Bob's Big Mistake

Bob sat near the back of the auditorium, empty seats around him. The

place wasn't as full as it should have been, but blame that on the

event being held in the afternoon. Usually the bodybuilding

competition would have been held in the evening, but there were too

many conventions and other events in New York this weekend, and this

was the only time available.

Although the crowd was sparser than usual, the quality of the

competition was high, and many of the top bodybuilders were

here. Being an enthusiast and a modestly talented bodybuilder himself,

Bob was pumped to see Mike, his favorite pro bodybuilder, in

person. Mike was in top form -- massive, with insanely huge guns --

and he was really playing to the crowd. When the final results of the

judging came in, though, Mike not only didn't win, but he didn't even

place in the top five. Bob was stunned. As the crowd slowly filed out,

Bob just sat there, partially in disbelief, partially trying to decide

whether he wanted to hang around and try to get autographs from the

competitors.

While he sat there, he felt something in the chair poking into his

leg. Reaching down, Bob felt a large coin stuck in the chair. With a

couple of tugs, he pulled it free and held it up for a look. It wasn't

like any coin he had ever seen. Slightly larger than a half dollar, it

looked like it was made of dull bronze. The front and back were the

same. In addition to some strange, indecipherable runes, there was

what looked like a jinn's lamp in the center, and the words "Good For

3 Wishes" at the top. The words at the bottom were smudged and

unreadable, so Bob rubbed the coin with his shirt to clean them

off. Upon doing so, he saw that they said, "No Cash Value." Snorting

wryly, Bob suddenly noticed a man sitting next to him. The seat was

empty just seconds ago, but now an olive-skinned, moustached,

wispy-bearded man in middle-eastern garb, complete with turban, was

sitting beside him.

Turning to look at Bob, the man said, "You summoned me?"

"What are you talking about?" Bob asked. "All I did was rub this

stupid token."

"Ah, but that 'token,' as you call it, has summoned me, Siraj the

Jinn."

"You mean you're a genie?"

"We prefer the term 'Jinn'," said Siraj with some scorn, "but yes,

many ignorant ones refer to us as 'genies'."

"So you can grant me three wishes?" asked Bob incredulously.

"That is so." Looking around disdainfully, Siraj said, "I would ask

that you make your wishes as soon as possible. I would like to leave

this wretched city with all haste."

"Well, I'll try, but you can't rush me into anything. You're my

servant until you grant me the three wishes, right?"

Arching a sarcastic eyebrow, Siraj said, "I was unaware that you were

so well-versed in the cosmic laws that govern the Jinn. In what other

subjects would The Master deign to instruct me?"

"No need to be sarcastic," said Bob. "I just thought that you couldn't

leave until you granted me my three wishes. Is that correct?"

"That, I may not say," replied Siraj. "But in the event that you are

misinformed, I suggest that you make your wishes with all speed."

Slightly flustered, Bob's mind raced, thinking what he should wish

for. "People always get into trouble when they wish for money,

immortality, or more wishes, don't they?"

"Again, I may not say," said Siraj enigmatically. "But there may be

wisdom in your words."

"Let's try something different, then," said Bob. "You know the

bodybuilder Mike who was just on stage?"

"I was not here during the contest," said Siraj, "but I know the one

of whom you speak."

"There was only one bodybuilder named Mike on stage today, so there

shouldn't be any confusion. I've always admired him, and I've never

gotten to meet him. I want you to make it so that he and I are

friends."

"That, I cannot do," said Siraj. "I can control many things, but the

human heart is not one of them. I cannot command that one person

befriend another."

Exasperated, Bob said, "Look, it's not like I'm asking you to make

Elle MacPherson fall in love with me. All I want is to get to know

him. Can you arrange that I meet him and get to know him?" When Siraj

nodded affirmatively, Bob said, "Then that's my first wish."

"As you wish," said Siraj, "it shall be done."

"When?" said Bob.

"Obviously not this instant," said Siraj with a hint of acid in his

voice. "But soon it shall come to pass."

"OK," said Bob. "I guess I didn't know what to expect. It will be

really cool to meet him, though. I've used him for inspiration and

motivation when I was in the gym. He's got a real cocky, bad-ass

attitude, and he's huge, too. And did you see his arms? They're

absolutely incredible! I don't know why he never wins any

competitions. It's sure not because of his guns. Maybe the judges

think his other muscle groups are too small or something. I don't

know. Whatever the reason, I wish he could get as big as he wanted to

be, so people couldn't ignore him any more."

"As you wish," said Siraj, "it shall be done."

"What?" said Bob. "What shall be done?"

"The bodybuilder named Mike shall be able to enlarge himself at will,

just as you wished."

"But I wasn't wishing for that. I was just talking to you," said Bob.

"Ah, that is a pity," said Siraj, "for the wish has been made and

cannot be rescinded. Perhaps you should be more careful."

Angrily, Bob said, "Or perhaps you should use some common sense! You

knew I wasn't really wishing for that!"

"Did I really?" said Siraj with an arched eyebrow and the hint of a

smirk. "I was unaware that The Master had a talent for reading

minds. Only a few of us Jinn, the greatest among us, possess such

power."

"No, I can't read minds," snapped Bob, "but I don't need to be a

mind-reader to know that you're misinterpreting me on purpose."

Calming down for a second, he said, "But I should have expected

that. It always works that way in the stories. It's your job, I

suppose."

Siraj said nothing, sitting placidly, with a bland, unreadable

expression on his face.

"Come on," said Bob. "I still want to meet Mike. Let's see if we can't

get backstage." Looking at Siraj, he said, "Aren't you worried about

sticking out, wearing that Arabian Nights costume?"

"I prefer to wear this 'costume,' as you call it, rather than the

clothing of your culture," said Siraj disdainfully. "And as for the

rabble around us, I am invisible to all but you."

"Well, at least I won't have to explain who you are," said Bob. "Come

on."

The two went to the backstage door. Siraj did indeed appear to be

invisible to all but Bob, since nobody paid any attention to him as

they walked along. The guard at the door refused to let Bob through,

though, since he didn't have a pass. Seeing no other alternative, Bob

decided to leave. "I must be going to meet Mike some other way," he

thought. "That is, if the genie isn't lying to me."

                           * * * * * * *

Backstage, Mike was devastated at his low placing. "Why does this

always happen?" he asked himself. He just sat for a while, thinking

about it. Finally, he decided to put it behind him. "I can't control

the judging," he mused. "All I can do is work hard and make myself

bigger. The only thing I can control is me." Full of frustrated

energy, he decided to work out for a while. He was still wearing only

his posing trunks, so he changed into a pair of shorts, then headed

over to the free weights. As he worked out, he thought over and over,

"I've got to get bigger. I've got to get bigger." He didn't notice

that the weights seemed to be getting smaller and lighter. Finally,

his mind registered that someone was talking to him, and it jerked him

out of his concentration. "Shit, man, what happened to you?" said one

of the other bodybuilders beside him. The huge, heavy dumbbells in

Mike's hands now looked and felt like aerobic weights to him. An even

bigger shock was the size of the person beside him. The top of the

man's head barely came up to the level of Mike's pecs. Mike thought

the guy might be a midget, except that his own head was up near the

ceiling. He was nine feet tall!

"How did this happen?" Mike thought, as he looked at himself in the

mirror. "I was just working out, then this. The only thing different

was that I was concentrating on getting bigger, and . . . maybe that's

it." Ignoring the still-babbling man beside him, Mike focused on his

reflection and concentrated on growing. Sure enough, he shot upward,

further dwarfing the bodybuilder beside him. He stopped himself

abruptly when his head rapped against the ceiling. He now stood twelve

feet tall. From this angle, he could only see his feet reflected in

the mirror, like those mirrors in shoe stores. The guy beside him

stood only waist-high now. From waist-level, Mike heard a voice say,

"What did you do, man?"

Looking down, Mike said, "I can't stay and talk. I gotta get out of

here. Got some growing to do!" Stepping over weight equipment, Mike

strode towards the exit. People moved out of his way, and if they

didn't, he cleared a path through them. He thrust several child-sized

-- to him -- bodybuilders aside, and several others were sent

sprawling, struck by his tree-trunk-sized legs as he walked past. When

he reached the exit, Mike crouched down and pushed open the double

doors. By ducking his head and contorting a bit, he was able to

squeeze through the doors and out onto the sidewalk. The sudden

appearance of a twelve-foot bodybuilder clad only in shorts caused

quite a stir on the sidewalk, even in New York.

"This oughta give me plenty of room," Mike thought to himself. As he

concentrated on getting bigger once again, he shot upward at an

incredible pace. When he stopped growing about ten seconds later, he

stood somewhere between four and five hundred feet tall. At his feet,

cars had been crushed or pushed along as he expanded. Unable to

escape, many people found themselves trapped in their cars as Mike's

rapidly expanding feet swept them along, slamming them into other

cars, leaving dozens of them packed together like sardines. Beyond

this immediate radius, traffic had snarled, accidents were occurring,

and people were fleeing in all-out panic. Mike, however, was savoring

his new size. He reached down by his right foot and picked up a tiny

car, giving it a slight tug to remove it from its tightly-wedged

position among the other cars. Enrique, the driver, saw Mike's

tree-trunk-sized fingers descend on either side of his car.  Glass

broke and metal scrunched as they pushed down on the cars on either

side.  Suddenly, Enrique was thrown around roughly as the gigantic

fingers closed on his car like a huge industrial vise, crumpling metal

panels, shattering windows, and causing the air bags to inflate. This

was followed by an ear-splitting metallic shriek as his car was torn

from its metal prison among the other cars. Enrique felt a sickening

lurch as the earth fell away beneath him, and the G-forces pressed him

painfully into the seat, making stars swim before his eyes as he shot

upward in the giant's grasp.

To Mike, the car was a toy. It fit in the palm of his hand with plenty

of room to spare, and he prodded it and rolled it around with a huge

index finger, fascinated by the tiny details. He could even see the

tiny driver inside. He was holding an entire car, with a human being

inside, in the palm of his hand!  However, his newfound power had gone

quickly to his head, and he no longer felt anything in common with the

people whose city he towered over. If anything, he felt slight

contempt for creatures so puny in relation to himself. He soon got

tired of the car he was holding and tossed it aside. As he watched

expressionless, it landed far below in a knot of traffic, crushing a

couple other cars beneath it and bursting into flame.

Turning to the building in front of him, Mike saw movement

inside. Crouching slightly and peering through the office windows, he

saw people scatter in terror. Inside the building, when the workers

saw his enormous face swoop in, his huge eyes glaring directly into

their office, they fled to the interior of the building. After peering

inside, Mike leaned back slightly, then smashed his fist through the

wall of the building. Much of the stone facing, concrete, and other

materials shattered brittlely as his fist made a three-story hole in

the building. Most of the exposed steel beams snapped off and bent

inward, but others along the edge of the hole bent, but remained in

place. To enlarge the opening, Mike pulled out a couple of the

remaining beams and dropped them, not caring where they landed. Far

below, the huge beams hit the sidewalk and street with a deafening

clang, shattering the concrete and pavement where they landed. One

bounced harmlessly off Mike's foot, only to land on top of a nearby

car. But whereas Mike's foot only stung slightly where the beam had

hit it, the car was crushed under the heavy steel. The main portion of

the car was smashed flat under the heavy steel girder that fell across

it, shattering all the windows and leaving only the front and back end

relatively intact.

Now able to easily reach inside the building, Mike scooped up a

handful of whatever was there. Closing his fist loosely, he pulled his

hand back out and examined its contents. In his hand was a hodge-podge

of rubble and battered office equipment: cubicle walls, several desk

chairs, a desk, a file cabinet, and several computers. Nothing

exciting in itself, except that it was so tiny. Picking up a little

desk between his thumb and index finger, Mike examined it from all

angles. As he turned it upside down, several drawers slid out. As they

fell, one struck the top of his left thigh and tumbled along it for a

hundred feet, until it finally rolled off the end of his knee and fell

the remaining distance to the sidewalk, where it broke into

pieces. The other two fell straight to the ground. One hit the street

and shattered, while the other hit the top of Mike's foot and broke

apart, though he didn't notice the tiny impact. Bored with the desk,

Mike squeezed it between his fingers.  It instantly disintegrated in a

puff of fragments and splinters. Turning to the rest of the material

in his hand, he scrunched the metal file cabinet like it was made of

tinfoil, then picked up a tiny computer monitor and exploded it with a

slight squeeze of his fingers. Bored with these, too, he flicked the

remaining monitors over the edge of his palm and watched them crash on

the street. Then he dumped the remaining contents of his hand onto the

traffic below, where it shattered windshields and dented cars.

                           * * * * * * *

Bob and Siraj were one block over when Mike exited the building and

grew to gigantic proportions. As he began his rampage, Bob said,

"What's going on?"

"You wished that he have the ability to grow at will, and so he does,"

answered Siraj. "Does this not please you?"

"It's not what I meant. This is insane! Nobody can be that big!"

"I assure you that it is possible," said Siraj. "He can now grow to

whatever size pleases him. And do not fear," he continued with

amusement, "part of the wish alters the laws of nature so that his

body can function at any size."

"But he's going to hurt people!" Bob exclaimed.

"That is likely," said Siraj indifferently.

"Well, do something about it!"

"What would The Master have me do?"

"For starters, undo the wish that gave him this power," said Bob.

"Ah," said Siraj, with a gleam in his eye. "That I will not do."

"What do you mean you won't do it?" demanded Bob. "I'm using my third

wish to make you do it."

"Perhaps The Master is not as knowledgeable as I thought," said Siraj

with icy mirth. "You do not have a third wish."

"What?" exclaimed Bob. "It says so on the coin!"

"One should not believe everything one reads.  You have no third wish.

The Master should know also that not all Jinn can be commanded so

easily, especially to undo something that they themselves wrought."

"So you were lying to me?" demanded Bob.

"I did not lie," said Siraj. "You were ignorant and foolish, and you

believed that which you wanted to believe. However, I did make a

bargain, and I will honor it. Your first wish is still unfulfilled,

and although it would be fulfilled in good time, I will hasten it to

fruition."

"What are you talking about?" said Bob nervously.

"You have not met Mike," said Siraj with mock innocence. "I shall

remedy that now." Turning in the direction of the gigantic bodybuilder

who loomed over the city, Siraj spoke in a voice that carried clearly

over a great distance, which Mike plainly heard. "Mike!" he shouted.

Mike had just dumped his handful of rubble when he heard someone call

his name, and he looked around for the source. Looking up from street

level, Bob saw the corded muscles in Mike's immensely thick neck stand

out as the giant swiveled his head, searching for the person calling

his name.

"Down here, you stupid musclehead!" shouted Siraj. Mike's gaze

followed the sound down to where he saw Bob standing alone on the

sidewalk. "Yeah, down here you idiot!" taunted Siraj.

"What are you doing?" yelled Bob. "Are you nuts? You're going to get

us killed!"

"I assure you that I am in no danger," said Siraj mockingly. "My only

concern is to help you meet Mike." Turning back to Mike, he dropped

his formal, archaic speech and taunted derisively, "Yeah, you're a big

man all right. Why don't you quit being such a wuss and pick on

somebody your own size?"

Mike's eyes glinted, and he boomed, "THERE ISN'T ANYBODY MY SIZE, JUST

BUGS LIKE YOU. AND YOU JUST MADE A BIG MISTAKE!"  Saying this, he took

an earth-shaking step toward Bob. Siraj turned to Bob and said, "My

job here is done." As he dissolved into a cloud of mist, he taunted,

"Enjoy meeting Mike!"

Frantic, Bob didn't know what to do. Taking out the coin, he

feverishly rubbed it, hoping to extract another wish from the

genie. However, when he rubbed it, it crumbled into dust, its power

expended. The earth shook under another of Mike's footsteps, and Bob

simply ran, hoping somehow to elude him. But before he had run far, a

house-sized foot crashed down in front of him, then slid forward to

completely block the sidewalk. Stone and concrete flew as it slammed

into the building, demolishing a large section of the first-story

wall. His escape route cut off, Bob turned and ran in the other

direction, though he knew his prospects were slim indeed. Sure enough,

a massive hand overshadowed him, and though he tried to dodge it,

there was no escape as it closed around him. His arms were pinned

awkwardly and painfully to his sides as the titanic wall of flesh

enveloped him, squeezing the breath from him and leaving him in total

darkness. And if that wasn't bad enough, he felt the gut-wrenching

sensation of rocketing upward like an express elevator. The giant must

be standing up, he thought woozily through the pain and vertigo.

Suddenly the pressure relented and daylight returned. Bob lay on the

giant's open palm, hundreds of feet off the ground, near the giant's

face. His ribs ached, but fortunately they didn't seem to be broken,

and Bob gasped great lungfuls of air as he fearfully turned to face

Mike, and frantically tried to think of a way to talk himself out of

this situation.

Before he could say anything, though, Mike's voice hit him like a

sledgehammer. "YOU'RE CHALLENGING ME? BIG TALK FROM SUCH A PUNY RUNT!

CAN YOU DO THIS?" In his other hand, Mike held up a Mercedes, his

thumb covering the driver's side, and his index finger on the

passenger side. The side windows had shattered, and the panels were

buckling from the pressure he exerted by simply holding it between his

tree-sized fingers. As Bob watched, Mike effortlessly increased the

pressure, and the middle of the car collapsed, pinched into a

distorted hourglass shape. With a smirk, Mike tossed the car aloft,

then caught it out of midair and clenched his fist. Bob saw veins the

size of water mains stand out on Mike's huge and immensely powerful

forearm. After a few seconds, Mike opened his fist and showed Bob the

compressed remains of the Mercedes. It looked like it had been through

an irregularly-shaped car crusher. It wasn't in a square block, but

everything except the glittering fragments of broken glass had been

fused into a lump of mangled metal.

Still looking at Bob, Mike tossed the car aside, where it hit a

building, then fell to the sidewalk below. "CAN YOU DO THAT?" he

demanded.

"No," said Bob, shakily.

"NO WHAT?" boomed Mike.

"No sir!" said Bob. "Please," he continued, "let me explain . . ."

"DID I SAY YOU COULD TALK?" Mike thundered. Before Bob could answer,

Mike's enormous thumb appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and hovered

over him. Bob tried to dodge it, but it was wider than he was tall,

and he found himself knocked flat and rolled roughly onto his

back. Staring up, he saw Mike's thumb lift momentarily, but before he

could so much as roll over, it descended again. Reflexively Bob stuck

out his arms to block it, but the huge thumb was unstoppable. He might

as well have tried to chest-press a truck that was driving towards

him.  Mike felt nothing but contempt as he saw the tiny man feebly

attempt to defend himself, but couldn't feel the slightest

resistance. Bob's arms were pushed back and pinned with the rest of

his body against Mike's fingers. Trapped there with only his head

sticking out, Bob tried to plead for mercy, but was unable to get

enough breath to speak. Then Mike increased the pressure, completely

pressing all the air out of him. As Bob's vision dissolved into a

blackness swimming with stars, he heard a pair of cracks and felt a

stabbing pain in his side as a couple of his ribs broke. Just before

he lost consciousness, Mike's thumb lifted. When Bob gasped for air,

the pain in his side was white-hot, so he clutched his side and panted

shallowly as Mike said, "YOU DON'T TALK UNLESS I SAY YOU CAN. GOT IT?"

When Bob merely nodded his head, Mike once again positioned his thumb

over Bob and repeated, in a more menacing tone, "GOT IT?"

"Yes . . . sir . . ." Bob gasped, as loudly as he could, the effort

causing him intense pain and making him see stars again.

"GOOD." rumbled Mike. "NOW THAT YOU'VE LEARNED YOUR LESSON, I THINK

I'LL LET YOU GO." Bob's stomach fluttered wildly as Mike crouched,

then lowered his hand to the ground and rolled Bob out onto the

pavement. Bob cried out in pain at the jarring his ribs took, and he

suffered some scrapes as he hit the pavement. As quickly as he could,

though, he got up, where he stood not far from a colossal foot as Mike

rose from his crouched position. From below, watching the gigantic

form rocket skyward was disorienting, but Bob just stood there,

staring upwards at Mike's titanic, chiseled form, waiting for

instructions. He feared what would happen if he disobeyed him again.

Mike looked down at the puny man for a minute, satisfied with the

utter terror and obedience he saw. Finally, he spoke. "I'M DONE WITH

YOU.  YOU'D BETTER RUN WHILE YOU CAN!" When Bob stood there for a

second, hesitant to move, Mike bellowed, "RUN!" and stamped his foot,

the impact shattering the pavement, bouncing nearby cars, and nearly

causing Bob to lose his balance. His heart in his throat, Bob ran as

fast as he could, despite the pain of his broken ribs. High above,

Mike watched the little man flee. He even waited until Bob was several

car lengths away before stomping him flat.

Lifting his house-sized foot, he could see a tiny stain embedded in

the crumbled pavement where the little man had been. Dismissing him

with a snort of contempt, Mike turned his attention once again to the

rest of the city. What to do next?

                           * * * * * * *

Looking around, Mike saw Central Park and decided to head there for a

little stroll through it. If the people there were lucky, he might

give them a show of his awesome physique. Or he might just crush them

instead. Hell, he didn't care.  He was just enjoying his new role as

titan, and the city and its inhabitants were just toys for his

amusement. People so tiny, pathetic, and slow were lucky they didn't

get crushed, whether by accident or on purpose. Ignoring the sirens

down below as police cars and ambulances rushed to the scene, Mike

turned and headed up the avenue.

As tall as a forty-story building, Mike towered over most of the

buildings in the area. In fact, most came up no higher than his

knees. The avenue itself was relatively wide, but at Mike's current

size, it didn't give him a lot of room. With each step of his, a huge

foot swooshed along the sidewalk, sometimes scraping alongside

buildings as it went. Wide enough to cover the entire sidewalk and

part of the street, it snapped off trees, knocked over street lights,

and destroyed overhangs and awnings. Shrieking people scattered in

front of him and fled inside buildings. Surprisingly, many drivers

were able to veer off onto side streets and get out of Mike's path.

However, many were not so lucky and were flattened in a fraction of a

second, crunching pleasantly beneath his feet as he strode

along. Sometimes the cars were empty, but other times they contained

hapless motorists whose last vision was the sole of Mike's colossal

foot descending on them. But Mike didn't purposefully crush every car

on the street; in fact, after his first few steps, he didn't even pay

much attention to where he was stepping or the destruction his

progress was causing.  The novelty crushing several cars in one step

soon wore off.  It was too easy.  Many cars were spared completely as

he strode right over them, though sometimes his foot would just nick a

car as it swung past. When this happened, Mike didn't notice it any

more than an adult would notice bumping a matchbox car, but to the

people at street level it was a different story. The impact of Mike's

foot smashing into the car sent it flying sideways to crash into a

building or flipped it end-over-end along the street and sidewalk, to

smash into other cars or crush panicking people.

Although most of the buildings were at knee level, Mike eventually

reached a block of taller ones, the tallest of which were nearly his

own height. Pausing briefly in the intersection, he grinned, squared

his shoulders, and strode forward. His mountainous delts were wider

than the opening between the buildings, but that didn't stop him. With

a crash, his shoulders plowed into the buildings to his right and

left. Whole sections of the buildings' upper stories were demolished,

and when they collapsed, rubble and furniture tumbled from the

sheared-off sections to fall into the street. Mike only felt slight

resistance and continued forward without slowing, nonchalantly tearing

open the buildings as he went along. In addition to his shoulders, his

massive thighs were also too wide for the street, pressing hard

against the buildings he passed, shattering windows, tearing off

facades, and causing girders to buckle inwards. With each step,

enormously thick cables of muscle jumped and tensed as his mammoth

thighs strained against his shorts, which struggled to contain

them. Inside the buildings, people and furnishings were thrown around

as Mike's earth-shaking footsteps got closer, and sounds buildings

being demolished get louder. Suddenly, when the quakes and noise were

at their peak, glass shattered, steel groaned and bent, and the walls

exploded inward as a rippling, iron-hard wall of muscle scraped past

the building. It was over in a second, but everything inside was in

disarray. Covered in dust and rubble, the rooms facing the street were

stripped of their outer walls, and floors and ceilings tilted crazily

because of the bent girders. Still, the people in these buildings were

lucky.

                           * * * * * * *

Joe was aimlessly flipping through channels on TV when suddenly he saw

a special report. An incredulous announcer was describing a rampaging

giant terrorizing the city. At first Joe thought it was a joke, but

then he saw actual footage of the giant punching a building and

destroying cars. As the report continued, he could feel slight

tremors, which had to be the giant's footsteps. Curious and excited,

Joe ran to get his bike. According to the newscast, the giant was

headed in his general direction, and if he headed over a couple

blocks, he could see him first-hand. Joe had always been fascinated by

giants, and this unbelievable opportunity was too good to pass

up. Turning off the TV, he headed out the door with his bike.

Outside, the streets were in chaos, though the sidewalks were

relatively empty, since most people were inside, hoping they would be

safe there. Joe jumped on his bike and took off. As he neared the

avenue the giant was on, he could feel the footstep-tremors getting

stronger, and the other sounds of destruction got louder. Soon he

reached the right avenue, where he stopped. Cars zoomed through the

intersection, trying to cross the street before the giant

arrived. Police had set up barricades so that cars couldn't enter the

avenue that the giant was on. At least, that's what Joe assumed they

were there for, because when he saw the giant, he knew the barricades

would be useless against him.

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 . . ."

                              the end