“I see troubles on the way…” he said while staring at the campfire, not daring to raise his gaze and look at the other faces. None of them would dare too because none of them felt they had the heart to look into the bottomless desperation that they were sure to find if they tried to look into another pair of eyes. A bad moon was rising that night, the first of many. They had no clue what was coming, they didn’t know they lived their last day of a normal life 24 hours before. Not that we could blame them at all, who could ever predict such calamities? And even if you would, how could you carry on a life in which you wake up every day fearing it will be your last one?
John pulled the warm cover tighter, as everyone around did to try to resist the cold night. Some of them wrapped their children to keep them close, to give them a sense of safety in what seemed like a desperate situation. All around the shadows of the night swallowed the buildings in ruins, on the group of sleeping homeless people, when John put out the fire, before laying down on the hard, cold ground to try to rest.
The weak sun of the dawn was even colder the day after when the whole town woke up. But it wasn’t a good morning kiss what was awaiting for the poor disgraced people. It was a day of desperate hopes, a day of illusion.
It was the sound of earthquake, the spreading darkness of the shadow of her body obscuring the light, it was the shiver of fear running down their spine when they watched her figure raise in the horizon and grow larger the closer she moved to the town. Watching with horror as she looked around deciding which neighborhood was about to be annihilated for the only purpose of entertain her, and the collateral effect of giving a few moments of hopeless waiting for the other citizen who could do nothing but stare as their doom was just taking its time before striking, inevitable.
Inevitable, yes. Because there was no place to run. Because one after the other all the cities around were falling under her, crushed beneath the weight of her body and her lustful, sadistic pleasure.
And after all for her those tiny little towns were nothing more than ant nests, but much more fun since they spread around the surface, and up in the sky, the perfect size for her to enjoy, in the most different ways. She was proceeding slowly, enjoying each step as it brought her new sensations depending what happened to lay under her soft sole every time it lowered down to support her enormous weight and allow her to move forward. Her lips curled in a wicked smile every time she could see those tiny little creature run like cockroaches when they see the light, every time the shadow of her foot would swallow them, a preview of the incoming danger.
And it was even more fun to feel the tiny bodies of those who weren’t fast enough pinned under her sin, sink into her soft flesh, scream in horror feeling her sole surround them progressively before her weight would come down, turning their fear into pain and smothering their scream, turning her pleasure from psychological to physical, as it was now the mere feeling of their shape flatten, and their bones crackling under her foot to send a shiver of pure delight along her body. More, she wanted more. And the more she got the more she wanted.
“Mom, mom come here! I see earthquakes and lightning!” Screamed a little girl all excited while the floor under her feet shook and the shadow casted by the giantess body darkened the ground around her house as her endless legs passed majestically above it, before the pink column stood in middle of the neighborhood, far from the safe window behind which the mother was looking in shock, not paying any attention to the amused smile of her innocent daughter.
She headed to center of the town. She wanted everybody to see her stand above any building their engineering was able to build. She wanted them to admire her supremacy, her overwhelming beauty and power. She wanted all their eyes for herself. And she had them, with ease. A simple wiggle of her hips, sent her gluteus smack against a building, cracking it in the middle, making it break like a stick, provoking an unimaginable amount panic. The residents, the workers, those who thought it was smarter to find a shelter on the higher ground, and the fools who thought their life could go on the same way as it was before, as if the visit of the previous day was almost a lucid dream, could only stare at the perfect roundness that would fill their sight, approaching fast, so fast, like a meteor smashing against the glass, breaking as soon as it made contact with her skin. Her soft flesh sank for a moment inside the building, bending the stricture before the force was too much for it to hold. The world was hanging upside down for those who were trapped inside, when they started to fall. And for those who were standing on the ground next to the building, it was as if the sky was falling on their head.
And it fell on the head of some, on the head of many, who lost their lives under the crumbling building inside of which many of their similar lost their lives too. The titanic woman achieved her masterpiece, thanks to her superior intellect which accompanied her superior size. Because those who were lucky enough to escape, along with the multitude of those who could only spectate, were now conscious of what they stood before: a woman capable of make the sky fall with the most natural, insignificant and graceful gesture of her body.
And it was then, when she knew she had them, when she knew they were prepared to realize was literally upon them, that she decided to grace the unworthy inferiors with the blessing of her voice. Her chin bent as her gaze turned on the ground, the town that was hardly holding together after just a couple of her walks, its population, frozen in fear, holding their breath all together, their heartbeat, their mind, their whole existence suspended, until she would release them to the hurricane of their emotions. She was the director of that minuscule orchestra. They would play under her rule, for her entertainment, since she was the public at the same time. And the show would go on as long as her whims would allow it, not a second further.
“I see bad times today” John said to himself in a whisper. The only person who would dare to interrupt the still silence Not that something so insignificant could ever hope to reach the attention of the new owner of the town. She stood too far above, for a single grain of dust to be able to catch her attention undivided.
“You are mine.” She said. She felt 3 words were already more than they deserved, so paused to think if it was the case to grace them with more. Not so soon, she decided.
“She’s so pretty and so big! When she speaks I hear hurricane a-blowing!” said the voice of innocence. The one that despite it lacks of dimension would stand the same dignity of that who could unfortunately not recognize her, for she stood on a ground too high for it. The flower is doomed to born with the hay.
She looked behind her to search for a building that would be relevant enough not to disappear under her touch. She decided to test it. The screams would raise in the air as she stood in front of the building, giving it her back though. Her knees bent, high in the sky, as the roof of the building would allow anyone brave enough to stand upon it, to experience a last sight that would redeem their lives: The two round buttcheeks, hovering in all their annihilating shape, a perfection not even the best painters of the renaissance would be able to depict. It lowered, as if the moon itself was blessing the earth with her visit, and with the same force the roundness did impact the flatness, but slowly, delicately, with a grace unthinkable for a being of such a scale, but which underlined once again her superiority, her perfect control of her body and of what stands, or stood, around it. Her skin flattened first, the increasing amount of flesh resting upon the roof, bending and flattening whatever laid there. The sensation of the little roughness sinking into her skin before giving up to the oncoming weight was already satisfying for her. But it was just beginning. Her titanic rear soon stretched out of the borders, surrounding the roof as she sat down comfortably, letting now her weight find its way on the structure that was supposed to hold it. The task becoming harder and harder every second passing.
First the shadow forced everyone inside to turn on the lights as if it was nighttime. But they waited to see what would happen. The fear was slithering inside like a snake ready to strike. The first light bites stroke when a creepy creaking noise came from the walls of the hospital. Trying to hold the panic, was soon as hard as tame a wild horse, but it was necessary to organize a plan to evacuate the building. Rationality will lead them to safety, that’s what they knew, that’s what they were taught, that’s what their system stood upon. And she only had to sit down, to make such strong belief crumble, as the little cracks in the roof announced the imminent crumble of the roof itself.
“I fear the river overflowing” was the last though of the last sailor to abandon the ship. But he was already seeing the river overflowing. It didn’t take too long for fear to overflow the whole building, people running like crazy to try and safe whatever was left of their lives, while the crumbling pieces of the roof above were revealing a glimpse of heaven, a brief sight of the beautiful, smooth skin of that oppressing rear.
She knew what she was doing. She knew what they would do. They were regressing to their animal instincts. But they were preys. And like a smart predator she let them run into her trap. When the first row of the crowd, those who were closer to the door, or selfish enough to push all the others out of the way, didn’t even realize that the shadow was still surrounding them even outside the building. And they didn’t have the time to realize it before the gigantic sole of the colossal foot of doom came down, squishing them like a bunch of ants underneath her weight. The ground quaked again, for the whole town. The prisoners froze in fear once again, paralyzed in stillness while her toes wiggles happily, the only sign she would concede them to make them aware of her emotions. Her delight in knowing she overwhelmed them completely. Those inside and those outside. Those who were sensible to fear and those who were to beauty. She owned them. And those who were sensible to both, those were doomed to be annihilated by her mere presence. “You are mine”, she allowed them to hear their sentence twice.
“I hear the voice of rage and ruin. Can you hear it too?” John asked. To everybody or to himself, nobody answered that day. And it was dusk already. And it was dark already.
“Don't go 'round tonight, it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise.”