Years passed...

Drew watched the giant world pass him by. As far as he knew, the chemicals were never made public knowledge by his old professor and he was left as a missing person. He wasn't missing though, or at least he knew where he was.

Wherever Jessica told him to be.

She and John had broken up not long before they both went away to college. In her last year of high school, Jessica's prospects might have improved largely thanks to Drew being forced to do her work for her but they were never going to wind up at the same school anyway. They wanted different things.

Jessica ended up in the Business program at a state school, and Drew was carried along with all her other belongings. For the first two years, he had been kept hidden in drawers so that her roommates wouldn't find out about him. Those first two years were hell.

The giant girl would carry him about in her backpack or purse or pocket most of the time. The only time he saw light was when he was sitting on an enormous textbook or notebook, being forced to either learn the material for her when he didn't know or do her work for her when he did. She even managed to smuggle him into most of her exams, stuffed inside the hood of her hooded sweatshirt so he could talk in her ear. Of course, that was only for the courses she needed to take outside of her major, and the slightly more difficult math requirements that were part of her degree.

By her junior year, Jessica had started to change. She was more serious, focused, and leaned on Drew academically less and less.

The giant had started living at her sorority house with a bedroom all to herself so she no longer had to fear for his discovery. For the first time in two years, he was allowed to live somewhere else than a dark drawer. Not that he was much happier in his makeshift bachelor pad of a shoebox with some doll furniture in it. His bed was still an old pair of her panties, because she couldn't let the joke that he was a 'dirty pervert,' ever really die, and he still had to shit in an old bottle cap then clean himself off in a different bottle cap.

It wasn't as bad as watching her life go by before his very eyes though.

From his vantage point on the floor of her bedroom he would watch as she stomped about, barely awake in pajamas, only to come back a short time later refreshed and wearing whatever outfit she had decided upon. Normally, she dressed very casually in jeans and a t-shirt from some Greek Life event, but Drew frequently found that she wore short dresses or business attire.

He still never knew what to make of Jessica as she stood above his shoebox home, staring down at him with her blond hair up in a business-like bun, a conservative blouse, and a pair of tailored slacks. Every time it happened, Drew swore that her face was becoming more bored with him, more disgusted with his pathetic way of living off her scraps.

Days would fly by without so much as a taunt from her.

In her senior year, Drew rarely if ever left the shoe box. When he did it was always to perform some demeaning task for her; polish her shoes, paint her nails, that sort of stuff. A few times, while she was eating a rushed dinner or lunch while going over some paper or reading, she had placed him on her enormous tongue and demanded that he get at some piece of gristle or the like that was stuck between her teeth. Every time it happened, Drew thought it was the end of him. That he would just be tossed down her wet and slimy throat to his death amidst her stomach acid. His final moments consisting of burning alive while being buried beneath a half-digested sandwich from the dining hall.

It didn't happen though. Still, he dreaded that it would. Trapped in his shoe box, Drew thought about his death a lot. Would she ever actually do it, he wondered? Or would this really be the rest of his life?

The morning of her graduation, Drew awoke as she rose and stumbled about, just like always. Her groans echoed throughout the room told Drew that she was hungover, a fact that didn't surprise him given the way she had stumbled back in the night before.

A drunken giant was a terrifying thing, Drew had learned over the years. Most of the time she forgot he existed but a few times, she had decided to pretend she was Godzilla and his little shoebox was Tokyo. He had awoken to her heavy footfalls only to quickly find her looming over his home, legs akimbo, dress off-kilter, and hair a mess. Every time she had done it, she had said, “Roar!” Before stomping her foot down and crumpling a section of the cardboard wall. Drew would panic, terrified that he would end up beneath her sweaty foot, and each time she would laugh as she proceeded to stomp and kick his plastic doll furniture. When his house was mostly destroyed, she would often become disinterested, mumble something about how pathetic he was, and then flop onto her bed.

Last night, Drew had awoken to the sounds of her drunken footfalls to quickly find her squatting over him. Her eyes were wide, as if she were seeing him again for the first time. Drew didn't say anything, he knew better than to talk to her in that state, lest he provoke a drunken attack. “Drew,” she asked quietly, before poking him hard with her giant index finger, “Are you awake?”

The finger shoved him out of bed before pressing him into the floor, all from her drunken misdirected strength. “Y-yes,” he coughed out, trying to take in breath while she loomed above him.

“Drew...” She sighed heavily, “Am I still pretty?”

He gazed up at her, and blinked.

“Like, do you still... think about me? Like the way you did in high school?”

Drew had no idea what to make of the giant woman's words. He looked up at her, and took her in for a moment. If anything, he found that she was far more attractive than she was in high school, though he had to admit she was one of maybe two or three girls he saw on a regular basis. Still, she was more mature looking now, much more of a young woman than the bratty teenager who had first imprisoned him. Her hair was a little longer, her skin still tan and flawless, and her body was still athletically toned. On top of all of that though, Drew didn't want to get crushed beneath the heels that dangled in her hand. “Of course, Jessica,” he answered, nervous about using her first name but figuring it would help.

“Good,” she said before rising up to a standing position. The giant girl yawned as she dropped her heels causing Drew's whole world to shake, “You should clean those up a bit tomorrow, my friend Stephanie was puking earlier.” Jessica then walked over to her bed, and Drew heard her dress fall to the floor, then he watched while her bra sailed over his shoe box. Clearly, Jessica was not going to be wearing pajamas that night.

Now Drew listened as she lumbered out of the room, muttering and cursing to herself for drinking too much the night before. He wasn't really surprised though, Jessica had spent most of her academic career putting fun and drinking ahead of most things. The only thing she had put ahead of that was graduating with a job, and she had already netted herself a position at some fancy consulting firm. That job was mostly thanks to her sorority connections though, so she got it by drinking and having fun.

It bothered Drew for so many reasons. The memories he had of his brief experience at college, back when he was big, had been filled with hard work and studying. Her first few weeks at school had been filled with partying and rush events. Most of her time in college had been fairly lax, yet from the sounds of it, her starting salary was affording her a pretty nice apartment to herself. Meanwhile, Drew would have been toiling away as a grad student if he wasn't stuck in her shoebox, probably living with two or three other people just to cover rent.

It didn't take long for her to return, and her voice thundered above, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, how could I forget to set an alarm?!” She rushed about the room, and Drew was thrown from his bed as her heavy footfalls made a constant quake through the floor. A few minutes later, and she was looming high above him, tying off her still wet hair into a bun on the back of her head.

Jessica really did look beautiful, a string of pearls bright against her tanned skin, a simple summery dress hugging her in just the right places, and her few touches of make up. High above him he watched as she shrugged on the simple graduation gown and cap. She then looked down at him, and smiled, “It's a big day, little guy.” Jessica then squatted down, and for a moment, Drew thought she was going to thank him for everything he had done to ensure she got into this school and graduated from it. His hopes were dashed as he was dumped in front of the heels she had dropped on the floor the night before, “Get these clean by the time I'm done with the ceremony. My family's going to take me out to dinner and then we're going to start packing this place up. My Mom bought me those shoes and I know she'll want to see me wear them at dinner if I'm not wearing them at graduation. Alright? Great.”

Drew watched as she spun about, her feet in a pair of thin black flip flops that thwacked against her skin as she went. He watched her walk away, still amazed with how self-centered and arrogant she could be even after all of these years.

His gaze then turned to her heels, a pair of shiny black pumps with a peep toe... probably so she could show off the wonderful job he had done painting her nails a brilliant crimson. Drew sighed when he saw the clumps of dirt and grass that had stuck to the bottoms from her walking across campus. He started by prying and brushing those away, only to find the dried splashes of vomit that her friend Stephanie had apparently left. He had to scrape and peel the foul smelling concoction of dried booze and bile off of the shoes before polishing them again.

By the time he finished, Drew lay panting and sweating on the floor, gazing up at the black heels. It was always humbling to lay in their shadow. It really drove home his place in life, at Jessica's feet, to be dwarfed by a pair of her shoes. For a moment, Drew remembered the first time he had experienced that feeling, with those damned sneakers, and he bemoaned the fact that he had ended up in this situation at all. All he wanted to do was get a few embarrassing pictures of a girl who had treated him like shit, and instead she enslaved him.

Drew couldn't forgive McCreary either, for being such a pompous son of a bitch. From the sounds of it, because Jessica and he still talked and one of the few demeaning things she would do to Drew still was tell him how good John was doing, John was pretty much lining up to be the next Nerd King of the World. He already had a book published, had a huge twitter following, and he already had a job lined up with Marvel or DC (Jessica could never remember). On top of that, he was apparently dating some cool indie rock girl whose band was blowing up or something.

“Fucking McCreary,” Drew muttered to himself as he gazed up at the shining black pumps that he had slaved over. There was his great accomplishment. No scientific advancements or personal accolades, a pair of clean fucking heels.

The floor quaked once more and Drew didn't bother to rise up from the ground as Jessica thundered about. She kicked off her flip flops and then walked over to where her heels sat, shining in the light of the afternoon. “Oh, perfect,” she announced as if the shoes had been cleaned by magic. Drew watched as her huge wrinkled sole rose above him and then delicately slid into the pump, her toes wriggling and their painted nails shining in the sunlight. She pranced about for a moment, inspecting the heels as she did before saying, “God, most of the time, new shoes like these pinch my feet but these things are ridiculously comfortable.” Appraising herself in a nearby full length mirror, Jessica announced, “And they make my butt look so nice. I am going to kill it on the DC dating scene in these things.”

Drew lay there, disinterested in the giant's prattling. He didn't care how well Jessica would do in any dating scene. The parade of enormous fraternity brothers over the past two years had been enough for him, while the one steady boyfriend she had had in college was from a time when he was trapped in a drawer for most of the time. Drew was more than happy about that. He didn't need a repeat of the terrifying 'threesomes,' McCreary had talked her into late in their senior year of high school.

“Speaking of killing it,” Jessica said plainly.

Suddenly the heel was hovering above him. “Holy hell!” He screamed, rolling out of the way as it crashed down where he had been laying. Drew jumped to his feet and started running as the heel smashed down on to the floor of Jessica's room once again. He looked back to see Jessica's bright blue eyes narrowing down at him, a look of pure disgust on her face. “What the fuck?!” He screamed as he started running, already wheezing with effort.

“What? Did you think I was going to keep you forever you little fucking bug?” Jessica asked as she slammed her heel-clad foot down again, narrowly missing him. “You stopped being useful around the time I finished my major's calculus requirement.” Another smash, this time it sent Drew sprawling forward, and he then struggled to stand and keep running. “I don't even know why I've been keeping you around for the past two years. Pity? I guess? I mean, all you do is sit in a fucking shoebox. You don't even try to escape or anything. It was just so sad.”

Drew stumbled, unable to catch himself as he hit the hard floor below. He wheezed and coughed, he hadn't run this hard in years. His whole body was already covered in sweat.

“Not as sad as this though. I mean, Jesus,” Jessica strutted forward, the click and boom of her strides ensuring that Drew stayed on the ground. “It's been years and you still can't run to literally save your damn life.” Drew looked back over his shoulder as Jessica raised her gigantic foot and waved down at him, “Bye, perv. You've been useful but it's all over now.”

“NO!”

Drew raised his arms in an attempt to ward off the enormous shoe but it hit with such force his arms snapped and then his body collapsed in on itself. Jessica let her foot go right through the bug man, watching as his blood splattered on either side of her shoe. Carefully, to make sure he was dead, she ground the ball of her foot back and forth like she was putting out a cigarette. Jessica lifted her shoe off the ground and looked at its underside. Instantly she said, “Eww, gross. Why did I even...” Jessica shook her head, grabbing a tissue from her nightstand and getting her shoe clean with one swipe.

As she cleaned off the rest of Drew's remains with the other side of the tissue, she wondered how long it would taken him to get all those blood and guts off her shoes. “Too fucking long,” she announced with a laugh. She dropped the tissues into her old shoebox that had served as Drew's 'apartment,' and then lifted it up into the air. With delightful glee she smashed the box inward, crushing the tiny man's few meager possessions like the toys they were until it was a ball of cardboard and broken plastic.

Jessice Bloom laughed as she tossed the now crumpled old shoebox in the trash, strutting out of the room to go meet her parents for her graduation dinner.