A broken leg. Smashed under a heavy boot.
A shattered pelvis, crushed under an index finger.
A tiny body split in two, at the torso. Torn asunder by a pair of hands.
A human being ground between two sets of gigantic molars. Their cries, their pleas drowned out by the snapping bones. Macrophilia had been part of my life for as long as I could remember. But the dark thoughts, these torturous fantasies have only played out since my adulthood. Was it the bitterness of growing up that caused the romping, roaming fantasies of my youth to become so corrupted?
Why did these thoughts swirl in my head? Dark desires that if I lived out would surely earn me the scorn of all those who knew, and even didn't, know me. Yet I desired all the same. Desired to look down upon a carpet of humanity and know that a simple step would be all that it took to end so many lives. To feel their bodies break against my sole. I had always wondered if they would crush like grapes. When you step on a grape, there's a thin membrane that keeps all the tasty, fun stuff inside. Its surprisingly resilient, too. Yet, enough pressure will rupture it violently. Perhaps, stepping on this carpet of humanity would cause them to exhibit the same properties. The very idea stirs every pleasure center in my body. To have the control over something so primal; a human life. To hold a person in my hand and be certain that if I clenched my fist, their bodies would burst like that grape. The blood that once pumped through a living person's veins, now running down the creases in my palm. Nothing left of them, save a mangled, unrecognizable corpse and tattered clothing.
The cries from their loved ones would would waken me from my awed stupor. A smile to placate as tears stream down their face. "Don't worry..." I'd softly reassure. "You'll be with them soon, should you believe that." An outstretched hand closes in on them faster than their legs could possibly hope to carry them. A simple motion motion breaks their leg. Pinched between my thumb and index finger, they are helpless. They still fight, but they don't always do. Humans are surprisingly easy to break, in so many ways. As I drag the squirming woman towards me, she begins to sob uncontrollably. Her reaction to pain is much more overwhelming; as she's lifted upwards by her shattered leg she lets out a ear splitting scream. I'd dangle her over my mouth, tongue outstretched, waiting for her body to fall like the first snowflake of winter. I wonder if the world would slow down for her as she's let go. If the sense of terror would take hold as she felt her weightlessness. The final glimpse of the sky would be cut off by an impossibly large set of teeth. The world would grow hot, dark, and humid for her. What sort of sounds would someone that miniscule hear? The sloshing of the tongue? The sound of the stomach gurgling? The choices that could be made; to chew up to a pulp, or to swallow whole? Either end would be deliciously horrifying. That is part of the appeal of these fantasies, after all. The aversion, panic, and terror that I would be able to inflict; how quickly would that utterly intoxicate me? At my normal stature such a thing nearly buckles my knees, speeds my heart up, and excites me in a way I cannot describe. Regardless, it still all feels so base. The raw emotions, sexuality, in some cases destruction and rage, are all so very shameful to so many. Because of the horrifying content packed within my own mind, even my sexuality sometimes becomes swallowed by my guilt. Is there a more nuanced meaning to why I enjoy this? Why I would enjoy inflicting untold suffering upon so many? To reduce the fantasy to such a level seems cruel, but isn’t that the irony?
Still, I cannot help my nature. The vivid and intoxicating fantasy that most would find repulsive does not just involve myself dealing with one single individual. Should I find myself staring down at a narrow, packed city street; overflowing with a surging mass of humanity desperate to get away from this newly awoken monster, I have little doubt what actions I would take. Entire swaths of people, smeared horribly, mangled under a foot whose weight is immersible. The very steps I take would split the earth asunder. Entire populations snuffed out, so quick and easy it might as well be a snap of the fingers. Juxtaposed against my own elation would be the suffering of so many. I would not be merely content with using the soles of my powerful feet. How I long to get intimate with a tiny body, to feel it’s warm in my hands. To feel how easy it would break if simply pressed. I can see myself, pulling apart a miniscule human body with the same attention a child might give to a fly whilst ripping its wings off. How amused would I seem as a person’s cries for help were drowned out by deep gurgles. Their midsection slowly ripping in twain, the deep red sinew of muscle stretching; the last bit of tension before a pitched cry and inevitable separation. To the onlookers the elation that would overcome me would be a source of its own unique terror. Perhaps even worst of all, that very concept would further incense me to push the limits of my cruelty and creativity.
After having ripped so many in half, I imagine that act would lose some of its punch. Both for myself, and my captive audience. I would be forced to get creative. Placing someone at the end of my finger and pressing them against the facade of a glass building. Then, all it would take is me pressing gently and dragging them along the surface. An involuntary scream erupts from what seems to my finger tip as they are shredded against the side of a testament to human engineering. My depravity would hardly stop there. I could easily rip the antenna off a skyscraper and use the end to spear as many tasty morsels as I could. Impaled on the end of a long spear, brought up to my mouth and eaten like a kebab. What kind of monster thinks about eating humans in such a way?
I’ve dreamed about holding a pair of small lovers in my clutch, opening my palm and offering them a chance to earn their lives. Pleasure each other, like you have never done so before. Show me what love represents in its most scandalous form! The two lovers would set about it, despite the mammoth pair of eyes observing them. The fear that might prevent others does not factor into their passion. As he entered her and her arms shoot upwards, towards and behind him, digging into the bulging mass of muscles. He’d begin to thrust, powerfully. For the two embraced, time loses all meaning. A shifting form snaps them out of their mutual trance. A set of massive digits grips her lover on either side of his head. My thumb and index finger holding his cranium in place. Before he can even scream, his head is flattened between the two fingers. Bits of bone and brain matter spray in every direction. She cries out, embracing her lovers still twitching corpse. The very same fingers that moments ago popped her companion’s head now grip her sides. There are no screams from her as she’s hoisted upwards, my palm falling out from under her. Like a piece of discarded trash, the body of her boyfriend falls hundreds of feet, landing with a sickening plop below. She doesn’t say anything even as I open my mouth. It isn’t until she’s finally sliding down my throat that she even makes a sound, wailing all the way down.
My deepest most dark desires are, realistically, impossible. They are also something that invades my mind nearly every waking moment. It is something I have to remember on a daily basis. Perhaps that is for the best. Should I be given the abilities, the power I desired with all of my being... Well, I suppose humanity had a good run.