In Her Grasp (The Russians Are Coming part 6) (Patreon)

The streets were in chaos. The evacuation order was too little too late but they had to try. Everyone had flooded into the streets to try and escape. The roads were useless, an endless traffic jam of vehicles and fleeing people. They had seen every detail on the news and they were terrified. They had felt the earth shake and the air shiver at the pleasure of the two young Russian women, now grown impossibly huge. They had played with the skyscrapers of downtown like dominoes and used another giant like a toy for their pleasure. Their still laughter rang through the air - it was all a game to them - but now the rumbling grew more intense. Those who were looking up could see the gaze of those beautiful blue eyes falling over them. 

Fighter jets screeched through the skies, tearing at the air. The chatter of tracer fire and roar of missiles was deafening to the people in the streets, now a war zone, but the giants were utterly indifferent to it. She was supposed to be miles away, her perfect peach of an ass covering dozens of blocks from the northern end of the city to downtown. But miles to her was a stretch of an arm, a lean, a roll. With those beautiful eyes pinning them in place, fixing their gaze, the people saw a hand descend. A palm that blocked out the sun, filled the sky, and cast their world into shade. The fighter jets ripped beneath it, explosions lighting up the vast expanse of her soft, perfumed skin. The palm continued to descend, untroubled by the firepower being unloaded into it, until far away the fingers hit the ground. Nails embedded into the substructure of the earth and then started to drive together, and upwards. She was plucking them all up into the air: people, buildings, streets, cars, buses, jets. They were all in her hand.