Click  Scott Grildrig  09

Click  Scott Grildrig  09

Click

Scott Grildrig

09-Jul-2000

The hot wax dripped slowly, each minute drop a searing kiss of heat that sent

tremors through Wendi's body. She arched her back, a faint whimper sighing

between her lips.

"Silence," Mark whispered in her ear. "Or I'll stop."

Her eyes appealed to him, laid bare the cravings of her soul. Another dollop of

the wax struck and flowed over her nipple and her eyelids fluttered, as her body

tensed against the sweet pain.

"Are you mine?"

Wendi undulated against her silken restraints and nodded.

"Good," Mark's voice grew even softer. "Now I wish you to remember something for

me. You must think back, back to when I first accepted you into my service." He

paused to let fall another drop of the molten wax, to savor her shuddering

acceptance of his power over her. "There was an interview." His lips brushed

against her ear as he spoke. "You bared your innermost heart to me; revealed

every dream, shared every fantasy." He blew softly, feeling her shiver, as the

passion radiated from her. "I have a gift for you, something very special," the

wax touched her yet again "something to fan the fires that burn within you." He

turned from her, set the candle down on the end table, and turned back to her.

"Follow me with your eyes," he commanded, and he stood up slowly, rising from

the bed, tracing a fingertip down the length of her body as he moved. Wendi

attentively took in his every movement, watched as he lifted his arm, focused on

his raised hand. Mark turned his hand from front to back, spread his fingers. A

smile traced itself on his lips. He snapped his wrist and showed her a small

silver disk, the candlelight glittering like rainbows across its surface.

The disk slid with a hum into the player, and the monitor sprang to life. There

was no sound, only a flowing of images, some diagrams, a carefully choreographed

demonstration. Mark watched Wendi, and Wendi watched the screen, and as she

watched her eyes widened…

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Mark waved as Wendi's car turned the corner. Smiling to himself he stepped back

into their house and gently shut the door. As intense and fulfilling as their

lovemaking had been, there had been a sense of anticipation through it all that

was not released with their other tensions. She had been incredulous,

unbelieving of what he had shown her, and it didn't help that he scarcely

credited it, himself, but the proof was there, unmistakable, incontrovertible.

Still, he'd managed to save the best surprise for last. Sauntering into the

kitchen he carefully took her cup of coffee and placed it into a bio-safe

plastic bag. The substance she had unknowingly ingested was perfectly safe, but

he didn't like the notion of some other thing tasting it and later on responding

to the trigger. He took the package to the garage and secreted it away in the

drawer under the passenger seat. The incinerator at work wasn't hot enough to

reduce the ceramic, but it would easily get rid any trace elements from Wendi's

coffee. He'd taken a bit of a risk when he'd soaked her summer dress the evening

before, but the material was man-made, and wouldn't make a good snack for

anything that concerned him.

Mark glanced at his watch. He still had an hour before he had to leave for work,

enough time for a shower. First he laid out his clothes, wallet and shoes, and

he tossed a red pen in his pants pocket, then he took off his robe and abandoned

himself to the luxury of a hot shower. He was rinsing his hair when the phone

rang. Grumbling to himself he stepped out and grabbed the phone next to the

toilet, fumbling with it as it slipped in his wet fingers.

"Hello?"

"Mark, you have to leave."

"Greg?"

"Don't chat, man, Mason discovered the missing stuff."

Mark gripped the phone tightly as a chill snaked through him. "I have no idea

what you're talking about," he grated through clenched teeth.

"Look, maybe they have you tapped, they probably do. I'm already fucked, but

they didn't take my phone. You gotta bolt, man, they're sending the cops over to

get you."

Mark looked up as the bathroom door opened.

"We have a warrant for your arrest, sir," said the uniformed officer…

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Wendi looked over the dispatch sheet with raised eyebrows.

"How the hell did you manage to send five trucks to Finch, and none to Molinsky

Meats?" she asked the duty foreman. He silently handed her a sheath of pink

tickets. "Crap, you mean the computer is down again? Dammit, I've known

erections to stay up longer than that piece of shit. Oops, sorry David." He

waved it off and left her office.

She made the necessary phone calls, calmed the necessary frayed nerves (all save

her own) and saw to it personally that the right trucks went to the right

places. The next incident came right on the heels of the first as she set the

phone down. She rubbed her face and buckled down into another day.

Four hours of non-stop crisis management later she needed a five minute break.

Actually, she needed a five day break, but she took what she could get. Closing

her office door she sighed deeply and decided to call Mark. The phone rang, then

clicked over to his voice mail.

"Hi, I'm not in the office right now, but if you'd leave your…"

Wendi hung up and pursed her lips in thought. It was noon, Mark always spent

lunch in his office. She dialed home and listened to it ring for a while. No

luck. There was one more possibility, so she dialed her own voice mail and

listened through the messages.

"Hi…um…hi, Wendi, this is Mark. Look, I've got a bit of a problem here. I'm down

at the police station, the one on Olympic Avenue. I'm okay, there's no hurry,

that's why I didn't break into your day, but when you get free could you stop on

down? And bring the checkbook, you might have to bail me out of here. Thanks,

sweetie. I love you."

Wendi listened to it three times before it really sank in. She gathered up her

things and headed for the door, then paused, went back to her phone and called

several people to let them know she was leaving for an emergency. Her summer

dress swirled around her legs and her high heels click-clacked a rapid tempo as

she half-ran to her car…

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"Mr. Tullipil – is that a Dutch name?"

"English, actually."

"Sorry, look Mr. Tulipill, we both know you are in the wrong, that you're going

to be fired over this matter, and probably do jail time. It is, however, much

more likely to go well with you if you tell us everything you know about this

matter."

"Detective Kimball, I appreciate your desire to get information. I have every

intention of cooperating with you, but I must see my lawyer first."

"We have called him on your behalf," Kimball stalked back and forth in the small

room. Mark sat with his arms on the scarred surface of the plain wooden table

and followed him with his eyes. There was a knock at the door, Kimball opened it

and had a short whispered conversation with someone. He closed the door and

turned, setting a small box on the table. He took two things from the box: a

small red pen, and a bright yellow plastic bag with the words biohazard written

on it. Mark's eyes flicked over them, just a momentary glance, but Kimball saw

it and rubbed his chin in thought.

"The pen came from your pocket, Mr. Tullipil The cup from your car. Frankly, we

would not have been looking for these items, much less found them, if we had not

had explicit instructions from your employer. It's a bit of a puzzle, though,

and one I do not like. The cup I can understand, we'll be sending it out for

analysis in a little bit." Kimball reached out and picked up the pen. "The pen

is another matter, though I have some ideas, I was assured by Mr. Mason that it

was completely safe." Kimball pressed on the top of the pen and watched as the

ball-point slid out, ready for use.

Mark stiffened in his chair, his eyes on the pen. "Shouldn't you leave that in

the box?" he asked.

Kimball raised his eyebrows and pressed the top again – click-click – the

ball-point vanishing back up into the bright red barrel of the pen. "Mr.

Tullipil, I'm not over eager to do anything that you ask right at the moment,

unless you are more forthcoming with information." click-click

A trickle of sweat beaded on Mark's brow…

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Wendi took a deep breath. She felt hot and uncomfortable as she drove down the

expressway towards the city, weaving in and out of the staggered line of slower

moving cars. She took another gasping breath, her eyes widening as she felt a

tightening across her chest. Her car nicked the guardrail, sending sparks into

the air as she arrowed down the exit ramp to Vine Street. The car lurched

unexpectedly as she stomped on the brake, the tires squealing to a stop at the

red light. This was all she needed, getting sick on her way to finding out what

was going on with Mark. The light changed to green and she stomped on the gas,

but cried out as she knee slapped against the dashboard. Reaching down between

her legs she fumbled for the seat control, jerking as it dropped back a few

notches. Horns blared impatiently behind her as she gunned the car forward

through the now yellow light.

She took in sips of air, teeth grinding as she found herself trapped behind a

doubly parked truck. Rolling down the window for fresh air didn't relieve the

tension she was feeling all over her body. A vicious pinching of her feet made

her cry out, and she reached down, bumping her chin on the steering wheel as she

unfastened her sandals and kicked them off. Sitting there it suddenly occurred

to her that her head was pressing against the ceiling of the car. Looking at the

rearview mirror she could see down into the back seat, instead of out the back

window as she had set it up when she left work.

Suddenly it all made sense.

"Mark, you complete and utter ass," she growled to herself. Now was not the time

or the place for this sort of thing, unless he was in trouble (of course he was

in trouble) or in danger. It didn't matter why it was happening, she had to get

out. Thrusting open the door she crawled out of her car, its shocks groaning and

pinging as she lifted her body from it. Damn, she must be eight feet tall, large

enough that people were gawking at her. She breathed another curse and slammed

shut the door, jumping a little as the glass shattered and scattered across the

interior…

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"Detective Kimball. I can't explain it right now, but I would be grateful if you

would put the pen back in the box," Mark couldn't hide the nervousness and

agitation coursing through him.

Kimball looked Mark in the eyes, tipped his chair back a little, lifted the pen

and slowly and deliberately began to click it faster.

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Wendi took three steps and stopped. She looked down, then looked back. She was

almost twenty feet tall, and already she was leaving prints in the hard surface

of the road. People were watching her, pointing at her; some of them shouted to

her. It was all very frightening and very humiliating. Still, she had to give

the bastard credit, apparently he'd been considerate enough to arrange for her

dress to grow with her. It hit her again, a wave of heat so clipped and well

defined it cut through her like paired clicks. The warmth spread swiftly, and

she grew another five feet taller. The sense of mounting power made her feel

unsteady. Reaching out she braced herself against an apartment building,

ignoring the outraged curses of an old Italian lady beating at her fingers with

a tattered broom.

The intersection of Memphis and Vine was just ahead. Somewhere further down was

Olympic Avenue, but she wasn't sure which way to go, and her map was in her car.

It still seemed like the best plan was for her to go to the police station. Mark

would remedy this situation…or there would be hell to pay…

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"I've sent some officers to bring in your wife," said Kimball. "I believe that

she is somehow tied into this whole thing. I trust she'll come peacefully." click-click click-click

"That may not be the best bet you make today," Mark groaned…

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Wendi bit her lower lip. She was sixty feet tall. Cars parked along the street

rocked and swayed on their shocks with each ground crushing step she took. So

far no one had been injured, but something was happening that she hadn't counted

on. She was getting horny.

She'd fantasized about being a giantess since she'd been a little girl. The

emotions of control and power suited her, answered deep rooted needs within her.

Her subservient relationship with Mark was something of a conundrum, a

mysterious but very satisfying game that they shared. Mark had known about her

yearnings from the first, and they played at it together with much giggling, but

it was only a fantasy, not like the sway he held over her when the light of

dominance ignited in his dark eyes.

But now, now she towered over the people in this city. The buildings were

dwindling around her. The cars were becoming toys that she needed to take care

to avoid. And the very depths of her being were responding to the sensations,

filling her mind with visions of playful giantess fun.

"Mark, you'd better be in a shitload of trouble," she murmured. "Because things

are going to get messy if I don't find you fast and get us both our of here. A

wave of warmth tingled through her from head to toe, and she grew another ten

feet taller. Stepping forward with great care she placed a bare foot in the

midst of Memphis and Vine and looked down Vine.

Ten thousand people looked up and saw a giantess looking back at them. People

sat in their cars and stared. People bumped into each other on the sidewalks and

stared. Faces glanced out the windows of the office buildings, did double takes

and stared.

Wendi's heart raced with barely suppressed excitement…

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"Please stop that."

"Tell me what I want to know."

"You're going to find out without me telling you, if you don't stop that."

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Wendi towered enormously at the intersection of Memphis and Vine, her feet

spread slightly, sunk deep into the black tarmac, her left hand resting casually

against the eighty story high Jackson Center. A carefree breeze stirred her hair

around her shoulders, lifted a dark strand up against her lips. She hooked a

finger around it and lifted the strand back behind her ear. Her eyes glittered

in the light of the setting sun, as she regarded the city spread out before her.

The breeze blew playfully around her summer dress, and she absentmindedly tugged

at it, shifted it. The silence was eerie, uncanny, as thousands of tiny people

stared up at her, watched her, hypnotized by her very presence. click-click

She grew. A jolt of tension danced down Wendi's back and curled up in her gut.

It was powerful, an indescribably vibrant sensation, a mingling of anticipation,

embarrassment, nervousness and lust that left her feeling giddy and unsteady.

click-click

She grew. Wendi licked her lips. Her mouth was dry, her heart was pounding,

there was a rushing noise in her ears. The breeze stirred her light dress, drew

it back and forth against her nipples. Each motion tingled, teased and tormented

her. And still the throngs of people held still, watching her, witnesses to the

turbulence in her heart. click-click

She grew. She growled softly, a low feral sound of feminine hunger and feminine

desires. All Wendi could think about was how tiny all the people were, how

little their cars and busses were, how small and insignificant the buildings

around her seemed. She felt gigantic, colossal, huge in every muscle of her

body. Looking down over the rondure of her breasts she had a clear and

compelling vision of her size, her power, and how she looked to the tiny people

standing before her. click-click

She grew. The tension mounted, scaling higher and higher. Wendi's fingers dug

into the topmost stories of the Jackson Center, as she reminded herself that

these weren't toys, these were people: men, women, children; people with

families; people with lives. The thoughts she was having were wrong, terrible.

It would be murder if she yielded to the impulses dancing within her. She felt

it deep within her, the restraints were straining and pulling against the

excesses of her soul. She felt the whirlwind of her passion churning within her,

focused on the knot in her gut, the tightness in her thoughts, the yearning in

her womanhood. They were so small, so tiny, so completely and utterly helpless.

There was nothing they could do to stop her. click-click

She grew. She glanced to the side, watched her fingers digging effortlessly into

the steel and concrete of the office building. It was dreamlike, surreal, but it

was also vivid, intense and immediate. She was a giantess. Wendi growled again,

her breasts rose and fell as she drew deeper breaths, quaffing the air as if its

cool draught could somehow quench the conflagrations roaring deep within her.

She stretched her left hand over her head, arching her back, trying to dispel

some of the tension winding through her lovely body. Instead she felt the dress

dragging against her nipples, felt a tickle of dampness cooling between her

thighs. click-click

She grew. "Fuck," she breathed, an involuntary utterance slipping past her lips,

a final appeal against the hungers coursing through her. "Fuck," she whispered

again, but with more force, more vigor. It summed up what she was feeling in so

many ways. "Fuck," dragging her lower lip against front teeth, lengthening the

'F' into a promise of dire consequences. "Fuck," the word rose through her body

with a lascivious undulation, she didn't just say the word, she felt it, she

wanted it. "Fuck," she noticed that the tiny people jerked as she spoke, their

bodies responding to the primacy of her emotions; it was an expression of her

dominance, these people were hers to command. "Fuck," the word was a spell, an

incantation, striking terror into the tiny people, her play toys, her fuck toys,

her prey. Her fingers sank deeper into the edge of the Jackson building, and all

she could think was that she had to have more.. "Fuck," she snarled down at the

countless little men, women and children before her, and she stepped forward,

gigantic, indomitable, deliberately planting her right foot on an abandoned

limousine.

The long car vanished under her bare foot; a shiny black toy that yielded

perfectly to her desires. She felt a fleeting coolness against her bare sole, a

hint of resistance, and a satisfying crunch. The people watched from their

vantage as the roof collapsed, the shocks grinding in protest as Wendi pressed

the frame down, the metal crinkling and buckling, glass shards flying. Then it

was gone, there was only her colossal foot, sunk into the road as though it were

moist beach sand.

Her action set off a human explosion. All the anxiety, all the fear and terror,

all the paralyzed horror of the crowds was abruptly released in one frantic howl

of animal panic. Wendi watched through half-lidded eyes as the people began to

flow away from her, churning and milling in packed crowds, the mobs struggling

through the maze of jammed cars filling the street. The howls of dread and

dismay were fuel for her lusts, feeding the thrill of power arcing through her

body. As she looked down she saw one of the little people stumble and fall, his

hand clutching at his ankle as the last of the crowd sprinted around him,

leaving him alone and vulnerable.

Wendi stepped forward, placing her left foot next to the mite-sized man,

grinning to herself as the sharp crack of buckling tarmac made him flinch and

jerk. He was so weak, so insignificant, nothing but an insect. She shifted her

stance, lifting her toes, twisting them to the right, the shadow of her left

foot casting the tiny man into darkness. His shrill cries echoed faintly off the

buildings, her pussy ached with need as she slowly lowered her foot further and

further, until she felt the feather touch of him beating in vain against her

bare flesh.

Wendi paused. Most of the crowd was still fleeing, but some turned to watch. She

clenched her fists, and still she paused. She wanted this. She wanted to express

the omnipotence racing though her being. She wanted to crush. She wanted to

play. But she needed more. She lifted her foot, the sudden in rushing air

lifting the tiny man, tossing him hard against the ground. She didn't care about

that. She bent down on one knee and plunged her stiff fingers into the road

around him, ripping up a section of the street. She lifted him into the air,

bringing him to the level of her glittering eyes. Her hard glaze left no room

for appeal, no question of begging or mercy. "I will ask this once," she

rumbled, ominously. "Show me where the police station is…"

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"Did you feel that?" asked Kimball.

Mark nodded slowly, his fingertips resting on the surface of the desk. It came

again, a faint tremor at the very reach of perception. There was a knock at the

door, and he looked up as another officer stepped into the room.

"Can't this wait?" growled Kimball.

"Not even a little," said the man.

"So?"

"Not here, come to the rec room. They're showing it live."

A premonition raised the hairs on the back of Mark's neck.

Kimball sighed. "You heard the Chief, Mr. Tullipil. Will you cooperate, or do I

need to cuff you before we head out of this office."

"I'll come quietly," answered Mark. "I want to see this as much as you do…"

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

"This is Carrie O'Connell from Action 7 news coming to you live from the corner

of Olympic and Vine, where there is a woman of fantastic proportions is moving

down the street. As you can see she's carrying what seems to be a clod of dirt,

but which is in fact a portion of the roadbed from further down Vine Street. Eye

witnesses inform us that she is carrying a man, and is using him to give her

directions to the city police station on Olympic. We have no word at this time

on her name or that of the man."

"Carrie, do we know what she wants?"

"No, Bob. We don't know anything at this time: who she is, where she came from,

how she became this huge. We know nothing about her. We're currently working

with Channel 10 to set up a remote van that we are going to use to attempt to

interview her."

"The hell they are," snarled Edwards. "Stevens, get on the horn and get some men

down there, pronto. I want those news hounds out of there now. Kimball, does

this man know what is going on?"

"Her name is Wendi," said Mark. "And she'll be here soon."

Kimball and Edwards exchanged glances…

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Wendi looked down at the tiny news van. She could feel the cameras upon her,

hundreds of thousands if not millions of eyes watching her every move as she

strolled between the small buildings. The attention aroused her exhibitionistic

nature, tested the resolve of her restraint. The tiny man still clung to the bit

of tarmac in her hand. His directions seemed sound, so she was inclined to be

merciful to him. But the sight of him completely and totally at her mercy was

just another goad to her lusts, a distraction from her desire to find Mark. And

that is what led to the accidents.

The first was the most surprising. One of the parked cars along Vine suddenly

roared to life and peeled out from its place beside the curb. Wendi was just in

mid-step, and in a vain attempt to avoid trodding on the wildly weaving vehicle

she reached out to brace herself against a hotel. Her splayed fingers slammed

into the side of the building and sank into the brickwork with no effort at all.

As she stumbled to regain her balance she felt the little car crunch under her

right foot with terrible finality. Pursing her lips with disdain she looked

down. A scarlet splotch jetted out from next to the ball of her foot. The

foolish driver of the car had paid for his fear, and paid in full. She couldn't

feel the car under her foot, it was that flat, and when she lifted her foot she

was amazed at how perfectly the thin metal was molded to the curving

indentations of her print.

The hotel was another matter. Her arm was deep in the building, sunk to the

elbow, and she knew from the dampness on her bare skin that she had unwillingly

crushed people. Unwillingly? Well, without deliberation or desire. The yearning

was still strong within her, but when she started to play she wanted Mark with

her. Still, why waste an opportunity. With a wrenching motion she freed her arm

from the hotel, forcing it out the front of the building, instead of simply

extricating it from the already existing hole. The bricks bulged and blew out

over the street in an explosion of dust, stones and small bodies. Looking down

at her right hand she realized that she was holding the crushed bit of tarmac

and her tiny guide within her clenched fist. With a shrug she dropped the broken

clump and brushed herself off. The news van had disappeared under the avalanche

of stone and concrete, but Wendi knew the police station was just ahead.

She was just stepping forward again when she heard the loudspeakers.

"This is Detective Kimball. I have Mark Tullipil in this car with me. You will

immediately follow us out of the city. Touch nothing as you move. If I instruct

you to stop, you will stop. We will be out of the city shortly, and then we will

talk. Message repeats. This is Detective Kimball. I have Mark Tullipil in this

car with me…"

Wendi glanced down, there were several police cars further up the street, but

only one of the tiny black and white cars had its lights flashing. Baring her

teeth in a grin she started forward, and the ground bounced as she closed the

distance between herself and the target of her attentions…

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"Oh, shit."

"That sums it up for me too," said Mark. "Can we go now?"

Kimball gunned the engine in reply, and the car lurched forward, smoke billowing

from its tires as it skidded forward. All he could see in the rearview mirror

were the legs and the feet of the giantess growing larger and larger as she

approached. The other squad cars bounced wildly as she passed by them; the men

staggering, clutching at anything to avoid falling down. There was the sharp

report of gunfire, but the giantess seemed oblivious to it all as she bore down

on the one car that she wanted.

"Left at Holland Avenue," said the radio. "We've cleared the way to route 33,

you'll be able to pick up more speed there. Avoid Elm, most of the crowds are

congregated there near the Phillips Mall."

"We've got to get to fucking Holland first," snapped Kimball.

"She's quick," murmured Mark.

"Just what the hell we're you thinking?"

"It was a gift to her. I think she likes it."

"I should blow your brains out, myself."

"Wendi might take exception to that."

The car veered to the right as something slammed against it. The radio was

shouting instructions. Mark tightened his seat belt and pressed his hands

against the dashboard. They both heard the booming, crunching noise of Wendi's

footsteps, the car leaping each time her bare feet slapped the ground. Kimball's

fingers were white on the steering wheel as he careened down the street,

bouncing off an abandoned car, the tires screeching as he floored the pedal.

Giantess fingers closed around the car, the doors twisted and the frame groaned

as she tightened her grip and lifted. Mark felt his stomach drop as the car

lurched into the sky, tipping backwards until they were laying back against the

seats and looking up at the sunset painted clouds. The rising sensation seemed

to last forever, and it culminated with them looking up into the Wendi's angry

face.

"Gotcha," she said, with a smirk…

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Wendi extricated Mark from the car with great care. Kimball was deep in shock,

his eyes wide as he watched her. She pressed the passenger side door back into

place and looked down at her tiny man, her eyes smiling as she blew him a tender

kiss.

"How's my little Master?" she asked.

Mark shouted up to her, but though she could hear his voice, she had trouble

making out his words. So she lifted him to her right ear, and let him clamber

off her palm.

"Merciful heavens, Wendi. I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to be this way."

"It's too late for regrets, hun. And, besides, I'm having fun."

"You look incredible, love. Being a giantess suits you."

"I'm just getting started. Will you be okay there?"

"Yes, as long as you don't move your head too quickly. I'm tying one of your

hairs around my waist to give me a bit of extra security."

Wendi giggled, "Oh, you're safe enough with me."

"Does that apply to Detective Kimball?"

"Is this the man who was holding you?" demanded Wendi.

"Yes, he was," said Mark.

"He shouldn't have done that."

"He treated me well."

"I'm going to crush him, Mark. Unless you command me to stop."

Mark clung to her ear, his pulse racing. The police car looked so small and

fragile in her lovely hand. He could see Kimball, the detective had recovered

enough to realize his impending fate, and was pressed back against the seat and

kicking, driving his heels against the windshield. "Have you killed any others,

Wendi?"

"Yes, Mark. Many."

"Deliberately?"

"No. Accidents."

"This will be on purpose, Wendi."

"I know, hun."

"And how do you feel about it?"

"I feel like I could cum any moment."

Mark shivered. He could feel the wanton violence in her voice, and it stirred

his own passions to the core of his being. "Don't cum until I give you

permission. I have the pen, Wendi," his mouth was so dry he could barely speak.

"They can't stop you. No one can stop you. You can do whatever you want."

"Do I have permission to crush this little bug?"

"Yes, love."

Kimball was screaming as Wendi slowly closed her fingers around the black and

white car. She left a space so they could still see the windshield, watching

Kimball as he raved and howled in panic. Her eyes drank in every delicious

moment as the car began to yield to her strength, the metal buckling and

crinkling, the still flashing lights crunching and breaking with a bright flash.

Kimball was forced against the wide seat, his feet and hands raised, pushing

desperately against the slowly descending roof, his knees and elbows trembling

as Wendi squeezed tighter. The detective screamed as his left arm broke at the

elbow, the windows blowing out all around him. Wendi giggled as his shrill

shrieks reached her, each ululation sending a thrill through her body. Mark was

aghast at the casual cruelty of his lover, she was toying with Kimball,

torturing him.

"Crush him, Wendi," he commanded.

"Yes, Master," she grinned, and she squeezed tighter, not stopping now, her fist

closing around the car from all sides, crumpling it like tinfoil. Kimball's

piercing screams scaled higher and higher until with a moist crunching noise

they ceased altogether. She crushed the police car into a lump of metal, and a

rivulet of bright red blood coursed from the twisted mess, the crimson stream

trickling down her wrist. A slow swipe of her tongue washed it away and she made

a "Mmmm…" sound that vibrated through Mark's bones.

Mark took several deep breaths. "Do you want to play now, my dear?"

"Oh yes, Master."

"The largest crowds are to your left, trapped on Elm Street. I heard it on the

police radio. There are tens of thousands of people there for you to start with.

Do not step on anyone or anything until you arrive. I want the anticipation

building within you."

"Oh yessssss…"

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Wendi strutted down the street, her summer dress flowing and billowing around

her, her hair wafting in the breezes, her bare feet marking her passage behind

her. As commanded she spared the lives of those she encountered along the way,

though it took an effort on her part to obey. The hunger within her sprang into

full blossom as she turned the corner of Elm and looked down the length of the

street.

Cars were jammed bumper to bumper, people were already getting out of their

vehicles, pointing back at her, many were fleeing, trying to push their way

through those still looking. Overhead there was the whine of spinning blades as

a news helicopter thrummed past.

Mark licked his lips. "What do you see, Wendi?"

"I see tiny people, Master."

"They are afraid of you. Can you hear them screaming?"

"I can hear them clearly, Master."

"What do you feel when you hear them scream, Wendi?"

"I feel aroused, Master."

"Tell me in detail."

"My mouth is dry, Master. My skin is tingling. There is a knot in my stomach. My

nipples are hard, and my cunt is wet."

"I can see your right nipple poking against your dress. It seems very hard."

"It is, Master."

"What do you want to do, Wendi?"

"I want to play, Master."

"Ask me to crush them, love."

"Please let me crush them, Master," her voice trembled with need.

"You may step on some of them, Wendi," said Mark. "But no more than three at a

time. I will tell you when to stop."

"Thank-you, Master…"

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Chief of Police Edwards was in that crowd, shouting orders into his radio. "I

don't care what the mayor says! Start broadcasting on every station, I want

every man, woman and child heading away from this city now! Farley! Get those

doors open. I know the buildings aren't any protection, but it's a damn sight

better than out here on the street. Blow them open! Phillips, you're too far

back, anyone who can't run faster than that is screwed no matter what we do. Get

your ass up here."

"Negative, sir, she's paused for the moment. I'm going to steer these people

towards the First National, they can hide in the lobby."

Edwards felt an icy hand on his back as the giantess started forward.

"Abort that, Phillips, she's on the move again! Clear out of there!"

"Working on it, sir! Oh, fuck, she just stepped on a man. Move it! Come on

people, get the hell out of her way! Move! Move! Oh, god sir, she's looking at

me."

"Head for the sidewalk, maybe she'll move past you!"

Edwards watched helplessly as Wendi looked down over her breasts at the tiny cop

before her. Her beautiful face was alight with fierce desires as she shifted her

weight and brought her foot over the defenseless little man.

"No! Oh, god, she's going to step on me! Help, sir, oh god, help! I don't want

to die!" Phillips voice was suffused with panic, trembling and short of breath.

Edwards watched as Wendi stepped down slowly, taking her time, prolonging the

terror of the young officer. A shrill, animal shriek sounded from Edwards'

radio, then an obscene, moist crunching noise, just before it died. The giantess

was playfully twisting her toes from side to side, her massive breasts jiggling

within the loose confines of her sheer summer dress.

Edwards was shaking badly as he spoke into the radio. "Bob. Bob are you still

there?"

"I'm here, Chief." Bob's voice was weak.

"Tell the mayor to send an emergency request for military intervention."

"That's going to take time, sir. It'll be days before they can respond."

"That can't be helped. I'm out of ideas. Proceed with the evacuation. I'm

stopping by the Armory, maybe we can get enough firepower to slow this bitch

down."

"Good luck, sir."

Edwards clicked his radio off and watched giantess giggling as she cruelly

popped more of the fleeing people under her long bare toes…

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Wendi was mesmerized. It was delectable pressing the little people flat under

her bare feet. Their abject helplessness was so exciting, and the way they felt

beneath her toes was intoxicating. She played with each one, taking her time,

toying with them before crushing them with self-indulgent languor.

Mark could not see the tiny people, but he could clearly hear their appeals for

mercy, and their shrieks of terror as Wendi had her way with them. Her dominance

was absolute, and it wound his own passions tightly.

"Wendy?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Tell me what it feels like, love."

"Oh, Master, it feels so wicked. They try to escape. They try to hold my foot up

with their tiny hands. They struggle and they fight, and then they pop and burst

and break. They turn from firm and lively to warm, wet and gooey."

"It's time to get messy, Wendi. Step forward into the crowd."

Wendi clenched her hands into fists and shivered. It took only a few steps to

bring her fully into the fleeing masses of men and women. She stepped casually,

both intent and uncaring of what she trod flat, and people died by the scores.

The shadow of her bare foot raced over the heads of the people, a rush of air

followed in its train. People towards the rear were clipped by her descending

heel and knocked sprawling to the ground, their bodies exploding as her weight

squeezed them into the road. Her sole softly slapped the tarmac, turning dozens

of people into blurting pap, which oozed up around her foot and between her toes

as she shifted her weight onto her foot. The bodies continued to snap and

crackle and goosh moistly as her bare foot pressed deep into the street, the

people around her foot tumbling to the ground from the violence of the impact;

those caught only half under her foot or toes shrieking insanely as the lower

half of their bodies were jellied as she trod down. A long moment passed as she

took her next step, as more people were killed by her playful antics. Then her

heel tipped up, her foot lifting to her toes before rising for her next step,

leaving behind a crater filled with the smooshed and contorted victims of her

footfalls.

"Stop, Wendi."

Wendi halted; wriggling her toes in the mess, lifting the hem of her dress a

little to smirk down at the tiny people. She felt so terribly worked up she

thought she would pop.

Mark stroked Wendi's ear, caressed her warm flesh and listened to her purr.

"Pick up a handful of people, Wendi," he commanded. "Hold them up so that we can

both see them." He gasped and held tightly to her strand of hair, as she bent

down, squatting on her heels. The chaotic noises of the crowd swelled in volume

as she reached out and stroked her massive fingers through them. Mark glanced

down, watched as she played with her victims, humming to herself as she forced

them to endure her little sport; closing her fingers together, picking some up,

then letting them go, tormenting them, toying with them. Until, with cruel

finality she brought her fingers together and did not let go, rising slowly to

her feet, elevating her prize to the line of her eyes. Mark stared at a handful

of men and women, people his size, people who, unlike Kimball, were utterly

innocent in this matter. He watched as they screamed and cried, as they prayed

and cursed. Some were looking up at Wendi, most were hiding behind their hands.

"Wendi," he breathed.

"Master?"

"Wendi…tell them what you are going to do to them. Terrify them. Make them

scream louder."

Wendi's lips lifted in a cold-blooded grin and she brought the powerless people

close to her red lips. "Hi there," she whispered, huskily. "My name is Wendi.

I'm going to kill you." Her eyes shone with excitement. "Although, you know, I

think slaughter is a better word," she continued. "Because I am going to make it

happen very slowly and very messily." Her voice thrummed with cruel intentions,

rang with giantess lusts. Mark was mesmerized by her viciousness and by the

insane fear of her intended victims. "Yes," she purred "yes, scream for me. Beg

me to spare you." She paused to lick her lips. "I'm going to close my fingers

around you. I'm going to hold you in my hand. I'm going to squeeze you. Your

struggles will mean nothing to me but pleasure, and I will crush the life from

you insignificant little bodies. I will crush you until you are soft, and pulpy

and squishy. I will do this because I can, because there is nothing you can do

to stop me." Her voice was hoarse with barely restrained eagerness. "And then I

will lick my fingers clean, savoring your hot blood on my tongue."

Several of the people had fainted. Others were throwing themselves towards the

open air beyond her fingers, preferring the clean death of a swift fall to one

for her pleasures. She caught them all, enveloped them in her hand, held them

close to her lips and growled deeply at them. Mark was so tense it was driving

him crazy and he stretched his arms and legs, trying to relieve the tightness

within himself.

"Wendi," he said.

"Yes, Master?"

"Make good on your promises, love."

"Mmmm…thank-you, Master."

Watching Kimball die had been something of sweet retribution. Listening to the

people squishing under Wendi' bare feet had been distant, surreal. Watching her

gargantuan fingers curl over and around her victims was immediate and vivid. He

felt her pulse quicken and he gasped for air, suddenly short of breath.

For Wendi it was the realization of her darkest fantasies. She wiggled her toes

in the muck and mire of crushed people and watched with unabashed delight as her

little people went totally crazy. They fought her, throwing away all restraint,

struggling like pinned animals. So many tiny lives were in her hand, given to

her lusts by her Master's command. She was so wet, so hot, flushed with arousal

and the unbearable thrill of absolute power. Bringing her fist to her lips she

unbent her thumb and forefinger enough to slip her tongue in, tasting the fear

of her prey. With another low growl she brought her hand closer to her Master so

they could both listen as her fingers began to tighten, to squeeze.

Mark could not tear his eyes away. Wendi was killing them slowly, her hand

clenching into a fist, her fingers sinking ruthlessly into the packed mass of

men and women. She moaned softly as she heard the first sounds of flesh being

crushed, and Mark moaned with her. The people were screaming without let,

struggling to no effect. Wendi held them with contemptuous ease as she broke

their insignificant little bodies. Blood seeped between her fingers, and she

held her hand out, looking down, watching the terror build in the people on the

ground as the grisly crimson rain fell upon them. Flesh and viscera blurted from

between her fingers, and she worked the thick, pulpy mess like clay, taking her

time, discovering a survivor in the dreadful pap and taking delight in squeezing

his puny body between her thumb and forefinger until he popped. Then, as she

promised, she brought her hand to her lips, and with slow strokes of her tongue

washed away the steaming blood and mangled flesh, her eyes aglitter with

predatory delight.

She was still lazily cleaning herself when Mark built enough courage to speak

again.

"Wendi?"

"Mmmm…yes, Master?"

"Wendi…ah…Wendi, I want you to take me and place me in your mouth," Mark

swallowed; his heart skipping in terror. "You may play with me gently to the

count of one-hundred, then you must remove me and return me here."

Wendi paused for a long moment, as though lost in thought over his commands, but

before he could admonish her to hurry, before his lost his nerve, her fingers

appeared beside him. Mark rushed to unknot her hair from around his waist, lest

she forget and pull him in half. He also clipped the pen to her strand, leaving

it dangling there, then he stepped off against the lobe of her ear and gave

himself to her. She waited a moment for him to get comfortable, then brought him

before her lovely face. He was gasping for breath, all his senses urging him to

flight as she smiled down at him and slowly licked her red lips.

Dear lord, so this is what it is like, he thought to himself, and realized that

this was exactly what he wanted, the chance to feel something of the terror felt

by her victims. Wendi obviously appreciated this, and spared him nothing of her

power over him. Her tongue slide hungrily along the line of her lips, and she

smiled down at him in a way that promised no escape, no mercy.

"Remember, this is just play!" he yelled, and raised an eyebrow. What the hell

prompted him to say that? But he didn't have to search hard for an answer as

Wendi pinned him to the palm of her hand with a kiss that he thought was going

to kill him. Her lips were soft and warm and everywhere, rubbing lightly against

him, anointing him with the redness of her lipstick. In the darkness of her

passion he felt her lips part slightly, her breath washing over him. Her tongue

touched his belly, and he jerked and tried to curl up around himself, but she

denied him that escape. With slow licks she tasted him and savored him.

"I'm going to eat you, little man," she whispered, and then lapped him up into

her mouth.

Mark couldn't stop himself from screaming…

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Edwards stepped through the door of the vault and looked around, swinging a

crowbar.

"Is this all of it?" he asked.

"There's some stuff down at Precinct 7, and the Mayor is trying to get the Guard

to open up their doors at the Trundle facility." The officer kicked at one of

the wooden crates with the toe of his boot. "This is the best of it, though,

including stuff from the Andrew Street drug raid two years ago."

Edwards nodded and pointed the crowbar at one of the boxes.

"Let's start with that one..."

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Wendi felt a mixture of terror and excitement, herself; terror at the prospect

of hurting her little one, excitement that he trusted her so completely. She

knew her tiny master was going berserk inside of her mouth, fighting and

screaming and trying to pry her teeth apart. The sensation of power was so heady

that she needed to lean against one of the office buildings to keep from falling

to her knees. Concentrating on the feeling of her little master on her tongue,

she began to play gently with him, and belatedly began counting to herself.

For his part Mark was in the position of a man who, upon reaching the top of a

very tall roller coaster, decides that maybe this isn't such a good idea, and

asks to be let off. Mark was currently asking to be let off in his loudest and

most authoritative (albeit shrill) voice. He was on his feet on the tip of

Wendi's tongue, his knees pressed against her teeth, his hands pushing hard at

the forward most part of the roof of her mouth. His legs and arms trembled from

the effort, and he mopped his brow with his shirtsleeve, to no avail, her saliva

already covered him.

"Wendi!" he roared, "Let me out, right now!"

Her tongue heaved up beneath him, lofted him end over end within her mouth. He

slapped back against her soft tongue, felt it undulate powerfully beneath him as

she pressed him against the top of her mouth. Over and over she played with him,

swirling him in her mouth, toying with him against her teeth. He fought her with

everything he had, howling for her to stop, to let him go, but she either didn't

her him, or chose to ignore him. Then, without warning, the motion stopped.

Mark lay across her tongue, his body dripping wet, his hair matted against his

face. The heat and humidity in her mouth was oppressive, it drained the energy

from him. With a groan he leaned towards the front of her mouth, and suddenly

her tongue went into action again. But where her earlier play had been rough and

chaotic, her ministrations now were calculated and deliberate. She pinned him

against her front teeth and began to caress him with her tongue. He struggled at

first, pushed against her moist advances, tried to stave each full body kiss.

But she was adamant; she gave him no course for refusal, no way to deny her.

Wendi's tongue was all around him, licking him, stroking him, loving him, and he

could not help but respond. In a blaze of passion he pulled at his heavy

clothing, ripped his shirt, discard his wet pants. Naked and vulnerable he gave

himself to her, and she took him eagerly. Her tongue explored his body, tasted

the softness of his flesh, washed him and covered him in the wetness of her

mouth.

And when she growled so that his bones shook, he came…

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

"Here and here," said the lieutenant.

"Are these areas evacuated yet?" demanded Edwards.

"We're working on it, sir. We can't get the people out of the city, but we can

get them to the Phillips Mall. Sergeant Meyers will close off this area between

Falder Street and 66th, so we'll be able to protect them."

"Seems like a hell of a risk, some of the largest buildings are in that

section."

"Yes, sir. But with all the routes out of the city jammed or closed, we don't

have many options."

"Fine…start deploying your men, I want everything in place within the next

hour."

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Mark lay in the palm of her hand and shivered from the chill in the air. Wendi's

face was bent over him, her hair cascading down from all sides, blocking out the

rest of the world. Her eyes watched him avidly, eagerly, drinking the sight of

him. And he for his part could not take his eyes off of her. She was so

beautiful and so very deadly.

"Now, little Master," she murmured. "Would you have me put any of these tiny

people in my mouth after seeing just how helpless it feels to be trapped in

there?"

Mark laughed, but his pulse was pounding. The images seared through him. He knew

in vivid detail exactly what she meant. Rolling to his back he parted his legs

with a grin, showing her rather than telling her what he desired. With a twinkle

in her eyes Wendi accepted his answer and lifted her head, looking down the

street for her prey.

The crowds had not squandered their opportunity, and Wendi strolled for several

blocks before she caught up with the rag end of the fleeing people. Once again

she stepped into their midst, taking cruel delight in the moist crunch and

splatter of broken bodies beneath her bare feet. Squatting down on her heels she

regarded the mob as it flowed around her bare toes. Her fingers hovered over the

heads of the tiny people making them shrink away and cry out. With a swift

motion she plucked up a tiny man, holding him about ankle height above the

people. An eager light was in her eyes and she moved him slowly higher, but not

to her mouth, her hand impulsively straying under her dress, between her thighs.

"Wendi," Mark said, sternly.

"Yes, Master?" she asked quietly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm picking up a tiny man."

"To eat, Wendi. There will be time later for that kind of play."

"But Master…"

"You argue with me?"

"No, Master," and she lifted the tiny man to her lips and pressed him into her

mouth with her forefinger. Mark mopped his brow, sweating profusely, his heart

banging in his chest. Wendi loved him enough to abide him commands, but he would

have to give her what she needed soon. He stroked her ear tenderly and murmured

soft praises to her as she collected more of the little ones.

She took her time, reaching down into the packed throngs, lifting tiny people

one by one between her thumb and forefinger, lifting them to her lips and

popping them inside. And she held Mark up so he could behold each one in turn,

hear their pleas for mercy, their futile curses, and their frightened wails.

After the tenth one she turned to face him and parted her lips, showing him her

delectable little snacks. Mark clung to her thumb and stared. The people were

slipping and sliding on her tongue, fighting to get to her open lips, their

cries echoing from the roof of her mouth. With a little flick of her tongue she

tossed them around, then slowly gathered them back again.

Closing her mouth Wendi pierced him with her gaze.

"Master?" she mumbled.

Mark gripped her thumb tighter. "Do it," he commanded.

Wendi pursed her lips into a smile, and then brought him to her throat, clasping

him against it with her gigantic fingertips. Her pulse beat against him, lifted

and fell, throbbing with the distant strength of her young heart. Mark lay

against her, his arms outstretched, hugging her, his right ear pressed against

her. Her throat moved and bobbed; once, twice and a third time as she swallowed

the little men and women alive. He heard them, heard their shrieks as they were

dragged down her throat and into her tummy; ten defenseless little men and women

doomed to the searing death in her stomach.

Wendi giggled. 'They tickle," she grinned, and she lifted Mark from her throat

and showed him her open mouth. None of the people remained. She rubbed her tummy

with her fingers and giggled again, then began to gather more of the people

beneath her, popping them into her mouth one after another. But this time she

didn't swallow. Instead she teased them with her tongue, drove them crazy with

her playful power as she swirled and swished them around in her mouth. Once

again she showed Mark her little morsels, and let him listen to their screams,

but this time she brought him to her lips, and parted them ever so little,

before she began to chew.

Her jaw moved slowly, rhythmically, and relentlessly. Mark closed his eyes as he

heard the screams within her mouth become high-pitched animal shrieks. Wendi was

ruthless, catching the frenzied people with her soft tongue, forcing them

between her teeth and biting down, bursting their bodies like ripe grapes. Hot

blood splashed and squirted across her tongue, fueling the insatiable lusts

within her. Nine people she crunched and chewed between her back teeth. The last

man she caught with her incisors, parting her smiling lips so that Mark could

watch as she slowly sank her massive teeth into his puny body, slicing him and

crushing him at the same time before her tongue swept over him, drawing the

mangled remains back to her waiting molars where she finished masticating him,

before licking her soft lips with delight and swallowing.

After that she returned Mark to her ear. And then to quench her thirst she

captured more people, just like she had the first time, holding them in her

closed fingers, anticipating the taste of them. With a naughty giggle she let

them feel the unyielding and merciless strength of her fingers. Holding them

over her open mouth, her tongue slipped out to receive their life's blood.

Drinking it avidly as her fingers disdainfully squeezed every drop from their

insignificant little bodies. The dire draught trickled from the corner of her

mouth and onto her dress, but she did not care as she captured more handfuls

from the panicking hoards.

Mark clung to her ear as she drank, as she crushed countless people to mush with

her fingers. Each time her head tipped back he had visions of what it was like

in her lovely mouth and he shivered. She was so cruel, but she was having so

much fun.

"Wendi," he said. "Stop."

His heart leapt within him as she did so, her attention focusing upon him.

"Wendi," he continued. "What have you done to the dress I bought for you?"

She looked down, saw the bright blood upon her breasts.

"Oh, Master…I'm so sorry, I was so distracted that I…"

"Wendi," he interrupted.

"Yes, Master?" She asked contritely.

"Remove your dress, Wendi."

"At once, Master."

She reached down to the hem of her dress and gathered it up slowly over the

length of her body, revealing her long legs, her white thighs. She wore no

undergarments, but the tiny people were already so traumatized that the sight of

her colossal womanhood did not so much scandalize as it did raise the specter of

new terrors. In one fluid motion she pulled the dress over her generous breasts

and slipped it free of her head, turning to lay it in a pile on the ground

beside her.

"How does it feel to be naked, Wendi?"

"It feels wonderful, Master."

"Good. Now I want you to trap as many of them as you can. If you have to push

over some of the buildings, then do so, but be sure that they cannot escape. Do

it quickly now."

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

"She's what?"

"Naked, sir."

Edwards rubbed his hands over his face. "Just when you think it's gotten weird.

Okay, keep me appraised. Oh, and find a few more female officers if you can, I

don't want anyone freezing up when it comes time to take her out." He turned to

another officer. "What's the word on the deployment?"

"We'll be ready in an hour, sir."

"Oh god."

"What is it, Atkins?"

"She just pushed over the Brumand Insurance Company building."

"Shit," he spun back to the other man. "You have thirty minutes. Make them

count."

"Yes, sir."

`;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;```;-,...,-;`

Wendi circled around the crowds, striding down a side street, taking her time as

she blocked any hope of passage. Buildings toppled with heart stopping crashes,

dust billowing down the roads. She giggled each time she pushed over another

skyscraper; thrusting against this one with her hands, bumping that one with her

hip. Her tits jiggled heavily as she had her way with the forest of buildings.

She paused to look inside many of them, peering into offices and apartments and

hotel rooms, making eye contact with any tiny people she found. She liked

watching them as she pressed her warm, sexy body against the building, seeing

their terror mounting as they felt the floor beneath them tremble and tip,

tilting further and further, spilling furniture and lamps until the building

smashed against the street like an expensive and very elaborate vase. Meanwhile

the crowds on Elm Street were surging back down the avenue, trying to find

escape down an unblocked alley. People choked the doorways of numerous

buildings, fighting and struggling for the dubious safety within. They could see

the giantess strolling down the side streets, her body looming over many of the

buildings from the chest up, brightly illuminated by the lights of the city as

darkness fell. From time to time she turned to look down, eyeing the hoards of

tiny men and women with eager anticipation.

"I'm done, Master" she finally said, standing at the opposite end of Elm,

looking down its length at the turmoil and chaos taking place before her.

"They cannot escape?"

"Not in any numbers," she purred. "Oh, there are so many of them, Master!"

"Do you want them?"

"Very much, Master."

"Then show them, Wendi."

"Master?"

"Let them see how much you want them, my dear, how much you need them." Mark's

body ached with excitement, and he could feel the passionate heat radiating from

Wendi. "Let your lovely body speak for you." On a thought he glanced around,

located the pen still clipped to her hair and retrieved it, holding it in his

hand since he was naked now.

"Master?"

"Yes, Wendi."

"Master, I want them inside of me."

"Soon, love. Very

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