniversary of the giant bitch attack” he says, looking at the TV
I turn towards him and just utter one word: “Out”
I’m not sure if it’s my tone or my expression, but after a second of hesitation, he hurries to put his pants on and leaves.
I order breakfast in the room and try to get ready for the day. I need to work. There is a reason I’m in Palmsdale and it’s no other than a photoshoot.
After two years at it, I’m a pro. So, no one notices about my mood as I pose as sexily as ever for the cameras. Today’s photoshoot is about swimwear. Bikinis and lingerie are my two areas of specialty. The way the guy at the agency put it, it seems that I’m somewhat too voluptuous for runway work.
I know many people think that working as a model is like winning the lottery. Well, the pay is definitely good, even for someone like me who is not at the top (yet). But the work is much harder than anyone imagines. Halfway through the afternoon we are almost done, when we do a last break so that we can refresh ourselves.
Then I see him. His face looks familiar from the first moment, but I need a few seconds to associate it with a name. Then, a myriad of reactions erupt inside me when I realize who the person in the audience is: Dr. Solten!
The sight of my family’s physician, precisely today, makes it really hard for me to focus during the last 45 minutes of work. I get the job done as well as possible and then rush to the crowd. I catch his arm as he is trying to get out of the beach.
“Dr. Solten” I whisper to his ear while people around him look in surprise at the man in his fifties, being intercepted by a hot model in a bikini.
“I shouldn’t have come” is his only reply
“So, you know who I am?” I whisper again
He looks around himself, nervously. I know why he is jumpy, but I doubt anyone in the crowd understands what’s going on, besides the initial surprise of seeing me from so up close.
My parents changed their name right after Eileen’s incident. The government suggested it to them. We quickly moved to another city. I’m Victoria O’Neal to the world, completely unrelated to the giantess that took over River City in a single afternoon.
Dr. Solten finally says:
“You and I need to talk” I say, sounding even authoritative
“I don’t think that’s a good idea” Dr. Solten says
I narrow my eyes and reply:
“Maybe you’d prefer me to tell everyone who you are, then?”
“Lobby bar, 10 minutes” I say. “Don’t play with me”
He nods and I release his arm. In a second, he has scurried inside the crowd. 10 minutes later he is where I told him to be. The fact that he showed up tells me that nervous or not, he wants to talk to me. It would have been easy enough for him to disappear.
I smile at him, point towards a secluded table and we both walk. Five minutes of small talk and a drink later, we get into the real conversation.
Freud enounced the theory that dreams are always related to something that happened to you the day before. And typically, they are related to the thing that impressed you the most the day before.
Well, it is clear that Dr. Solten’s revelation that Eileen had grown out of pure will hit home, since the dream I am immersed on when I start to gradually transition from sleep to wakefulness is one of me in Eileen’s place, that is, using the city as a dollhouse. It is not the first time I have had this dream. God, I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only woman that has dreamed about this. But this time it has definitely felt livelier.
There is no warm body next to mine when I wake up today. I was too shocked by Dr. Solten’s revelation to be in the mood for fun. Out of everything he said, there is an idea that keeps coming back to me every few minutes: Eileen grew out of pure will… and also shrunk out of pure will. She made herself smaller, which allowed the army to apprehend her and take her away from all her loved ones, including me, forever.
Why would she do that? I’m sure that she was not expecting the type of reaction she got from authorities, true. As smart as my sister was, she was also quite naïve. But my question is even more fundamental: once she was an unstoppable, all-powerful giant, why would she accept being a mere normal girl again? This thought has kept haunting me all night.
I’ve had thirteen years to think about Eileen and what happened to her, and besides the fact that I miss her a lot, there is another strong conclusion I’ve extracted out of all that thinking: had it been me in Eileen’s place, there would have been no way I would have allowed the little people to shrink me! The reaction from authorities that followed only helps me to reinforce that thought.
So, knowing that it was Eileen herself who decided to make herself smaller, rather than some mysterious shrink ray Dr. Solten had put together puzzles me like nothing I’ve ever thought about before.
I rush through breakfast and show up at the grand ballroom. The shot is going to be inside the hotel today.
For the first time in my short professional career, my mind is not clear enough to work. The photographer has to stop the photoshoot four times to correct me. The fourth time he asks me if I’m feeling well.
I apologize and slide into the next swimsuit for the day, a sexy black bikini that looks even sexier in my bombshell body. I know I may be sounding too arrogant, but I’ve never believed in false humility.
I get back to the stage and start posing once more. My mind is still going through a way more powerful thought than the photoshoot itself, though. I’m ready to apologize for the second time to the photographer as he stops taking pictures when I realize that the reaction I’m getting is not that of a crew that is pissed off at the lack of professionalism of the model but one of pure shock. They are all staring at me. At an approximately 15-foot-tall version of me.
“Oh fuck!” I mutter as I realize about what’s going on.
Then it all rushes into my head, my mind suddenly focused. Dr. Solten’s words echo in my mind as my eyes move at regular intervals from my impossibly long legs to the absolutely awestruck crew. Then, I mutter something that they obviously do not understand:
“Can it be possible?”
There is only one way to know. And I am eager to know. Closing my eyes, I focus my entire will in a single purpose. The stretching feeling becomes evident. I enjoy it with my eyes closed. I open them when I feel my head bump into the ceiling. Give or take, I have added five feet to my already impressive stature.
The crew has been motionless for a while, but now they start screaming again. I smile at them. This kind of unsettles them more, as if the fact that I seem to be enjoying the situation is beyond reason.
Well, I guess it is, for them, but the truth is that I am as exhilarated as a young woman can be.
Apparently, after thirteen years, Dr. Solten could still not understand how Eileen had managed to grow. According to him, no one in the government had a clue, either. The only explanation he had managed to come up with was that Eileen was special, that there was something in her genes that had allowed her to become what she had become. Finding out that I share the same gift makes me excited beyond any limit.
With that knowledge now in my intimate possession, my next course of action is clear enough in my head. The photoshoot crew has been kind enough, so I decide to give them a fair warning.
“Guys, I really think it would be a very good idea if you all got out of the building… like right now”
They waste no time in taking my advice and run to the doors as fast as they can. I giggle, give them a few seconds of head start and then focus again.
Of course, I’m going to grow through the building. I’m way to big to get through any of the doors of the ballroom already, and the idea of trying to shrink myself a little for that is so absurd that it does not even deserve any consideration.
The photoshoot takes place at a luxury hotel, as usual. And, as usual, most of the people on it are jerks. Or at least that’s the general opinion I have about the ones I’ve seen around.
So I decide that the rest of the building does not deserve the same sort of consideration I have had with the crew.
My head is pushing plaster again soon enough. It does not need to long to win the battle. Just watching the reaction of those having breakfast as my head bursts through the floor and fills the central area of the restaurant on the third floor would have been worth the effort of growing.
Screams erupt and I see that people do not know too well how to react. I cannot resist the urge to blow a kiss to a few, sending them flying a couple of feet backwards. One of the last things I see before breaking into the next floor are my generous boobs lifting a table and the two people that were still sitting around it.
Of course, my head is not the only part of my body that is breaking through things. In order, my shoulders and boobs are also creating their fair degree of damage.
There is no one to be seen on the following floor, so I unconsciously speed the process up and break into the next, marvelling at how small the young couple that starts screaming right in front of my eyes looks. In two floors people have moved from Barbie-size to He-Man size. The couple momentarily disappears from view when I get too heavy and my own weight sends my feet two floors down to the lobby. When my head comes back up to smile at them again, a few seconds later, the hole in their floor has widened and the couple has been demoted to G.I. Joe size.
I am running out of toy references, but I am not running out of will to grow at all. If my calculations are right, I am in the seventh floor of the twenty stories tall hotel. Well, to be precise, my beautiful eyes are in the seventh floor. I am almost everywhere.
I cannot look at any more of the guests at the hotel in detail. At most, I can catch a quick glimpse of their screaming bodies as they fall down; my body has got so massive that the moment my head reaches a new floor it makes it collapse instantly.
I realize that I am fuelling my own growth and that I can keep at it for as long as I want. Being constrained inside a building I do not have too many references on how big I really am, so I just will to keep on growing until my head finally breaks through the roof and I can breath fresh air again. When my head and neck are completely out I wish for everything to come to a halt. It happens almost instantly. I push my arms to the sides, easily breaking through the hotel’s side walls and look back at myself. The Excelsior looks like a tight dress around me. It feels as if just a deep breath would be enough to bring it down. I take it and thee building collapses on myself almost instantly, covering my torso with dust and debris.
My thoughts are focused on the fact that the debris that managed to get into my sexy bikini top is most annoying. I’ve almost not considered the fact that there must have been dozens of people in the building I just grew through.
I’m about to say something when a sudden dizziness takes over me and before I can realize I’m falling backwards. The ten-story building behind the Excelsior does not stand a chance as my curvy ass hits its roof and brings it down as if a meteorite had crashed on it. As my tight buttocks hit the ground, a shockwave ensues, bringing down a couple more smaller buildings and severely damaging four.
I close my eyes, trying to clear my head. When I open them again the world seems to be ok, except for the fact that it’s ridiculously small, of course. My long silky thighs are completely blocking the four-lane road right in front of the hotel I had been staying
Of course, I am perfectly conscious that my growth process has casually finished four rather large buildings that I know would have been packed with people. A few of them may have woken up just to see their roof coming down on them. At this moment I could not care less about their fates, though, because my mind can only think on one thing: I am a fucking giant!
I do not remember ever having felt so great before.
My sister shocked the world a dozen years back. And now, I am just like Eileen. Well, not exactly like her. Eileen was a cute and smart 19-year-old girl with a matching pink bikini. I, her sister, on the other hand, am a 21-year-old bikini model with a bombshell body and an attitude to match.
A quick look down shows me the black bikini I had been wearing, along with the jewellery I had used for the shot. I know I’m also wearing my make up. It’s an attire that tells well enough about myself.
Another obvious difference with Eileen is the size. It is now well known that Eileen had been 108 feet tall. Newscasts did not stop repeating that this would mean that Eileen would be just a tad taller than a 10-story building. Well, now I am somewhat taller than that… while sitting down. I grew through a twenty-story building and my head was fully out by the time it collapsed, I guess that this makes me more than twice as tall as Eileen.
People are quickly reacting to my presence, of course. Well, at least those that have not been crushed by my growth spurt. I smile at them and, quite instinctively, brush the dust and debris off my body. It proves to be fatal.
This teaches me one of the first lessons I learn as a giant. Whatever you want to call me now, I am a being about the size of a 25-story building with the instincts of a 5’8” human. More often than not, this will not work too well. I realize that most of the times, though, the sole recipient of the “inconveniences” will be the population at my feet, so it’s easy enough to accept that… well, shit happens. As long as it does not happen to me, there should not be a problem.
What to me is merely annoying debris turns out to be more of a meteorite rain for the helpless crowd in the road, the only difference being that meteorites have never had such a high success rate when striking people. A casual brush of my hands on my boobs and lap has substantially increased my recently started and quickly growing body count.
Newscasts have incessantly repeated that Eileen’s trek caused 17 direct victims and she was called a monster for that. My first five minutes as a giant woman and I am probably already sitting on twenty times that number. I can only shrug and admire my sister again for having been able to remain so careful.
I know I will not. And the city will soon learn that, too.
I have not addressed the crowd yet, so I take a look down to see what is still remaining of it after all the disruption I have created. It is easy enough to spot a crew carrying photoshoot equipment. I’m happy that they were able to make it. My sight quickly focuses on the man I’m seeking: the photographer.
He is about half a block down. That’s nothing, by my recently updated standards. Stooping, I reach out with an arm the length of a construction crane and soon my fingers and their neatly manicured and freshly painted fingernails are on top of him. I giggle when I realize that a couple dozen little fuckers probably think that I am actually going for them.
Much like a claw machine at an arcade, my hand reaches down and pinches the target man between three fingers. Differently from the claw machines, once I have closed my grip on him there is no way I will let go.
He screams all the way to my curious face and I smile at him, trying quite unsuccessfully to reassure him. I change his grip from three to two fingers, to make sure that I can hold him by his sides, facing me. Then, I mentally size him. The only toys that come to mind are the little green army men, and I doubt if he would not look like a dwarf among them. It is exhilarating! There is no better reference to understand one’s size as a giant than people, and I know the puny thing I am holding in my fingers was the same tall and reasonably good looking man that has been taking pictures of me half naked over the last couple of days.
Looking at him with glee I speak for the first time since I emerged through the roof of the wasted hotel building. To me, my voice still sounds like me. Judging from the fact that half the crowd momentarily stops their attempts to flee and looks up in my direction, I realize that it must have sounded quite loud to them. It’s a question of perspective, I guess.
HELLO BRAD I say
The man stops screaming, looks at me puzzled and finally says “My name is Brandon”
Oh well. It is not the first time I mix a name up.
NEVER MIND I say. I PREFER BRAD. ANY OBJECTIONS?
I have to contain a giggle as my tiny lover shakes his head frantically.
“Why did you grow?” Brandon asks me
It is a good question. The answer is simple enough.
BECAUSE I COULD I replied
“What are you going to do with me?” he askes
God, I’ve been a giant for less than ten minutes and little people are already so predictable! Feeling naughty, I clash my teeth and say in a deep voice I THINK I’LL EAT YOU
“Nooooo” he goes with a face that is the pure picture of panic
I cannot prevent a giggle as I say I WAS KIDDING, SILLY. I ALREADY HAD BREAKFAST
Without saying anything else, I drop him on the roof of one of the buildings in the area that is still standing. His yell tells me that I’ve been too careless and that I dropped him from too high. Judging from his reaction, I’d say he has broken a leg. God! Everything is so fragile! I remind myself that I need to be much more careful than I’m being with the world around me.
SOMEONE SHOULD CALL AND GET A DOCTOR I say, addressing the crowd
I take a quick look around and realize that it would be a good idea if someone called a few dozen doctors instead.
I was not so attached to the photographer, in any case, so I quickly forget about him and think on what to do next.
The rest of the crowd has used the time I spent with the photographer to put some more distance with me. I can’t see any more of them that are both alive and within my reach. It is nothing that I could not easily solve in a dozen different ways, but one of them is to stand up and I’m eager to do so. It’s time for the city to meet me.
My hands sink in the sidewalks and my feet sink in the road as I push myself up and the world sinks around me at high speed.
Whoa! What a view! I place my hands on my hips and calmly look around, letting the true implications of my size sink in. I mean, I knew I was big when I grew through the roof and also when was sitting down on the road, but seeing the buildings that line up on both sides of the street barely being able to get up to mid-thigh and getting both a panoramic view of the city and a first view of the people at my feet from up above really bring the true implications of my size home.
I am huge. And of course, people notice it even more than when I was just sitting.
Standing with your hands on your hips, looking at the world at your feet… this must be the favorite pose of any giantess! If I ever see my sister again, I need to ask her.
Out of the millions of differences that now exist between me and everyone else in the world, height is definitely the most obvious one. And while I’m standing in a commanding pose I know that thousands of people look at me, even if they need to peek over their shoulders from time to time as they try to flee. And they fear me, respect me and admire me at the same time. I don’t need to do much to inspire these feelings. Just be there. Standing.
The other way around, when I look down at the hundreds of people on the road, none of them bigger than a bug, it’s incredibly obvious to me that I own them. I mean, there is just no question in my mind about that.
That is the effect that size has both on me and on the people around me. Thirty minutes ago I was a successful young model and now I’m looking at the world as if it were already mine. And very few people around me will dare to deny that truth.
Along the years I’ve been thinking about what happened to Eileen, I developed a theory. I find out that now that I’m the giantess it applies nicely. Let’s imagine that I would have got the powers of Superman. I would probably be on my own right to consider myself the most powerful being in the world, too. However, no one would have realized by now. And my best guess is that I would be barely starting to find out my powers at this moment. With size things are so obvious, though! My presence is undeniable to the world. But it’s also undeniable to me. It forces me to embrace it; it removes any hesitation.
This makes things that much easier! Yeah, size definitely matters.
So, I’m standing up for the first time, admiring my size and scanning the city, feeling more excited than any woman has ever felt before.
I guess that you’ll all have concluded by now that I won’t be wimping out like Eileen did. Let me repeat something, just in case you did not get it yet: I-LOVE-BEING-A-GIANT!
Having reached this conclusion, the next one is easy enough: I’m going to take over the city. To me that’s not even a mission, it’s a given. Let’s face it: if I don’t shrink out my own will, which I won’t, there is no way in the world I can be stopped. Eileen already proved that, so I won’t waste my time explaining myself. This city will be mine, as will every other city. This is not what I want to do, though.
It’s not that I don’t want to take over the world. I do. I’ve always been a little megalomaniacal, which blends in really well with being an all-powerful giant. But I don’t want to “only” take over the world. I mean… how long would I need to take over this city if this was the only thing I wanted to do? An hour? Probably less.
I’m not really interested in this. I’m an incredibly attractive young woman that has just become a giant. I’m interested on testing the limits of my new condition, experiencing what no one has been able to experience before, living the full giantess experience. Said in other words: I’m out to have fun!
I don’t know Palmsdale too well. Which means I’m not too attached to it either. I think this will work out well, since I’m guessing it will take me a while to get used to this size, which probably means that I will end up breaking a little more of Palmsdale than of the cities I visit in the future.
I’m a carefree woman, but I’d still rather fuck a totally unknown city with totally unknown people than one I’ve lived in for a while.
Anyway, back to the most immediate action. I want to have fun, which necessarily implies testing my newfound size. Which means I need to get moving. I have no specific destination in mind, so I just move to the front, in the direction of the crowd. A crowd is always an appealing sight for a woman of my new size.
You would think that after my long mental diatribe the people would have done a better job of getting away. You would be wrong. They are no more than four blocks away when I start moving. That’s a ridiculous distance by my new standards.
They get scared when they see me moving, which was to be expected, of course. I don’t pay too much attention to them because I’m enjoying the feeling of the asphalt creasing, cracking and sinking as I rest my weight on my foot. I take another step to enjoy it again.
MMMM I moan. I love it. In case you have not got it yet, I’m eager to tell the world that things have changed now that I’m here to play. And I love being able to send a message just by walking.
I have my mind set on being as sexy as I am powerful. This is quite demanding to my sex appeal, of course. Thankfully, I already have the body and the attire. I just need to add the attitude. I’m barely three blocks away from the first group of geniuses that decided that outrunning a woman my size was an option worth trying and rather than walking I start strutting after them.
Each one of my sexy steps must be accounting for dozens of their strides. The little unlucky bastards really never had an option. If anything I’m surprised that they did not realize before, but I guess that I’m too new and that they are as little used to the situation as I am. The advantage for me is that no one can step on me if I get careless.
A few more steps and my toes are right behind them. Even without touching them, just resting my weight in one delicate foot has already managed to make a few parked cars bounce and half a dozen people lose their balance, which is exhilarating.
I have to make a decision now. Only the decision was really made the moment I started walking after them.
The point that I’m barely five blocks away from the hotel is not lost to me. Most of the tiny people that managed to flee the hotel before it crumbled are probably among those that are now in front of my toes. I have probably crossed my path with a lot of them plenty of times over the last couple of days, in the elevator, at breakfast or in the gym. From twenty-five stories above the ground one tiny person looks pretty much like another and fails to generate too much empathy to someone like me, though.
Their fate was really sealed the moment I decided that I wanted to walk down the road and they managed to get it packed enough that there would be nowhere I would be able to step without getting a few of them.
So, I raise my foot and take my next step normally. I realize it will end up on top of four people, the fifth one miraculously able to dash out of the spot my foot will land in the last instant. He ends up, face up, right in front of my little toe.
My bare foot is still as delicate as always, so the fact that it has so easily finished four people still feels curious. I’ve noticed a spongy feeling in my sole just before my foot has kept going and cracked the asphalt as with every other step.
OOPS I say aloud and I know this is the final insult. YOU GUYS ARE SO SMALL THAT I’M AFRAID I DID NOT SEE YOU I say, mocking.
I can feel some anger in the crowd, but I don’t give a damn. It’s not as if they will be able to do anything about the situation, right?
I did not step on them out of hate, or contempt or out of joy. Killing people per se does not give me pleasure. I’m not a mass-murderer at heart, no matter what story the body count figures may tell. I stepped on them out of curiosity. Period.
They were the first. I’m sure they won’t be the last.
I look down again and my eyes lock with those of the tiny man I almost crushed. It’s too tempting to let it pass, so I crouch down and pick him up by the sides with two fingers.
I’m sure he is thinking that he finally ran out of luck, but I only want to take a closer look at him.
YOU ARE A LUCKY GUY I tell him as I hold him in front of my face
I catch him taking a glimpse down and chuckle when I realize what he was looking at: my cleavage.
MEN I say as I keep looking at him with a wide smile in my face
He blushes instantly and realizes that he made a mistake.
THEY’RE PRETTY IMPRESSIVE, AREN’T THEY? I ask naturally. They are, of course. My chest is clearly oversized for my generally thin frame, and fit into the very tight and very sexy bikini top I’m wearing, my tits bulge like hot-air balloons.
HERE, TAKE A CLOSER LOOK I say and then I casually drop him in the tight valley between my imposing mountains of flesh. I was a little worried that he would bounce to death, but he doesn’t. My aim was perfect and he just slides between my breasts until he gets stuck when he is all the way down to his waist. I look down and chuckle at how comic the situation is. He tickles a little.
ARE YOU HAVING FUN? I ask. The man looks at me, almost pleading for me to help him out of there. I do… but probably not in the way he was expecting. Grabbing one breast with each hand, I slightly move them apart and create enough room for him to slide all the way to the bottom of my bikini top. Then, I let nature and the bikini top to do their job and bring my boobs back together.
Besides some initial additional tickling he goes almost unnoticed at his destination. I forget about him as quickly as I noticed him and start thinking on what to do next.
I don’t mind killing a few people but, as I said, I’m not a mass murderer. Walking forward will end up in nothing but a massacre, and I’m not interested in that. Instead, I decide it’s time to have a closer look at the action at street level. I know it may sound inconsistent. One moment I’m telling you that standing up and looking at the world from above is the greatest thing ever and the next I’m talking about getting a closer look at what’s happening at feet level. It’s one of the issues with being a giant woman. There’s so much to do that you are faced with constant choices.
Without warning, I drop to my hands and knees. The crowd has not yet had time to adapt to the change when I stretch my legs and lie down on my stomach, face rested on my folded arms. I get a zoom of Lilliput in Full HD. Well, to be fair to the people in Lilliput, the guys here are quite smaller. Or… well… it’s actually me that’s bigger than Gulliver.
If any aircraft is passing over me right now, its passengers must be getting the best possible look at what I’d like to claim as the best ass in the world. Combine privileged genetic heritage with frequent fitness and you’ll get the idea. Or well, just look at the pictures that people must be taking at this moment and judge by yourselves.
I look to the front. The closest groups are not even 30 feet away, well within my reach.
I unfold an arm and start walking two fingers among the crowd. Even my digits dwarf the people, which is kind of hilarious. With a simple gesture I’ve got the people to stop being concerned about me and to start being concerned about my fingers, almost as if they were an entity of their own. People are always afraid of the harm that’s closest.
I really have no purpose as I walk my fingers, but soon I get bored and I start to randomly “kick” people. I’m thoroughly surprised when I see that my fingers seem to have the strength of Superman, since I’m able to toss people around 20 or more feet with ease.
It turns into a game too easily. I start testing how far I can throw them. Then I start testing my aim. When I manage to kick a screaming man into an open third story window I cannot help myself from laughing out loud.
The Excelsior was close to the beach, which means that there are other luxury hotels around. A stream of people is getting into one of them. I guess it’s kind of natural for the people to try to get away from me, but this does not mean that I have to like it. I get back to my hands and knees and cat walk to the hotel. My right hand ends on two people and my left knee crushes a group of four beyond recognition, but this time I swear that it was not on purpose. I know it makes no difference to the ones I crushed, and hell! It does not even make too much of a difference to me! But I thought it was worth mentioning.
By the end of the day I wonder which body count will be higher: the one tracking deaths I caused on purpose or the one tracking deaths that happened just because I’m too damn big to move around without killing some people and breaking some stuff.
I reach the hotel the moment the last person from the group gets into the revolving door. I flick it, out of frustration. The results are unexpected. The door starts twisting like a tornado and a few seconds later, the man is spat outside. I giggle and reach for his limp body. Resting him on my ten foot long index finger I see his chest moving up and down. This tells me that he is alive but unconscious.
I sit on my knees as I think on what to do with him. He is a whim away from being tossed over my shoulder. Finally, the best part of me takes over, I make a fist with my left hand and easily punch a hole into the hotel’s façade.
A section of the tenth floor gets easily and violently exposed to the world. My fist is so massive that it’s accompanied by similar sections of the eighth, ninth and eleventh floors. A startled couple looks at me and starts screaming. I just move my right hand to the spot they are and carefully drop the limp man in front of them.
WILL YOU TAKE CARE OF HIM? I BELIEVE HE’S A LITTLE SHOCKED I say cheerfully.
The couple does not reply. They just turn and start running deeper into the building.
OH I said. Their reaction is predictable but disappointing. Pushing my lips out, I blow out a short gust of wind at them. I snort when as a result of my simple action the tiny couple is lifted off their feet and gets thrown deeper into the building at a quite faster pace than they had intended. Their short flight ends up when they hit a wall. The couple slides down the wall and does not stand up. They are not the only stuff that has become airborne as a result of my breath. Several pieces of furniture splinter as they hit the walls at high speed, just like the couple did. And the limp tiny man I picked from the revolving door does too. He is still limp. Or limper, if that is even possible.
OH I repeat to myself as I realize about the consequences of a new act of carelessness. I cannot be less worried. If anything I’m impressed at what I’ve done, even if I should have already known about my breath after having watched Eileen’s videos so many times.
Mentally adding three new people to the list of accidental victims, I crouch back once more to look at the multitude in the lobby. They do not like my renewed attention, as is made evident by the intensified screams and panic. I love their reaction.
Of course, they are at my mercy. I wonder: “What should I do with them?”