The descent of Nicole’s spit didn’t flow like a river, but ponderous and threatening, as the saliva and water fell in dollops, before the longest string curled down into the town square over the site of the statue. But a brief pause followed before Nicole gathered more moisture and rained that down as well.
Waves of frothy, bubblegum-scented spit flowed outward in a flash flood. Brandon yanked his friend back to his feet and off they sprinted again, still unclear which way was safest amongst the dust storm, but knowing anywhere away from his sister’s tidal wave of drool was the correct one. Try as they might, the rolling soup of spit caught up to them before they could even reach the streets again. They, along with countless other citizens, were washed into the molasses-like sea of Nicole’s angry spittle.
As Brandon rocked on the sticky wave, trying to keep his head above water, he tried to ride in the same direction as Jason, but found it too difficult to tread spit and keep a hold of his friend’s hand. On high, a spurned goddess savored the sight of her loyal subjects flung into makeshift biblical plagues by a simple flick of her fingers and a hock in her throat. The sky over the city filled with rumbling, infectious laughter.
Nicole took another hard slurp from her water bottle. Swishing the beverage around her warm cave of a mouth, her lips pouted like a spigot and a fresh deluge of saliva-water spilled into the streets. Thrice more she repeated this act, chugging up liquid until her cheeks bulged, then spraying the mess down upon the city. After five flash-floods, there was enough froth trickling across the surface to put the whole town square underwater.
Concurrently with the mounting rainstorm of Nicole’s spit, her fingers busied themselves again in the brittle landscape. Not content merely churning up the dirt this time, the girl flattened her palm to the ground and thrust with all her strength as if administering CPR to the chest of the city itself. Brandon only had time to peek with one eye open through the spiraling clouds before the shockwave of his sister’s palm smacked him into the nearest smear of dribbling drool making its way down the sidewalk. Several more pulses followed: Nicole’s entire hand poised to the heart of the town, large enough to collect buildings by the handful into her clawed clutches if she decided that was her fancy. As it happened, she was just fine simply flicking her pinky finger into a single structure; the four-story stone monument buckled instantly and puffed plumes of dust across the square anew as it crumbled to the ground.
“Jason!” Brandon croaked. “JASON!” He searched blindly for his friend as he braced himself against the tide of undulating spit-water and the latest windblast. But his fellow unwitting prisoner was nowhere to be seen. Rubble particles and ash turned the air white as snow. At first Brandon thought he heard his friend shouting back at him in response, until he deduced it was only the intermingled cries of hundreds of panicked Nicole-faithful. They were definitively separated now, if not by the dust cloud and spit waves, than by the flailing citizens in mad flight.
Though the town square of the interned little city was in utter chaos, the visage at the level of the statosphere had become far more suggestive of a storm. Everyone’s darkly benevolent goddess Nicole was shifting her position. Her dreamily cream-hued thigh had long acted as sentinel near the wall where the blonde tempted the citizens with the sight of her flesh and the crest of her ass cheek, but she was on the move now. Nicole uncrossed her limb from its neighboring knee and took a stand before the desk, her majestic torso now filling up the skyline above the town. For a minute, the girl simply observed her work, cupping her hand to stifle a few lingering giggles, and then reached her island-sized palms toward opposing border walls.
Even after the destructive spire of Nicole’s finger had abandoned the scene of the crime, the windy cloud still spun across the area and into the streets, obscuring sight like midmorning fog. When the unspooling flood waters of the girl’s spittle had come to rest, another seismic jolt shuddered through the paltry bedrock of the entire metropolis. The girl’s fingers had wrapped back over the high border walls. Nicole exhaled, and lifted.
Brandon lay in the street, half-submerged in a warm bubble of his sister’s spit. Just as he fought to stand up, that bubble burst when Nicole grasped the city again to pick it up, and he was thrown down. Through the haze of rising sandstorm grit, he thought he could make out the shape of his friend Jason sprawled down the block, past another two dozen worshipers. The trembling of the earth had become so violent, though, that all Brandon could do was wrap his arms around a sign post by his elbow and pray that his sister saw fit to put her subjects down on solid ground soon.
Nicole did indeed set the city on the ground by her feet, and then took a step back. Though hardly anyone below noticed while they were contending with the dust storm and pooled spit, she was undoing the button on her tattered Daisy Dukes cutoff jeans. Her thumbs pried back the thin waistband, and the richly immodest garment fell down the pillars of her legs to the ground; Nicole stepped delicately out of the jeans on the balls of her feet, then kicked the denim bundle under the bed. She was left in a pair of baby-blue panties so narrow they barely concealed the tight mound at the union of her thighs. Feet spread wide, the girl took two broad steps forward, until she formed a heavenly arch from her pale, towering legs above the city, with the dainty blue fabric of her panties as the crowning pinnacle of the parabola.
In the street beneath, Brandon wiped dust and feminine saliva away from his face. Squinting, he could just make out the altered shape of the sky, and became aware that his sister was literally standing over top of the entire city, with her panty-clad pussy poised directly above the town square, give or take a mile. Even at this distance, the boy could not only make out the crescent crack of his sister’s ass, but also the ribbed dunes of her vaginal petals pushing against the underwear. His throat caught, and he almost choked; a fresh blast of lust coursed through him like a triple B12 shot.
The very thought of ever being treated to this view would’ve repulsed him to his soul for his life right up to a couple hours prior. But that was then, this was now, and Brandon was now trembling with need for his giantess sister’s magnificent form and her world-conquering attitude; he was pretty sure if anyone even touched his rock-hard erection at this point, he’d burst in his pants.
Other citizens were at least succeeding in ungluing themselves from the messy state of the lawns and streets. Fighting to right themselves, yet remaining on bended knee, the silent masses took their punishment without another screamed gripe. Some even went right back to song and praise.
“Listen, all of you, and listen well. Though I will not hesitate to let you know when my feelings are hurt, there is no cause for despair. I do not want you be only afraid of your goddess, my little ones,” Nicole murmured regally. She fell just as easily back into her mighty biblical-speak. Her elegant pinky finger played coyly with the papery band of her panties and snapped the string softly on her skin. Rumbling snickers echoed through the street again. “Like I said, I do require your fear and respect, but your love is and always will be my highest goal. For love is what I feel most for you, as you are mine, and mine alone. And to demonstrate that love in a way as tangible as I’ve demonstrated my temporary displeasure, I want you all to look up and see what I have done for you.”
Brandon thought his sister’s last request a little redundant; anyone still able-bodied strewn about the sticky battlefield of the town square was already looking up at Nicole. And what’s more, they saw exactly what she’d “done” for them.
The golden goddess’s panties were pooling dark with erotic fluid. By the flush of her skin and the relaxed tension in her muscles, it was clear this preliminary emission was no accident. Brandon saw very clearly that she was sopping wet for the city itself, its thousands of citizens, and the very idea that they belonged to her.