ARE YOU HAVING FUN? I ask. The man looks at me, almost pleading for me to help him out of there. I do… but probably not in the way he was expecting. Grabbing one breast with each hand, I slightly move them apart and create enough room for him to slide all the way to the bottom of my bikini top. Then, I let nature and the bikini top to do their job and bring my boobs back together.
Besides some initial additional tickling he goes almost unnoticed at his destination. I forget about him as quickly as I noticed him and start thinking on what to do next.
I don’t mind killing a few people but, as I said, I’m not a mass murderer. Walking forward will end up in nothing but a massacre, and I’m not interested in that. Instead, I decide it’s time to have a closer look at the action at street level. I know it may sound inconsistent. One moment I’m telling you that standing up and looking at the world from above is the greatest thing ever and the next I’m talking about getting a closer look at what’s happening at feet level. It’s one of the issues with being a giant woman. There’s so much to do that you are faced with constant choices.
Without warning, I drop to my hands and knees. The crowd has not yet had time to adapt to the change when I stretch my legs and lie down on my stomach, face rested on my folded arms. I get a zoom of Lilliput in Full HD. Well, to be fair to the people in Lilliput, the guys here are quite smaller. Or… well… it’s actually me that’s bigger than Gulliver.
If any aircraft is passing over me right now, its passengers must be getting the best possible look at what I’d like to claim as the best ass in the world. Combine privileged genetic heritage with frequent fitness and you’ll get the idea. Or well, just look at the pictures that people must be taking at this moment and judge by yourselves.
I look to the front. The closest groups are not even 30 feet away, well within my reach.
I unfold an arm and start walking two fingers among the crowd. Even my digits dwarf the people, which is kind of hilarious. With a simple gesture I’ve got the people to stop being concerned about me and to start being concerned about my fingers, almost as if they were an entity of their own. People are always afraid of the harm that’s closest.
I really have no purpose as I walk my fingers, but soon I get bored and I start to randomly “kick” people. I’m thoroughly surprised when I see that my fingers seem to have the strength of Superman, since I’m able to toss people around 20 or more feet with ease.
It turns into a game too easily. I start testing how far I can throw them. Then I start testing my aim. When I manage to kick a screaming man into an open third story window I cannot help myself from laughing out loud.
The Excelsior was close to the beach, which means that there are other luxury hotels around. A stream of people is getting into one of them. I guess it’s kind of natural for the people to try to get away from me, but this does not mean that I have to like it. I get back to my hands and knees and cat walk to the hotel. My right hand ends on two people and my left knee crushes a group of four beyond recognition, but this time I swear that it was not on purpose. I know it makes no difference to the ones I crushed, and hell! It does not even make too much of a difference to me! But I thought it was worth mentioning.
By the end of the day I wonder which body count will be higher: the one tracking deaths I caused on purpose or the one tracking deaths that happened just because I’m too damn big to move around without killing some people and breaking some stuff.
I reach the hotel the moment the last person from the group gets into the revolving door. I flick it, out of frustration. The results are unexpected. The door starts twisting like a tornado and a few seconds later, the man is spat outside. I giggle and reach for his limp body. Resting him on my ten foot long index finger I see his chest moving up and down. This tells me that he is alive but unconscious.
I sit on my knees as I think on what to do with him. He is a whim away from being tossed over my shoulder. Finally, the best part of me takes over, I make a fist with my left hand and easily punch a hole into the hotel’s façade.
A section of the tenth floor gets easily and violently exposed to the world. My fist is so massive that it’s accompanied by similar sections of the eighth, ninth and eleventh floors. A startled couple looks at me and starts screaming. I just move my right hand to the spot they are and carefully drop the limp man in front of them.
WILL YOU TAKE CARE OF HIM? I BELIEVE HE’S A LITTLE SHOCKED I say cheerfully.
The couple does not reply. They just turn and start running deeper into the building.
OH I said. Their reaction is predictable but disappointing. Pushing my lips out, I blow out a short gust of wind at them. I snort when as a result of my simple action the tiny couple is lifted off their feet and gets thrown deeper into the building at a quite faster pace than they had intended. Their short flight ends up when they hit a wall. The couple slides down the wall and does not stand up. They are not the only stuff that has become airborne as a result of my breath. Several pieces of furniture splinter as they hit the walls at high speed, just like the couple did. And the limp tiny man I picked from the revolving door does too. He is still limp. Or limper, if that is even possible.
OH I repeat to myself as I realize about the consequences of a new act of carelessness. I cannot be less worried. If anything I’m impressed at what I’ve done, even if I should have already known about my breath after having watched Eileen’s videos so many times.
Mentally adding three new people to the list of accidental victims, I crouch back once more to look at the multitude in the lobby. They do not like my renewed attention, as is made evident by the intensified screams and panic. I love their reaction.
Of course, they are at my mercy. I wonder: “What should I do with them?”
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