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There was always a line at Starbucks. Every weekday morning for the past year or so since she graduated from college with a less-than-useful degree in Theatre Studies and reluctantly started her career in white collar mediocrity, Diane would ride the cramped subway train into the city, stand in line with the dozens of other commuters desperate for their first caffeine hit of the day, and then walk the remaining mile or so to the office. Today, of all days, was no different; it was a warm, humid Tuesday as she waited patiently for her turn, the swirling mass of patrons in business suits and ties pushed and jostled her as they fought for either space to sit or stand in the cramped room or to escape through the door blocked by yet more people in varying states of irritability trying to get in. 

The morning sun peeked through the tall office buildings across the road, filling the busy little coffee shop on the corner with a warm, welcoming orange glow. Diane felt anything but welcome, however; she never did surrounded by so many people who towered over her petite 5’2” frame. Most, however, would not give any indication that they noticed her at all. Customers would barge past her, knocking her or pressing her into the wooden counter with no apology or recognition of the discomfort that they had put her through. On occasion, someone might carelessly spill their hot drink on her faded white shirt as they attempted to squeeze out of this too-small coffee shop, and thus berate her for somehow being responsible for their lost beverage, before giving up and leaving her embarrassed and ashamed.

This time, as she waited, she felt something brush against her backside. She thought nothing of it, and instead tried to pass the time waiting for the baristas to finish with someone else's order by re-reading the menu on the wall for the fiftieth time. It was probably nothing, just the middle-aged guy in smart charcoal grey suit and red tie behind her shifting to get comfortable. His hand touched her shapely rear once more, but instead it lingered, then turned to clasp around a buttock and squeeze through the conservative grey skirt that covered it.

Diane tried to move away from this pervert, but there was nowhere to go except straight into the man playing with his phone immediately in front of her, who reacted by her bumping into him with little more than a brief glance and a condescending roll of his eyes. As the man behind her continued to unashamedly grope her in public, her hand gripped the side of the counter tightly and she whipped her head around, sending the brown locks that framed her round face dancing, to see her tormentor. She found herself face to face with the man's chest, seeing little more than an expensive red tie against a pale blue dress shirt, and when she looked up she saw an austere, stern face with a patrician bearing that belonged more at a country club for society's bluebloods than a mere common Starbucks groping strange women. He stared fixedly at the space above her head, though his hand continued with its sordid violation of her body.

Diane looked around and silently pleaded with everyone around her to intervene on her behalf. She imagined some noble stranger, tall, dark, and handsome, to heroically cast aside his macchiato and come to her rescue by beating the crap out of this dirty old man. But no, either no one paid enough attention or they simply didn’t care. Nobody so much looked in her direction, leaving her to suffer the indignity alone. A strong, independent woman would have raised hell, slapped him in the face, and publically exposed him for disgusting pervert he was, but she found herself frozen and incapable of action. Her cheeks flustered a deep red from the sheer embarrassment, and all she felt she could do was stand there in the line, get her coffee, then escape as quickly possible.

The line had barely moved. She peered around the oblivious man in front, still absorbed in his phone, and saw at the very end some woman in a pretty floral dress was arguing with the barista about some mix-up with her order. Judging from the growing volume of the irate lady's voice and the barista's increasingly pathetic apologies it was not likely that the issue would be resolved soon, and nor would the line advance. By now, the embarrassment was rapidly turning into anger, and inwardly a pulsing heat, like a ball, swelled within her chest, which had started to feel tight and constrained against both her bra and shirt.

Diane decided that she had had enough, and turned abruptly to face her tormentor, accidentally shoving the man in front and almost knocking his phone from his hands. Mercifully, the disgusting pervert's hand had ceased grabbing her rear, and he simply stood there looking down on her with a practiced expression of confusion as though, inexplicably, she was the one acting strangely. But when she came face to face with the man, she found herself unable to say anything. The tirades of anger that she had spent the past five minutes practicing in her head had suddenly left her mind, leaving her without any ammunition with which to bring this haughty fool down from the pedestal his presumed wealth and power had placed him upon. She let out an exasperated sigh and slipped past him, through the crowd of patrons, and back out into the welcome open air of the street.

Cheeks flushed red and her chest feeling tight and restricted she marched down the sidewalk to work, all the while her mind raced with thoughts admonishing her for her failure to stand up for herself. Despite her small stature, the pace of her walk and the profoundly pissed-off expression on her face encouraged the faceless mobs of people to get out of her way. She should have said something, she thought, but no, it wasn't the first time she had failed to assert herself despite clearly being in the right. The other patrons might have even backed her up had she protested loudly enough, or they might have continued in their little self-absorbed worlds, but either way she would have at the very least felt vindicated. Furthermore, she could still feel the man's hand on her butt cheek, like the after-image from a bright flash, the filthy, dirty sensation lingered against her skin like a stain. And everyone else there in that Starbucks had simply stood there and let it happen. The hot feeling in her chest subsided into a sick, violated feeling in her stomach, and that she had a long day of work did little to improve her foul mood.


The office was a modest thirteen storey brick building that stood under the shadows of its far larger cousins a few miles away deeper downtown. Positioned, however, on the corner of a fairly busy junction and within walking distance from the subway station, Carter & Son Insurance was popular with those seeking a professional service but were without the means to afford those in the fancier glass towers in the city centre. It was here that Diane worked, shackled behind a desk to play some small part in processing the never-ending stream of finance that fuelled this city.

She paused in the street in front of the great set of glass double doors. Her chest still felt tight, as though her top had somehow shrunk during her morning commute, and try as she might she could not relax her breathing to the point where it felt comfortable. Now that she thought about it, everything she wore felt a little bit too tight - her sleeves were too short, her high heeled shoes pinched around her toes awkwardly and painfully, and her skirt squeezed her waist, hips, and rear. In the end, she settled for undoing a few buttons on her shirt to allow her breath better, thus revealing a less-than-professional glimpse of cleavage. Trying to force the unpleasant encounter at the Starbucks out of her mind, she grabbed a small mirror out of her handbag and quickly checked her appearance. After all, insurance was a competitive world, and even the small advantage imparted by looking pretty for the managers who ran the office would contribute to her success; a brief application of foundation softened the angry red flush that had come to her cheeks, and she hastily applied the glossy scarlet lipstick that her boss, Gary, had been so very fond of.

There was no point in putting it off any longer, and she sucked in as deep a breath as her straining bra would allow, then pushed through the front door. Gary was waiting for her by the main reception desk, making vacuous conversation with Maureen, the receptionist, about his new car or something. Diane's boss was a young-ish man in the twilight years of his twenties, and seemed determined to eke out what he believed to be the best part of life before thirty rolled around and ruined everything. When he saw her approach, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, he stopped speaking mid-sentence and grinned in her direction.

"You're late," said Gary, pointing at the large clock that hanged from the wall just behind and above Maureen's head. It read four minutes past nine in the morning.

Diane was about to protest that four minutes really did not make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but thought better of it. "Sorry," she said, "the subway was a bit slow today."

"Then you should have woken up earlier. Time is money here, so make sure you make up for your lateness."

A whole four minutes, she thought, any longer without me and the building might have caught fire. She found her fists clenching by her sides, but sucked in a deep breath, causing her chest to swell against the inexplicably tight confines of her clothes, and forced an insincere smile. The fact that he was still grinning like an idiot and appeared to be speaking more to her chest, which by now felt as though was about to burst free from her bra, only served to infuriate her further. "Of course, sir."

"See that you do," said Gary firmly, or at least he attempted to. His demeanour always came off as someone trying too hard to assert himself as though he felt the constant need to prove that he deserved his position of power within the company, or so the office gossip went. "Are those new heels? They make you look a little taller."

"No, they're just the same ones I've always worn," said Diane, looking away from a gaze that seemed too fixated on her chest to be comfortable. She hadn't noticed it earlier on the walk to work or in the elevator, but she was taller. It was almost imperceptible, but she had the nagging, uneasy sensation that the top counter of reception desk she stood next to should have reached her shoulders and not just her armpits. "I'm trying to stand up straighter, to help my posture. Sitting behind that desk all day can't be helping it."

"It suits you," he said, and Diane could feel his lecherous gaze examining every inch of her body. It wasn't the first time he'd spent a little too long staring at her generous bust, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. That she had been forced to expose her cleavage more than she would have done otherwise at work just to breathe properly only seemed to encourage Gary, and it made her feel sick.

"T-thank you," she stammered out. She made an awkward gesture to the elevators in the corner of the office. "Excuse me, but I need to use the bathroom."

Gary shook his head in apparent mock-disappointment and tutted. "On company time?"

Diane blushed hotly, and said nothing as she limped awkwardly the short distance to the reception's WC. She just heard Gary make an offhand comment about this being 'her time of the month' just as the door slammed shut behind her. The heat inside centre of her chest had not only returned, but grown in intensity. She felt as though she was burning up from the inside. Her shoes were no longer uncomfortable, but causing her feet pain, so she kicked them off. When she bent over to pick them up off the tiled floor, a loud 'rip' signalled the seams of on the back of her skirt had ripped. Angry and confused, she growled in exasperation of a day that just seemed to be getting worse and worse just as it had barely started, went inside a cubicle, and locked the door behind her.

As she calmed down, she noticed that the top of the cubicle door was approximately at eye level. Diane had barely enough time to register this confusion when her bra had finally given up with an audible snap, and her breasts, once considered merely large were now enormous, spilled out. The buttons of her shirt had popped off, and the seams around her expanding shoulders and arms ripped until the flimsy cotton fabric fell away. Her skirt lasted a little longer, with the hemline riding up and up to almost mini-skirt proportions before the elastic waistband simply snapped from her growing waist. The last of her clothing to give way was her panties, which had been riding up between her soft cheeks and pinched awkwardly at her nether lips. The front was a small triangle of fabric stretched to its limit, and it was barely capable of the task of concealing her neatly trimmed pussy. She had little choice but to remove it, which she did by simply grasping what little remained and tear it away.

The heat in her chest spread outwards, originating from between her breasts it travelled along arteries and veins, filling her body with its almost sensual glow. Her head hit the ceiling but she barely noticed, but merely crouched to allow herself a momentary respite. The cubicle, previously just merely undersized, had become cramped; her legs, curled up against her torso and embraced by her arms, pressed against the cubicle door until the hinged broke and the flimsy wooden thing fell forwards. Her hips, upper arms, and shoulders likewise rubbed up against the side walls, until they too failed to contain the growing woman and became broken splinters. The toilet itself, designed merely with the average American in mind, shattered into porcelain shards under the increasing mass. Water from the pipes splashed her, bringing her intoxicated mind back to reality.

Diane screamed when she saw herself. She was huge: her curled-up body practically filled one half of the ladies' bathroom, and despite leaning forward so her head touched her knees and her breasts were squashed against her thighs she could feel the ceiling tickle her hair. Were she to straighten her neck and spine her head would probably push through the grey ceiling panels and perhaps even into the floor directly above. Her clothes were tattered shreds scattered about her, though a few clung to her naked body. Abruptly, the door connecting the bathroom to the main reception swung open, and Maureen stared gormlessly at her from the threshold.

"Help me!" Diane shouted. By instinct she brought her left arm over her breast to conceal her nipples, whose aureoles were now larger than the comparatively tiny woman's face.

The receptionist fled, slamming the door behind her. Diane let out an exasperated sigh in response, which was amplified greatly by her new size. Her hands clenched into fists, she pounded her right into the grey tiled floor beside her in frustration, and when she lifted it she was amazed and impressed to see a spider's web of cracks emanating from a fist-shaped crater. However, she had little time to marvel at the newfound strength her increased size brought her; the top of her head pressed against the ceiling tiles, which pushed back and forced her to curl up in a tighter ball, while her feet and then her legs pressed up against the wall. 

The bathroom seemed to shrink around her, trapping her in an increasingly claustrophobic box until her growing body was pressed in on all sides by smooth tiles and white walls. Diane screamed, fearing that her inexplicable growth would lead to her not only being trapped in this room, of all places, but also dying horribly in it. But then, in an act of desperation she placed her palms on the ceiling that bent her neck into an awkward, painful position, and then pushed upwards in tandem with her head. Mercifully, the ceiling collapsed under her superior strength, and straightening her neck her head burst into the empty break room on the floor above, followed by her shoulders, and then her breasts.


Gary had tried to ignore the floor shaking beneath his feet, as did everyone else in meeting room 3-C, but while he initially tried to dismiss the tremors as the result of engineering work on the floor below and continue with his presentation on cost-saving measures, one that Hannah, his personal assistant, had spent hours preparing, when they grew to a sufficiently high intensity so as to send the whiteboard toppling over it became clear it was time to evacuate. The CEO was the first to suggest stopping, to which everyone else, including Gary, agreed with wholeheartedly. The floor shuddered awkwardly as he tried to follow the stumbling line of his colleagues out of the room and into the corridor. Without warning it lurched as if the entire building had been hit with some great unseen force, and sent everyone toppling simultaneously into the left wall.

Screams echoed through the corridor, and through glass doors Gary could see a number of people he worked hiding under their desks for protection. The sounds of things breaking, collapsing, and twisting from below his feet had become an indistinct, constant drone of noise. Further along the corridor where the stairwell to presumed safety lay, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered once, twice, and then died. As he struggled back to his feet the floor was juddering and shaking unevenly, making progress difficult. The fire alarm sounded, shrieking its atonal scream throughout the shaking building, which at least had the effect of muffling the sound of the building beginning to collapse.

"Is it an earthquake?" shrieked Nicola, Director of Finance, as Gary passed her clinging tightly to her office's door frame.

"We don't get earthquakes in this part of the country!" said Gary. He had little time to think on the absurdity of his statement, as the floor beneath him suddenly gave way.

Nicola shrieked, but was gone in the eruption of dust and debris that suddenly filled the air. Blinded by the cloud of thick dust, Gary tumbled and fell against shattered masonry and broken furniture and God knows what else, feeling only an onslaught of blows against his limbs, chest, and back. Somehow, he eventually managed to right himself, and clung tightly to what felt like a gently sloping surface that was quite warm against his battered body. There, he lay face down on what he took to be a large slab of concrete, not daring to open his eyes as the building disintegrated around him. Yet even in his panicked state, gasping desperately for the dust-clogged air and being battered by all manner of things until his body became a bruised wreck, the disconcerting sensation of being lifted upwards rapidly, as though in an elevator, felt incongruent with the knowledge that for whatever reason this entire structure was collapsing in on itself. 

Abruptly, the roar of shattering glass, breaking concrete, and the screams of his co-workers, once deafening, faded away into the distance, and Gary became suddenly aware of cool air buffeting him instead of fragments of the building's failing structure. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and lifted his head up, and felt a jab of pain in his neck and back. Despite this, the absence of any sense in what he saw made him ignore the agony that coursed through his body. Instead of seeing the ruins of his workplace burying him alive, he saw a blue sky above with clouds drifting through it lazily. He was atop what he took to be a hill that rose up ahead of him, and was covered in the same grey-brown dust that now covered his torn and bloodied suit. Here and there he could see piles of smashed masonry, the remains of cubicles, printers, computers, and other things that he couldn't guess. The ground shifted, nearly sending him tumbling down this 'hill' with the debris that cascaded past him. Scattered across this hill were other people, some badly injured and looking like ghosts with the grey dust and blood covering them, and all in the same predicament he was in. A few had tried to stand, but found that the footing here was strangely unsure and ended up falling over again anyway.

The more Gary looked around at his surroundings the less sense it made. Behind him, the downward slope of this peculiar hill grew steeper such that it appeared to end rather abruptly some distance away. Beyond that, however, he had a view of the city from a perspective far higher than the top floor of the now destroyed office building. He had no frame of reference with how high up he was, but he couldn't see any of the larger structures that surrounded the building, only the far taller skyscrapers further downtown. The ground too felt strange; it was softer than he expected, like lying atop firm mattress, and when he brushed away the dust that covered it away he saw that it had an off-white colour and was covered with tiny shallow lines and small bumps. It was like... skin, he thought, then he looked up ahead of him and the penny dropped.

The 'hill' rose to a pair of shoulders like huge cliffs, then up to an elegant neck, and finally the beautiful face of Diane staring down at him. He was clinging to her breast, which he had spent much of the year or so the now lusting over, like a tiny insect. It was doubtful she could even see him, but the look of concern and confusion on her face, framed by now messy brown locks, turned to a frown as she looked down on him. A vast hand appeared overhead, and through the gaps between fingers each the size of trains he and everyone else trapped on her left breast could catch glimpses of the face of woman who was about to casually, and even unknowingly, crush them. Gary screamed, which was cut short when he was smeared across this goddess's skin.


When Diane's growing form had burst out of the office building, crushing the surrounding structures on the block too, she stumbled forwards into the street. A small crowd of people had gathered when they saw the building itself shake, office workers fleeing from the every available exit, and cracks appear on the edifice. The people standing around watching had less than a second to react between the growing woman erupting from the collapsing building, sending debris and dust into the streets below, and her enormous feet crashing straight on top of them, one after the other. Dozens or so were crushed instantly beneath her, sending the survivors into a mad panic to escape.

The sounds of screams sounded faintly distant to Diane, and grew fainter and fainter as she soared higher and higher. The heat that had spread through her body and clouded her mind faded, and it was then that she dared to open her eyes. 

"Oh, wow!"

She immediately noticed two things: she was massive and she was completely naked. She was also almost completely covered in a light coating of grey-brown dust, and 'small' piles of rubble had settled in her hair, on her shoulders, and on the top of her bust. On impulse, she brushed her fingers over her left breast to get rid of this dust, and noticed in some places there were small streaks of red appearing on her skin. At first, she assumed that she might have been injured when she outgrew the building, but could see no obvious breaks in her skin other than a few minor scratches. She tilted her head down, and grasped a boob each with her hands and lifted them up for a closer look. There, crawling on her skin, frantically trying to flee from a gargantuan female face peering down at them, were people - real, tiny people about half an inch in size. No, she corrected herself, they weren't tiny, she was huge.

Diane gasped, her hands flew to her mouth, causing her boobs to bounce back, sending more of the tiny people tumbling off them to the ground hundreds of feet below. She looked down at her feet, peering over the rise of her generous bust, to see that she was standing in what was once a busy street corner. Her cheeks flushed red, and she bit her lip as she considered the terrible implications of having inadvertently killed dozens of innocent people by accidentally stepping on them. The street was too narrow for the entire length of her feet to fit, and so her toes had ploughed straight into the first floor of the building opposite. Looking over her shoulder immediately behind her, she saw that her workplace and the buildings surrounding it had been turned into piles of rubble. She wondered how many people had been inside when she grew, but decided that it was best not to think about it. Looking back at her breasts, there were still a few tiny people still there. Pursing her lips in concentration, she thought to save man (or was it a woman? She couldn't tell) by delicately pinching them between a finger and a thumb, but even that was too much and the poor guy was squished between them, becoming yet another red smear on her fingers. She gave up on that idea, it was impossible for her to handle them without hurting them and it was probably best to leave them there until a more effective rescue could be launched.

Looking around, Diane saw that the majority of structures around her came up to her shins, with a few reaching her knees and even fewer up to her shapely hips. Only the skyscrapers in the city centre could hope to overtop her, but not by much she guessed. Immediately below, the streets were filled with chaos - cars and pedestrians alike were struggling in a swirling melee to get away from her. Traffic turned to a standstill as each drivers' haste to get away resulted in messy pile-ups, while people scurried around the static vehicles. The street itself was only just wide enough to accommodate the width of her feet, but it was the only way she could possibly leave this city and get into open country where she couldn't accidentally harm anyone again.

"Please, listen to me," Diane said awkwardly, trying to address the mobs at her feet. A sea of terrified, tiny faces stared back up at her. "I don't know how this happened to me, but I think we can agree it's best if I can get out of here. I don't want to harm anyone else, but I really must leave. I'm telling you to stay out of the streets." She paused, chewing her lip awkwardly as she pivoted around on the balls of her feet. The tarmac road cracked audibly as the immense amount of weight pressing down on it shifted; it felt strange to the giantess, as the hard ground deformed under her bare toes as though it was damp mud. Water pipes buried underground burst under the pressure, making her toes wet.

"I'm going to start walking now," she said. "Just stay out of my way and you'll be fine."

Diane took her first step as a giantess. Her right foot shifted forwards, but in the tight streets it was awkward, and it was impossible to do without sending the appendage tearing through the side of another building. She felt a pang of guilt as the front collapsed, leaving a strange cross-section visible to the streets. It was impossible for her to do anything without breaking something or crushing someone, it seemed, but she was still going to try and avoid that. She held her foot above the streets, her sole casting a dark shadow over the road and five abandoned cars, while the crowd had managed to move just far enough away. With her arms outstretched for balance, she placed it down with what felt like agonising slowness. Despite her care, the ground shook when her foot struck the ground, knocking many in the crowd off their feet, and a spiders' web of thin cracks spread from her footprint.

Diane wiggled her toes; from her lofty perspective she could see that her big toe towered over the bug-sized people. The abandoned cars were flattened beneath her mass, and she had to confess a certain amount of pleasure at the sensation of feeling them crumple into thin slivers of metal and plastic under her feet. The car roofs were initially cool against her sensitive skin, and immediately crumpled with barely any resistance on her part. The blaring alarms sounded for half a second before they were silenced with final crunch. As she swung her left foot over, this time extricating it and raising it above the road without too much damage to the surrounding buildings, she became acutely aware of the power she held over the multitudes of people who, until now, had been enjoying a normal day with no surprises. She thought she gave them long enough to get out of the way, and she was fast losing patience waiting for them. Her foot dropped down just in front of her other, and a half dozen or so people who had been too slow in standing up looked up to see a huge sole loom overhead. Indeed, it was the last thing they ever saw before it crushed them.

"Let that be a lesson," she said firmly. "If you don't want to join them, stay out of my way."

The next few steps brought yet higher casualties, proving they hadn't learned their lesson. Stepping on people felt different; unlike cars which were crushed with a dry but still satisfying crunch, there was a pleasant wet squish as a tiny, fragile body burst messily, bones snapped, and vital fluids oozed until they were utterly flattened in less time than it took for them to open their mouths and scream. Diane was growing increasingly frustrated by her lack of progress; how could they possibly be so stupid to stay in streets where she was walking? Nevertheless she continued, and came to another intersection. Ahead was probably the most direct route out of the city through the suburbs, where the streets were narrower but the buildings less densely packed and, in theory, fewer people there too. To the left was the city centre, with its huge, high-rise skyscrapers. Though she still wanted to get out of the city with minimal casualties, she felt a desire to see these structures that still towered over her up close.

Diane then looked down. The streets were still utter pandemonium, as the teeming mass of humanity pushed and shoved to try and get away from her. A few braver, or stupider, souls had decided to stay, filming her through the ubiquitous smart phones. The streets were still filled with cars moving at a snail's pace at best, or brought to a standstill by less careful drivers whose vehicles were now twisted wrecks entwined with others or against buildings and lampposts. She saw a few mount the sidewalk and plough through whole groups of pedestrians. Even just standing there, Diane's presence brought complete mayhem.

By her left foot she spotted something; nestled on the corner of the block between two knee-high buildings was a small, squat little box-shaped building that barely reached above her ankle. The all-too familiar combination of a green banner and white lettering denoted this as a Starbucks, and in particular the very same one that she visited nearly every single day. The tiny structure fascinated her, and she squatted down on her heels to come in for a closer look. She positioned her legs so to avoid crashing them into buildings, effectively straddling the intersection with her curvy thighs positioned at right angles along the roads.

The sight of their new goddess suddenly rushing down only drove the crowds into greater hysterics; it was one thing to be stepped on accidentally, but now she was taking a greater, more personal interest in them. Those close enough could look up, around her bent legs, to see her womanhood proudly on display, looming over them and mocking them with the knowledge that the being responsible for their plights was no random force of nature but a mere woman somehow grown to this colossal size. Those still trapped in the buildings on the opposite side of the road, however, came face-to-face with her enormous ass, at times coming so close that an enterprising pervert opened the window and reached out to touch a real-life goddess's divine rear.

Diane, however, was barely aware of this, as her attention was entirely on this little coffee shop. Looking at this Starbucks from an entirely new perspective gave her an intense rush; the knowledge that she too frequented this establishment with hundreds of other bug-sized people now staring up at her in awe and terror began to bring the reality of her situation into focus. The detail was fascinating, demonstrating that this was no mere model, no weird dream, but that it was truly real. From above the perspective was awkward, but she could still glimpse through the windows and doors to see chairs and tables and people gawking at her. 

With her breath held in her throat with mounting anticipation, she extended her hand and traced along the flat roof of the building with her index finger. She was trying to be as delicate as she could manage, but even then it crumpled slightly from her touch. Her soft, delicate fingers then stroked along the building's side, and she marvelled at the sensation of caressing a whole building. If she wanted, she could wrap her fingers around it and crush it into mere rubble. The thought had occurred to her, but she was still conflicted about deliberately causing death and destruction. She looked down the street she just walked through, and in the footprints there were clear little red splotches that were once people, like her just a few minutes ago. Those ones had been accidents for the most part, but then she remembered what had happened this morning in that same tiny building, the sheer embarrassment of what she went through and how no one else there had bothered to help her, and her mind was made up.

Of course she had no way of telling if that pervert was still there, but it didn't matter. As far as she was concerned they were all complicit. She lifted her hand and grasped the top few storeys, her fingers sinking into the structure with barely any resistance. She then tore it away and dropped the useless pile of rubble and broken furniture into the street, forgotten about before it even hit the ground. Now she could see straight into the coffee shop floor; the serving counter ran along one wall, while the remaining space was filled with tables, chairs, and couches. And people, covered in dust and frantically trying to force their way past each other to the exit towards her. The staff were fleeing through the back, but she wasn't about to let them get away with ignoring her earlier plight.

"You didn't do anything to help me when I needed it," she said, "but now that I have grown to this magnificent size, I don't see why I should do the same for you." Her index finger descended into the building, and the black and green suited workers were squished beneath it along with much of the stock room and office.

Diane then turned her deadly attention to the shop room itself. Her play had allowed time for most of the patrons to escape, scurrying around pathetically around her toes. She was content to leave them be, for now, with the only thought she gave them being that they must be enjoying the view of a lifetime now. Her fingers descended once more, filling the tiny shop and pulverising a great deal of the furniture and the counter. The mighty digits curled into her palm, collecting the surviving tables and chairs, and then lifted her hand to inspect her catch. Unsurprisingly, she had crushed most of it, but she was nevertheless impressed by the detail. Squinting, she could make out leather cushions, wooden chair struts, even miniscule cups and plates that had somehow survived.

Abruptly, Diane came back to her sense and closed her hand into a fist. That same fist then pounded the coffee shop into nothingness, such that all that remained of this corporate, cookie-cutter, trendy little Starbucks was a hole in the ground where she had broken through into the basement. She rubbed her palms clean on her chest, and then regarded the scene below. It had been a good few minutes she had spent playing, by her estimation, and the crowd had barely made any headway in evacuating from her. Rolling her eyes in contempt, she rose to her feet again, her ass brushed against the building behind her, cracking its edifice and leaving the pervert who had dared to touch her clinging tightly to the object of his desires - the biggest rear end in existence. All the goddess felt, however, was a slight tickle on her ass cheek, which she dealt with by wiping at it with a hand.

Looming over the surrounding cityscape and staring down at the mass of humanity below, it was obvious to all who could see her wicked smile what her intentions now were.

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