Brooke's life went on this way for the next few weeks. Every evening before she fell asleep, she would masturbate herself to orgasm, and enjoy the sensation of growth which accompanied it. She would make her own clothing as needed- Chris was simply to slow to keep up with her constantly changing proportions--and then spend the next evening busting the hell out of them as she spurted up.

  She loved to watch her breasts spill over any object she tried to bind them with. She loved that last instant when the ropes or vines around her waist could no longer stand up to the stress of her expanding hips and would snap as the bottoms floated, ripped and ruined to the ground, revealing her enormous pubic bush. At times like these she sought Chris out to be her audience. She loved showing off in front of him. She wondered what emotions he experienced while he watched her?

  Some possibilities occurred to her: Terror as he realized his increasing helplessness, the inevitability of her continued dominance and his inability to ever stop her, along with the uncertainty of when, if ever, this horror would finally end. Or was it jealousy that this wonder was happening to her and not him. That she was reaping the benefits of power, and sorrow that his predicament seemed to worsen daily.

  Either of these was fine with her, just as long as he was silently suffering. Other than at these times, she virtually ignored Chris throughout the day--he was simply to small to be of any consequence to her. She did make sure that he spent the day gathering food for her--he was forced to go deeper into the jungle each time; she had eaten everything and stripped every tree bare of fruit within a mile of their camp.

  He couldn't possibly gather enough to feed her now. She supplemented that herself. Instead, she kind of looked upon the food as an offering, a sacrifice to her glory. She even had found a flat stone (boulder) which she had placed near the ruined hut for Chris to place the day's harvest upon to wait for her approach.

  On days where she judged the offering was insufficient or if he forgot, or was just being rebellious and refusing to provide for her, she would seek him out and punish him. More often than not this would take the form of using him as a sex toy. His thrashings and gyrations did wonders for her pleasures, although she was discovering that even now she was becoming too large for this play to bring her much joy.

  Every day saw her becoming larger and always at an ever increasing rate. A good fuck session could easily add three feet to her height. Even on those evenings when she would fall asleep from exhaustion before she had a chance to stroke herself, she would awake finding herself all the more aroused and she would masturbate with increased vigor, as roughly and viscously as she could do it, and her dimensions would increase even more.

  Everything on the island was becoming puny relative to her. At fifty feet and more, she matched up well with even the tallest trees. The little worm was no taller than her ankles. His body was making an ever more insufficient phallus. She was even beginning to run out of ways to humiliate the lad. Truth be told, though, he seemed to become more obedient and more subservient each day. His fighting spirit dissipated in the wake of the ever increasing odds against him and he fell into a resignation of his fate.

-     -     -

  Brooke began to sense a real problem within the next month. Her growth had continued unabated. Every evening saw a wonderful and continually more intense session of masturbation. Each night it took longer and longer, and she suffered continually more violent and unmeasurably pleasurable orgasms which incapacitated her for hours. And each time she'd shoot skyward another three to five feet. The largest trees on the island were now serving as her toys. She'd splinter a thirty foot palm with one hand and jam it up her vagina, twisting and plunging it in as far as it would go. Her screams of passion could be heard for miles, were there an ear to here besides Chris's.

  And now she noticed that this island--this large intimidating island--the one she could now walk around in five minutes, was beginning to die. It simply could not support a creature as dramatically large as she was becoming. The trees had been stripped barren of fruit in an effort to supply her increasing hunger. Chris had moved very far inland in search of food. He found that he could hide from her fairly easily now- he was small and easily overlooked. And so he spent his days in hiding and nights scavaging for any food that Brooke may have overlooked. She herself was having problems finding sufficient nourishment. She knew something soon would have to change, something drastic needed to be done.

  She came upon the little boy laying on the beach one day. He had become foolishly bold, having eluded her for so many days, and was enjoying a mango that he'd found. Brooke moved up on him remarkably quietly, and by the time he saw her, it was too late and futile to run. She gazed down at him. Could it possibly be? She could scarcely believe how small he was--no larger than any of her toes.

  "GIVE ME THAT FRUIT," she demanded.

  "No!" he screamed. "This is nothing to you, but it's a meal to me. You've really messed things up! All this trouble's because of you. I'd sooner die than give anything else to you."

  He continued to rant and rave wildly at her. Brooke picked up the little boy screaming at her between her thumb and index finger and placed him on her left breast. He started to slide down, but got a firm grasp and foot hold on her nipple. He straddled it with his legs, and grabbed hold with his arms, clinging for dear life.

  Brooke reveled in the tingly feeling this sent through her bosom. Not nearly as intense as when she was just starting to grow and he was still large enough to really excite her, but still not bad. She looked down at the little insect clamped onto her nipple and marveled at the fact that just weeks ago she was scared and in awe of his strength.

  "I'm the strong one now," she thought. She remembered how big and intimidating he had appeared. "you're nothing compared to me, are you," she mused. He was no bigger than her thumbnail. She looked around at the island. She could see from end to end, and it wasn't that large. The tallest and oldest trees were no more than knee high. "I am a queen on this island," Brooke realized. "No, not a queen--a goddess. Everything on this island bows to me, and continues to exist only at my whim."

  She again turned her attention to the little mass struggling to keep from sliding off her nipple. She looked down into his face and saw the expression of heart-stopping panic emblazoned there.

  "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU KNOW. IF YOU HAD JUST OBEYED ME AND DONE EVERYTHING I COMMANDED, I WOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO GROW SO LARGE. I DID THIS ONLY TO INSURE YOUR OBEDIENCE."

  It was becoming difficult for her to hear his words; he was just too tiny. Chris, for his part, had other concerns occupying his attention, but he still managed to blurt out, at the top of his lungs, "I'll never obey you! I hate you! Go the hell!"

  "THAT IS FINALLY ALL I'M GOING TO TAKE. I'VE TRIED TO SHOW YOU MY STRENGTH, BUT YOU JUST DON'T SEEM TO REALIZE THAT I'M IN CHARGE NOW. I'M AFRAID THIS REQUIRES THE ULTIMATE DISPLAY OF MY POWER." And with that she plucked the tiny human off her breast and held him suspended between her fingers.

  Chris suddenly realized that he had made the supreme mistake, and as the terror of that realization sunk in, he began pleading and screaming. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'll do whatever you say!"

  But Brooke heard nothing. She was to big, too far away for the little voice to reach. Instead, she looked in disgust at the pathetic little bug struggling futilely between her fingers, hesitated for just a second, and then squeezed.

  Chris's body was crushed instantly. The warm juices of his pulverized torso flowed over Brooke's index finger. She stared at the red mess for a moment, and then with a smirk on her face, brought her lubricated finger down to her enormous clitoris and massaged the juices in to it. How appropriate, she thought as the stimulations stretched her body another eight feet. For her it was a barely noticeable increase, as if she had grown less than an inch, but she sensed and she knew that the slightest sensations of passion were now causing her to grow at ever increasing rates. But now there was no one to impress, no one to marvel at her in her supremacy.

  What good, she thought, is it to wield unearthly power without minions to subjugate? And then she thought of home. Not the island home that had been her prison for the past ten years, but the home of her earliest childhood; a time when she was small and frail and was doted on by other people. Many people. More people than she ever thought she could possibly know. They had all appeared so big to her back then. She suspected that they might appear quite different now. And surely they would not be nearly as stubborn as Chris had been when it came to catering to her every whim.

  Even if they were, it was an easily solvable problem. A simple display of her awesome power should send them scampering. And if some chose to disobey, she could crush scores and still have plenty of little slaves to do her bidding. What was stopping her? Two months ago it was the crashing waves past the reef, but what now? Those waves were now just gentle caresses over the tops of her feet. She stepped out into the surf. She strolled out six miles, and the water came to her knee. She waded out twenty miles from the Island. The water rose only to her waist. She knew of the direction the boat had come from before it crashed. She had a strong inclination which way was home. She hoped everyone would be surprised to see her.

  She started swimming....

-     -     -

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