The Last of the Micrins (Chapter 7) (Patreon)

“Well, would you look at that,” Diana whispered, more to herself than the subhuman creature beached down there between her legs. Her tone of voice and the look of joyful self-serving discovery on her face made Dylan’s insides curdle from vein-icing despair. Unable to move or speak for a few moments afterward, the terrified micrin felt his bodily systems rebooted by internal alarm bells when the house’s titanic owner flattened her hands down against her thighs and began to massage them in contemplative anticipation. Back and forth, her palms and fingers glided across that satiny see-through night gown material, rippling the fabric like pre-storm ocean waves and setting off tremors Dylan could intimidatingly feel resonate through the chair platform beneath them. With the giantess still eyeing him in a state of rising thrill, her uninvited guest fell to his knees and prayerfully yelped:

“PLEASE! S-Spare me, g-goddess! F-Forgive me for intruding! I s-swear, I’ll leave and n-never come back! Just… don’t…”

Despite Dylan’s apologetic sincerity, though, Diana perceived only an unintelligible mosquito-like whine at his shrillest volume. She wasn’t even entirely sure he was addressing her in a spoken language now, let alone one she understood, since he could’ve just as easily been animalistically howling like cornered prey. Nor did it particularly matter to her whether he was communicating in words or not. She’d already decided what to do with this one from the moment she laid eyes on him. Diana’s thighs spread wider apart then, gradually, which initially gave the micrin a spark of hope that his pleas had worked. As that gulf separating her legs became more expansive, it clarified the lucid silkiness of the garments covering the region where those heavenly sculpted thighs reunited. Fabric unbunched, shadows lightened, and the radiant atmosphere of the giantess’s lower quarters palpably climbed in muggy temperature for Dylan. As compelling as her face was above, his attention was rubber-banded suddenly downward, where he clearly beheld, past the stretched layers of duskily see-through mesh, the fleshly cameltoed relief of the gargantuan homeowner’s awakened womanhood.

The sight literally took his breath away, as did the balmier climate and the now-swirling fog of her flavorful amorously-ripe arousal. That all-consuming scent was enough to make Dylan go weak in the knees, savagely overwhelmed and enticed at once. The longer the micrin stared wide-eyed at that humongous pussy veiled behind her seductive night-wear, the more details took form in his vision. He saw the glaze of fragrant moisture already wetting her skin, the subtle differences in tenderer loin terrains hugged to fabric, and the eager nub of Diana’s engorged clit partially pressing its way out from the broad petals of her vulva. Despite all the natural wonders Dylan had witnessed during the micrins’ difficult pilgrimage to this supposed-new homeland, he had never taken in a view like this before. It captivated him so completely that the subtle vibrations in the chair caused by her body’s shifting, or even the rest of Diana’s presence, were all but forgotten. Or at least that was true, until a heavier upheaval in the furniture plain knocked him flat on his face. Snapped out of his mesmerized stare-down with the giantess’s welcoming cunt, Dylan only had time to look up right as those thighs reversed their prior course. Diana was bringing her legs back together in a hurry, generating wind and surface-shivers that rocked the micrin to his core, but still nowhere near as violently as the actual impact of the woman’s inner thighs smashing back together right on top of him. The little thing sucked in a last petrified gasp as warm darkness and toned thigh mass instantaneously rendered Dylan just another unrecognizably deceased stain.

Much closer down to the Earth, but still not so far away that the looming giantess’s imposing existence wasn’t felt firsthand, another group of micrins were painfully regretting the timing of their traversal across the kitchen floor, right when Diana arrived for her midnight drink of water. They hadn’t been spotted yet, so far as they could tell, but by the worst luck imaginable, this band just so happened to find themselves placed in dangerous proximity to forces which could very easily have ended them all by planting just a little further west. Unlike Dylan, though, who’d (at first) narrowly evaded being sat upon, this dozen-strong cluster of miniature invaders, including the miraculously surviving couple Sammy and Stephen, were threatened with a harrowingly close distance to Diana’s ground-flush bare feet. Immediately they all turned back the way they’d come, sprinting full-tilt for the nearest shelter.

By then, however, Diana was clued in to the bizarre but not unwelcome intrusion of ultra-tiny humanoids in her home. And what’s more, having taken out two of them in rapid succession, she knew it couldn’t have just been a fluke. There had to be more around here somewhere. With her eyes focused and retrained now not to ignore even insignificant details or movements as she scanned her surroundings, it didn’t take long for Diana to glance down beside the chair and spot those twelve unfortunates fleeing for all they were worth. A few of the micrins shrieked as they heard the giantess adjusting her posture and looked up to find her staring down at them with a beaming smile, which helped warn the others to pick up their pace, but it hardly mattered now either way. For a full minute, they ran away from the monolithic seated goddess, perplexed yet grateful to still be alive. Maybe, a few of them pondered aloud together in panic, she had acknowledged them, but had no intention of killing them. Maybe it was only those unlucky enough to get so close to her body like Samuel and Dylan that had earned executions. Maybe she wasn’t a totally malevolent deity: just tough but fair.

As it turned out, though, it wasn’t mercy that made Diana delay following them. At first, she simply delighted in watching the group scurry, and stirred between her legs at the mere thought of how their desperate long-distance efforts to get away from her supremely-huger self could be cancelled out with a single halfhearted step forth on her part. Once the micrins had made it the equivalent of a couple giantess-sized paces away, then, leaving them out in the no man’s land of that light-gray kitchen floor, Diana made her move. She ascended slowly, thumping both soles down at once, and gave the folds in her elegant see-through night gown time to smooth out. Not even taking a step yet, Diana internally pulsated upon seeing the diminutive group’s collective progress slow just when she stood up, with the micrins no-doubt taking in the sight of her full stature with both astonishment and deserved fright. Much as she savored the ego-boosting exhibitionist thrill of having her mostly-visible figure timidly admired by her home’s adorably breakable invaders, however, she wasn’t about to let them get away. In short order, Diana seated herself upon the floor facing those twelve micrins, at first cross-legged. And then she gradually extended both her sideways-capsized naked feet in their direction, until she’d walled them all in between a vast living canyon of doughy dimple-pleated undersole flesh constituting either lengthy embankment.