Attack of the 200-Foot Cheerleader (Chapter 2) (Patreon)

Though there was obviously an atmosphere of astonishment and fearful uncertainty over such an astronomic being casually hiking through town, with a few onlookers fainting after one unbelievable glance at Emma’s kaiju-like scope, overall the people were overcome by a similar idolizing effect that so often made the girl’s classmates stop and stare at her when she passed them at school, or even crowds that often stopped watching the football games to focus instead on the cheerleader’s radiant energy and drop-dead gorgeousness. They couldn’t take their eyes off her. The girl was well-liked around town, as was her richly-endowed family, and since most people could see that she was intentionally sidling her massive shoes safely around street-parked vehicles and inquisitive civilians alike without crushing any of them, they chose to believe they weren’t in mortal danger.

Unfortunately for these optimistic crowds, after roughly ten minutes of meandering through town in hopes of recovering her memories, Emma stopped suddenly in her tracks. Her headache grew worse suddenly, and without warning, the voice of her mother rang in her head as crystal-clear as though the woman was literally perched on her shoulder: “You are meant for great things, Emma. You’re smarter than all of them down there. Prettier. Richer. Better. They are worthy only as playthings for you. Show them what they mean to you. Show them that their little lives belong to you, and are yours to destroy as you please.”

Emma was spooked by these words. It was definitely her own mother’s voice, yet she was positive the woman had never said anything so cruel as this in her life. Nor did the giantess, no matter how much she was savoring the feeling of all the little folks’ eyes upon her, have any desire to actually subjugate or somehow hurt these people. Deep down, yes, Emma was aware that she was better-looking, more intelligent, and more affluent than most any of her fellow citizens, but she still didn’t believe that was any reason to abuse her advantages, especially not now, when she was two hundred feet tall and probably capable of frightening devastation, if she only unleashed a fraction of the power she held in a body of this size and strength. Nevertheless, these false words repeated in that ghostly version of her mother’s voice, again and again, until she couldn’t make it stop, and then Emma felt her vision darkening, as if she was viewing the tiny world below through a clouded filter. What happened next, then, was utterly out of the poor girl’s control.

Emma lifted her left sneaker-clad foot high in the air, much steeper than was necessary to take another step, and smirked triumphantly at the traffic-jammed intersection below. Smugly giggling, then, the giantess brought her foot careening down toward the street, now with hundreds of witnesses observing her from the surrounding buildings, and stamped down with a brutal force that cracked windows and blew door hinges clean for blocks around, and that was just by the vibratory after-shock of her footfall alone. As for the cars caught in the shadow of her descending zig-zagged shoe sole, Emma’s seemingly-purposeful trampling loudly obliterated four vacant cars in just one violent step. Before any of the puny onlookers could even react, she lifted her mighty foot off the peely-metal rubble of those totaled vehicles and took another vengefully intentional stomp onto more neighboring cars. In a matter of seconds, Emma was destructively tap-dancing with rapid leaden heel-drops on top of several dozen cars all converged on this unlucky downtown intersection as if stomping grapes to make wine, and in less than a minute, her rubber-treaded footwear vessels had reduced every car in reach down to shredded tire-popped debris.

When the giantess had finished this chaotic display, then, still without control over her own body, reality seemed to catch up for all the shell-shocked people watching from a not-so-safe distance. Everyone who’d previously recognized the girl as Emma and thus believed she didn’t mean them any harm now had no choice but to join the swiftly-arisen sense of mass hysteria. Any one of them might be next. People screamed and fled in every direction, pushing and shoving one another to take shelter indoors or divert down alleyways, anything to get them as far from the titanic cheerleader’s dangerously bludgeoning feet as possible. If this panicked anarchy wasn’t enough, however, as Emma took heavy lumbering strides away from the scene of this accidental crime, her villainous earthquaking footsteps punched more tremulous depressions into the ground, splitting up the concrete like a cracked ice-skating rink and knocking over anyone within a quarter-mile of her stampeding movements just by the resultant quavering. Inside two minutes, the atmosphere below had gone from awe-struck wonderment to pure dread, and yet it wasn’t Emma’s fault, stuck as she was in this uncontrolled haze and made to aggressively thrust and pound her body about as if piloted by some invisible force.

“W-What? How did I? NO! Oh my God! Wait! Don’t be scared, everybody!” the giantess murmured, after concentrating enough to break through the daze. “I… I didn’t mean to do that, I promise! Please, I won’t, like, hurt any of you! I freaking swear! I just need to figure out why I’m so effing HUGE!”

In spite of this sincere attempt to make peace, however, Emma quickly felt herself slipping back into the same violating robot-like rage, and couldn’t suppress it this time. Crouching slightly, since most of the surrounding buildings barely came up to the height of her hips, the twenty-story titaness balled her dainty fingers into fists with the same grace she’d normally use to grip her pom-poms or lead the gameday fans in a school spirit chant. Then, still against her will, Emma hammered both her fists into the closest rooftop. This double-handed blow was enough to make the entire building collapse in on itself like a crushed cardboard box, and the structures across the block didn’t fare much better, as the giantess then stuck her well-toned booty out, gave it a shake that flared the folds of her uniform skirt as if she was back on the dance floor at the party, and then proceeded to drive her humongous tush straight backward toward the buildings like a war-ready battering ram. Even more completely than when she’d just bashed in storefronts and office parks under her fists, Emma’s tight cheer-ready glutes bowled clear through the brickwork and support girders, rendering everything a heap of smoggy grit and fallen facades crunched into the shape of her pert buttocks, as if she’d taken a seat in wet cement to leave behind their exact impression.

By the time Emma finally managed to retake control of her own gigantic hostile-afflicted physiology again, shakily holding both arms at her sides and clenching her hindquarters to help prevent any more impulsive rampages from expressing themselves out of her uniformed body, a whole two-block radius of architecture and concrete valleys around her was already turned into pebbly half-crumpled wreckage. It looked like a bomb had just gone off in this usually-serene part of town, when really that decimation had only required the school’s prettiest perkiest brainiest cheerleader to start swinging her fists and slamming her skirted moneymaker about as if she was choreographing a needlessly violent new pep squad routine. Emma was just grateful not to see dozens of tiny bloodied citizen corpses adorning the disaster area or the bottoms of her sneakers like exterminated bugs, because judging by the vacated roads and sounds of distant screaming, the people watching her previously had enough sense to run for their lives rather than stick around anywhere they might get unavoidably squashed. Despite that single upside, though, the giantess was feeling bleaker than ever; what just happened wasn’t her fault, but she doubted anyone would be willing to listen and believe her now, when so many witnesses had just seen her monstrously immense body beat, stomp, and booty-bounce storefronts and pickup trucks alike into scrunched-up scrap, and even laugh while doing it.