Stand Your Ground - Part 3 (Patreon)

The rush and thrill of snuffing out these little lives was almost overwhelming. I lived on their terror and their suffering. Their agonized, fearful deaths quite literally gave me life, and already I quivered and tingled with delicious, nourishing delight.

Even better, there were still some remaining, Not many, maybe only one or two--they were almost too small to really see, but their fear drew me to them like a shark towards blood in the water.

I tracked down the closest presence until I found the tiny person with my eyes. My eager grin was only natural as I took a slow, purposeful step in its direction.

*****

We were dead. It didn’t matter what we did or what we said or what we tried--we were all going to die and nothing we did mattered.

She turned her eyes towards me and I knew I was next. Hot tears flowed freely down my face. I choked and sobbed, shaking my head and whimpering weakly as her boot, sole still glistening with the wet remnants of my friends, rose and rushed towards me.

I wailed and clutched at my face when its impact shook the floor underneath me. She stepped on us like we were nothing--crushed us underfoot like--like bugs.

Ants. Her cruel, sultry voice blasted into my brain and I cried out at just hearing the word. I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t open my eyes--I screamed into my hands and curled up tightly, wailing as she spoke to me again. You’re disgusting, stupid little ants.

Then the ground disappeared beneath me, and that’s what forced my eyes open again. I’d expected at any moment to just be brutally stomped, splattered under this evil monster’s heel, but instead I was slowly rising through the air.

The immense leather columns of her boots filled my vision, stretching out towards the descending floor and as far up as I could see. I was suspended impossibly, floating through space, unable to move even the slightest bit. Eventually it was the tanned flesh of her thighs filling my sight, and then the tight curves of her corseted torso.

At first I gasped and howled, panting and shrieking in a blind panic, but the movement was slow--so slow, like I was rising along her almost incomprehensibly immense body inch-by-inch. By the time I was at her waist, I’d grown silent. Terror gripped me, but I was powerless and immobile. Her jawline slowly came into view, and moments later the curl of her cruel careless smirk.

Her dark, painted lips laughed at me, and her tremendous, sparkling gaze regarded me with disdain.

Do you realize it? Do you understand how much you share in common with these ugly insects I can smash by the hundreds with a single step?

Her head slowly tilted just the faintest bit, considering my miniature, suspended form in the air.

You war. You enslave, all for the gathering of resources. You consume and you breed, choking your little world with your expanding, revolting presence.

I found the will to scream again when her arm started moving at the corner of my vision. I couldn’t turn my head--my eyes could shift around but she kept my face turned towards hers, letting her mocking, disapproving gaze fill my sight. It was coming towards me. I could feel the presence, just the incredible mass of her hand moving closer and closer even if I could only barely see the impossible length of her arm.

Her hot skin ran into mine and released me from my floating imprisonment. I turned and thrashed and shouted while her fingertip curled beneath me, but before I could do much more than turn my head, her thumb was already crashing down towards me. I shrieked--I cried and covered my face.

But I was still alive. She held me squeezed between her finger and thumb, each digit wide enough to cover my body three times over. Every part of me was pinned flat, utterly immobile, save for my head. She drew me closer to her, bringing me towards her face--holding me before her horrible gaze as she narrowed her eyes.

I despise you. Her words exploded into my brain and I struggled and squirmed on impulse, but nothing below my neck could even move an inch.

I detest your frail, worthless species and every facet of your miserable little world. I’d smear all seven billion of you puny specks beneath my shoes if I had the chance.

She wasn’t human. She was the Angel of Death. She was the end of the world.

Her lips parted and even her faintest actual chuckle nearly ripped my skull apart and left my ears ringing.

Not quite, little boy. But I am the end of you.

I howled for only half a second under the intense, all-encompassing pressure before everything was agony and squelching crunches and pops. Her thumb pushed through my entire body, flattening it all at once, and there were no lungs in my collapsed chest to scream. I could hear the wet, sticky sounds of her fingers rubbing together, liquifying what was left of my flesh and bones, and then I could see it from a strange distance. I was falling, coming to the strange and horrible realization that there was nothing left of my body to hold my head in place, so it must have popped free.

That thought, the gurgling in what might be my throat, and the slick sounds of her fingers sliding back and forth--the feeling of falling, and blackness.

*****

I drew my thumb to my lips and sucked it clean, then licked the little gory mess off the tip of my index finger, too. Humanity might repulse me, but I’d developed a bit of a taste for blood over the years.

The pulsing sense of fear was gone. For a moment I thought that the one squished between my fingers might be the last, but there was still something here. Terror and agony draw me like a beacon, but this was something else.

Something I’d have to search for, and that could take some effort to find.