contains: crush, vore, sex and violence, female and male giants
also, I shared today with tiny-ink-spot; if you're looking for more, check out "christmas playtime"!
"I don't like the way Mara's been looking at me all night."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. She's like, too happy."
"C'mon, Willa. You can't put her down for that. Where's your holiday cheer?"
"Well, I'm just suspicious. And why are you defending her? You started calling her the 'Ice Queen' before I did."
He snorted. "I called her that once. You keep it going. Maybe she's melted."
Even over the clamorous humdrum chitchat that formed the party's ambience, Willa could hear the loud tick tick ticking of the ornate analog wooden clock, which squatted -- nestled in a shock of wreaths, garlands, ribbons, and candles -- on the nearby mantle like a clucking, ruminative toad.
Steven raised his drink and took a sip; his wedding band winked at her; his soft eyes studied hers as he swallowed.
She fell in love with those green-brown eyes first. And his disarmingly calm, quiet demeanor. People often experienced him as standoffish or unfriendly because of how silent he was most of the time, but she knew better -- he was always thinking, lost somewhere in the depths of his mind. Where exactly he went, however, she didn't really know.
Willa spotted how Steven was processing something, in that moment: it crushed her a little bit to witness the telltale fall of his face.
"You want to go, don't you," he asked softly.
"I'm just," she began; she took a quick draw from her wine glass and gazed off to the side -- Willa immediately wished she hadn't: she found that she stared right at the Ice Queen herself. Mara was stepping in through the front door to her spacious home, wiping at her hands with what appeared to be an oil-stained rag. Petite, curvier, fitter Mara looked right at Willa, and that same infuriatingly gleeful smile Willa had suffered all night long slowly crept across the other woman's features. "I'm just tired," Willa mumbled.
"Listen" -- Steven had such a gentle, kind voice -- "We haven't been here long. Maybe in a little while-"
"We've been here for hours, Steven."
"A little over one hour."
"Well, it's felt like forever already."
Steven's brow knitted in a rare show of frustration; Willa knew how he hated being ridden in a conversation, but she stayed on top of his words. He was a bit shorter than her, and as primped as a beloved doll: neat reddish hair, shaved jaw, chic black horn-rimmed glasses, garish prismatic sweater that somehow looked cute on him, finely pressed tan slacks, shiny brown dress shoes.
"You aren't even giving the party a chance."
"I told you I didn't want to come!"
"You told me you'd try to have a good time."
She raised her voice: "I was just trying to make you-" Willa's mouth hanged open for a moment, and then she closed it. Her sigh was heavy. "They're your friends, babe, not mine."
He tilted his head and glanced away; shook it a little. "I know." When Steven's face turned toward her once more, she was ashamed by the hurt clearly etched in the features framing those green-brown eyes she loved so much.
"I'm sorry, honey."
"It's fine," he said, unable to hide the effort of forcing a smile.
Willa schooled her own lips to match the shape of his.
Then she let out a startled yelp as it felt like a nurse had snuck up on her and, unbidden, jabbed a surgical needle deep into her arm.
"Ow! What the fuck?"
Willa's head swiveled to find Mara standing uncomfortably close beside her, holding what appeared to be a small snubnosed gun made of white plastic -- like a common gadget -- with a glistening needle where its barrel might be. Willa expected to see blood dripping down her arm, but a quick inspection revealed only the smallest prick -- an inconsequential red dot.
Still, the tall, thin woman fixed Mara with a glare, her lips curling. "You little bitch," she hissed.
The crown of Mara's head only came up to Willa's chest. The woman's rich, long curls were a few shades darker than her burnt umber skintone. She had thick, heavy eyebrows; a rounded face with pronounced, bold features; light blue eyes -- almost gray. Despite her height, Mara was solid: she worked out religiously, and had broad shoulders, an ample chest, wide hips, and solid thighs. Between Mara and Steven, Willa suddenly felt particularly tall, and she confidently straightened her back.
Willa expected Mara to come back at her, or look angry, or fussed -- the two had a combative relationship at best, the few times they ever really interacted. She wasn't ready for the genuine expression of worry the shorter woman wore. Mara, typically so poised, was now more like a child full of remorse at having been caught.
"Willa, I'm -- Oh gosh, I didn't mean to startle you like that."
"Oh, really? How the hell did you think I was going to respond to being stabbed by surprise?"
"Honey, come on," Steven murmured, but clamped his mouth shut when Willa's glower focused him.
"I'm very sorry, truly."
Her anger quickly fading -- but not disappearing -- Willa shut her eyes and released a heavy sigh. Then she gazed down at the silly little contraption in Mara's grip. "Well: what in the world is that thing?"
"Just a new toy. It might be easier to show you, hm?" By Mara's expression she was still unsure, and the woman cast a glance over at Steven. "Um, can I get a volunteer?"
Steven shrugged and smiled, his eyes glazed with drink. He pulled the sleeve up on his colorful sweater and presented his arm to the party's host. She pricked him with the device, and Steven let out a surprised little, "Ow."
"Don't be a baby," Mara chided.
Her voice, to Willa's ear, was far too familiar.
But before Willa could challenge Mara, or even share her flustered look with Steven, the two of them were already gliding away through the party -- Steven following at Mara's heels like a trained pup. Willa's nose crinkled at the sight; she groaned and moved to catch up.
The spacious home was packed with gay revellers, and decked with decorations from holiday traditions familiar and queer to Willa: there was an enormous tree in the foyer, lit menorahs scattered throughout -- including what looked like menorahs with red and green candles flanking a single black votive in the center -- and, of course, there was an abundance of lights and festoons and nutcrackers and sparkling ornaments.
Mara led them to a table surrounded by an excited gaggle: on it was a large boxy device, which looked like something from the future to Willa. It had a shiny silver nozzle that worked furiously as the crowd excitedly waited for it to finish laying down layers of goo.
"Oh, they've already got it going."
"What the hell," Willa murmured, but Mara and Steven weren't paying any attention to her.
"You got a 3D printer," Steven asked.
"Oh, neat! What's it doing now?"
"Just wait and you'll see." From behind the pair, Willa watched as Mara flashed Steven an excited look. "You're going to like this."
With a huff, crossing her arms, Willa leaned forward, her face pointedly hovering just over Steven's shoulder, putting her head between her husband and Mara. Meanwhile, the extruder glided back and forth over the printer's build area, squirting out peach-colored gunk in a shape that looked something like a cartoonish human outline.
Willa snorted. So Mara had a fancy contraption just to make gingerbread men? It figured. Willa bet it cost thousands of dollars, too -- she couldn't believe how the rich wasted their money.
But as she watched, the shape increasingly gained definition with each pass of the printer's nozzle. It wasn't a gingerbread man at all, Willa realized, her eyes widening -- or even a man. As the machine filled in the tiny thing's legs, and hips, and breasts, it was clear that the machine was printing out a curvy tiny woman, maybe two inches in height.
"Geez. Couldn't you print me out some clothes," a plump, pale woman beside Mara asked.
The host chuckled and shrugged. "You can dress them up after if you want, I think, but so far no one has gifted any doll clothes. I could probably find some in the attic, if you'd like."
Low chuckles rippled through the captivated audience, and Willa studied the woman who asked the question. With a gasp she realized the woman's face and body matched the figure being printed; Willa blushed as her eyes swept over the small person's nudity before she could catch herself. At that moment, gazing at the little thing -- to Willa's surprise -- it sputtered wetly and sat straight up, looking around at the assembled crowd in wonder. Willa was used to feeling tall, but right then she felt positively giant. It wasn't a pleasing sensation; the woman felt disoriented by it. Sick. It was an odd mode for her, but from the other delighted faces that surrounded her, she was alone in not enjoying the sense of scale.
"Oh my god," the woman who was the tiny thing's giant twin said. "That's so cool!"
At the sound of this familiar voice, the inches-tall woman on the metal tray of the printer slowly gazed around. Willa could make out all the details of her small face despite her size, like a doll's, and the way the whites of her eyes shone as they widened. As terror gripped her, the printed-out creature screamed.
That was all Willa had to see. An electric shock welled up through her, and quickly she turned away from the table and started walking away. Steven was close behind her -- finally -- asking what was wrong. And Mara, who still wore a mask of worry, trailed in tow. The pair followed behind Willa until she came to a stop. There was a very real chance, Willa realized, that she might throw up right then and there.
"No way," Willa said, repeating it. "No. You are not printing a tiny me out, Mara."
"Okay. That's fine. No worries, Willa."
"I'm fucking serious."
"Ohh-kay. I'm really very sorry! I had no idea this all would make you so mad."
"You ever think about asking someone before you do something?"
"Willa," Steven mumbled.
Over at the table came laughter and cheering, and Willa spied how the plump, pale woman was dangling her tiny clone between her fingers, leering at her.
"Erase my file. Or whatever you have to do. Right now."
"Okay! Okay. I am." Mara was fiddling with the little plastic gun in her hands. She brought it up and showed Willa the device's dual-tone display, where there were big blocky letters: D E L E T E D.
"Good," Willa said.
The tall waifish woman glared at Mara. Then at Steven. She held out her hand and he dropped his car keys onto her upturned palm without a peep.
"I'm leaving. Thank you for having me, and good night."
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Even as her mind raced for awareness, she could tell something was off. Everything felt so terribly wrong.
The woman groaned and brought a hand up to her face; she pressed on her closed eyelids with her fingers. The last thing she remembered was talking to Steven, and it wasn't going well. Mara. They were at her house, "enjoying" her annual holiday mixer. Willa grumbled under her breath at the thought: they weren't still there, were they?
When Willa opened her eyes and peered around, she found herself in a vast space. Taking in the enormity of the room around her left her chilled and scared.
"Steven?" She called out. But there was no response. And no one around her.
There were sounds, talking -- but it wasn't like hearing a conversation in another room. The voices were booming, sonorous, like a couple of thundering clouds having a casual chat.
She was on a surface that was hard and cold: a plane of smooth metal. And above her was something big and shiny, like an industrial showerhead of some kind. Willa's eyes narrowed as she tried to divine what purpose this contraption had, and what it had to do with her. She was jarred from her ruminations as the metal floor underneath her began to shake; only a little at first, the tremors steadily growing in force until Willa was jostled so violently that she had to spread her limbs out around herself to keep steadied. At that moment, the fact that she was completely naked set in.
But Willa wasn't left to consider this new detail for long.
Something massive moved in front of her, completely filling her view like a wall.
No, not something; someone.
And not anyone.
A giant, grinning Mara.
Mara, who Willa was so used to towering head and shoulders above. Small, muscular Mara was now a colossus, still dressed in the simple and colorful poncho she wore over her dark slacks. Her black curly hair spilled around her giant face in waves as she leaned forward to gaze over Willa's body. The tiny woman recoiled in revulsion and horror as Mara's pale eyes seemed to roam over every part of her; her breasts; her legs; between them. Willa covered herself up with her hands as best she could, which wasn't much at all, feeling suddenly violated.
Then Mara's head turned and, with a voice like thunder rolling across an open plain, declared "The last one's done!" to someone, or someones, that Willa couldn't see.
And then the giant woman's attention turned back to her, and Mara's arm shifted, and her huge hand started to lower down toward Willa, fingers curling.
Willa screamed and hopped to her feet and turned and ran. There wasn't much space for her to move, and nowhere to go, but still she ran, bare feet thumping on the metal. With no better direction, she simply charted a path as directly away from the giant as she could.
And then big, warm, soft-on-the-outside, hard-on-the-inside objects clamped down on either side of Willa's hips and her feet were no longer on the ground as she was effortlessly hoisted upward, her legs kicking in the air. The objects were Mara's pinching fingertips, Willa realized with horror: plush flesh over hard bone.
"No!" Willa screamed. "No! No! No!"
Without any way to control her ascent, Willa was raised and then turned so that she was forced to take in the sight of Mara's visage, full of malicious glee. The giant's cold gray-blue eyes widened with pleasure, and delight blossomed across the umber-skinned countenance as Mara let out a booming laugh. Willa screamed all the while, holding up her hands as if they might shield her somehow.
"Who's the little bitch now?" Mara's deep, rumbling voice said, and Willa could only stare back with confusion and fear.
And then everything became a blur as Mara's towering form started to move. Gracefully -- but without a care for tiny Willa's comfort, it seemed -- the colossal woman walked wherever it was she was going. Willa was held just in front of Mara's chest, each of the woman's breasts like a globe of flesh to the miniature woman: how effortlessly she could be smashed flat between the Mara's bulging breasts, Willa realized with terror.
And then Willa was falling. Only a short distance, but she landed on something soft and squirming. And moaning. Willa had been dropped onto a pile of people. Bewildered, aghast, the tiny being struggled to keep up with this disorienting reality she found herself in. She kept hoping to wake up. But she didn't, and Willa scrambled to find solid ground atop the writhing mass of people. They were all in a large bowl, from the looks of it, with curving walls too high and too smooth to escape over. Willa climbed atop the others, pushing them away from her, trying to make her way over to one of the sides of the bowl anyway. Another woman, who had the same idea as Willa, blocked her path for a moment and the two exchanged glances.
The other woman: her face. She looked just like Willa.
Willa's eyes widened and she gasped.
She looked exactly like her.
"How," Willa asked, just as the other woman said, "What?"
But the two didn't have long to exchange pleasantries.
The bowl slammed down onto something, and the dozens of squirming people inside let out a unified yelp of surprise. When Willa regained her senses, she was staring around at three giant faces: Mara's, flanked by a man's and another woman's.
To her right was a taller, thin, beautiful blond. He was dressed in a simple white blouse shirt with an open collar, and what looked like riding pants tailored to fit his slim, crossed legs, which gave Willa a view of how his pants tucked into a shiny knee-high black boot.
And at Mara's left, a woman with Chinese features with deeply ochre flesh, dressed in a flawlessly fashionable and chic way that would have typically driven Willa wild with jealousy, if she was observing the woman from across a room -- instead of from a bowl, the size of a bug; Willa was awed instead. The woman wore an elegant gown that must have been many times more expensive than anything Willa had ever owned, and the golden jewelry that draped from her ears, and neck, and her wrists and ankles gave her the appearance of royalty.
Willa gazed around, still hoping for a means to escape, and noticed that there were two other people on the other side of the table the bowl had been placed on. Another woman and man, dressed similarly in straps of black leather, chains connecting different pieces of their clothing and limiting their movement. They also wore matching black leather hoods with zippers across their mouths. Willa's eyes widened at the curious pair, feeling as if she'd found herself all of a sudden in some kind of bizarre bondage nightmare.
"Ah, finally," the handsome giant man rumbled, drawing Willa's attention back toward him. "I thought that gaggle was never going to leave. Why do we even bother with something like a party?"
Huge, mighty Mara let out a low chuckle, her eyes roaming across the contents of the bowl. Those cold irises and piercing pupils found Willa and remained locked onto her. "Then who would we play with, David? We reap what we sow."
Someone screamed beside Willa, and she glanced over to watch as a plump, pale woman she didn't recognize was lifted from the bowl by her leg, snared by David. She twirled and flailed in the air, helpless to stop her ascent, and soon she dangled over his happy face. The man's mirthful expression never faltered, as if carved into stone.
"I've had my eye on you all night long, darling," he murmured like a lover.
His long-lashed eyelids fluttered closed and he opened his mouth, extending his tongue. The woman shrieked as she was lowered down onto its waiting surface, and then her cries were muffled as his glistening tongue pulled back into his mouth and his smiling lips closed. There was no evidence that he had a tiny person in his maw for a moment. Then a bulge in his cheek showed how he must have played with her with his tongue. Willa felt sick at the sight of how the lump squirmed and struggled, unable to keep herself from imagining what it might be like to be inside that beautiful face's mouth.
David swallowed, and for a brief moment the bump appeared at the top of his throat as the cartilage of his larynx bobbed. His eyes fluttered open once more, and he exhaled with satisfaction.
Willa's eyes rolled upward. She very nearly fainted. All around her, her tiny compatriots were scrambling and struggling anew, climbing over one another, kicking at each other. The copy of herself she had run into was no longer at her side, but with surreal dismay Willa spied other versions of herself fighting amongst the other copies in the bowl. She saw at least four other women who looked exactly like her, along with multiple clones of everyone else.
"God, look at these little shits," the woman next to Mara said. Her eyes roamed over the contents of the bowl, and Willa shuddered as the giant's gaze fell on her. To her relief, her snow-cold gaze quickly moved on, and the towering woman said, "Ah, there you are!" as she plucked a tanned, mustached little man from the collection.
The towering woman laughed, delighted, as she held the wailing man up to her face, dangling him by his arms -- his little hands were snared between the finger and thumb of her hand. His legs windmilled uselessly in the air, and she used a giant finger to part them, peering pointedly at her prey's flaccid, tiny penis.
The woman tittered, her face disgusted. "You brag and hit on me all night and that's all you're packing? Wow."
Curling the index finger of her free hand into her thumb, the woman let it fly, her nail slapping up between the hanging man's thighs. The fleshy thwack the impact produced made even Willa wince, and the Chinese woman's face was cold -- but her eyes were fixed and pleased -- as again and again she smashed the man between his legs. Even from below Willa could see the blood running down his thighs as the giant destroyed the manhood she had mocked.
"Oh, Estelle," Mara laughed. "Like he really ever had a chance with you."
"You would have have better luck going for David, little man."
"Please. He's the right height, now. But, everything else, no."
"Sure, you slut. You just like to hear them scream."
David was peering back into the bowl, the smile never leaving his eyes and lips. "Yes. I like the way women scream," he said, his fingers wiggling as his hand hovered over the bowl -- and the women inside it, including Willa and her twins, screamed as if on command. David chuckled. "And some men, sometimes," he murmured, poking at a scared male, who let out a little shriek.
As David's fingers pinched a woman by her hair and raised her wailing from the bowl, Willa's horrified gaze was drawn back to Estelle's hands. She trapped the man between the fingertips and thumb of her free hand and, without a second thought, brought them together. Willa immediately wished she had glanced away, but in the horror of the moment she saw all the brutal details of the mustached stranger's demise: how he yelped and beat against the fingers, and how useless his struggles were as, just like that, the fleshy pads squeezed him into ruin. His body crackled wetly and viscera dripped from between his legs, and was forced out his mouth, and burst from his split belly as Estelle's fingers compressed him. He was dead in an instant, looking more like a smashed worm than anything human, and the giant let him fall from her fingers with a wet plop against the floor.
Willa turned to throw up, but nothing came out of her, so she simply convulsed and dry heaved until she could regain control of her body once more.
When she turned back toward the awful sight of the giants, David was dangling the woman he'd snared over his open mouth with a happy "aaahhh!" as if it was all just a game, and Estelle had another copy of the tanned, mustached man held between her bloodied fingertips, this time flicking him over and over in the face. His arms were raised, but were ineffective as a shield, and quickly he went limp, his head snapping back, and back, and back with every blow as Estelle worked it like a speedbag.
Willa was so transfixed by the horrible violence that she did not notice how Mara moved until the god-sized woman was looming over the bowl. The host of the evening let out a low murmur as she studied the squirming, writhing crowd trapped in the porcelain container. Her eyes searched -- hunted. Willa shrank back, terrified of the giant's gaze falling on her. "There you are," Mara said, and Willa clamped her hands over her mouth to keep her scream in. It was with terrible relief that she watched Mara pluck up another one of her -- but not her, her mind tried to tell her, as a comfort -- and the waifish, pale copy of herself appeared so meek in comparison as she was carried aloft by Mara's big brown fingers.
Dread seized Willa; its icy tendrils grasped her at her core as she anticipated what awful things Mara might do to the little copy of herself. As her mind raced, the tiny woman fell through the air without warning, and even Mara's hovering face was surprised. With a short, clipped scream, Willa's clone came crashing back down onto the table. Willa couldn't see the impact beyond the raised walls of the bowl, but she heard it.
"Oops," was all Mara said, tittering.
Then her hand lowered once more, pale eyes scanning.
"No," Willa whispered. She couldn't help herself: she screamed.
Just like that, Mara's predatory gaze snapped toward Willa, and stayed fixed on her. Willa shrieked louder and louder, unable to stop, as the giant's hand came for her.
"No! Stay away from me! Get away from me!" Willa bruised her fingertips clawing at the porcelain wall that trapped her as Mara's fingers came down. The crowd pushed away from her -- other copies of herself even kicked at her with their legs, hoping to keep her separated. And then the soft-and-hard pads of Mara's fingertips found her, and pinched her about the waist, and up, up, up she went.
As she ascended, Willa was given a new view of the room. How small the people below were, from the height of the giants' heads: like bugs. That's what she looked like to them, she realized. On the floor, she spied the gory mess of what was left of Estelle's first kill, reduced to blood and guts and rags of flesh next to the woman's sandaled, pedicured feet. And there on the table beside the bowl was Willa's own dead form. The head of her clone was twisted all the way around -- she must have landed on it -- and with a graveyard chill Willa noted how the light was gone from her copy's blank stare. She might have appeared like she was simply deeply asleep from the goofy expression on her face, if not for those cold, dead eyes.
Willa turned her attention back to Mara's leering face, only to find herself lowering instead. Down the length of the giant's body, between her long, rounded legs, all the way down to the floor between her bare feet. The woman had wide, thick feet, with plump toes, each one looking more than Willa's match, should she try to fight against them -- each of Mara's biggest toes were larger in every way, compared to Willa.
Too high than she would have liked from the ground, Willa was dropped. She flailed in midair for a moment before crashing down on the hardwood flooring. Her legs smacked down painfully first, and then the rest of her, as she landed with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. She quickly gathered herself onto her hands and knees, wiping at her nose instinctively, and observing with fright how blood streaked her forearm. With a blubbering whimper, Willa gazed upward at Mara's looming form; the giant was grinning down at her, eyes locked.
"I hate you, Willa." Mara said. "I always have."
Willa's jaw fell open as Mara's massive leg shifted, and one of her huge feet raised. The lighter brown flesh of the woman's sole was dusty from having walked around her home barefoot. Particles of what must have been dirt rained down around Willa and stuck to her skin as the boat-sized foot hovered over her.
"And now, I'm going to step on you."
Willa's eyelids shot wide open. "Mara! Mara, please, no!" She couldn't keep the begging words from flowing out of her. Her fear was electric, and as Mara's sole lowered, Willa hopped to her feet and took off running. Even staring straight ahead across the vast floor of the room, Mara's sole, and her thick toes, quickly lowered into view.
There was no escape.
"You insignificant, pathetic, ugly, pale, disgusting fucking bug."
Mara's warm flesh crashed down onto Willa and forced her awkwardly against the floor. A sharp sour musk filled her every breath -- Willa's last breaths, a cruel voice whispered -- as Mara's foot settled onto her, and at once became too heavy. She felt the muscles of Mara's sole going to work, pushing her plush flesh down against the hardwood. Willa's body crackled painfully, and she keenly felt the first cracks of her skull before it shattered.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Even as her mind raced for awareness, she could tell something was off. Everything felt so terribly wrong.
She sat straight up with choked, ragged gasps, as if waking from a nightmare, and found herself on what looked like an oversized metal tray, surrounded by dozens of naked people. She glanced over herself. She was naked, too. On the faces that surrounded her, Willa saw the same sense of confusion and horror. And that's when she realized that the person sitting right next to her -- and the next woman over, too -- looked exactly like Willa.
"What," Willa asked the air at the same time as the copy of herself, who stared back, their voices mingling and sounding the same.
She wasn't ready for the thundering voice that called out next. A man's. It sounded softer spoken, yet it boomed with the force of a gunshot. "Are they ready yet?"
"I'll check," said someone else. It sounded familiar -- Mara? But the words filled the room and rang in Willa's ears.
Willa's wonder was quickly answered, and how she wished it wasn't: it was impossible, and yet there she was, Mara, a towering giant, grinning down at the people on the metal tray. The crowd around Willa exploded into frenzied commotion as Willa simply sat there, bewildered. People ran by her, screaming. She saw some of them jump from the tray, even, and heard their fading shrieks -- until those shrieks stopped, cut short in a telltale manner.
Looming Mara didn't look bothered by the chaos, or the attempts to escape her. She grinned and looked over at people Willa couldn't see, saying, "Yep! They're ready." One of her large hands lowered into the crowd, and her thick fingers curled, and she scooped up the little people by the dozen. Willa saw how Mara dumped them into a bowl that she held in her other hand. Slackjawed, full of fear, Willa barely registered the way nude bodies of all different shapes pressed in on her as Mara snared her and many more inside of her fist. Willa and her group were dropped into the bowl with no concern over her safety, crashing down onto one another -- and then other bodies rained down, falling from Mara's hand, layering on top of the crowd, and Willa.
Willa was buried. Trapped under a mess of limbs and parts and appendages and pieces. She was kicked, and pushed at, and she kicked and pushed back. The bowl shook with the movements of Mara's body -- the giant woman had to be walking. And then the porcelain vessel tipped, and the collected tinies rolled over each other, and Willa went spilling out across the floor as Mara poured the tiny people onto the hardwood in a line.
Willa noted that she was still in Mara's home, but now everything was massive. Her head hurt -- she had a terrible headache. The last thing she remembered was talking to Steven, and it wasn't going well. She wanted to leave. And yet here she was -- still at Mara's home -- and impossibly tiny. How? And where was Steven?
Willa didn't have long to consider the possibilities. Mara's thick stomping feet shook her from her ruminations. The giant was barefoot, and appeared as if she'd shed her shoes a while ago, for her soles were painted gray with a sheen of house dust. And, Willa spotted with horror, a splatter that looked a lot like blood.
Mara was joined by two other giants, a well-dressed, gorgeous man, and a woman, just as elegant and beautiful. The Chinese woman and the towering blond stood to either side of Mara, who had her hands on her hips and was grinning down. Their feet -- strappy sandals, silver-painted toenails; Mara's thick feet and unpainted toes; shiny boots, polished black -- formed a line parallel to the ragged string of bewildered tinies.
"I love this part," the pleasant-looking man said.
David swung one of his long legs forward, resting his bootheel on the ground, and holding the length of the hard sole over a tiny woman. It was one of the copies of Willa. A scared frown stretched her own lips, and bile rose in Willa's throat as worry seized her. She heard herself scream as the boot came down, as if it lowered onto her instead. Its smooth surface clapped down on the clone with force, trapping her between two unyielding planes. With a squelch like a juicy beetle caught underfoot, Willa watched the roundness of her own figure get pressed flat, crackling wetly. The boot sole lifted again just as quickly, and Willa's clone was plastered there, stuck to its smooth surface like a stepped-on bug. Willa gazed at her own flattened corpse with horror, her scream joining the chorus that rose up from those around her.
The smartest of the pack -- or, perhaps, those seized by their basest animal instincts -- were already on their feet and running by Willa, who sat there, stunned, just as she had on the tray she woke up on.
She was frozen.
It was a waking nightmare.
It couldn't be real.
But it looked real. Sounded real. Smelled real.
All around her people ran, but they didn't get far. The feet of the giants moved much faster than any of the tiny pairs of legs could manage. As Willa watched, dazed, Estelle's elegant sandaled foot smashed down on a little man there, or the beautiful giant pulped another woman beneath his boot, or Mara flattened someone under her foot -- giving them a twist for good measure. The giants laughed together; the tinies screamed together. There was no escape from the carnage that surrounded her; no hope that she might live through it.
A shrieking, gold-skinned woman ran right in front of Willa, and just at that moment, Estelle's sandaled foot clapped down onto her in profile. A jet of hot blood shot out and splashed against Willa's face and chest, causing her to flinch. Just as fast the giant's foot moved on, leaving the crushed body in its wake. It looked as if a steamroller had rolled over the dead woman, leaving a cartoonish, horrid shape, utterly demolished.
Willa fell forward onto her palms and tried to throw up, but nothing came out of her. She couldn't stop herself from reflexively retching, and was paralyzed and could only watch as Mara's massive form suddenly came into view. From the ground, Mara was positively monolithic. She was like a different person entirely from that angle: as Willa was so used to looking down on the woman. Now, Mara was like a god.
With a radiant grin, hands on her hips, Mara strode forward, each of her footsteps finding a terrified, charging little beneath them and pressing them flat with a crunch. Unnoticed. Looking up, up, up along the length of the giant's body, Willa noted with dread that Mara was staring right at her. Her target. The giant's gaze was locked on her, not even paying attention to those who died beneath her feet.
The colossus left a line of flattened bodies in her wake, and then she was looming high above Willa, who was still on her hands and knees, rigid, unable to move. Willa couldn't strain her neck back far enough to see the entirety of Mara's looming, mighty body, but she could sense how the giant's foot was hovering over her next -- she knew it was there, and knew it was coming down. Urine trickled hotly down Willa's thigh.
The sky crashed down; warm, grubby, plush. Willa was forced painfully flat against the ground, a tart must clogging her nostrils. She opened her mouth to scream, but her head, trapped against the ground on its side, quickly collapsed in on itself.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Even as her mind raced for awareness, she could tell something was off. Things that were big and warm and soft gripped her around her hips, and lifted her into the air. It felt as if she was in a dream still, floating, her mind fogged over. Her rise was euphoric.
"Slave!" A thundering voice bellowed, right above Willa. "Come here," it ordered.
Willa's eyelids snapped open. She drank in the sights around her with horrid wonder. Really, she didn't know what she was looking at, even as she knew exactly what she was looking at.
There was Mara, but she was a giant, and she held Willa between her fingertips.
All around was Mara's home, but now it was a vast, cavernous space around her. The party was clearly over, and there was only a handful of people left: two other giants, who chatted with one another over on a couch, playing with tiny things that filled a bowl before them. On the floor behind the couch were curious splotches. Vaguely human shaped, Willa noted. She swallowed. They were human -- crushed, splattered, ruined, exploded. It was as if Willa was observing the aftermath of a massacre from the air.
In the distance, by the couch, a figure kneeled, a woman, wearing a leather hood that matched the leather straps that bound her. She rubbed Estelle's bare feet, which rested on the table in front of her, beside the bowl. Chains and studs twinkled across the slave's garments. And another figure, similarly dressed, silently shuffled forward toward Mara on his hands and knees. Willa moaned, confused, dazed, horrified. Where was she, really? Why was she still at Mara's? Why was she tiny? Who were these people? All the evidence of the awful carnage that had gone down in that room didn't sink in -- no, it was simply too awful to consider.
When the crawling form was close, Mara leaned forward and seized the hooded man by his throat. "You will go get my bed ready, dog. Then I'm going to fuck your brains out."
"Yes, Mistress," the soft, gentle voice murmured behind its mask, its chin barely able to move. There was something horribly familiar about the sound of it.
Mara snapped her fingers. "Up."
The leather-strapped figure rose, and Willa's eyes roamed across the giant's body. The man's body was disturbingly familiar, too.
Willa was moved forward through the air, and the slave brought his hand up, palm facing skyward. She was dropped onto the man's warm, soft, waiting platform of flesh.
"Good. Feed me."
At these words, Willa gasped and looked between Mara's gleeful, cruel face, and the awful, nearly featureless visage of whoever this masked slave was. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze on her. Mechanically he moved without pause, his other hand coming up, pinching fingers coming down. Willa was frozen; there was no escape from the raised hand, or the giant's fingers. Her hair was gathered up between the pinching fingertips, and she howled with pain as she was hoisted upward by the threads.
Willa moved in space, kicking her legs, beating at the fingers above her, but also trying to hold onto them. The drop below her was a sure death, yet the pain of being held by her hair was too terrible to bear. And then there was Mara's huge, happy face, which tilted back and watched her come forward. How Willa hated short little Mara. And now the woman was an all-powerful giant, a statuesque titan who could do whatever she pleased to miniscule Willa.
The colossus's smiling lips came apart, revealing her glistening teeth, and undulating tongue, and pink muscled maw. Willa screamed at the sight of Mara's tongue sliding outward as the woman prepared to receive her treat.
"No! No! No! Please!" Willa wailed, twirling in the air, held by her hair, looking between the jubilant face of Mara, and the featureless mask of the slave who held her.
Willa plummeted, spinning in the air.
She plopped down onto Mara's hot, wet tongue, unable to find any purchase on its surface. The billboard-sized face of Mara, seen from below her nose, quickly disappeared as Willa slid downward on her slick slide, and was pulled into the cavern. Then all the light left her as Mara's lips closed.
With a happy, thundering sound, Mara started to suck on Willa. The tiny woman felt like she was being pulled in every direction at once -- like she might be ripped apart. The force of suction was amazingly powerful, and all the while Mara's mouth coated her with warm, viscous saliva.
"Oh god," Willa muttered, over and over, fighting against Mara's tongue.
But it was a fight she lost, and she was forced up onto a hard shelf of enamel. Willa realized what it must be, but too late, and in the next moment her suspicions were confirmed as Mara's teeth clamped down on her in the darkness, smashing Willa between the giant molars.
She survived the chomp, just barely. She couldn't see her body, but could feel how she was ruined. Her torso was pounded flat, and her limbs dangled uselessly from it. Mercifully -- almost -- Mara's teeth came together once more.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. But a flood of panic forced her mind to rouse itself, and fast. There was a great rushing movement all around her. Something big -- a brown wall pushing forward like a plow -- was forcing her and dozens of others toward the edge of the metal tray that she found herself on top of. Where the hell was she? "What is this," Willa cried out, horrified.
There was no mistaking it: the wall was a giant hand.
Mara. She knew it was Mara. And yet it couldn't be Mara. Could it?
Somehow, the woman was now a giant, and she was stooping over some kind of machine, using one hand to herd the muddled mass of naked women and men toward a container she held ready. Willa tried to find a foothold against the smooth, cold ground. She tried to find any way to stop her forward motion. But Mara's giant hand was too strong, and Willa went tumbling into the waiting bowl along with dozens of other tiny people.
Willa had never seen the spacious bedroom before, but it must have been Mara's. It had the same feel and decor as the rest of the woman's house, though it was missing all the festive dressing. Mara's looming, giant face grinned down, her eyes roaming over the bodies in the bowl beneath her. Willa felt chilled as those eyes paused on her, and the eyes smiled more, and grew cold with cruel delight.
Mercifully, the giant's gaze left her, but what happened next was just as terrible: the bowl was being tipped, and the naked little bodies started to spill out from it. As she tumbled, Willa instinctively worked to see where her destination was: Mara was pouring them out on her bed, where her lover waited. The man was completely nude, as huge as Mara, with his arms and legs spread out to his side as he laid on his back on top of the bed. Willa didn't get a good look at him, however, as she was kicked in the head by a passing, falling man, and then went tumbling through space herself.
She was headed right for the man's hips, as she fell through the air. Below, she watched as the other flailing littles spilled across his thighs and fell down between them, and rained down around his fat, flaccid cock. It twitched and started to grow at the attention, and then it left her view as Willa landed just above it, on the firm plane of the man's abdomen.
Scrambling to her hands and knees, Willa quickly took stock of the world around her: the giant man was bound to the bed, spread eagle. Her eyes roamed up the length of the giant man, toward his face.
Then her eyes opened wide, as did her mouth.
"Steven!" Willa hopped to her feet, and ran across her husband's vast stomach. "Steven! Steven, it's me! What is this? Help me!"
He didn't notice her, as his eyes scanned the littles crawling atop him; looking between them and Mara. His gaze even stopped on her, for just a moment, but moved on in the next.
The tiny woman's babbling was cut off by a great rushing sound, and roaring, happy laughter. The world shook. Willa fell over, unable to remain upright, and could only watch, terrified, as Mara's massive, nude body climbed up onto the bed, approaching Steven. Mara stooped down as she crawled forward, kissing at Steve's bare legs as she did. With horror Willa saw a tiny man, standing on Steven's thigh, get licked up by Mara and disappear into her mouth. Mara made a happy sound, chewing a few times, and then swallowed, crawling on top of Steven's bound form.
"What is happening," Willa whined. The powerful hurt and confusion she felt in that moment was a force that hadn't struck her so painfully since she was a little girl. Her reality felt absolutely overwhelming. This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare. And yet she couldn't wake up. And no amount of begging seemed to get the attention of either giant. They either couldn't hear her, or didn't care.
Mara's eyes were glazed with lust as she looked down upon the tinies crawling all over Steven's body, and spilling from his form. She herded them with her hand -- Willa, too. The tiny woman couldn't keep herself from being corralled toward Steven's stiffening manhood, which was now hard enough to stand up on its own. Mara's curling fingers trapped Willa in their encircling grip, and she and half a dozen others were pressed against Steven's hot flesh as Mara started to stroke them up and down.
"Oh yeah," Mara murmured with pleasure. "I've been waiting for this all night."
Tears streamed down Willa's face as she was forcefully slid up and down, in a steady rhythm, along the length of her husband's giant, now rock-hard cock. He moaned in a way Willa had never heard before, after all their years. As awful as her position was, over the motion of Mara's working hand, she could see other shapes scattered about in the gloom -- many of them were crushed between the thighs of the lovers as Mara shifted atop Steven. She rocked her hips as she worked his penis to the sound of muted screams and crackling bones.
Then, looking skyward, Willa watched as Mara's face lowered down. The woman's hungry eyes closed, and her lips parted, and the dark maw of her mouth started to take Steven's cock into its wet warmth. Willa was quickly swallowed up, and found by Mara's tongue: it smashed against her, pushing her around the head of Steven's cock. Mara moaned and moaned, as if enjoying a scoop of her favorite ice cream, and Willa screamed and screamed.
The giant's mouth left her with a moist slurping pop, and Mara wiped at her lips as her face rose into the sky. Her devious eyes focused on Willa's little form and, in the giant's gaze, Willa saw an awful knowing. Worse than that: satisfaction. Eyes that said, "I win." Willa was hopeless, defeated. She hated Mara with every fiber of her being -- more than ever -- but she never imagined it would come to this. That Steven would cheat on her with the woman. And how long had it been going on?
Willa's awful rumination was cut short as Mara's colossal form shifted, her hips scooting forward. The line of the woman's lips appeared overhead, and Mara reached down to hold Steven's cock steady. Willa clung to her husband's sex like flotsam in a storm, but another voice in her head was screaming for her to let go. But she couldn't. She was too afraid of dropping down and getting caught between the two lovers, so much so that she was like a deer caught in headlights as Mara guided Steven's cock -- topped with a tiny Willa -- into the soft folds of her lips. Mara rubbed at herself with Steven's head before lowering herself onto his thick, rigid dick.
The muscled opening of Mara's vagina slammed down onto Willa and she was forced into the massive woman. Willa lost her hold on Steven's cockhead, and was forced down between her husband's shaft, and the hot wet wall of Mara's pussy. Slowly the wall started to slide up and down, keeping Willa pressed against Steven's unyielding flesh. Willa was helplessly, totally pinned, unable to move a limb unless it was forced to by the giant pair, and she was squeezed at awkward angles. Mara's movements sped up, and her moaning rumbled throughout her body, shaking Willa to the bone. Mara's muscular inner wall flexed into her prey as if trying to see if she might be able to smash Willa flat, to death, against Steven's cock.
Fear of death gripped Willa, but she couldn't stop what was being done to her. She started to break as pieces of her were caught in the wrong position in the midst of Mara and Steven's relentless, rigorous fucking. Her arms snapped. Her legs broke. Willa screamed, and after a firm press from Mara's conquering sex, she crumbled into ruin.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Something pressed down onto her -- something so big that it covered all of her, and it was warm, and wet, and sticky. Whatever it was forced her flat against the cold metal floor beneath her, and when it lifted, Willa stuck to it, and was carried upward. Her stomach lurched with the movement, and Willa wondered if she might throw up, but nothing came out.
The last thing she remembered was talking to Steven, and it wasn't going well. Mara. They were at her house, "enjoying" her annual holiday mixer. Now, what Willa was seeing didn't make sense. She was in a bedroom she didn't recognize, and viewed it from a high angle, relative to her size: as if she was in a helicopter, but a tiny one. Whatever had snared her was turning, and with incomprehensible shock Willa found herself looking at Mara's face. But now it was huge. Absolutely massive. The smug woman was leering at her, and with horror Willa realized that she was the size of an ant, stuck to Mara's fingertip.
Mara's face disappeared as the fingertip spun again, and Willa was met with an even more terrible view: it was Steven, and he was tied to Mara's bed, spreadeagle. But he didn't look afraid, like he'd been forced. And his cock was standing straight up at attention, harder than Willa had ever seen it. It was a level of excitement the pair had never reached together, in all their time.
The sight of him there broke her heart.
Willa wept as she was lowered through space. Steven's eyes followed her, his cheeks flushed, his small, cute mouth open just a little bit. But in his eyes there wasn't anything like recognition. She didn't feel like his wife, the way he gazed at her, without any kind of recognition. His eyes tracked her with all the interest of an object, not a person. Not a lover. Not a life partner.
Without any way to stop her descent, Willa found herself wiped off on the head of Steven's cock, which she stuck to. She struggled and squirmed and fought, suddenly furious. But she couldn't free herself from his sticky flesh. She was covered with Mara's spittle, and Steven's manhood was glazed with viscous fluid.
She was joining the couple in the midst of their lovemaking, Willa realized with dismay.
Mara's face lowered down then, and the giant woman's pale blue eyes inspected her prey. "You fucking whore!" Willa screamed up at her. If Mara could hear her, she made no show of it -- she only grinned. It was a winning smile, as if a trophy had just been presented to her.
And in a way, Willa thought darkly, perhaps it had.
Mara took hold of Steven's cock and gave it a few pumps. White, hot cum oozed out from his slit and flowed over Willa. She moaned, humiliated, and then she screamed as Mara's hand raised, holding a condom. The giant woman brought the rubber down on top of Willa and rolled it along the length of the tower of Steven's sex. Willa found herself trapped at the top, near Steven's slit, with the bubble of the reservoir covering her.
The world darkened beyond the semi-transparent wall of the condom, and Willa watched the looming form of Mara position itself above her waiting lover. Then all at once a great weight slammed down on Willa, and there was so little light that she couldn't see, even with her eyes open. The reverberating sounds of the two titans fucking was deafening. Their moans of pleasure. Mara wetly sliding atop Steven's cock, working it up and down inside of her.
In a great rush, without warning, Steven erupted, and hot cum flooded the little bubble where Willa was. Her screams of protest -- her cries for mercy -- were quickly drowned by her husband's thick semen. Willa couldn't breathe. She was trapped all at once in an alien, aquatic environment, and her panicked breaths only served to clog her nostrils and throat with hot gooey cum.
She convulsed, desperate.
But a rescue did not come.
As she drowned, she couldn't help herself from inhaling cum, desperate for air. Outside, in the far distance, she heard talking -- two lovers, complimenting one another after experiencing a height of pleasure together.
And then there was nothing.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Even as her mind raced for awareness, she could tell something was off. It was dark in the room she found herself in.
And the room was far too large.
Willa's eyes narrowed with worry as she took in the details of the space.
Across the room was a bed, and on it were two shapes. One must have been Mara, Willa guessed, by the color of her skin, and her shape. But Mara was huge; a giant. Willa didn't have time to fully process this, however, as when the woman rolled over, she was met with a greater shock. There was another giant in the room with her. A man. "Steven," Willa whimpered, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
With dread Willa watched as Mara rose from the bed and sauntered toward her, wearing a vicious grin. The tiny woman quickly glanced around her for any avenue of escape, but she found herself on what looked like an oversized metal tray, and was high up, as if placed on a cabinet. Still, with panic, Willa leapt to her feet and ran in no particular direction.
"Ah," Mara sighed, happy. "She's ready," she said, effortlessly snatching Willa up.
Mara brought her fist up to her face and grinned at the squirming little naked woman in her grip.
Willa glared back, but her anger faltered. The woman had a glow about her. She looked utterly relaxed in a way that told Willa the two had already made love. A lot of it. Mara appeared radiant, and beautiful, and Willa couldn't help but experience an awful awe of the titan.
Mara carried Willa back to the bed with her, and her massive form lowered down onto the sheets beside Steven with a rustle like a hushed whisper from the blankets. Tears poured down Willa's face. She glared between the two giants one moment, and then looked at them pleadingly the next. It was all too much. How was any of this possible? How could Steven do this to her?
Mara held out her hand, and Steven held up his, and then the massive, mighty woman let Willa roll out onto her husband's waiting palm.
"Slave," she called him. Willa was confused by this, but when she looked at Steven's face, he appeared completely attentive to Mara, and not at all offended by the title. "Tape. On the nightstand. Use it on our toy."
"Where do you want her, Mistress," the calm, quiet question came.
Mistress. It was an odd word to Willa's ear, but instinctively she kenned the depth of its meaning, and their connection.
Mara, a giant, lounging like a queen, pointed down toward the footboard of the bed. "Put her under our feet," she ordered.
As Steven moved, Willa beat at his fingers. She screamed at him. Pleaded with him. Begged him. Asked him what the fuck was the matter with him. He ignored her as he set about his task, and retrieved the tape, and scooted toward the foot of the bed to press Willa's tiny body against the wooden board. The only acknowledgement she received was the briefest look from him: "You're not really Willa," he told her. "You're not my wife."
Willa started back, her mouth opened, horrified. What did he mean?
But Steven left her there, with her arms and legs taped to the wood, held fast by the short strips, spreadeagle. The giant leaned back and curled up next to Mara like an adoring pet snuggling up with its lifelong owner. His words wounded her, but it was the sight of them together that shattered whatever hope she had left inside of her.
"I have a surprise for you, pet," Mara said, one hand playing with Steven's hair; in her other hand she thumbed at her phone. Mara glanced sidelong at Willa and smirked. "Put your foot on her," she ordered.
Steven obeyed Mara without question; without hesitation. He didn't even glance down at Willa as his leg shifted, and the tiny woman could only watch as the smooth sole of her husband's foot rose up and blocked her view. It moved toward her then, its soft expanse settling on her. His flesh pressed against her, firm but not painful, but also not gently. Willa clenched her teeth as his skin slid over her, until she found herself staring out across his naked form, watching from between his big toe and the next. The cloying air had a brine to it, like the ocean. Steven's sweaty scent had a particular quality to it that was terrible in its familiarity to Willa: the way he smelled after sex.
"Here," Mara said, and she turned her phone toward Steven. Obediently he watched the video she played, and Willa heard what sound like a reporter speaking.
"It looks like authorities once again have traffic moving out here on the interstate now that the wreckage has been cleared. There was a lot of damage to the vehicle, but it looks like the pillar it slammed into is fine, and there's no worry now that the bridge here could have been weakened for it."
As Willa was forced watch and listen, Mara reached down with her free hand and grabbed Steven's cock. It stiffened at her touch, and she started to slowly slide her hand up and down its length.
"If you're just tuning in: an awful, tragic story here on a night that's supposed to be full of merriment and joy. A woman, barreling down this interstate just a few hours ago, lost control of her vehicle after her brakes failed, and smashed at high speed into a support pillar of the bridge here."
With a smack of Mara's lips, she kissed Steven's forehead. Willa could see how her husband's eyes were wide with attention. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. And yet his cock responded to Mara's ministrations, hardening steadily in her grip.
"The deceased woman has been identified as one Willamette Allen, thirty-two, a married woman, who-"
The reporter kept talking, but Willa couldn't hear anything being said. Her face was frozen in shock. Steven's foot flexed on top of her as he shifted, twisting so that he could look into Mara's wide, wild eyes. She had a huge grin on her face, and bit her lip. The woman let out a predatory, victorious laugh.
"I did it, pet."
As Willa watched, Mara gripped her fingers tightly around Steven's penis, and a spurt of cum shot out from its tip. The giant woman shifted, swinging her leg up. The sole of her foot blocked Willa's sight of the lovers, and rested atop Steven's. A sharp, sour stink mixed in with Steven's sea-breeze scent.
"I killed Willa."
Pressure -- awful, crushing pressure -- smashed down onto Willa as the wall of her husband's foot was pressed against the board by Mara's. With terrible clarity, Willa was aware of how her body crushed: her skeleton crumpling inside of her as the length of her form -- all of her, but from her shoulders down -- was flattened.
"You're all mine," Mara announced huskily.
And Willa slipped away, her head slumping forward between Steven's toes.
Willa woke up in a space she didn't recognize, with no concept of what time it was. Even as her mind raced for awareness, she could tell something was off. Everything felt so terribly wrong.
Her eyes opened, but she didn't understand what it was that she now saw. The last thing she remembered was talking to Steven, and it wasn't going well. Mara. They were at her house, "enjoying" her annual holiday mixer. Willa was still at Mara's house, it seemed: in fact, Mara stood before her; but the woman, who typically came up to Willa's breasts, now loomed over her like that brazen Greek colossus from antiquity.
"Mara," Willa murmured, gazing up at the titan. "What," she asked softly. "How?"
Mara didn't say a word. Instead, she held up her phone.
A news report played on the screen. As Willa watched, her mouth steadily dropped open more and more. It didn't make sense, what she was seeing. A car crash. A dead woman. Her. She was dead. Her own face stared back at her on the theater-sized screen, an older photo of her, as a reporter told her how she died. The newscast showed images of her crumpled form behind the wheel of their demolished sedan, wrapped around a pillar.
Willa was shaking, weeping, as Mara scooped her up.
Then the giant put down her phone, and picked up something else: what appeared to be a small snubnosed gun, covered in white plastic like a common gadget. Mara held its gleaming needle in front of Willa's chest, grinning.
"Mara, please!" Willa's hands shot up, but it was useless.
Mara punched the needle through her, right between Willa's breasts, like a spear. The tiny woman convulsed and gurgled in the giant's grip.
"And now you'll remember," Mara announced, before crushing a twitching, bleeding Willa in her fist.
thanks for reading!