SAND CASTLESScott Grildrig17-Dec-1998Five years of Connie's life faced the ocean: vast, sand colored, soaring andelegant, and she hated it. She hated the years lost working on it. She hated thechanges working on it created. She hated the loss of trust it represented. Shehated that what she once loved was something she no longer loved, that someoneshe once loved was someone she could no longer love. The frustration was a knotwithin her that tightened every day, until the tension was so overwhelming thatit numbed her, left her unable even to rail against the unfairness of it all.

So she stalked out of the hotel in her red sequin dress, click-clacking angrilydown the walkway, tripping over a spot where the beach encroached on theconcrete. She kicked off her high-heel sandals, flung her small purse into thepool and headed out into the moonlit night…~ ~ ~ ~ ~"Hey, Charles, great grand opening. Where's Connie?""Walter! Emma! Welcome! Connie's busy right now. You know how it is. She can'tseem to stop working on the place.""Well, if you spent more time with her…""Heh, Emma you're precious. When I see Connie I'll let her know you're here.""That might not be soon.""Thomas! Welcome! Have a look around, see the place.""Oh, I will, Charles. Was hoping to get a tour from the architect, but we justsaw her heading down to the beach.""It's the crush, Thomas. You know how Connie is about crowds.""Must be pretty bad, you going to go get her?""Oh, Thomas, I wish I could, but you know, this just isn't good timing.""I'll go get her, Charles.""Heh, thanks Emma. I think we should give her some time to herself. She'll befine."~ ~ ~ ~ ~The ocean caressed the beach, stroked it with long curling waves that spreadfoam flecked water up the glistening sands before gliding back out into theblack depths. Connie stood at the very edge of it all, looking out into thenight sky, looking but not really seeing. Her fingers clenched and unclenched asthe numbness within her fought with the passion of her plight. She wanted tocry, but her eyes remained dry. She wanted to scream, but her voice remainedsilent. Far behind her she could hear snatches of noise from the party: a voice,a laugh, a brief moment of music. The sounds tugged at her, sharpened theconflict within her heart. The party was as much for her as for the hotel. Butshe couldn't be there. Couldn't stand to be paraded about by him. Couldn't bearthe thought of him using her as he had always used her, as he was doubtlessusing her now, even though she was no longer there. The numbness wafted throughher, cold, bitter, uncaring. And because she could think of nothing else to doshe walked forward into the ocean…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Charles smiled, he joked, he laughed, and it was all a veil over his boilingrage. Five years of his life he had given to the bitch. He'd coddled her,polished her, made her into what she was. Damn her insolence. Damn her prying.

If only she'd finished that trip he'd set up for her, instead of coming homeearly. If only Maxine hadn't been so demanding. Damn her. Damn both of them.

He'd built the wonder of the Caribbean, this hotel would revolutionize theindustry. Its subtle but enchanting theme was perfect for the region. Histhoughts took on the cadence of his spiel, flowed and unfurled with all thegrandness of poetry as he enumerated the features of the place. Maxine had beencaptivated by the scale of the vision, by the boldness of its design. Thatconcern about the weather of the region had proved irksome, but he'd wooed herback to the notion, and they had a nice fat policy to protect them from anyunforeseen changes in the climate. He chuckled to himself. Connie could learn athing or two from her. Maxine was a lady who knew exactly what she wanted. Nowthat the project was done, maybe he could work something out with her. She was auseful ally, though it would be a shame to lose Connie, after all the time he'dinvested in her. Charles made a mental note to himself to get Connie somethingnice. A new car ought to settle her down…~ ~ ~ ~ ~The ocean was strong and gentle, attentive and uncaring. Its undertows pulledher away from the beach, and its waves pushed her back. Her dress swirled aroundher, flowed with the moving water, dragged on her body in a disturbing way. Thenumbness within her was not so deep, nor so despairing that she was ready tothrow her life away, and she fought back against the embrace of the sea, liftingherself from the water, staggering a little as she stepped back up the slope ofthe beach.

Her dress hung heavy on her body. She clenched her fingers in the soppingmaterial, bunched it together, gathered it into her fingers and lifted it up herbody, removing it, not caring if anyone saw her. She was past concerns aboutother people's opinions. She dropped her dress on the ground, and it landed witha sodden thump. Charles was probably slamming her six ways from tomorrow rightnow. She shook her head, her jet black curls shedding salt water like tears. No,that wasn't right. Charles would be making excuses for her. He wouldn't wantanyone to think she was crazy. Not unless there was a marketing advantage toselling the idea of a hotel designed by a lunatic.

Five years. One thousand eight hundred twenty-five days, no wait, twenty-sixdays of her life. Forty-four thousand, no, forty-three thousand eight somethinghours. Connie clenched her teeth and slammed her fists against her thighs.

Numbers. She always hid in the numbers. The plans, the drawings, the designs. Itwas easy to let Charles run her life. It was easy to love him, because of allthe things he did for her. It was easy to ignore the ways he used her. She hadher work, and that was enough.

She ran her fingers over her head, pressing the salt water from her long hair,feeling it trickle and drip down her back, down her thighs, tickling her as itfound its way to the sand. The sensation was teasing and sensuous, and she foundherself stripping off her undergarments without hesitation. Being caught nakedwould be no worse than being caught half-naked. Shedding her clothing feltright, like she was casting off a bothersome shell, a confining cage, animpediment to her desires. She toyed with the ring on her finger. It was a giftfrom Charles, a sort of a promise to get engaged at some point. She thoughtabout removing it, but the thing had value, and she wasn't so careless that shewas ready to just toss it away. Moreover, there were some happy memories. Fiveyears of her life faced the ocean, and it occurred to her that it really was asplendid thing that she had created, a marvelous, sprawling trinket set in thistropical paradise. Yet, now that it was built, it was no longer really a part ofherself. It belonged to people like Charles, and that angered her. Not that theyhad it, but that she had given it to them, sliced off a part of herself andplaced it before such repugnant vultures.

Connie's eyes widened, and she smiled and took a deep breath. The numbness stillsuffused her being, but this anger, this rage at the people who had souncaringly used her was a new thing. It wasn't the same as the hate that droveher from the hotel. That had been a retreat, a force pulling her away. This waslike the ocean waves, pushing her back, and it gusted through her soul like afresh wind of redemption. She stretched her arms high over her head, rising upon her toes, feeling the anger coursing through her blood. She'd love nothingmore than to blow up Charles' precious hotel, preferably with him inside of it,and she grinned as she contemplated the precise points that one would have toplace charges to bring the whole damn thing down. Explosives were quick, though,it might be more fun to demolish it slowly with bulldozers and wrecking balls.

Knocking down each wall, each room, and if Charles was inside trying to flee thedestruction, all the better. Five years she'd spent building the damn place, andnow all she could think about was how nice it would be to level it.

The moonlight gleamed on her teeth as she smiled. Maybe there was a way…~ ~ ~ ~ ~"Nine hundred rooms, three main lobbies with glide-ways through the glass tunnelaquarium, and a full shuttle service for those who are less adventuresome. Theedifice is tiered and lavishly decorated with plants from the region, maximizingthe number of prime viewing locations available. The balconies are staggered inways that increase the privacy of the residents, encouraging people to enjoy theview at their leisure, and it whatever state of dress seems appropriate. Theoverall effect, though, does not detract from the basic theme. We've had reportsfrom passing airplanes as to the authentic look of the hotel from a thousandfeet up. I think you'll all agree that the illusion of a sand castle bears theclosest scrutiny. The walls have been coated with sands from all over the world,helping to extend the theme through the use of natural colors. Shells, pebblesand driftwood have been used to heighten the impact. An extensive system ofcreative lighting caps off the effects, producing halls and rooms that are anabsolute delight for the senses.

"Well, that's enough of the propaganda. You know how much I like to boast. Let'sget the tour going, I think you will all find that the hotel is much moreeffective at displaying its beauty than my poor words can hope to."~ ~ ~ ~ ~The sand was moist and fine, exemplary material that stuck together well, moldedeasily, and did not cake itself to her fingers. She labored swiftly, butprecisely. This was work that she could do in her sleep. The moonlight caststrange shadows on her efforts, but her fingers were sure in all of theirmovements. Story by story she recreated her design, packing the sand around herfingers for the guest rooms, using her fist to mold the shapes of the greatconference calls. She had to move around as she built, even on this scale thehotel was quite large. But she knew every inch of this building; every wall,every room, every corridor, and it came together quick. It took her an hour toshape in sand what had taken five years to create from stone and steel. Shestood up, brushing the fine sand from her naked body, admiring the way themoonlight lit the curving walls and slender towers, carving sharp lines of lightand darkness across its lines, the glitter in the sand giving it an extra levelof detail that seemed to lift the whole structure from a mere copy to anintricate model of the building that had inspired its making.

Connie walked around the sand castle, looking down at it, her teeth nibbling ather lower lip. All the time she had been working on it she had been able toforget the events of the evening, the party, the anger she felt towards Charles.

But now that she was done she felt it returning. A burst of distant laughterreawakened her rage. Before it had been distant, unfocused, with only hernumbness to measure against it. But now it was more closer, more intimate, andshe realized that the toy she had built was feeding her emotions, giving them atarget to dwell upon. It felt good. She remembered the vision of a wrecking ballslamming into the side of the building, and smiled to herself. She might not beable to smash the real hotel into rubble, but this toy was another matter. Shestretched her arms and legs, her body undulating in the silvery light as shefelt the tension flowing through her limbs. The numbness melting into hermuscles as she mulled over various ways of demolishing this thing she hadcreated, wishing deep inside that Charles was somewhere within it, instead of inthat other sand castle…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Charles let the entourage through his hotel with all the confidence of a mantrying to sell a nugget of gold. He knew that the hotel was already a hit.

People were hanging on his every word, gasping with delight at the countlessdetails that made the place so lavish. He congratulated himself on his luck.

Connie was not nearly as good as he was at this, yet it would have been herprerogative to present the place to the people who had funded it. As it was, hecould already hear the scratching of pens on paper heralding the coming of newprojects. Avarice coddled his soul as he led the group into the corner tower,showing off the luxurious penthouse that was one of the most extravagant roomsin the hotel.

The first time the floor shook, he passed it off as a consequence of the largecrowd tromping through the room. He didn't think anything about it, until henoticed that some of the guests were whispering to each other and glancing atthe floor.

"It's nothing but harmonics," he said. "We apparently have a large enough crowdin the room that we're registering on the infrastructure and it's shaking alittle. Definitely nothing to worry about. With a structure this size we want itto flex a little, especially given some of the off-season storms thatoccasionally sweep through the region."It was the perfect foil for their concerns, and he busied himself explaining howready the hotel was for anything the elements could hurl against it. People weresmiling now as the floor trembled beneath their feet, and Charles patted himselfon the back. He was in rare form tonight. Promising even more incredible sights,he called the people to follow him from the room, puffed up a little with pridefrom the effect the tour was having on his patrons, as he led most of the groupout into the spacious hallway.

All of this made it that much worse when the penthouse imploded…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Connie didn't have explosives, wrecking balls or bulldozers. But then, shehardly needed them. She sauntered slowly around the sand castle, circling it,stepping closer and closer. She trod upon a fountain she had made, and it sankdown deep, pressed back into sand, leaving behind a perfect imprint of her toes.

She trod upon the fancy entranceway to the underground parking garage, andwished for a moment that Charles was down there watching her circling hugelyaround five years of work and a quarter of a billion dollars worth of expense.

She raised her foot higher, intending to step into the middle of the sandcastle, but checked herself. There was no rush. She wanted to savor this, andthe numbness within her melted a little, seeping into the anger she felt, makingher feel a little giddy as she knelt down next to the image of her hotel.

Moonlight danced on the sand, and she fancied that they were lights from themany rooms, glittering as the tiny people inside the building moved here andthere, occluding this light, revealing that one. She reached her hand up towardsthe south penthouse, a fine creation, though not the best the hotel had tooffer. Her fingers brushed gently against the sand, caressing it, rememberingthe hours spent visualizing this place, designing it, describing it, buildingit. Her fingers touched the outer walls of the room, closed around them, heldthem softly. She felt the room, felt it's height and its width, its thicknessand its volume, and as she felt it she closed her fingers together, crushing it,breaking it, shattering it.

And it felt so good…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Dust billowed out into the corridor. The air was full of screams and the soundsof snapping steel and crunching concrete. Charles was tossed against a wall asthe floor heaved beneath him, but he recovered quickly, surging to his feet,bulling his way through the confused people, stopping himself in the doorway tothe penthouse, his finger clenched tightly on the door frame, his eyes wide withdisbelief. The penthouse was gone, smashed, the walls crushed inwards and theroof tumbled down on the wreckage of the floor. Five hundred thousand dollarsworth of furniture and decorations glittered through the broken stone. As hewatched, part of the rubble shifted, flowing like an avalanching sand dune. Hemopped his brow with his shirt sleeve and glanced up. Something moved throughthe smoke-like pall, something big, retreating from sight. He narrowed his eyesand tried to follow the thing, but the swirling dust obscured it. Not that itmattered. The reason for the destruction was moot at the moment. The scratchingof pens that he had heard scant moments ago was now replaced by the sound oftearing paper and slamming doors.

Charles turned in the doorway and looked back at the crowd of disheveled people.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

The chorus that rose against him was everything he feared: "What the hellhappened, Kendall?" "We want out of here now!" "We came to see a hotel, not adeath trap." "I can't believe that we were just in there." "Where are theAlbertsons? They were right behind us." "Jesus, Charles, was the place justbombed?" "It felt like an earthquake." "Harmonics, my ass, the room was on theverge of collapsing." "I'm only glad we managed to get out."Charles leaned forward as if bracing himself against a storm, his fingers stillgripping the door frame. Behind him he heard voices, someone groaning loudly,and his blood froze. He had to get these people out of here, had to get therescue units in to go through the rubble. There were people missing from theparty. There was money in the safe, enough to bribe silence from the paramedics.

Calming down these people, though, was going to be impossible. The best he couldhope for was to get them out of the hotel.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I wish I had answers for all of your questions. I have a lotof questions, myself. I assure you, the engineering inspection was verythorough. We brought in people from the states for this, rather than rely on thelocal standards. I realize you are all very frightened. If you will pleaseproceed down the hallway I'll see you to the lobby, and out of the hotel. Pleasetake your time, whatever had happened seems isolated to this one room. We don'twant to make matters worse by panicking."His voice boomed out over the crowd, deep and soothing and full of authority. Itwas perfectly delivered, and the party began to respond to it, people pairingoff, finding each other, moving down the corridor towards the stairwells. Heheard nervous laughter from someone, and smiled. They were having an adventurenow. It wouldn't last, they were all feeling a bit tipsy from the drinks and theunexpected excitement, but they would remember how he handled this moment, andthat would help his cause when he tried to explain the disaster – no, notdisaster – the incident in the penthouse.

The people walked down the hallway, leaving the dusty air behind them. Thecorridor widened, bringing them into an expansive area, splendidly laid out,generously windowed, dominated by the top of an elegant spiral staircase.

Charles brushed off his tuxedo, ran his hands over his hair, and advanced intothe crowd, asking the health of each person, allaying any concerns, radiatinghis personal outrage that innocent lives were at risk, taking fullresponsibility for the incident and promising swift answers and swift action.

His words were so persuasive, so imbued with charisma that most of the partylingered in the room, milling around, admiring the furnishings. A couple peoplesuggested that the tour might be continued, but Charles shook his head. Much ashe would have loved to have gone on, that was tempting chance too much. He felton top of the situation again. They would investigate the problem with thepenthouse, make sure it was properly spun to clear him of any possible fault,and proceed from there.

Feeling good about himself, Charles stepped up to the windows, glancing out ofthem, admiring the way the moonlight accented the grounds; though there seemedto be something wrong with that one fountain out there. He was peering throughthe glass, trying to identify the trouble when he heard a shout from one of themen. He glanced up, just in time to see the whole of the outer wall explodinginwards…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Connie sifted the sand through her fingers. The grains resisted more than sheanticipated. It felt more firm, almost brittle, as though a fine crust hadformed upon it. It made the sensation of crushing the penthouse feel morerealistic than she had expected it to. Not that she was complaining. A littledab of realism was what her soul craved as she vented her frustrations on thesand castle. Rising to her feet she walked around the thing again. It looked sosmall, so fragile and helpless, and the sense of power unknotted a little moreof the numbness within her. Dropping down to one knee she glanced at the lobbyat the top of the grand staircase. So much work, so much effort, so many detailsto attend to in a room that was really nothing more that a fancy walkway. It waslarge, with more floor space than a modest home. Still, the hotel didn't justhave the Sand Castle as a theme, it was also founded on every form ofextravagance.

Extravagant excesses demanded extravagant responses. Connie smiled, balled upher fingers into a fist and reached back, her bare breasts swaying as she woundup and punched the lobby. There was an audible crunch as her fist sank into theside of the castle, sending sand flying in all directions. She flexed herfingers inside of the castle, and felt things breaking, probably small twigs andthin shells mixed in the sand. The illusion was so deliciously real that shehalf imagined she could hear screaming, and bared her teeth in a cruel grin,wishing that it was Charles howling his lungs out…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Charles screamed himself hoarse.

He didn't know what was more horrific: the sudden, unexpected crashing of thewall, the screaming of people crushed in the wreck and ruin, the loss of anyhope of recovering from this catastrophe, or the impossible, implausible, madvision that accompanied the destruction unveiling before him. For there,outlined in the swirling smoke and dust moved the fingers of a colossal hand. Itwas vague, only partially substantial, as though limned in moonlight, but it wasalive and vital, moving with careless impunity through the lobby. The greatfingers uncurled slowly, reaching down, encompassing a portion of the group ofyelling men and shrieking women. Charles watched in helpless disbelief as thefingers slowly closed around the struggling people, the great hand clenching ina fist, the air filled with the sound of animal screams and crunching flesh.

Charles stumbled back, retching as he watched one of the men caught in the powerof a curling finger, his arms reaching out for help, his face a mask of terroras the finger squeezed him. His face mottled with pain from the unceasingpressure. Charles gasped as the man began vomiting blood, twitching and jerkingas the finger compressed his trapped body. Something white and glisteningerupted from the man's neck, and he flopped forward limply, but the fingerscontinued to squeeze and flex in a disturbingly playful manner, crushing andpulping the men and women into a sodden, gory mess.

Yet all of that was as nothing compared to the shock Charles felt as he watchedthe hand withdraw from the shattered room. The flesh flickered and guttered inthe moonlight, but it was there, clear for him to see: the ring he had given toConnie shone like a promise of damnation…~ ~ ~ ~ ~Connie was struck again by the expected realism she felt as she broke the sandcastle, and it occurred to her that grief and frustration had driven her alittle insane, enough that she was able to fool herself into believing that thiswas the real structure that she was demolishing. And why not, if she couldtransform herself into a giantess, she'd take great pleasure in reducing thegrand hotel to rubble. So many years of caring about the damn thing, of coddlingit, tending to its every needs, losing sleep over it, losing friends, losingtime. It felt very good to tear into the thing and feel it break.

The arousal she felt was something of a shock at first. She was angry, thenumbness within her was feeding that anger, but it was also suffusing her bodywith other feelings. It had been so long since she and Charles had made love.

There had been the work, of course, but then to learn of the others that he hadslept with, spurning her, making excuses those few times she had come to him forlove. Now she felt a measure of power, even though it was only an illusion,still it felt good, and her body was responding to the new freedom that shefelt, savoring the pleasure of wrecking this icon of her frustration, imaginingCharles to be trapped within it, helpless to escape her rage.

Connie punched the castle again, her breasts shifting as her fist drove into thestructure, the sand exploding in all directions, raining down on her, tricklingoff her flesh, teasing glancing sensations from her nipples. She leaned forwardand crushed a score of rooms under her hands, digging her fingers into thecastle, ripping it open. She felt the sand against her breasts, and recognizedthe shape of outer walls of the Red Room, the most expensive space in the entirehotel. Growling wantonly she rolled her shoulders, using her breasts to smashthat part of the hotel, dragging her nipples through it, thrusting her chestforward, toppling almost a third of the hotel with the fierceness of her attack.

She was done being subtle now, done with taking her time. Her anger demandedmore of her, her passion cried out for more, yearning to feel the sand castleyielding to her body. And all the while a small potion of herself raised itseyebrows and giggled at the silliness of it all, but also cheered her on,because it felt so good to be so outrageously bad, and she had a deep need tofeel good.

So she stood up and began to step on the hotel, still circling it, not ready todemolish all of it yet, saving the topmost spire for a final act of vengeance.

And as she stomped around the tiny sand castle, she saw in her mind's eye thehoards of patrons that were the things that Charles really loved. The keepers ofmoney, the makers of schedules, the enemies of art. She saw them running fromthe hotel, dressed in tuxedos and lavish gowns, fleeing for their tiny lives.

But she gave them no mercy, lifting her bare foot over them and stepping down,crushing the tiny people under her toes and soft sole. Pressing her heel intothe sand and leaning forward. She pursued them in groups and singly, grinningdown at them, unashamed of her nakedness, lost in the illusion, delighting inher violence. She danced seductively over them, undulating her body, remindingthem that she wasn't just an architect, wasn't just a toy for Charles to use tofurther his ambitions, but that she was a woman, with wants and needs, hopes anddesires. Her body was hot with lust, the tension in her body melting away,leaving her wet and aroused. She toyed with a final group of imagined people,curling her toes over them, feeling them fight and struggle against her as sheslowly pressed down, digging her toes into the sand, ruthlessly grinding theminto paste.

Spinning on her toes Connie sauntered back towards the sand castle, her hipsswaying saucily, her black curls bouncing against her back and shoulders as sheapproached the central tower and looked down and it over the lovely swell of herbreasts. Its top was broken revealing the inner stairwell. What she saw theremade her smile, and sent a thrill of wicked anticipation coursing through herbody…~ ~ ~ ~ ~No force of nature was so methodical in its destructive power, so cruel in itsintentions, so uncaring and viscous. Charles fled from the lobby as the giganticfists slammed into the hotel again and again, rocking it on its foundations,shattering windows, sending great cracks racing through the walls. The floorleapt beneath his feet, knocking him off his stride, his shoulder clippedagainst an ornate pillar and he fell in a sprawling pile. Someone kicked him,another person tripped over him. He felt hands on him, trying to drag him along,but the building shivered violently and the hands released him.

Screams sounded from the corridor behind him, and he heard the sound ofcrunching that could only be made by a human body being crumpled up by somethinghuge and infinitely powerful. Fear cleared his senses enough for him to pullhimself to his feet. He heard yelling coming from the corridor ahead of him,cries to turn back, to get out of the way, voices raised in terror. Looking uphe saw a fancy doorway leading to a small, but ornate staircase winding upwards,and he realized that the Princess Tower loomed above him. The floor shook hard,and he leaned against the wall, fighting to stay upright. There was no safety inthe tower, but going down seemed suicide right now, given the gut clenchinghowls of panic sounding all around him. However, there might still be a way toescape, if he had the guts to do it.

Stumbling forward he grabbed the railing and began to ascend the staircase,winding round and around, desperately bracing himself each time the buildingshook. Despite all the terror and the uncertainly he climbed quickly, and wasabout two-thirds up into the tower when he felt a prodigious shock to thebuilding. Something above him crunched loudly, and he yelled as debris raineddown the staircase, bouncing and tumbling wildly, some of it hitting him, noneof it big enough to knock him from the railing. The noise seemed to lastforever, but eventually it ceased. Charles looked down and groaned. One of theinner supports had given way, and the wall had slumped forward, exposing thesteel infrastructure, but worse, choking the passageway. There was no goingback.

A strange sound yanked him from his reverie, sent him clambering up the stairs,tripping over the detritus in his haste. He emerged into the nighttime sky, thetop thirty feet of the tower had been sheared off, the wreckage fallen into thevast pool where he'd hoped to cast himself. The hotel lay in ruins around him,smoke rising from the smashed rooms and shattered towers, rising and curling andframing the ghostly presence of a colossal figure kneeling beside the hotel. Shewas reaching forward, closing her fingers around one of the rooms, crushing itin her fingers as though it were an egg shell. Her gigantic breasts were naked,and pressing against the honeymoon suite that they called the Red Room.

Something about the contact against her naked flesh seemed pleasing to her, andshe ground her chest against the building with a passion that Charles had neverseen in her before. He gripped the broken masonry, his mind shocked at the sightof Connie looming half substantially beside the hotel, playfully rubbing hertits against it, demolishing the Red Room with fierce pleasure, her swollennipples testifying to the arousal of her immense form. A low growl emanatingfrom her as she pressed her breasts deep into the hotel, knocking over asignificant portion of it.

She stood up then, and Charles swallowed in a mouth suddenly gone dry as herbody rose higher and higher, the moonlight washing over her flesh, illuminatingher breasts, the smooth muscles of her shapely tummy, the curves of her hips,even the lush triangle of her trimmed pussy hairs sparkled in the eldritch lightframed by thighs vast enough to crush a skyscraper. He watched as she began tostep on the hotel, taking her time, her face betraying the pleasure she felt asshe trod upon the castle. The air filled with the noise of crashing andcrunching as her bare feet trampled stone and steel as though it were mere sand.

Yet that wasn't the worst of it. Charles watch helpless as people streamed fromthe lobbies, pelting across the tarmac, their faces raised in terror, looking upat the giantess in their midst.

They did not go unnoticed. Connie saw them, and immediately decided to includethem in her fun. Charles shouted at her to stop as she raised her foot over aportion of the crowd and slowly stepped down. Men and women vanished underConnie's bare foot with awful screaming finality. Her foot sank into theblacktop as though it were nothing but wet sand, leaving a perfect impression ofthe bottom of her foot as she lifted it, the moonlight shining on the moistremains in her print. She did not pause, but hunted down more of the fleeingpeople, and Charles railed at her, howling at the sky and hurling bits of rubblein her direction as she stepped on the fleeing men and women. They ran for theirlives, they fell to their knees and prayed, they tried to ward her off in maddenial of their fate as she touched them with her bare feet and pressed down,crushing them as if they were nothing more than scuttling ants. Yet there wasmore to her motions than simple destruction. Her body undulated in the night,swayed and shifted, her breasts jiggling playfully as she dragged her toes overa crowd of tiny people, smearing them across the road with sexy impunity. Sheplayed cruelly with her toys, pursuing them, teasing them, delighting in the waythey crunched underfoot. And as she had her fun the moonlight caressed her body,filled her with its radiance, increased the reality of her presence.

When she finished stepping on people, she turned back to the hotel, full andsubstantial, colossal and unstoppable. The ground shook beneath her feet. Herbody loomed higher and higher, until Charles couldn't stand it anymore, andpulled himself forward, desiring nothing more that to dash his brains out on thesmashed debris far, far below. But as he clenched the wall he felt it give, feltthe moistness of it, the graininess, the weight of sand instead of stone. Heheard the sound of the ocean washing against the beach, he felt the warm oceanwind touching him, pushing against him. He looked up. Connie had arrived.

He looked at her legs, at her thighs, shining in the silver light. He beheld herwomanhood, and quailed at the vast power of her sex. Her looked up the expanseof her belly, up to the generous rondure of her naked breasts. Her nipples rosefrom her aureoles, stiff and hard with lust. He looked up and met her eyeslooking down at him, and did not need her smile to tell him that they weretogether, and she saw him as clearly as he saw her.

Connie licked her lips hungrily, and blew a little kiss to the tiny man coweringin the stairwell of the broken tower. She ran her fingers up and down her body,dancing in place, looming over Charles, overwhelming his senses with hergigantic naked presence. The unreality of it all gleamed in her eyes, andCharles realized that though she saw him, she didn't believe in him, and thatthought sent such a chill of fear arcing through his bones that he nearlyfainted.

It might have been better if he had.

Connie's heart pounded. If this was madness, then it was sweet. She lifted herright foot and straddled the damaged tower. Her hips moved, and she smirked downat the tiny man.

"Dear, little Charles," she cooed, softly. "You've fucked with me for yearsnow." Her fingers traveled down between her thighs, grasped her nether lips, andpeeled them open, revealing the moist inner flesh of her sex. "Now it's my turn,little Charles. My turn to fuck with you." Her eyes glittered in the moonlight,shining with lust and cruelty. "And Charles," she simpered. "I want it to ithurt you as much as it hurt me," and with slow movements of her hips she sankdown onto the shattered tower, her pussy descending on Charles, filling his sky,blotting out the moonlight.

He was screaming now, gibbering in heart pounding terror, his mind filled withthe thoughts of all those people she had crushed, and now she wanted him. Hervulva hung over him, vast and unstoppable, filling the air with the scent ofarousal. He remembered the scent, remembered the feel of her nether lips on hisface as he drove her wild with his tongue. But this was no play toy for him, nosecret gateway to the heart of an innocent girl. This was the aroused sex of anangry giantess, warm and soft, wet and slippery, heavy and unyielding. Conniekissed Charles with her vulva, and used the weight of it to pin him down againstthe steps of the staircase. She felt the tiny hands pressing against her pussylips, felt the tiny helpless little man squirming and struggling against hersensitive flesh. She abandoned herself to her dream, savored the puny strugglesof her ex-lover, her juices seeping from her sex, coating him with the essenceof her arousal. Connie moved her hips, rubbing her cunt against the tiny manwith all the gentleness that she could bear to allow. The tension built upwithin her again, the knot forming in her gut. But this was no lump of numbness.

This was a flame of desire, a rush of passion. Connie cupped her breasts in herhands, stroked her nipples with her fingers, and tipped her hips back so shecould press her clit against Charles.

Charles screamed and fought for his life. Connie was merciless, she ground hercunt against him, slathered him with her juices. He felt his ribs snap, tastedblood in his mouth as she rubbed her sex over his body, despite his attempts tofend her off, to hide, to try to crawl away. He felt used, like a play toy, atrinket for her amusement as she raped him with her gigantic pussy, subduing himwith her sex. He pussy pressed down against him, trapping him against thestairs, and he shrieked as he felt his legs snap. She kissed him roughly withher nether lips, let her womanhood batter and bruise him. Then, there was abrief reprieve as he felt her lips gliding over him, sliding from his head tohis toes. Something hard and hot pressed against his head, neck and chest,something throbbing, radiating a fierce heat. Charles tasted her juices minglingwith the blood in his mouth. He struggled weakly, trying to shift himself frombeneath the dreadful weight of Connie's clitoris. The agony seemed to lastforever, and he screamed at her to finished the job. She might have heard him.

It didn't matter. He felt the weight increasing, felt her clit pressing downforcing the air from his lungs, squeezing his head and chest with playfulcruelty. She moved slowly, and his body twitched and jerked as if hit withgalvanic currents. Lights danced in his vision, red lights filled with agony asConnie crushed him with her cunt. The second last noise he heard was a vastfeminine voice crying out with orgasmic delight. The last noise he heard was thesound of his skull cracking open as she mashed him flat with her clitoris.

Connie trembled, savoring the delicious struggles of her little sex toy. Shetook her time, teasing herself, making the moment last as the pressure built upwithin her. Charles cooperated nicely, his little body twitching against herclit, stroking her with his pathetic struggles. She felt the gates of pleasureopen within her, flooding her body with pleasure, and she cried out happily asshe bore down with all her weight, her clit driving through Charles, turning himto paste, smearing him against her sex as it crashed down through the tower,smashing and shattering it in single hedonistic stroke as she fell to her knees,then fell prone to the ground, her thighs pressed tightly together as she rolledfrom side to side, heedlessly demolishing the rest of the hotel as she moaned inpleasure…~ ~ ~ ~ ~When Connie awoke the moon was near the horizon. The night was warm, she wascomfortable, curled up in the sand where the castle had stood only a few hoursago. She felt drained, but good. The tension was gone. She felt like she couldeven face Charles, if only to tell him to get lost.

It took a few minutes to locate her dress. Her undergarments were nowhere to beseen, possibly buried under the sand. She took a quick swim in the ocean to washthe worst of the sand off her body, snapped her dress several times to get someof the grains out of it, then slipped it on and started back up the beachtowards the hotel.

Red and blue lights winked and flickered in the distance, and the sound ofradios echoed across the beach: voices, beeps, trills and tones making thenoises of authority and rescue. Her jaw gaping she walked across the grounds,staring at the mangled pile of steel and concrete that was all that remained ofthe Sand Castle hotel. Police were everywhere, taking photographs, making chalkoutlines of greasy splotches at the bottom of vast craters in the roadway.

Connie combed her hair with her fingers and walked into the midst of the chaos,her heart thumping in her chest as she looked over the destruction.

"Ma'am?"Connie turned and looked up at the tall policeman.

"Ma'am," he repeated. "Are you okay?"She nodded, then found her voice. "Yes, officer. I was down on the beach. Canyou tell me what happened?""Sorry, ma'am, we're still trying to work that out. Sure is a mess, though.

You'd think they'd build these fancy hotels a bit more sturdy than this.""Some things you just can't prepare for," said Connie, and she smiled sweetly.