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Bob's Big Mistake
|Looking down the avenue, Joe saw Mike, who was still several blocks
away. "Holy shit!" exclaimed Joe. "He's frickin' huge! This is
unbelievable!" His impulse to get a closer look overriding his common
sense, Joe hopped back on his bike and took off.
"Hey, you can't go down there!" shouted a policeman, but he made no move to go after him. He was stationed at the barricade, and besides, he couldn't be responsible for every idiot in the city.
As Joe got closer, Mike's presence became ever-more awesome and immense. Since this block was deserted except for parked cars, Joe stopped in the middle of the street to watch. "Just for a minute," he thought to himself, "and then I'll get the hell out of here." He watched in awestruck disbelief as Mike thundered up the street, shredding the buildings on either side and effortlessly crushing everything in his path. In his fascination, Joe stood transfixed for just a little too long. Covering about a third of a block with each stride, Mike was frighteningly close before Joe realized it. As he went to turn his bike around, Joe saw Mike's colossal foot swing forward and hit one car straight-on, sending it hurtling in his direction. It flew what seemed an impossibly long distance before it crashed, then flipped end-over-end several times before landing wheels-up and skidding directly towards Joe.
Instinctively Joe dived out of the way, his bike clattering to the street behind him. The car hit his bike and kept skidding, stopping a dozen yards beyond him. But before Joe had a chance to retrieve his bike, a shadow fell over the block as Mike loomed directly overhead. The sounds of destruction all around him were terrifying, and Joe huddled in the street, waiting for the end. Suddenly there was a rush of air and a deafening crash as Mike's foot slammed down less than a yard from him. He could have reached out and touched it. Joe bounced roughly on the pavement as the world around him shook violently, and he could feel the asphalt beneath him break apart as the shock wave went through it. On every side of him, chunks of stone, plaster, and other debris were crashing down. Seconds later, the titanic foot beside him rocked forward and whooshed away. As the sounds of the titan's passage faded somewhat in the distance, Joe was finally able to stand on his rubbery legs and see what had happened. Right beside him, an enormous footprint was punched in the asphalt. At the bottom were two scraps of metal. One was obviously the car, while the other one was his bike. Crushed under the giant's weight, they were both totally destroyed. Looking around, Joe saw that the sidewalks on each side of the street were covered with rubble. Some of the chunks of stone were as large as he was, and desks, tables, and other heavy furniture lay shattered there as well. In fact, the only clear place was in the middle of the street. If he had made it to the sidewalk, he would have been covered in an avalanche of rubble. Ironically, being directly under the giant had shielded him from the falling debris--even though he had nearly been hit by a flying car and then turned to paste by being stepped on. Joe's knees buckled again, and he sank to the ground, shaking, and threw up.
* * * * * * *
After walking through a couple blocks of buildings that were as tall as he was, Mike came to an area where the tallest buildings on his left were no higher than his waist, and most of those on his right were approximately shoulder-level. One chest-level building had a garden terrace on top where a small group of people had foolishly remained to watch his advance. Now that he was right next to them, they frantically tried to escape back into the building, rushing to the stairwell that terminated on the roof in a 10x10 cinderblock room with a steel security door. One or two made it into the stairwell before Mike noticed them. The rest of them scattered as Mike's immense forearm swung overhead, and his hand enveloped the stairwell terminus. As they watched in dismay, the gigantic hand closed, crumbling the cinderblocks inside it. Grinding the remains in his fist, Mike pulverized the debris, letting it fill the opening and block the stairs. When he lifted his hand, there was only rubble where the stairwell had been. A couple of people ran up to it, still hoping to escape, but they found that the opening was completely blocked.
"YOU'RE NOT GETTING OUT THAT WAY," said Mike, and he flicked the twisted remains of the battered steel door at them. Fortunately for them, it missed, and instead wiped out some patio furniture before crashing into the stone balustrade that ringed the rooftop patio. The impact knocked loose a few columns, and the door plummeted to the sidewalk below. Seeing that several of the people had cameras around their necks, Mike said, "SO YOU WANTED TO SEE A SHOW, HUH? WELL GET YOUR CAMERAS OUT, 'CAUSE I'M GONNA GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST SHOW YOU EVER SAW!" With that, Mike began hitting muscle poses. At normal size Mike was huge, but now he was almost indescribable, and his arms were beyond belief. Trapped on the roof, the people could do nothing but stare upward in awe as Mike's huge pecs rippled above them. His flexed arms were unbelievable, and to his captives on the roof, Mike's vast power was absolutely terrifying.
After showing off his guns, Mike clenched his fists low in front of himself and leaned forward, his face merely yards from the people huddling in terror on the roof. Hiding unsuccessfully behind a potted tree, Melissa watched in mixed fascination and fear as Mike struck his new pose. His mighty shoulders and neck rippled, then turned to steel, with great cables of muscle standing out along his neck. Then he leaned forward, his face swooping in, giving them a close view of his tight grin and squinting eyes as he held the pose. Suddenly, he unexpectedly opened his mouth as though to say "aah," and out shot a twenty-foot wall of tongue, which glistened monstrously above them. As he hovered over them, Mike gave an airy, hissing "AAH," which was like the roar of a dozen locomotives letting off steam. Melissa was closest to the gargantuan tongue, and the giant's hot breath buffetted her like a jungle storm. Unclenching his pose, Mike shot Melissa a meaningful look and said, "HEY BABY! EVER MAKE IT WITH A GIANT BEFORE?" His voice hammered her eardrums, and before she could answer, his huge tongue unrolled again and came right at her. She tried to avoid it, but he leaned forward slightly and kept her from getting away. Both Melissa and the potted tree were knocked down and pinned under the enormous tongue, which was half a yard thick. With her legs held immobile, Melissa pounded at the slimy monstrosity that was sliding its way up her body, but all she got for her effort was a thicker coating of saliva and a deafening, rumbling chuckle as Mike felt her tiny, ineffective resistance. Within seconds, her entire body was pinned under Mike's powerful tongue. He held her there for a few seconds, then released her from its pressure with an enormous slurp. Shaky and bedraggled, Melissa looked up at Mike who smacked his lips at her. "PRETTY TASTY, BABY! TOO BAD YOU'RE SO SMALL. YOU WOULDN'T BE MUCH USE TO 'LITTLE MIKE'," he said suggestively as he not-too-subtly cast his eyes down towards his crotch for a moment.
Dismissing the tiny woman, Mike looked at the rest of them. "I DON'T SEE ANY CAMERAS OUT," he boomed as he struck a colossal double-biceps pose overhead. "YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID ATTENTION!" Those who had cameras quickly got them out and frantically began snapping pictures, but Mike thundered, "TOO LATE!", and in one fluid motion brought down his right arm from its muscle pose and slammed it down on the corner of the building, which collapsed under the devastating blow. None of the people had been standing there, but they all saw the ease with which Mike sheared off a sizeable portion of the building. Not knowing what to do, some continued taking pictures while others frantically ran around the roof, looking over the edge for another way down, while one or two others simply collapsed and wet themselves. Mike struck another pose and roared, "RRRUUUAAAAAGHHH!", leaning in as he did so. The bone-shaking noise rattled the rooftop and deafened them all. A couple people started pleading with Mike, who ignored them. Dropping his pose, Mike leaned in further, formed his lips into an "O," and blew. Patio furniture shook in the gusting wind, but when the Mike focused the main channel on an object, it immediately flew into the air and went tumbling over the edge of the roof. People grabbed onto whatever they could to anchor themselves, but to no avail. Mike turned his attention towards one man who was hanging onto the edge of the ruined stairwell. Dust flew as the blast struck him, and as it continued relentlessly, his grip grew weaker. After a few agonizing seconds, the gale mercifully stopped. Hoping it was over, he looked up, only to see Mike taking a colossal breath. He braced himself as best he could while Mike sucked in a gargantuan lungful of air. In the next instant the gale hit him like a truck, breaking his hold and sending him sliding along the roof, where he slammed into the balustrade and was pinned there until Mike used up his breath. Hoping he would be safe there, the man huddled against the balustrade and hung on. Mike reached down with both hands, one on either side of the man, and snapped off the portion of the balustrade with the man clinging to it. Holding it up in front of his face, Mike grinned at the man who clung there, moaning in terror. "NICE TRY, BUT THAT AIN'T GONNA WORK," he said. Shaking the balustrade once, twice, and a third time, he watched the man's grip become more tenuous. Finally, on the fourth shake, the man lost his grip and fell, screaming. Discarding the balustrade, Mike held out an enormous hand to catch him. Mike had good reflexes, and he easily caught him. However, the man had fallen about ten floors onto the unyielding surface of Mike's palm. Looking at the tiny, motionless body, Mike saw that the man's neck was broken.
Shrugging his shoulders, Mike tossed the limp body aside without another thought, and turned his attention back to the people on the roof. The rooftop was in disarray. All the patio furniture had been overturned or blown away, and any remaining plants had been shredded by Hurricane Mike. With no way to escape, the people on the roof waited helplessly for the gigantic bodybuilder to make the next move. Using the gap in the railing around the roof, Mike played a game with the remaining people. One by one he blew them across the roof towards the gap, then sent them screaming over the edge. He attempted to catch them as they fell, but since the gap was on the opposite side from him, he missed most of them. The ones he did catch suffered the same fate as the first man, and one man was crushed to death when Mike accidentally closed his hand while catching him. Before too long he had used up all the people, which was fine with him, since he was getting tired of this game anyway. Squaring himself facing the building, he jutted out his chin belligerently and drove a powerful left-right combination of punches deep into the building at stomach level. Each fist had smashed a three-story hole in the building, destroying most of the internal supports, yet somehow it remained standing. As he pulled his fists from the wreckage, parts of the building began collapsing, and a shower of debris and rubble cascaded from the gigantic holes, crashing on the sidewalk below. Not waiting for the building to collapse on its own, Mike smashed his massive forearm down on the roof, destroying the upper floors and causing the damaged lower floors to collapse instantly, leaving the building a pile of rubble at his knees.
As he viewed his work with satisfaction, Mike heard an annoying yipping noise. Looking for the source, he saw that it was actually a doberman barking at him from atop a nearby building. Leaning towards it, Mike yelled, "SHUT UP!" at the top of his lungs. Massive pipelines of veins stood out along his neck as he yelled, and the sonic blast shattered nearby windows. The dog stopped barking, undoubtedly deafened. But within a few seconds, deaf or not, the doberman resumed barking. With a snarl of annoyance, Mike lifted his hand and brought his thumb down on the dog, which was unable to dodge out of the way. There was a brief, shrill yip, and then the barking was abruptly cut off. Cracks radiated through the roof from the pressure of Mike's thumb, and as he ground the remains of the doberman beneath it, he inadvertently broke through the roof, into the upper floor of the building.
Wiping his thumb on his shorts, Mike saw people watching him from inside a neighboring building. Irrationally annoyed that they were just watching him instead of fleeing in terror, Mike glared down at them, since the pathetic weaklings were on a floor that was only ab-high to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN' AT?" he snarled, then turned and smashed his forearm into their building. Inside, the people fled as Mike turned his attention to them, but they were unable to get away. Their last image was Mike's immense, bulging forearm rocketing towards them, right before everything exploded in a shower of glass and concrete.
After wiping out half of several floors with a single sweep of his arm, Mike turned and continued toward Central Park. Along the way, he encountered the first of several roadblocks that the police had set up. When he noticed the tiny barricades, he snorted scornfully at them. They didn't even stand as high as his big toe. "YOU CALL THAT A ROADBLOCK?" he sneered. "I'LL SHOW YOU A ROADBLOCK." Turning to a low ten-story apartment building that stood beside the barricades, he plunged his hands deep into the far side of it, until only his wrists were sticking out of the roof. With a sharp pull, he sheared off the upper stories of the building, throwing debris flew into the street, where it buried the barricades and police cars, and crushed any policemen who were unable to flee. When the dust settled, the barricades were no longer visible, but had been replaced by a huge dike of concrete, steel, plaster, and splintered wood. Until a crew of bulldozers could clear it all away, the street would be completely impassable. High above it all, Mike dusted off his hands and stepped over the ankle-high dike, continuing towards the next roadblock, which he didn't even bother to stop for. Instead, he paced himself so that his right foot would come down directly on top of it. As the mammoth foot swung towards them, policemen scattered, though not all of them moved fast enough as Mike's foot descended upon them. A few unlucky ones were crushed along with several cars and many wooden barricades, which were snapped like matchsticks. One cop foolishly fired his gun as the gigantic bodybuilder strode past. All that accomplished was to draw Mike's attention. Though he didn't feel the gunshots, and they certainly didn't hurt him at all, he definitely heard them. Partly amused and partly angry that one of those tiny bugs would dare to shoot at him, Mike paused long enough to locate the fleeing cop and squash him. Stomping down extra hard, Mike utterly obliterated the tiny cop, sending cracks and fissures radiating outward from his foot. With a thin smirk of satisfaction, he continued on his way.
* * * * * * *
When he reached Central Park, Mike enjoyed the open space. People in the park fled before him as he strode along, indiscriminately crushing anyone unable to move fast enough, and effortlessly toppling huge trees that stood in his path. Pausing to look around, Mike saw commotion everywhere and heard sirens heading in his direction. Being virtually invincible, he wasn't at all concerned. Instead, he took it as a challenge and an excuse to grow more. "YOU THINK YOU HAD PROBLEMS BEFORE?" he said to no one in particular. "GET A LOAD OF THIS!" Concentrating like he did before, Mike felt himself growing. When he stopped, he was a bit disoriented, since he now towered nine hundred feet above the city, double his height of just seconds ago. "YEEEAAHH, BABY!" he roared. "I AM SERIOUSLY FUCKIN' HUGE NOW!" He savored the sensation of power, where--even more than before--just the slightest action on his part had enormous consequences for the people below. He reached down with one hand and with a slight tug uprooted a huge tree, which he snapped like a pencil. Then he walked back to the edge of the park in two thunderous strides, admiring the mighty rippling of his huge muscles with every slight motion. At his feet he saw large power lines humming with electricity. He slid one foot forward and snapped off a utility pole with a nudge from his toe, severing all the lines. Instantly, lights and neon signs winked out in a several-block radius. "LIGHTS OUT!" he quipped. Seeing the flashing lights of emergency vehicles coming up the avenue towards him, he waited until they were close, then brought his foot down across the street, blocking their path. The lead police car just managed to skid to a stop before crashing into the titanic foot that descended from nowhere, crushing cars and blocking the street. Mike grinned as he watched the patrol cars and ambulances stop in confusion when they found their route suddenly blocked. Unable to go any farther--and anxious to get away--they turned around and headed off down side streets, and Mike benevolently let them escape. This time.
Feeling the call of nature, Mike turned back into the park and strode up to one of the lakes. "TIME TO TAKE A LEAK," he thundered as he reached into his shorts and pulled out his dick. Even soft, which it currently was, his dick would have dwarfed a city bus. It was closer in size to a tractor-trailer, and the stream gushing out of it was corresponsingly huge. "AAAAHH!" he exclaimed as he relieved himself. The yellow torrent hit the ground with more force than a wide-open fire hydrant, tearing up the ground where it hit, until he directed it into the lake. The water roiled and turned pale yellow as Mike unloaded hundreds of gallons per second into it. Eventually the lake overflowed its banks and seeped outward into the park. When he finally finished, Mike shook off the last drops and tucked "Little Mike" back into his shorts. "THAT'S BETTER," he boomed contentedly as he looked around for his next bit of "fun."
Seeing an impressive-looking building across the park, Mike strode over to it, causing people to scatter everywhere as he neared the avenue on the other side. Not everyone could flee fast enough, and many were snuffed out with each step--and Mike didn't notice or care. Looking at the front of the building, he saw that it was the art museum. Sneering down at it, he raised a titanic foot and brought it down on the entrance, destroying the entry and much of the front of the building. "I NEVER DID SEE THE BIG DEAL ABOUT ART," he said as he drove his foot forward, wiping out an entire wing of the museum. "BUT MAYBE I SHOULD GIVE IT ANOTHER LOOK AND SEE IF THERE'S ANYTHING I LIKE." Turning, he stepped on the back of the building, destroying it as well. In front of him was the only major part of the museum that was still standing. Crouching, he poked his enormous fingers through the roof and dug his hands into the building's contents. Pulling out truckloads of rubble and destroyed artworks in each hand, he gave the contents a cursory glance before saying, "NOPE, THIS IS ALL GARBAGE, TOO." Dumping the contents of his hands, he stood up and kicked apart any sections of the building that remained standing. After effortlessly razing one of the world's greatest collections, Mike stood over the ruins and said, "IF YOU RUNTS WANT TO SEE A SERIOUS WORK OF ART, CHECK THIS OUT!" With that, he went into his posing routine, showing off his titanic muscles and incomprehensible size, with the ruins of the museum at his feet.
* * * * * * *
At street level, officers Tom and Kevin were trying to direct people to safety. Without warning, they suddenly saw the giant's foot heading straight towards them. Tom flung Kevin out of the way, then jumped to safety himself, but a half second too late. The titanic foot crashed down, obliterating their squad car and crushing Tom's legs beneath a gigantic "little" toe. Eyes glazed in shock, Tom lay unmoving. As the giant crouched over the museum, Kevin ran in and tried to pull Tom free, but from mid-thigh downward Tom's legs were pinned beneath a toe bigger than a minivan. Unable to free his partner, Kevin pounded on the unmoving side of the huge toe in front of him. However, the giant's skin was many times thicker and tougher than leather, and it protected him like armor. A bullet wouldn't be able to penetrate the entire thickness of his skin, and Kevin's pounding was completely useless. His fists aching, Kevin stopped hitting the giant's toe and tried once again to pull Tom free, with no more success than before. Suddenly, though, the giant's weight shifted, and Kevin saw him stand, towering high above them. The huge foot lifted, freeing Tom's crushed legs. But Kevin's brief flicker of hope turned to despair when he saw that the giant was merely shifting his weight. The giant's foot, much bigger than a house, had lifted only momentarily; quicker than a man could run, it swung to overshadow them, then fell with iron finality, crushing them into oblivion.
* * * * * * *
Finishing his posing, Mike added a move to show off his new size. With one step, he stood in the street again. Crouching, he flung his arms wide, his armspan covering 900 feet, reaching nearly a block in each direction. Placing the sides of his palms on the street as though he was going to scoop up snow for a snowball, he pulled his hands back towards him. At ground level, people inside buildings watched in horror as a huge, thick, four-story hand swept like a wall down the street, inexorably scooping up and pushing everything in the street ahead of it. Cars, garbage cans, newspaper stands, metal poles--nothing was spared, and nothing remained standing after it passed. Only scraps of metal and glass remained in its wake.
* * * * * * *
Speeding along in his car, Dave was unable to make it to safety before Mike's huge hand crashed down, blocking the street. In horrified fascination, Dave saw the four-story wall of Mike's palm moving towards him. Cars were swept along and piled up in a windrow before it, along with everything else on the street or sidewalk. Streetlights bent like pipe cleaners and smashed to the ground as Mike's palm hit them and scraped forward over the top of them. Dave turned his car around and headed the opposite direction. He could see the giant's other palm coming towards him from the far end of the street, but he hoped to escape down the next side street. Before he had gone very far, though, there was a crash and his car lurched crazily. As he fought to extricate himself from his airbags, Dave reazlied that he had been swept up in the giant's palm. His car was tipped halfway on its side, and he could see sparks flying as metal scraped along the street. The noise was deafening. There were frequent crashes as more cars slammed into the pile. In alarm, Dave saw that he was being pushed straight towards another car, and there was nothing he could do but brace himself for the impact. There was a jarring crash, the roof and door buckled inward, and glass fragments showered down on him. His momentum didn't slow in the least, since to the giant the weight of each car was negligible. Other cars continued to pile up, some flying up overhead to land higher on the pile. In addition to the shriek of metal on asphalt, Dave could hear the sound of steel groaning under the weight and strain of the pile. Each additional vehicle added more pressure, causing the sides of his car to buckle inward further. By now, Dave was in near-darkness and could no longer see what was happening outside the pile, since other damaged vehicles surrounded him, pressing against his car from every side. Finally, there was a jarring collision, and his momentum stopped dead. The frame of the car was pressing in tightly on every side, and with horror Dave suddenly realized through the pain that he couldn't feel his legs. "The giant must have smashed his hands together," Dave thought, "and I'm in the middle!" Seconds later there was a nightmarish groaning and shrieking of metal. Wrecked cars around him shifted position slightly and pushed in even tighter. He scarcely had room to breathe, and his right arm--the only limb he could still feel--was wracked with searing pain. Suddenly a nauseating wave of vertigo passed over him, and gravity pulled him down hard into his seat. "The giant must be picking us up," he thought, lying just on the edge of consciousness. "Dear God, what's he going to do now?" As if in response, the mass of mangled cars shuddered and began to compress even tighter.
* * * * * * *
In no time at all, Mike had a huge pile of ruined cars and other debris in front of him. Knowing he had a huge audience, he flexed gratuitously as he crushed the cars together. People watched in awed fascination as his enormous, powerful hands compressed the pile, fusing it into a solid, two-story diameter metal ball. Mike hefted it in his right hand, tossing it up and catching it several times. Pleased with his work, he rolled the metal ball down the street. To Mike, it was the size of a snowball. To the people on the street, it was a two-story metal ball of death. Anything in its path was utterly crushed under its tremendous mass. Cars were flattened as it rolled over the top of them without even slowing noticeably. Since it wasn't perfectly round, it wobbled in its course, smashing into buildings on either side of the street as it rolled. Eventually it wobbled ponderously to a stop dozens of blocks away.
As he stood there, Mike noticed that the buildings at his feet seemed even smaller than before. Wanting to see how easily he could destroy them at his new height, he swung his foot and smashed it into the bottom few stories of one building. In a continuous motion, he swept his foot through most of the buildings on the block, which collapsed like dominoes as his foot tore through them, stripping away all the internal supports. By now the street was completely impassable, choked with dust and filled with the ruins of an entire block of buildings.
Seeing a fire truck approaching, Mike took a step forward, reached down, and picked it up. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he held it up to eye level, where he could see the tiny firemen inside. "YOU'VE GOT SOME BALLS TO COME HERE," he thundered, rattling the truck. "CROSSING MY PATH WAS A BIG MISTAKE." One squeeze of his fingers crushed most of the fire truck. Then, dropping it into his other palm, he made a fist and crushed it into a button of metal, which he then hurled into a nearby building. The incredible momentum from Mike's throw drove the crushed truck entirely through the building. It tore through the opposite side, flew a bit farther through the air, then landed on a rooftop.
Despite this, more emergency vehicles were converging on the scene. "THIS IS TOO EASY," Mike said. "YOU BUGS DON'T LEARN." Taking another step towards the arriving emergency vehicles, he began squashing them like ants. One by one each pair of flashing lights disappeared beneath his foot or his big toe, sirens squelched abruptly as he flattened each one. As he effortlessly crushed another fire truck into a foil-thin wafer of red metal, Mike thought, "This is kid stuff. I ought to do something totally unforgettable." A grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the Empire State Building in the distance. Aloud, he thundered, "RUN FOR COVER, BUGS. I'M YOUR NEW GOD, AND I'M GONNA SHOW YOU JUST HOW POWERFUL I REALLY AM." Crushing another police car like a cigarette butt and grinding it into scraps of shredded metal beneath his foot, Mike focused on the Empire State Building and began to grow.
Expanding to incomprehensible proportions, in less than a minute Mike stood a mind-reeling two thousand feet tall. "OHH YEAAAHH!" he bellowed, the sound of his voice shaking nearby buildings. Grinning malevolently as he flexed, he admired himself and savored the power at his command. His little toe alone was now massive enough to stop a tank in its tracks, and even if there were tanks here to fire on him, it was doubtful they could harm him. And no matter what the army could throw at him, he could always grow even bigger . . .
As he grew, he caused even more destruction. At his mind-boggling new size, each foot was the size of a football field. Far too big to fit on the street, each foot had expanded until it covered the sidewalks, then wiped out parts of buildings that stood in the way of its growth. His feet had sunk into the pavement under his incomprehensible weight, crushing pipes, subway tunnels, and everything else beneath. Mike was so huge that he didn't appear to have sunk at all, but when he lifted his foot to shift his weight, it revealed an immense depression several yards deep, and the asphalt beneath had heated up because of the incredible compression.
Reaching down, he picked up an ambulance, which was dwarfed by the enormously massive thumb and index finger that closed on each side of it. Although it was moving at the time, Mike's grasp brought it instantly to a dead halt and nearly crushed the vehicle completely. At his colossal size, even his slightest action was incredibly powerful. Not caring about the crew inside, he lifted up the ambulance and placed it on his mountainous, unflexed bicep. Staring at it, he boomed, "ONE FLEX WOULD SEND YOU INTO ORBIT. YOU WANT ME TO TRY IT?" At his size there was no way he could hear anyone inside the ambulance, though he saw them flash the lights on and off. Grinning, he said, "I'LL TAKE THAT AS A YES," and flexed. The pulsing mountain beneath the ambulance suddenly heaved and swelled, and as it shot up in the air, the ambulance was thrown aloft about thirty feet. Below it, though, Mike's bicep had turned to granite. The ambulance crashed down on the unyielding muscle, broke apart, and slid off to fall to the street far below. A few pieces of the vehicle remained on his bulging bicep, but with a few sharp flexes, Mike threw them off.
"LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN," Mike said. Crouching down, he picked up a fire truck, badly crushing it in the process. Flexing his bicep and holding it rock-hard, he placed the truck atop it. Staring at the truck, which he held at eye-level on his bicep, he could just barely see the terrified people inside. They were so tiny that it was difficult to see them. "They're not tiny," he reminded himself. "I'm totally fucking huge. So huge, they're nothing to me." Raising his free hand up beside the truck, he cocked his finger behind his thumb, like he was going to flick a piece of lint. He could see the people inside the truck panicking as his hand hovered beside them. He imagined their terror as they looked out through the windows at the huge finger poised and ready to strike them, a finger thicker than their truck was long. Grinning at the thought, Mike paused for a second, then flicked. As his enormous finger struck, the truck instantly shattered into hundreds of pieces that were sent hurtling to land blocks away. Only broken glass and a few metal scraps remained on his bicep. Mike relaxed his arm, and blew a few puffs to clear off the debris. With a satisfied smirk he kissed each bulging bicep, then crouched to see what else he could find at street level.
* * * * * * *
Officers Phil and Carol were speeding to the scene in their squad car, responding to one of the many disaster calls logged at the station. "Holy shit!" exclaimed Phil when they rounded the corner and turned onto the street where Mike towered above the city. "What the hell are we supposed to do about him?" Still, they closed in, stopping practically between Mike's feet--although they could only see one colossal foot, since the other one must have been planted several blocks away, no doubt with several crushed buildings beneath it. Stopping the car, they were about to get out and see if they could assist any victims when the mountain of muscle above them crouched and picked up a nearby fire truck. Flabbergasted, they watched as the truck all but disappeared between the giant's thumb and index finger. As the fingers closed on the truck, they heard metallic crumpling sounds, then saw the truck lifted skyward. Knowing that they stood no chance against a giant who could pick up an entire truck as easily as a person could pick up a penny, they got back into the car, radioed that they were leaving, and sped off.
They hadn't gotten too far, though, before a deep shadow fell over their car--and over several city blocks, too--and their squad car was jarred by a heavy quake. Looking back, Carol saw that the giant had crouched, then leaned forward and planted his hands on the ground to balance himself as he leaned forward. "Step on it, Phil," she yelled. "He's leaning over us right now!"
A deep, bone-rattling sound echoed around them. They didn't realize it, but it was the sound of Mike clearing his throat. Seconds later a truck-sized gob of slime hit the street in front of them, forcing Phil to swerve wildly to avoid it. Most of the glistening stuff was clear, although some portions were unpleasantly opaque. "The bastard's spitting at us!" exclaimed Phil in disgust. No sooner had he said that than there was a tremendous thud as another huge gob fell, this one engulfing their car. It was impossible to see out the windows, as the entire car was covered in a thick coating of saliva. Phil turned on the windshield wipers, but they didn't have much success against the viscous stuff. The car started to skid, and Phil had to slam on the brakes to avoid losing control. Unable to see where he was going, he brought the car to a stop. With a crazed, panicked look, he said, "Come on, we've got to get out of here!" Not waiting for Carol, he struggled to get the door open, then bolted from the car. Before he had gone far, Carol saw an impossibly huge finger strike the ground in front of him, a car disappearing beneath it. In disbelief, Carol thought, "The giant's just tapping his finger on the ground, but he totally destroyed that car!" At about twenty-five feet wide, Mike's fingertip blocked Phil's path. Phil had just barely changed directions when the titanic finger lifted, moved forward, and came down again, pulverizing Phil instantly.
Carol watched in horror as the giant squished her partner. Irrationally, she felt she would be safer if she stayed in the car, and she reached over to the driver's side to shut the door. Thick gobs of saliva continued to ooze down the sides of the car, and the door was wet on the inside now, too, but she managed to pull it shut. Shivering, she tried to compose herself and think of a plan of action. Would the giant leave her alone? Did he even know she was in the car? Would she be able to get out once the viscous saliva had dried and hardened around the car? As she was thinking, something struck the car from above. The roof buckled, and she heard a couple tires blow out from the impact. Shrieking in terror, she wondered what the giant had in mind for her.
* * * * * * *
After squishing the tiny cop who tried to run away, Mike attempted an experiment. Licking his thumb, he reached down and gently pressed it onto the roof of the car, trying to pick it up by the surface tension of his saliva. Several unsuccessful tries left the car a dented wreck and told him it wasn't going to work. Disappointed, he crushed the car under his thumb, then turned his attention to a nearby building where he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. The building was thirty stories high, but that was merely calf-high to him now. He couldn't tell whether it was apartments or offices, but he thought he could see lots of movement in front of the windows. Leaning over to it, he swept everything off the roof--air conditioning units, debris, and anything else that was there. He had to be careful not to destroy the building accidentally, which wasn't easy, considering the fact that one enormous paw would have covered the entire roof, and he could have pancaked the building in one easy motion. However, after clearing it, he carefully poked through the roof with his fingers and tore most of it off, exposing the interior of the upper story. Leaning forward, he took a deep breath, fit his mouth over this opening, and blew.
Instantaneously every window in the building shattered as the force of Mike's colossal lungs exploded the building from the inside. Glass, dust, debris, and the occasional person flew out every window. The building was effectively destroyed, though the structural supports held, and it remained standing--but not for long. The building shuddered as Mike clamped one hand on top. Then with one easy motion, he pushed down, scrunching the building like an accordion amid clouds of dust. He didn't stop to admire his work long, though. Enough screwing around; he had a date with the Empire State Building.
At his present size, he reached the Empire State Building in no time, razing a swath of destruction through the city as he went. Soon he stood beside the mammoth structure, which before him looked puny and fragile by comparison. Not only was he much taller--the top of the tower only reached as high as the bottom of his pecs--he was many times wider, and exponentially more massive than the building as well. Inside the building, terrified people could only see a small portion of Mike's anatomy, depending upon what floor they were on. Some saw only a huge, bulging calf muscle, others the football-field slab of abs moving majestically in and out as he breathed, and still others saw various other portions. But regardless of how disjointed and confusing their view was, they were all terribly afraid, and rightly so.
"SO THIS IS THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING, EH?" thundered Mike. "BIG FRICKIN' DEAL. KING KONG HAD TO CLIMB THIS?" he asked incredulously. "I COULDA SQUISHED THAT PATHETIC MONKEY IN ONE HAND." To stress his point, he made a fist and flexed his forearm, causing cables of muscle to stand out. Some tourists were still on the observation deck, which was somewhere between his abs and pecs. Seeing them there, Mike leaned down and said, "THE BUILDING'S CLOSED FOR SOME SERIOUS RENOVATION." Then, taking a deep breath, he blew. A sharp puff of air from him sent a hurricane-force wind down each side of the observation deck, sending every person there airborne, over the edge, to fall to their death. Then, wrapping his hands around the building about two-thirds of the way up, he squeezed. Approximately ten floors disappeared inside his hands, which caused the unsupported top third of the building to topple and fall, wiping out most of a city block in its crash. Mike poised himself to deliver a series of blows that would reduce the building to rubble, but at the last moment he stopped. "I THINK I'LL LEAVE THE REST OF THIS FOR YOU BUGS TO ENJOY," he announced. "SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY." Giving the shattered stump of the once-proud building a playful punch--which wiped out about a dozen more floors--Mike headed towards the twin towers of the World Trade Center.
Mike couldn't tell if there was any organized force sent to stop him. If there was, he sure hadn't noticed it so far, though it didn't really matter; he could easily destroy any opposition with minimal effort. On his way to the World Trade Center, he noticed some helicopters buzzing nearby. He couldn't tell whether they were military ones or news choppers, but frankly he didn't really care. They were smaller than bumblebees to him, and he merely swatted a few annoyingly close ones aside, sending their shattered wreckage plummeting to the ground below. A couple others were directly in front of him, and rather than swat them, he simply walked right through them. Unable to maneuver out of the way in time, they were struck by Mike's granite chest as he strode forward. He was completely unharmed, but the unlucky copters broke apart on impact. Their remains tumbled down his body, to be broken to tiny bits when struck by his massive thighs as he continued striding forward.
Reaching the World Trade Center, Mike looked down on the twin buildings with disdain. "YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME. THESE THINGS DON'T STAND A CHANCE." For the first building, Mike simply walked up to it and placed his knee, leg, and upper body against it. Giving a slight push, the building broke apart somewhere below Mike's knee, and the top tipped and fell, breaking apart more before it hit the ground. Standing amid the huge, knee-high cloud of dust, Mike announced, "ONE DOWN, ONE TO GO." He faced off against the second tower like it was a diminutive sparring partner. With repeated blows, he sheared off layer after layer of stories until it was only waist-high. After that, a few well-placed blows from his foot reduced it to rubble.
"AFTER ALL THAT DUST, IT'S TIME FOR A SWIM," he said. In a few strides he left Manhattan and stood in the Hudson, which was pathetically shallow to him. "WHAT IS THIS, THE KIDDIE POOL?" he sneered. Turning left, he headed towards Long Island--pausing long enough to demolish the Brooklyn Bridge on his way. As he continued sloshing through the ocean, he considered where he would go next. Once past the tip of Long Island he might head for Connecticut or Rhode Island, or even Boston. Or maybe he'd hit all three. "They all deserve to meet their new god, just like New York did," he thought. Wherever he went, he wouldn't have to swim. In fact, it didn't look like the ocean was even going to reach above his waist. He could see the Connecticut coastline ahead, so it wouldn't take too long to get there, which was good; he was getting hungry. "And if they call out the military," he thought, "they'd better watch out. If they think I'm a badass now, they're making a big mistake. I'm just getting started . . ."
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