You blink several times, attempting to regain your lost vision. You have no clue what’s going on as tinnitus blasts through your ears. You attempt to crawl backwards, though you feel yourself on an unfamiliar surface. Obviously not the flat, cement floor of the apartment complex.
You gasp as the clarity returns to your eyes, causing your brain to scramble. What you’re looking at simply can’t be possible.
“Hey! Stop looking up my fucking skirt!” The pleated fabric above ripples like ocean waves as a pale hand adorned with several pewter rings shoves it between two immense, milky thighs. It was that woman. The size of a skyscraper.
A sense of ascent grips you as you feel the wind above force its way up your eyelids, your torso and back gripped gently by the soft squeeze of tremendous fingers. Your neck twists almost painfully as you frantically scan your new environment.
An astronomically overpowering face towers above you, so large that you can hardly comprehend it as a living thing, never mind a woman you sort of know. Taking up the entirety of your peripheral vision, you can see every single detail of her skin. Every pore. Every tiny blemish. The streaks where she applied her cake-like makeup.
Your heart palpitates as you watch her wet, bumpy tongue slip from between her lips, giving her dark purple lipstick a slimy gloss.
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