Mary Sueddon's Campaign

(Warning: Contains soft vore, mild hard vore, soul vore/absorption, power-draining, digestion, destruction, cruelty, gore, giga-scale size content, and a little same-size stomping.)

Several hundred humanoids grappled across the soft skin of the woman’s towering foot. It was there that they kicked back from the soft pink-white flesh, only to return and press their entire bodies into its wrinkled and whorled exterior. Bruised and exhausted, they and the rest of their team did their best to please the monster the ped belonged to. A simple glance below showed what was at stake: their entire city was no more than an inch from the sorceress’s heel. Their captor and tormentor rested her feet on the plush cushion beneath, shadowing the city of Fieldsberg with a slightly angled foot. Not to far off, the “competition” labored on her left foot to save their own home of Plilrough.

The petite, fair-skinned woman lounged on a filigree-laden throne that rivaled the gaudiness of the magically erected palace she called her home. She wore a short, free flowing garment of purple and gold that bared her midriff while perfectly accentuating her perky chest and lithe frame. Her light-pink hair hung down to just below her shoulders; it was naturally tidy. Overall, her colorful appearance belied the cruelty underneath that cheery countenance: a condescending smile was born each time those sky-blue eyes gazed down at her feet.

Their captor and tormentor was Mary Sueddon, the self-proclaimed Queen of All. Title aside, she had only ‘mostly’ conquered Eldbann: the largest and most populated continent on Leoria. Despite that, the realm’s other major landmass was in her sights: Igrisos.

For now though, the immensely powerful sorceress was tormenting two cities of Eldbann that had opposed her rule. Each of sprawling, circular settlements was two of the biggest in its region at the time. Big enough to think they could resist Mary. Yet even with all their vast armories, their guards and war mages, they couldn’t do anything when she teleported them to her footstool and pitted them against one another in a cruel game. It was no small magical feat, but Mary had told her own war mages the exact sigils to draw about the cities to make the spell work.

Not everyone was on massage duty though: part of the challenge was painting her nails. Both teams had the same idea: groups of gnomes would tie rope about their waist and jump, held by stalwart dwarves that caught a ride on griffons. In the air, they’d work fastidiously to smear gallons and gallons of crude polish onto the keratin surface of the woman’s toe-nails. Side by side were some magically talented folk of all sorts, using their flying and conjuration spells to tend to Mary’s foot that way. Their magic kept the paint supply up and contrived various perfumes and sparkling sensations for their indulgent captor.

A giggle rings out and, with it, her right pinky toe flexes. The dozen laborers at work kneading the area by the digit are summarily smashed into red mist, hardly staining the skin in the shadow of her toes. One of the townspeople-turned-servant got her foot caught in a ridge near the toe. Though minuscule to Mary, that small indent of flesh was a death trap. In tune with the scrunch, the poor gnome’s foot was pulped, yet the mangled remnants of it were still held in place as the soft, warm pad of the toe came down to claim her. Some of the painters on and near that toe slipped, falling down to their doom. The massage team had no chance to catch them as they screamed by in their plummets.

The woman’s voice range out in a boom, “Hey, be careful; I’m ticklish down there.” The pinkie toe wiggles a bit. “Hmmm, maybe it’s time to wrap this little challenge up.”

With an excited clap of her hands, “Indeed. Let’s inspect the results shall we~”

Mary leaned her upper-body forward from her throne to inspect her toes. Her voice reverberates again. “Hmm seems Fieldsberg did a way better job with the paint. I don’t see a single blotch in the red paint there~” The sorceress’s big blue eyes stared at all the tiny folk on her right foot; they, in turn, watched her with a mixture of horror and contempt. “Much better at massaging too~”, she smiled.

Her gaze moved to her left foot: the site of Plilrough’s labors. “Definitely not as good over here.” she said, sliding one finger between two towering toes, idly ending a few dozen more lives as she inspected the somewhat shoddier nail job.

The people of Fieldsberg breathed, it seemed as though they were going to win.

“But...”

Mary’s right foot began to lower.

“I think the blue nail paint they chose better matches my eyes~”

The citizens of Fieldsberg panicked as her sole was coming down upon them. The foot they spent hours on, died to pamper and paint, was about to snuff them out. The heel slid back on the soft fabric as the ped tilted forward. Laborers slipped from their ropes and the tiny griffins flew away--least some of them did--before Mary’s titantic toes clipped them from the sky. All the casters that tried to fly away found their spells suddenly useless as they plummeted to the ground; their magics were dispelled and blocked by the sorceress’s far superior capabilities.

In one slow, savoring motion they were all flattened. Mary coo’d as their souls flew into her as tiny wisps of blue light.

There was a knock at the door; with her permission, a tall, graceful elven knight entered.

--==--==--==--

Mary Sueddon was always someone fate seemed to favor: if only to serve as a reminder how fickle and cruel the universe could be. Born to a noble family, she was the very definition of a spoiled brat. Yet when even her obsequious family refused the particularly impossible demand of a golden pony for her 19th birthday, she ran off into the woods in a huff.

There, the woman stumbled onto a magical ritual conducted by the fairies of the forest; literally, as she tripped on a tree root and landed atop the minuscule pixies mid-chant--crushing them. The magic of the ritual flowed into her and awoke the potential to harness the mystical arts.

Her family and their servants lamented at Mary’s return. She seemed changed: her once blond hair was now a colorful pink, and her light blue eyes would shimmer under any light.

The burden the young woman placed on the household only increased in the months to come. The fledgling sorceress put her magic to use coercing and humiliating others. Even when entertaining herself, Mary’s loose control over her new powers (which she assured everyone she had mastered), meant that otherwise harmless conjurations sent bolts of chaotic energy bouncing about. Many a servant was missing a limb, or had animal parts ones in their place, as a consequence of the sorceress’s carelessness.

After the accidental giblet-ification of one of the maids, enough was enough and the impudent woman was ejected from her home. Of course, Mary didn’t take to this lightly, and the uncontrolled magic of her tantrum created a shockwave that sunk the estate deep into the Earth.

On her own with none of her things, Mary ran into a small band of adventurers. Against their better judgment, the three of them took the young sorcerer in.

As an ally, Mary was capricious to say the least. Every supply run was a disaster, as Mary was a stubborn haggler who refused to take no for an answer. Her responses to even the slightest provocations were overblown, and many a routine negotiation on reward with town officials turned into a fireball-laden standoff with the town guard.

The party’s bard, Frederick, and the eleven muscle Omalar urged Silhanaa to shoo her away or turn her in, but the Paladin always refused. The older woman cited her code of values to reform sinners and aid the lonely. Though Silhanaa did believe there was good in Mary, some part of her, deep down, was simply afraid of the woman. Mary’s magics were as reckless as they were powerful. Moreover, even she had to admit that the lithe caster got the party out of no few jams--albeit with some collateral damage.

Mary got along well enough with the gang well-enough at least. In particular, she had an obvious crush on the handsome Frederick. Though unrequited, she nevertheless cajoled songs out of the bard almost every night around the camp fire.

One faithful day the party was exploring an ancient crypt to try to track the source of zombie attacks on the nearby city of Qrahbridge: the location of the royal family that ruled all of Northern Eldbann. It wasn’t until they reached the deepest level of the stone complex that they realized the problem’s source: a lich.

The party made a stand for their lives. Bolts of frost burst against Silhanaa’s shield while Omalar maneuvered behind to grapple the foe. The bard’s tricks and enchanted melodies kept the packs of skeletons at bay. Yet Mary was no where to be found...

In the chaos, the sorceress had snuck past foe and allies alike to reach a purple jewel carefully set upon a pedestal: the lich’s phylactery. The young sorceress gazed at the myriad blue lights flickering within. The specks, shrunk to fit, shifted in and out of the form their bodies used to have. They looked up through the gem with hope in their sunken eyes.

Mary pressed the gem to her lips and sucked them right up. Needless to say, even the lich looked on in horror. Filled with the influx of power the trapped souls offered her, Mary annihilated the crypt’s master with a disintegrating blast from her finger.

All along, Mary had a small secret: when that fae ritual went awry a year prior, the pixies she crushed were still with her in a sense. The fledgling sorceress had absorbed their souls: without intent at the time. Though she shared the fact with no one, she often called upon their eternal essence--despite their protests--to more easily cast her spells. She figured if fairy souls could work as a power source, then why not human souls? The discovery of the lich seemed the perfect time to test her theory: and it worked!

Upon returning to the castle she immediately demanded the lands of the king as a reward. Given the royal family’s unpopularity, she had a surprising amount of support from both her companions and the subjects. That support wavered as she quickly proved to be far too capricious and self-centered to effectively govern.

In little over a year, villages were torn apart in search of treasure or for petty slights. Even her army was upset at the low pay and inferior rations. Silhanaa and many others stood against her, yet by then it was too late. With every challenge thwarted the young queen gained more souls and power.

And thus, Mary spiraled out of control.

--==--==--==--

Mary was so excited to hear Omalar’s report that she completely forgot about Plilrough under her left foot. The city she promised to spare found itself smashed under her naked heel as she schooched forward ever-so-slightly on her throne.

“Whoops~” she giggled. She was going to encase that city in a vivarium for some ‘fun’ later, but a few thousand more souls flowing into her softened that mistake.

“I trust you took care of that last hold over of Eldbann: Fyaserin.” she said with a smile, expecting good news.

Omalar’s expression was as stoic as a stone. “I did not”, he said.

“What, don’t tell me you didn’t have the heart to take over your home city? I even provided you with an army-”

“An army half-full of undead. An insult to the people of Eldbann.” said the elf in a curt reply.

“It’s not my fault the living have been so uncooperative--as are you, apparently?” Her tone got ever-so-slightly venomous. “Do you need to end up like Silhanaa? You’ve had few issues with my orders till now. When it’s your birthplace it suddenly matters. Ha!” she scoffed.

“You are a demon” Omalar’s tone quivered a bit.

“I am a queen, and you are being rather unruly.”

“Look what you did to Frederick.” The elf pointed to an insect cage on a small stand by the throne. In it, the handsome bard held his lute tightly, his eyes vacant as they stared at the floor of the glided prison.

Mary huffed, “You know he stopped playing his songs for me in protest. That was the only way I could get him performing again. He’s lucky I’m kind enough to let him keep his soul. As are you, though with how you’re speaking to me thus far...”

Omalar dashed in Mary’s direction. The elven warrior’s reflexes and speed were unrivaled by any human’s, yet when he swung the sword it bounced off the invisible bubble the young queen draped herself in. The blade flew off with such force that it was embedded into a marble pillar nearby.

Mary smirked. Her pink hair fluttered slightly as she sat up. A wave of her finger and Omalar felt as though his knees couldn’t be anywhere but the ground. The elf’s palms craved the stone tile of the palace floor in turn. Unable to move the limbs she controlled like a puppet, the elf could only look up as the sorceress approached. The bare feet of the queen pattered softly against the elaborate slate tiles. Though hardly taller than 5 feet in height, she loomed over the elf warrior as he was made to bow.

The sorceress queen lifted her right foot up and set its ball upon Omalar’s forehead. With a sneer, she pressed her lieutenant’s head to the ground. Mary was far from physically strong, but with her full weight behind the foot, the magically restrained Omalar couldn’t move against her. The elven man’s left cheek hit the cold stone while the right side of his face had to contend with Mary’s soft, warm foot pressing against it--hard.

Pleased now, Mary reveled in her triumph with a few twists of the naked foot. “I cannot understand why people don’t do what I tell them to. It boggles my mind.”, she said, applying more pressure.

Mary’s ‘regal’ composure breaks as anger begins to take hold. “And now I’m sure what’s left of that army is right outside, ready to strike against me.” Her delicate foot lifted itself up, heel over the elf’s head. Every word that followed was punctuated by a stomp to the side of the elf’s face.

“All. Because. Of. You.”

Omalar spit out a bloody tooth. “There was no convincing needed. You are a tyran-”

“Shut. Up!”

The next two stomps elicited a crack from the warrior’s jaw.

Mary sighs. “You’ll speak when spoken too like the loyal subject I’ll tur- actually... you aren’t even worth enchanting into a slave. You’re a treacherous bug~” The sorceress sneers, her foot twists again to contort his cheek beneath into a humiliating shape. The paralyzed elf was unable to move as his anger and sorrow simmered.

Omalar felt a tug to his center as he began to shrink. Mary’s foot took up more and more of his head, yet the pressure ceased as the woman above seemed to delight in how her foot seemed to occlude more and more of the warrior. The elf was roughly the size of a figurine now.

“...And bug’s deserve to be treated like one. You and the rest of the people on Leoria don’t deserve me.”, said Mary, curling her toes to snap Omalar’s legs like twigs.

It was only when the elf was half her foot’s length in height that Mary undid the paralyzation spell. The oppressive warm sole started to press down--hard. Mary’s cruel laughter rang out once more.

“Enjoy the rest of your days in the throng. I’ll take care of the treasonous army myself, before I turn Fyaserin into fuel.”

The ‘throng’ was what Mary called her ever growing collection of souls. Their afterlives denied, they writhed in an ethereal cage sequestered deep within her flesh. Within that magical prison, they languished in wait till the next time Mary called upon their essence. An eternity of being magical batteries awaited them, and every spell she cast drained their vigor in a painful process. Worse still, the souls regenerated themselves over time, so permanent rest was ever denied.

With the most minute amount of pressure, Omalar was turned into a smear: an unsightly red spot on Mary’s otherwise perfect sole. The shade of his blood almost matched the red nail polish even; a fact which made Mary smile. That didn’t stop her from prestidigitating away the blotch, though. His soul, like the other victims of this morning, flew right into Mary’s center.

Mary enjoyed the moment’s satisfaction before remembering the army Omalar had roused outside her mighty magical castle: *her* army--or at least it was. She stepped out of her opulent chambers to make her way to the palace balcony. Along the glided path, one of Mary’s still-loyal soldiers approached, catching her breath: the distance from the watchtower to here was quite the run after all. “Mary, some of your forces have marshaled against y-”

“I know.” Mary interrupted, and with a wave of her finger the guard-woman’s flesh shriveled. Her soul flew into the queen as her body fell limp. ‘Worthless’, she thought. They all were. Magical servants and constructs were far more reliable, controllable, and grateful. They would be the future of her kingdom, not the people of Eldbann.

Mary stepped out to the balcony to address the rebels positioned outside the palace courtyard walls. They immediately began to shout out at her their various grievances. The army was as diverse as Eldbann in both capabilities and appearance. War mages used their spells to amplify voices to reach her from down below. They rambled about the various atrocities they were ordered to commit by Mary, and the consensus was that they refused to pillage and destroy anymore of Eldbann for her greed.

As they shouted on, Mary rolled her eyes and drew upon the faintest bit of her vast magical reserves; her reply thundered out to the crowds below. “Shut up! I have never seen a more ungrateful bunch of subjects in my life! I can see Omalar convinced you to kill off the loyalists.”, she said, referring to the undead and charmed troops she noticed missing.

Once their ears stopped ringing, the archers and mages beneath launched volleys up at her. Mary could feel her trapped souls protest as she drained them a tad to put a force barrier up. From the safety of it, she smirked at the soldiers below.

As the archers reloaded, the sorceress disappeared from view, and a shadow was cast upon the army. Her laughter rumbled from behind and above them: no magic voice-amp needed on her part. The pink-haired beauty stood 1000 feet tall now; her garbs having grown with her.

A revelation had occurred to the sorceress in her chat with Omalar: it wasn’t people that were beneath her, but she who was above all. She had never thought to grow herself before--shrinking was far easier, as was charming the defiant and raising the *really defiant* into undeath. Such a powerful enlargement spell was *very* rough on the souls she had trapped in her body, but their cries of anguish never escaped her body.

Mary gazed downwards at the army’s pale-faces and hanging jaws. “What? Did you not know your queen had such power?... Good.”, her perfect sole lifted overheard, unmarred by sweat or dirt as always. “An ideal queen has a bit of mystery surrounding her~”

With a giggle, Mary stomped down and snuffed out a cluster of twenty knights at once. The feeling of bodies and iron crumpling together was an exquisite symphony of sensations further seasoned by the influx of new souls. The bright blue specters bellowed as they were tugged to her center; she let out a coo. Though there were rumors the monstrous queen ate souls, this was the first time any of these soldiers had seen it first hand. Naturally, fear cascaded through their ranks.

Yet, bravery started in others. The volleys started up again and bounced harmlessly off of localize shields of force. Very few reached higher than her knees. One bolt of fire hit her square in the navel; the force and heat was not nearly enough to accomplish much of anything. Mary twisted her foot from side to side, the sound of metal compressing and shearing hit the air.

“You call *that* a fire spell?” she mocked. Her foot lifted backwards and settled behind the army once more. Its surface was pristine still despite the pile of blood and metal in the print it left behind. Her right finger glowed at its tip. The souls within her body spasmed as their energy was called upon again. Mary smirked.

The digit was aimed right at a cluster of war mages. An inescapable, unfathomably hot demi-sphere of searing flames emerged at the point before expanding outwards to cover a 200-foot radius in a few scant seconds. The flesh and bones of the casters turns to dust shortly after; their blood had boiled well before a single drop had time to spill from their fire-seared flesh. The rebel spirits fed her.

“Amateurs~” she huffed.

With that the last bit of bravery was snuffed out. Mary delighted in watching all the soldiers scramble about. To further amuse herself, the gigantic sorceress casted a few more spells here and there. She’d charm enter packs of troops and chuckle as they’d attack their allies. For extra amusement, she’d lax her concentration just as their allies struck them down, reveling as the guilt stained their faces better than the blood before it.

Bolts of force turned soldiers into explosions of gore all around. “Ha, that was a messy one!~” she taunts, seeing one ranger’s reaction to getting covered in the viscera of the woman next to her. A green beam of necrotic energy disintegrates the traumatized archer soon after.

In taking her sweet time, some of the troops start fleeing which Mary isn’t too keen on. A snap of her fingers and a fence of force surrounds them all. This army didn’t bring any flying beasts, and all the casters find their magic worthless in Mary’s sudden aura--so no flight spells either. Another spell from the giant sorceress and all the wooden bows of the troops rot; one more and all the metal weapons and armor become too hot to handle. Knights struggle to don off their armor before the burns get too bad.

Penned in like cattle, they huddle as her booming foot steps grow closer. Her face soon fills their view as she crouches down to get a better look. Staring down, Mary grins. “Traitors, all of you… but...”, her finger comes down squishing three in one bloody go as her body eagerly laps up their souls. “Your queen is so merciful as to let you serve her even in death: a high honor.”

Mary lifts her foot up again, hovering that perfect sole over the masses. With its smooth skin and aesthetic wrinkles, her ped could be called cute in any other context. The pink-haired woman is about to use it to crush another 20 or so soldiers when she gets a better idea.

Setting her foot at the outskirts of the force-fence, “actually, this would be a bit of a waste. I just stepped on some of you earlier after all, and your most majestic queen should terminate you in a novel way. Your souls will be a nice power infusion in my march south to Fyaserin, so it’s the least I can do. Although, I wonder how best to--” a sudden gurgle from the queen’s taut, exposed tummy gives her the answer and sends shivers and screams throughout the masses.

“Of course, I can put your bodies to work if I eat them.” she says. “All the energy I’ll need for my march. Your queen is so smart. You are truly blessed to know me~”

Mary slams her knees on the ground, then hovers her hand over the people below. Her tongue slips out to lick at her lips as she grabs a squirming, writhing bunch. The handful is raised several hundred feet up to chest-height, and her fingers scoop the first soldier up from the collection. His skin was a bit red, so they must’ve just recently taken off their heated plate armor. Made sense to Mary they’d be a knight; they were a burly looking dwarf after all.

“Ah, you’re already nice and tender~” she chimed, giving his sore body a couple squeezes. The dwarf grit his teeth. “Trying not to give me the satisfaction of a pained scream? We’ll see how well you can keep that up in my tummy hmm?”

One ‘cute’ smile later and her maw opens. Rows of perfect, pearly white teeth greet the dwarf alongside the humid, hot breath of her exhale. A small consolation was that her daily enchantments kept her breath smelling fresh. A watery ribbon of her spittle broke against him as he was plopped in.

At 1000 feet in height, a four foot tall dwarven male took up about an eighth of the space in the humid cave. Though there was room for more, she wanted to feel the first person she swallowed go down alone. After some thorough rubs of her tastebuds against his flesh, the tongue tilts and her throat claims him. Despite his strength, the sorceress’s throat has him beat, and his thrashings only serve to please the pink-haired monster. Though slickened with mucus, the tight squeezes easily further irritate his already sore flesh.

With a slirtch he slides into her stomach. The air is acrid and practically singes the thick hairs of his chest. His skin begins to slowly melt. Unable to hold back anymore, he lets out a scream and starts running to and fro, pounding futilely at the walls of her gut.

“Oh wow~” Mary booms to the others in her palm, her left hand pressing gently against her stomach. “What an odd sensation that is...” She grins down. “I can get used to it~”

Her mouth opens, the hand tilts, and the entire handful is about to be shoved in--but she pauses.

“Ah, silly me~” she giggles. Some people in her hand breathe a sigh of relief at the chance of mercy. Too soon. Mary reaches her other hand up and waggles her fingers towards her open mouth; orbs of colorful light emerge from them and hover down her throat. There, a few settle in the lining while the rest of the light spheres slip into her stomach and cling to the walls. The dwarf from earlier gets to see his melting flesh properly now, and his screams intensify accordingly.

“Perfect, now you can see my insides as you digest in them. Far better than my unloyal subjects deserve, but, well, I’m just that wonderfully generous I suppose~”

One self-indulgent giggle later and she stuffs the handful into her gob.

One problem for Mary: they hardly fit. Her lips can’t fully close around them. The giant woman’s inner-cheeks squelch against the fidgeting, kicking clump of people in a vain attempt to seal them in but it’s no use! The tongue even tries to shift some underneath to make room, but that’s also to no avail, and serves only to further lather the clump in her saliva. A drop of the stuff falls from her mouth onto a few unfortunate heads still down below in the force-pen. They do what they can to wipe it off, equal parts humiliated and horrified.

A very muffled chuckle exits her packed-mouth: the easiest solution is sometimes the hardest to come up with. ‘I’ll just grow’, she thinks. With another excruciating drain of her imprisoned souls, she casts yet another enlarge spell. Five-hundred more feet of height is enough to finally seal her mouth.

The batch is more easily savored now, and she wastes no time swishing them about like the morsels they are. Mary’s saliva starts to pool ever more around them, and her mouth is starting to get full again. She enacts the simple solution of swallowing one of them. A strategic flex of the tongue and just one of the nine in her mouth are gulped down. The ranger woman screams and flail as she falls down the illuminated esophagus of the wicked queen. This inspires rage in one of the ranger’s companions, who quickly starts punching and kicking at Mary’s tongue and cheek.

The attack doesn’t hurt a bit of course, but such insolence can’t be tolerated. A quick chomp on his elbows shatters his arms into uselessness while also teaching the others to behave.

She continues, gulping them down one by one. Every gulp snuffed a little more hope from the meek while inspiring more delicious squirms from the stubborn. The sadistic queen considered it the perfect tactile treat as they moaned and fidgeted in her mouth.

By chance, the eighth person to get gulped was the female lover of another in her mouth. As she heads towards the throat with a gesture of Mary’s tongue, her partner rushes forward to grab her arms to try tug her back up. “Gilraa!” he cries, holding onto to her slippery, saliva coated arms with all his might. Despite his strength, he fails against Mary’s throat. A single muscle of the giant sorceress, one used for mere food, was more than enough to thwart his efforts. He succeeds only in getting a close look as she slips down that abyss, calling his name in turn. One more gulp and he’s sent down after her. They briefly embrace in her gut as the acids start working them down.

With the stomach lit up, the fresh arrivals get to take in the grisly sight of her undulating, slimy stomach walls and the corrosive fluid that fills the chamber. The dwarf she ate first was nearly a skeleton by now, and the others were soon to follow. Eyes reddened in the acidic environment, flesh seared, and the various humanoids within cried-out and shouted. Utterances and movements were worse than futile--they served only to please the smug queen. Still, it was all they could do to keep themselves remotely sane with the pain.

The first handful done, Mary reaches down for more. Her taut tummy gurgles as the next handful is brought past it, the faint sound of screams breaking past the barrier of flesh in between them and the churning, acidic hell-pit.

One of the humanoids in this handful was an elf, and it occurs to Mary that she should probably get on with her plans to finish off Fyaserin to the south. “Ah, I shouldn’t spend too long enjoying my meal here. At the same time, I can’t exactly let you rebels off the hook now can I?”

Mary closed her eyes for a moment and grew to three times her size--it’s an excruciating day for her soul throng. Nearly a mile tall now, she was able to down the next handful in one smooth gulp. No time to savor now, she dug her hands down, devoured, and repeated until the force-pen was clear.

And with that, the rebels assailing her castle were reduced to a snack. Mary stands up, clutching her tummy. “Oof, always easier to eat more when sitting down.” She chuckles. Inside her gut, the hundreds of soldiers tumble over each other in the horrid, torrid, horrid cave. Their cries echo around as Mary raises her arms and stands on her toes for a nice, big stretch. Her heels hit the Earth again in a thundering quake. Thankfully her castle is magically protected from such earth rattling events.

Eldbann from this height is quite the few. Only the tallest moutains dwarf her. The lands lush trees and fields of green are quite lovely. There’s plenty of quaint settlements nearby too. Fyaserin is a few hundred or so miles south; Mary can almost see it from here. She groans aloud for all to hear.

“Urgh, it’d take so long to just walk there at this size. I do so want my second bath before night’s end… Oh what the heck, the more of me, the better~”

With that cheery, booming statement she wracks the souls within for even *more* power. The batteries provide, as they must, and Mary does a few more stretches; her body burgeons out once more. Confusion wracks the wailing mass of morsels still stuck in her gut as the chamber they are in expands. Acid production ramps up in turn, and what little time they had left is cut even shorter. Each churn of the organ sends them flying and splashing about: a quake in its own right to them. The living get to see souls leave their allies on their death. The spirits fly upwards for just a second before Mary’s body senses them and tugs them through the stomach walls: to the throng with the others. The ghostly timbre of their wails is haunting enough to be a brief distraction from the pain of digestion.

Five miles is where her growth stops. The pink-haired woman had grown so much her toes had encroached the nearby woods, flattening its outskirts. For fun, she decides to walk along it south, despite the clearing not too far off. The sensation of once proud and sturdy oaks flattening is wonderful in both tactility and concept. That is to say, Mary finds it fitting that Leoria’s most powerful queen makes such marvels of nature look smaller than toothpicks from her height--and crunch far easier.

That forest wasn’t the only thing in her path. It’s not long before she spots a cute little hamlet on the way. Thousands of feet in length, the ped is large enough to almost entirely eclipse the small village as it comes down on it. One thundering step later and it leaves behind only a gigantic print. Mary coos as a few dozen souls flow into her. They’re put to work immediately, helping Mary enlarge herself a few more dozen feet in height. Hardly noticeable, but providing that lovely stretching sensation all the same.

To Mary, this stroll across “her kingdom” is but a leisurely walk with a nice view. Her eyes are fixed on Fyaserin far in the distance now, and she doesn’t notice the little farm houses, merchant caravans, and wildlife that finds itself beneath her careless feet. Of course, after the fact she picks up what occurred as her greedy body laps up more souls.

There is one spot she does notice though: the city of Qrahbridge. Though she made her palace outside the city, this was the very first settlement she took over. It was also the most loyal one in her kingdom. Whenever news of Mary’s horrid deeds reached them, the sycophantic citizens would decry them as either falsehoods or justified actions. Gilded statues in her image lined the place: those and the old castle were the only fanciful structures in the otherwise average, though large, city.

Though they had never seen their queen so large, they all cheered on her approach. For them, more of the queen was just more to love. Mary crouched down and smiled wide.

They’d be the perfect power boost before Fyaserin, she thought.

“Qrahbridge, I am so happy to visit you!” Even as her voice assaulted their ears with its overbearing volume, they still kept on their admiration.

“Most of my army has betrayed me, so I’ve decided to deal with all military matters myself from now on. In fact, I’m sad to say the people of Eldbann have been unreliable. But don’t worry, your queen has a solution! All Leoria’s people will be replaced with obedient constructs; the land remade according to my will. Best of all, your souls will help give me the power to do so!” Cheerful expressions below turned confused. “Doesn’t that sound nice, to be with your queen forever? I’ll give some time to let the honor sink in.”, she says with a grin.

The sorceress held out a finger which began to glow bright blue as it crackled with electricity. “Not too long though, I do want to return to the palace before nightfall, and I still have to punish Fyaserin.”

Among the gathered crowd, it gradually sunk in that their beloved queen was serious. Did she really care so little for them? As the beam of lighting shot at them, it would seem so.

The electricity crackled as it lept from person to person in a chain of blue lines. Lovers saw their partners fried just milliseconds before the magic lightning lept off a husked, crisp body into their theirs. It was efficient and merciless, and in just a minute the town’s population went to 0 while Mary’s throng grew the difference. Fires spread out through the singed and scorched Qrahbridge. Mary stood up, magicked away any dust, then walked towards Fyaserin.

Fyaserin was perhaps the most splendid city in all of Eldbann. Ruled by the same elven royalty for hundreds of years, it was one of the most well-run and prosperous cities in all of Leoria. Naturally they refused the young queen’s claim to their city, confident in their military, magic, and various forts and outposts to keep them safe. Thanks to Omalar’s betrayal of Mary, they never even saw her forces from the promised attack.

Till now at least. The booms in the ground heralded the approach of the queen’s greatest, most dangerous force: herself. The elven scouts could hardly believe it. They managed to send out a magical message back to Fyaserin just before Mary’s toe came down upon them and the entire fort they were stationed in.

The gigantic queen was nearly upon the city now. Alarm signals resonated from magical golden bells throughout the metropolis. The thoom of her steps shook the earth, though the magic-fortified buildings held up through the quakes. They thought the scout’s report was an ill-thought joke till they saw her proper. Looking down with an arrogant smirk, the barely-clothed queen sets her feet down on either side of the city, straddling it, hands on hips.

The city’s defenders pelt her shins with harmless arrows and spells: no force-barrier needed, she’s simply too big for infantry and war-mages to harm now. Elven pride takes a big blow as Mary wiggles her ground quaking toes and remarks, “Ha, that tickles!”

The sorceress queen studies the sight below. It was marvelous: red, gold, blue and silver exteriors and trimmings decorated every building from the most majestic spires to the most ‘humble’ shop. It was dense, populous, and abuzz with activity as the elves panicked in the titaness’s shadow. The tallest building there wasn’t even as half as tall as a quill pen to the godly sorceress.

The pink-haired colossus pouted. Tutting, “Tsk tsk, what a shame. You would have made a perfect table spread in my castle. So elegant and refined. Several dozen times older than me, quite the antique your city would have been. Shame you must be punished. There is no place in my kingdom for the unruly any longer.”

The sorceress crouches down over the city and presses the tip of a 1300ft long finger down on the packed market square and surrounding streets. The buildings held briefly thanks to the ancient magical enchantments that permeated the city. Still, magic can only do so much against a force like her, and with just a bit more pressure that chunk of cityscape turns to rubble in her finger’s print.

That protective magic caught Mary’s eye though. She grins. “Ah that’s right. I heard about the history of Fyaserin. Some of these buildings are so fantastically shaped, it’d make sense you need magic to keep them standing, let alone stable from disasters. Well, since this city is my property, so too is that magic.” She rubs some rubble in-between her fingers before flicking it away. “As such, your queen will be taking it~”

Mary radiates her arrogance with a grin; setting her knees down on the city’s outer wall, she holds out her open palm which begins to softly glow. “You know,” she starts, “It’s rare I absorb raw magic: even then, it’s usually just a minor magical artifact. Of course, to *me*, this city isn’t too bigger than a magic suit of armor now is it?” Her giggle drowns out the sounds of the heightened alarms. “So, it should be a cinch.”

Mary focuses; every building in the city begins to shake and crack as its magics wafts towards Mary’s core in the form of colorful, ethereal mist. She continues. “Unlike souls though, a drained magical object doesn’t just replenish on its own. I was planning to level this place anyways, so consider yourselves honored I can find some use of it after all~”

The iridescent magical lights that decorate the street snuff out. Unwieldy spires begin to crumble and tilt; levitating towers fall back down to the Earth. Dense packs of elf citizens are caught under smooth, elegant stone and flattened like bugs under a shoe. Few can even escape the interiors of the ostentatious structures in time before they fall over. Each collapse causes devastating chain reactions of destruction throughout the densely-developed city.

The magnificent royal castle’s elaborate design and stately construction was critically dependent on magic fortifications, and the ages old landmark flattens as those magics are sucked away. The elven royal family and their legion of servants go down with it.

The colorful spread of civilization begins to crumble before Mary’s gaze: she smiles. Still, she can’t help but think she’s being too kind. A blast from some spunky elven wizard gives her an idea. Is such a thing possible? It’s been unheard of before...

Exactly the kind of thing the perfect queen would be able to do on her first-try. Focusing harder, her magic-devouring aura begins to tug at every spell practitioner in the city. Headaches wrack the novice caster and the arch-mage alike as their magic potential is slurped right up.

Of course, those who know magic by study are immune but other, lesser, sorcerers and sorceresses lose their ability to cast anything at all as their ‘spark’ is consumed by the greedy queen. Even then, any wizard sustaining their long life with magic finds themselves withering to dust. All enchanted weapons and objects fail, becoming mundane or malfunctioning entirely. One unlucky elven woman’s magic prosthetic limbs falter just a precious few steps from escaping a collapsing building.

When every last ounce of drainable magic slurped up, Mary lets out a satisfied sigh. The city’s most magnificent sculptures and structures in ruin, its very color was drained. Fyaserin is but a shadow of its former self cast, now, in the bigger shadow of that monstrous queen not yet finished.

“Mmmf, I admit I feel quite empowered by the offerings here. Shame it left this city such an eyesore. Now I *really* have no choice but to finish you off.”

Mary stands up, raises her right foot, and begins to snuff out what’s left: step-by-destructive-step. The city’s already in shambles, its defenses quashed. Most citizens do naught but stare up in a hopeless daze at the underside of her foot as it comes down. Their torment doesn’t end as their souls are reaped, fueling the already power-glutted queen more so than any one human deserves.

Every stomp’s reverberation through the earth is heard for hundreds of miles all around. Each sends a powerful message to the other cities of Eldbann: ‘you’re next’.

Mary gives her right foot a twist to really snuff out the last bit of city beneath her. A series of foot-shaped craters, dozens of meters deep, line the Earth where Fyaserin once stood. A curt “Hmph” follows as she turns on her heel and marches back to her splendid palace.

The queen wasn’t planning to deign to shrink till she arrives, though, and she’s certainly not going to walk the same old boring path back. Screams of her subjects fail to dissuade her from crushing a few more villages under-tread on her returning march. As always, their souls are hers now.

One small city does catch her eye though: the diverse Klaipgend. Right before her foot comes down upon it. The expansive ball of her foot moves out of their sky and her heel slides back with an earth-rending grind. Her toes loom outside its bounds. “Ah, aren’t you just the perfect size~” she beams, and with a snap of her fingers it disappears.

She returns to her castle, stretches, shrinks to her usual size, then teleports into her chambers.

--==--==--==--

Later that day...

Mary relaxed in a gem-encrusted tub made with solid gold. The water was the perfect temperature: nice and hot. Warm steam permeated the bathing chamber. The naked sorceress was resting her eyes and listening to the sweet music coming from the enthralled Frederick. The tiny bard was still in his finger-sized, glided cage; it hung on a small hook nearby. The door opened and a shiny, Mary-shaped metal construct walks in. The queen had since liquidated her other servants: in fact, her and Frederick were the only living things in the palace now.

The magical servant held a golden platter containing Klaipgend, a glass of red wine, a spoon, and a slice of scrumptious cake. Mary levitated the dish before her, then dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand.

The sorceress shifted up from the hot water like a leviathan--from the perspective of her mite-sized subjects on the platter-city, that is. Droplets of water crept down her bare chest as she leaned over the shrunken city. A few sprinkles from her pink locks fell down onto some of the outer shops, devastating them.

Mary giggled. “Ah, my apologies~”, she smirked. “I wouldn’t want my subjects to drown before I eat them.” She pinches up a finger-full of homes and people, sticks out her tongue, and plops them on it. A swig of wine washes them down.

“I hope you don’t think your wonderful queen strange for eating while she bathes now.”, a soft chuckle follows. “I mean, I suppose you can’t tell anyone outside, but I know for a fact souls love to gossip~”

Mary scoops up a handful of city and sprinkles it onto the cake slice. People and buildings alike sink into the sugary quagmire of the dessert. “Not that there’ll be anyone in Eldbann to tell by tomorrow’s end.” She lifts one leg out of the water and crosses it over the other. Bobbing her foot up and down. “Then, the day after I’ll take out all of Igrisos. My size today was a mere fraction of what I can reach with all the power I’ve earned.”

Screams ring out as the sliver spoon scoops up some cake: ‘toppings’ included.

“In time, I’ll populate all of Leoria with wondrous constructs in my image. And perhaps, with all the souls this world offers, I’ll be able to break the barrier into the divine realms...” Mary sinks back into the soothing bathwater a bit now, the tray lowering in turn to stay in easy reach. “For now though, I think I’ve earned some time to relax~”

The queen dips the spoon into her mouth, and pulls it out clean and ready to fetch the next bit of cake.

“It’ll be a busy next-few-days to be sure~”

Fin