Mature Content

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Did he eat and drink like an ordinary mortal, or was he kept vital by the power of Queen Death? I felt the breath catch in my throat when I realized exactly what was going on.

The woman he loved had been killed right in front of him. I turned sharply when I heard the footsteps of someone approach from behind me. The giant narrowed his eyes at the tiny man, taking a menacing step forward. In that moment, all thoughts of the supernatural and the mystic evaporated - there was only her.

Mature Content

Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right. Phoebe paused mid-action as she felt the telltale vibrations of her phone alerts going off. A single eyebrow quirked upwards as she plucked the device seemingly out of thin-air, flashing a pseudo-apologetic smile to those around her. I'll be at the usual cafe for the next few hours if you'd like to join me; I'd be happy to treat you. With her phone back in the nebulous void, Phoebe looked back to the gunk she'd been in the midst of scraping off her shoe. The mangled, smeared, splattered remains of countless dozens of people were caked onto the sole of her heels like dirt. Whatever they had been before was completely unrecognizable; police officers, military troops, fleeing pedestrians - they all went 'crunch' just the same. Lifting one luscious leg, Phoebe planted her foot atop the edge of a multi-story car-park, casually wiping the ooze off onto the concrete. An impact of monolithic strength marked the moment Phoebe's foot struck the ground, a rumbling tremor rippling out and causing countless nearby windows to shatter, lesser buildings crumbling without being so much as touched by her. For the grand city, it had been like something out of a 50's horror movie; a nightmare made manifest... Striding with all the confidence of a living, breathing deity, Domina Phoebe had marched into the center of the business district, focal point of the region - and set about her show. At the time she had been no bigger than any other person; a beautiful young woman in an overcoat and a pair of killer heels. She drew more than a few gazes at first, a number which grew steadily as she reached the top of the stairs in town square... First the coat, then the skirt and the blouse, until nothing remained but the corset, lingerie, stockings and heels. She was content to let the howling, lustful calls wash over her for a few precious moments, gathering herself for what was to come. It was all worth it for the moment those passionate exclamations transitioned into wails of shock and terror as she grew larger... The advantage of taking time to set the stage and attract a crowd was two-fold; it greatly increased the likelihood that someone would be recording the footage for later... Although by the time Shifty's first text arrived Phoebe had only been trashing the city for under an hour, for those in her path it felt like nothing less than an eternity. Being stalked through the streets en mass by a curvaceous colossus whose looks alone could have slain thousands - even without being the size of a skyscraper. Those who were able to hide were treated to the spine-chilling sounds of carnage as terrified screams were cut off by the thunderous 'BOOM' of a foot stomping down, or the squealing, pleading cries for mercy as a select few were lifted to the titan's mouth... But being hidden was no guarantee of safety; buildings and bug-people alike were trampled as Phoebe unleashed her desires upon the city, heart hammering in her chest each time she felt the satisfying collapse of whatever she planted her heels upon. Those cowering inside had their sanctuaries collapsed around them, the lucky ones perishing in the impact - while the less fortunate were plucked one by one from the rubble like grapes off the vine. Such was the case with the parking structure, Phoebe's rosy lips curled in a smirk as a flaming red sports-car with decals of licking flame made a desperate break for the exit - only to find itself slamming headlong into the side of the giant woman's toes. What a tragedy of good taste. Phoebe suspected they were trying to plead for their lives, but it was a poor effort at best. I wonder if all that gel and styling product will make you taste a little spicier. A wolfish grin crossed her face as she noticed the crowd of people still lingering on the top floor, crowded around the single functioning elevator waiting for the painfully slow thing to arrive again. It didn't take long for the crowd to notice the thundering, booming steps as Phoebe approached, her vast size blotting out the sun and plunging them into shadow as she loomed above. Oh, speaking of arse, you don't mind if I sit here, right? Her superior posterior hung above like a magnificent mountain of flesh and fabric. She could practically feel the screams against her skin before she even seated herself... A few 'fortunate' souls had wound up in positions that had granted them precious extra seconds of life, but the more Phoebe bounced, twisted and ground her cheeks against the rooftop, the more those writhing spots ceased. All about her, the city lay in pieces, its infrastructure razed to the ground, its roads decorated with gigantic footprints, flattened tanks and the remains of those who had opposed her. A warm, fiery glow lit the scene... It was quite pleasant. Shifty flicked the lock on his phone as he gulped down the last of his tea, checking the message. It sounded like a storm was coming judging by the distant rumbles, and it seemed like it might be time to pack up and head for home. I might not have a lot of time. The dusk light glowed across the sultry figure of the towering woman above, the young man's gaze drawn gradually upwards - past the heels and stocking-clad legs, past the perfectly curved hips and flawless belly, past the glorious breasts and up to the sly, confident smirk on the radiant face beyond. His jaw fell open, even as his phone clattered to the floor. Silence hung in the air, save for the distant shrieks of confused, horrified people. A giddy thrill of delight washed over her as she marveled at the hilariously small 'tall' man. Sure, wiping countless thousands of squeaking little jerks off the face of the world in a matter of hours was all well and good - but it paled in comparison to having total power over someone you knew personally. Finally, inevitably, he wound up dangling by the scruff of the neck between forefinger and thumb, gazing into a single one of her eyes. A tasty 'treat' indeed I suspect, buuuttt... His face was stricken with confusion; for once, the poet was speechless - clearly uncertain if she was joking or being serious. I know what a clever little thing you are, so... Tell me why you're more valuable to me out here... He just stared, blinking at the situation in a manner that suggested his brain was on the brink of collapse. After all, the idea of you trapped in my belly while your muffled cries echo inside me is a pretty difficult notion to top - so what can you possibly offer that is better than that? Clock's ticking little snack; think fast... Phoebe cocked an eyebrow, smirking out of one side of her mouth. You think you can talk your way out of this with a story? Well, it might be worth a laugh... Go on; spin me a tale - and I shall decide what seems tastier; the prose... Some rampage out of a need to display their dissatisfaction with the world. And some just do it because they love it. I have met many lovely, wonderful people these past couple of years - one of whom was Domina Phoebe who happens to share some similar interests with me; go check out her instagram if you fancy - though be warned: NSFW This story was written for her to her specifications. If you'd like to commission a story from me, send me a note to inquire about my prices! Behind him lay ten thousand and one stairs, strewn with the evidence of his life as piece by piece he shed the needless weight. Pots, pans, sleeping rags, precious jewels and bundles of silk from the ends of the world; all that yet remained was the armour on his body, the sword in his hand and the steady beating of his heart. Nothing else was needed. One way or another, this was his last day as a mortal man. He stood a moment, drinking in the sight of the snow-capped obsidian keep. Its curled spires and towering walls rose impossible high, reaching seemingly into the depths of the sky itself - yet still unseen by those who did not yet stand at its gates. Regina Mortem Domus: Home of Queen Death. Between him and the doors lay a vast, circular field of compacted snow, littered with the crumpled, withered remains of those who had come before — dozens upon dozens of warriors whose lives had been claimed in this quest for immortality. Taste the heart of ancient stone, Hear the squawk of faceless crow, Touch the empty font of wisdom, Smell the molten, bleeding snow. A riddle solved, a lock obtained, a hero laid to rest, Ten thousand stairs and then one more, To face your final test. Not a scrap of flesh could be seen from the top of his helm to the tips of his iron boots. A blade of ageless steel hung at his belt, its length a match for even the mightiest oak that grows in woods yet untouched by men. Beyond the slit of his visor lay naught but darkness, yet steam rose from unseen lips just as with his guest. I seek to challenge Queen Death herself, that I might live eternal. I would not besmirch the title of such men and women by accepting such a name; I am merely Sigmund. I serve no purpose but the one I have given myself. When you so choose, we shall begin, and you shall be given a chance to impress me. For now however, there is no rush. His eyes flicked up to the guardian who stood watching, patiently. The behemoth was the only obstacle that yet stood in his way, he could practically taste what lay beyond. But he could also feel the fatigue in his old bones. His eyes glittered hungrily as he gazed upon the food, his cracked, parched lips still managing to salivate somehow. Before he could reach out for the first loaf of bread however, he paused and looked up at the titan standing patiently beyond. Was there a man behind that helm? Did he eat and drink like an ordinary mortal, or was he kept vital by the power of Queen Death? Whatever the case, there was no need to be discourteous. I am honoured by your generosity; the least I can do is show my appreciation. A silent pause hung in the air before the knight stepped forwards, the ground quaking beneath his boots as he closed the distance to the table in two quick strides. Sinking to one knee, the gigantic figure slowly lowered to the snowy ground, the impact as he took his seat causing snow to dislodge itself from the spires of the castle. I do not partake of the same type of food as you, but if you are willing I would gorge myself on a different meal. Though this field of the fallen may suggest otherwise, guests to this place are rare indeed. If you would be so inclined, tell me a little of yourself? I can hardly think that I am the most interesting man to ever stand before you; I am not of noble birth, there are no songs or legends sung of me and I have spent the last decade of my life alone… I am afraid my skills of conversation may be lacking. For there are none in the world of greater fame and legend than Queen Death; such things are not the domain of nourishing discourse. There are far more succulent tales you might tell me. You are no knight in service to his liege, you are no mighty warrior seeking fame and glory and you are no holy man on a divine quest. Yet here you are, seeking to face an adversary who has existed since before mankind had crawled forth from its cradle, with nothing but a sword and the clothes on your back. You have taken the time to decipher the old riddles, to seek out the answers and drag yourself here. These are not actions taken on a whim; they are the trials shouldered by one driven with great purpose. So what is your answer? I shall explain my purpose in seeking life eternal, though I shall not deceive you; it is a long tale. It may yet be deep into the night by the time I am finished… I do not wish to waste your time. I would be delighted to hear your tale in its entirety, from start to finish. Though he would pause periodically to consume another mouthful of food, his hunger was eventually sated as the sun sank beyond the mountains, plunging the pair into darkness. Starlight and moonlight wafted from the Heavens above as their fire danced its glow across the steel plate of the two men. Tears of longing, laughter of jubilance and the gleaming smile of pride in those who yet lingered in the world. Finally, at long last, the tale came to an end while the first rays of morning crept up the peak towards them. The flames in the stone circle had died down to mere embers, just in time for the sun to rise. He felt, all at once, so very tired. He cupped the precious, glowing thing in his palm as he rose, opening the gates with an impulse of thought and striding into the depths of the castle. Within the keep lay the garden of Queen Death, a sprawling, spiralling field of flowers that stretched on seemingly for an eternity. The footfalls of the knight struck the ground with immense care, his looming figure arriving finally before a small, pale-skinned, black-haired woman tending to a patch of freshly dug soil. She glanced up at him with a black painted smile, an expectant expression on her face. A most impressive man indeed. She took it gently in her fingers, pressing it briefly to her heart before setting it in the soil. The runes on his jacket had dragged him everywhere from ancient history museums to second hand book-stores, from long-deserted prisons to desolate caves in the midst of ocean-side cliffs. It had never however, up until this point, dragged him to a burlesque show. Not that he was complaining of course; the venue was suitably antiquated, the patrons were by and large respectful of the performers - and the performers certainly knew their craft. Their sultry movements mixing seamlessly with sudden bursts of frantic energy, comedy and class blending into a display that didn't give the viewer time to grow weary; it was heart-pounding. What confused the Professor, ultimately, was why exactly he was here to begin with. His jacket had never led him astray in the past, and a little poking around typically yielded the precious mystic results - but 'poking around' at a burlesque event was highly discouraged to say the least. Two hours into the event, the Professor was questioning if perhaps he had misunderstood the predictions of the runes; perhaps this was just another night of seduction. Even as these thoughts wafted through his mind, the slender, silver-tongued announcer stepped back onto stage to announce the next act. Despite his seat mere inches away from the stage, he missed most of what she said due to the cacophony of thoughts in his own head. That was, until the name was given. At least, the Professor assumed she wafted on; one moment the darkened stage was empty, the next a spotlight had appeared on the pale-skinned, black-haired woman whose curves were emphasized in the most dignified way possible by a tight-fitting silken dress. All bar her shoulders and the apex of her bust were concealed beyond that lightly shimmering sheet of fabric, and yet it felt provocative in a way that cut straight to the heart of the tall, groomed man watching. In that moment, all thoughts of the supernatural and the mystic evaporated - there was only her. The Professor couldn't tell if the thrum of heat in his chest was from the music coming through the speakers, the runes reacting to something or his own base desires, but his mind simply didn't have the focus to spare for it; from the moment Vivienne started to move, he felt enthralled. Every step was controlled, every sway of her hips, every gesture of her hands akin to some ancient ritual dance designed solely to ensnare the senses. At first, it seemed to the Professor that so small a woman couldn't possibly require such a vast stage - but as odd as it was, as time ticked away it seemed as though the stage was growing smaller. There were a myriad of factors contributing to the illusion of course; the angle of perspective seated at the edge of the action meant he was already at a disadvantage when determining scale, and the shifting lights following Vivienne in a variety of strobing colours weren't helping either. Pale white smoke seemed to follow the woman wherever she went, as though her very dress were trailing the stuff. Before long the stage was engulfed in the drifting miasma, reaching up to the dancer's ankles before spilling from the platform into the audience. The Professor's table and hands vanished into the fog, giving his distracted mind the distinct sensation of being washed away into another world. Vivienne's movements caused spirals of smoke to twist about her like serpents, disguising the movement of her hands as she undid hidden clasps, unzipped sections of clothing and revealed her body inch by titillating inch. It must have been the Professor's imagination, but every time his mind refreshed itself, it seemed to him that Vivienne was taller... Doubtless she was merely closer to him on the stage and their relative positioning was playing tricks on him... Yet the falling of her feet felt as though it shook the very ground beneath him, the motion of her legs appearing like the deliberate strides of a titan. The crowd cheered, they hollered their approval of her performance, but the sound fell upon deaf ears as the Professor sat bewitched - he may as well have been alone in that room for all he knew at the time. The music surged and swelled, rising to a crescendo... In that instant, his mouth hanging open faintly, the Professor could do naught but gaze upwards at the mountainous woman perched at the edge of the stage. Her legs were the carved marble pillars that supported a monument to the deity of Gothic temptation beyond, and had you told the trembling traveler in that instant that she was strong enough to tear the roof off that old building, he would have believed it... Fog rose in a curtain all about the Professor, a sheen of smokey white mist enveloping his world in a rushing spiral as a soft, smooth voice spoke from all around him. I hope you've enjoyed the show so-far, but... The song came to an end as Vivienne stood bared on the stage, naught but her heels, her knickers and her pasties in place. The crowd exploded with applause as she smiled with warm elegance, taking her bow and sauntering towards the exit of the stage. Nobody noticed the empty seat. Nobody noticed the trails of fog still kicking up about Vivienne's heels. Everyone was too busy gazing longingly at her perfectly curved bottom... For those of you in the size community who somehow still haven't heard of , do yourself a favour and go check out her work - 'cause her talent is off the scale. Not only that, but she sells the most ridiculously alluring size-comics at dirt-cheap prices. So much effort and attention to detail is on display here, so much that I am sitting here cheerfully typing out a recommendation for something that has nothing to do with me because seriously... Favorite visual artist That one guy. Favorite movies That one movie. Favorite TV shows That one show. Favorite books Definitely that one about the things. Favorite writers Don't get me started. Favorite gaming platform PC Tools of the Trade My fingers. Other Interests Oh ho ho...

Jennifer glared at the tiny man storming towards her, curling her bleeding toes beneath her. I blushed intensely and was set down, stuttering. Nicholle had never once mentioned her parents. Yet the falling of her feet felt as though it shook the very ground beneath him, the motion of her legs appearing like the deliberate strides of a titan. With this realization, the tiny man bowed his head and clenched his fists. The whole reason he was here was to save both Matthew and Nicholle and now one of the two was dead. Jennifer sighed and wiped her fingers off on her shirt before turning back to the horrified Matthew and Topi. If we both learn to use our powers to the best of our abilities, we could keep ourselves alive! Any parts of me that you like? He was barely a speck to her; he was literally inside the gemstone. She drew more than a few gazes at first, a number which grew steadily as she reached the top of the stairs in town square... Anyway… if my sister trusted you, then I trust you, too.