Fuck. . .


She was home.


And by the way she slammed the door. . . I could tell she had a bad day.



I listened to her stomp around her apartment as I stayed sprawled on the small pillow that had been designated as my bed. I continued to sketch calmly on the tiny notebook she had given me, using the piece of pencil lead I had been allowed.


I was 100% sure that she would come bursting into her bedroom. . . The room she kept me locked up in, any minute and the deadly relationship between us would take it's hideous shape.


Right on cue, the door flung open and she thundered in. Our view of each other was obscured by her bed, but I knew that favorable situation wouldn't last. I heard her slam her purse down on her long, low dresser, and rummage with something else on it.


I decided to stay put, and just mind my own business. Sometimes this pissed her off. . . And sometimes it kept her off of my back. . . I had given up trying to tip toe around her months ago and realised that if she wanted to fuck with me. . . She would.


A second later, she appeared in my field of view. I don't know why, and I wasn't about to ask, but she was already damn near naked. Whatever clothes she had come in with moments ago were gone, and she was only in panties now. Her small, pale, perky tits were on display as she stared out her bedroom window.


Then she turned to me.


"What the fuck are you looking at?!" She snapped at me. . . . Typical.



I said nothing, and continued sketching the bird I had seen outside the window hours ago. This would be the moment of truth.


"Hey! I'm talking to you!" She said, and turned to me.


Still I sketched.


I didn't need to look up to know she was standing above me now. Probably irritated.


As expected, a giant hand flashed in front of me and snatched the improvised notebook out of my hand. I looked up in time to see her crumple it effortlessly in her fist, before tossing it on the floor, and grinding it underfoot.



She watched me closely, hoping for any type of reaction but I didn't oblige. Knowing it would piss her off even more, I only reclined on my pillow, putting my hands behind my head and looked up at her, a smug look on my face.



Her face turned bright red, and I knew I had her worked up now but it was all part of her game. I prepared for it, as she reached down and snatched the pillow out from beneath me, dumping me roughly on to the carpet. She casually tossed the pillow on to her bed and continued to glare at me.



Taking it up another level, I just curled into a ball, nuzzling my head into my hands and closing my eyes. I wanted to smile, but held off as she fumed above me.


"You're such a little asshole, you know that!" She shouted at me, and I prepared for a stomp or some other type of retribution, but it never came. .


To my surprise, I felt her walk away. . .


"That's fine!" She said in a way that a pissed off wife would say it, that lets you know you really fucked up. "That's perfectly fine."


I knew it wasn't fine. . . And I knew whatever she had planned was going to be shit for me, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of chasing after her.


Instead, I picked up the shredded pieces of my notebook, trying to piece together the sketch I had worked all day on. . . . It wasn't happening. It's funny how after living with someone for 6 months, even when you hate their guts, allows you to know exactly what makes them happy, or crushes their spirit. . . This was the latter.


It wasn't so much the art, but somehow it felt like symbolism for my freedom itself. It worked to remind me of the ever present fact that I was trapped here with seemingly no way out. I'll explain where "here" is when she's not around.


. . . .and by "she", i mean Zoey. . . . A.k.a my mortal enemy.

In the 2 minutes she had been home, she'd managed to destroy a whole afternoons worth of work.

I decided not to dwell on it, and started picking up the pieces of the exchange. At exactly 1 foot tall, I was able to climb most things in Zoey's apartment, Her full sized bed included. With some effort, I crested the side, and walked over to get my pillow. It was a work, but I was able to get it back off of her bed, and on to the floor. I climbed back down, and situated it back in the corner where she had taken it from me.

I layed down on it and closed my eyes. It was then that I noticed the delicious aroma emanating from the kitchen. Zoey was cooking. . . . Which was suspicious by itself.

Men didn't like Zoey for any number of understandable reasons: She was bland looking, her body was nothing to write home about, her personality was terrible and also. . . .She never cooked. If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, she lost her map along time ago. . . . But here she was now, preparing something amazing. . . . The whole thing stunk like a set up.

20 minutes later, she called to me.

"Dinner's ready, fuckface!" She called, in her sweetest pet calling voice.

I hated it. But I also knew if I didn't come when she called, I would regret it.

I walked slowly out of her bedroom, I down the short hallway to the living room and there she was. Sitting on the couch, tits out, stuffing whatever was making the amazing smell into her mouth. I made my way to her feet and just waited.

She finished her mouthful before she spoke to me.

"Doesn't that smell fucking awesome dude?" She asked, wiping her mouth on her bare arm.

. . . . Disgusting.

I said nothing. I didn't like talking to her most days. Only when it was completely necessary.

"I suppose you want yours huh?" She asked, putting her fork down and reaching for something on her plate.

I just stared at her, unamused, but my eyes did light up when I saw the slice of wheat bread she was holding. That was short lived.

Without even giving me a false sense of hope, she crushed me. I watched in disgust as she licked the bread up one side, and down the other. Zoey knew I was a germaphobe, and she also knew she could make me eat anything with enough force. She had me in a bad way, but still she decided to push me further.

She reached down to hand me the bread, but just as I went to grab it, she pulled it back and stuffed the whole piece into her mouth in one swift motion. I watched in horror as she began to chew, mashing the bread into a grainy, wet mess. She purposely chewed with her mouth open so I could see my dinner being prepared.

"Listen. . . I feel bad about squashing your drawing earlier so let me help you with this." She offered with her mouth full.

I had to close my eyes for a moment to keep composed. When I opened them, she put the final nail in my filthy, disgusting, mushy, coffin.

I fell to my knees as she lifted her bottle of sickening v8 vegetable juice to her lips, looking me dead in the eyes the whole time. She let out a giggle before she let the fluid enter the mix. I had to look away as she made a show of swishing the juice in her mouth, before she swallowed it and finally spit the wad of bullshit into her palm.

"This is going to be so tasty and nutritious! I'm almost jealous!" She said cheerfully as she shaped the mush into a ball of brown and red sewer shit. Finally, she offered it to me.

"Eat up!" She said, dropping it onto the dirty carpet at her feet, before returning to her own meal.

I stood my ground.

"You aren't doing anything else until you finish the whole thing, so you better get started. NOM NOM!" She informed me.

I knew she wasn't kidding either. She had forced me to eat in the past and I knew she would see it through to the end if I fought her in the least. I had a war to win, so this little battle wasn't of the utmost importance.

I swallowed my pride, and began to eat.

As disgusting as the regurgitated wheat bread with v8 sauce was, what really made it bad was the fact that Zoey more or less ignored me for the rest of the night. I knew she wouldn't let me stop eating, but she wasn't going to acknowledge me until I quit.

She is such a fucking bitch.

Finally after another 3 hours of eating against my will, she finally decided to go to bed.

"That mess had better be gone in the morning, shithead." She spat at me, before heading off to her room. I was relieved to see that she at least left her door open, so I could sleep in my own bed tonight.

"Oh it will be." I said to myself, as she turned out her light, leaving me in darkness. . .

An hour later, I finally layed down on my pillow, my work done. I couldn't wait until tomorrow.




8:46 a.m.

Zoey's alarm clock finally went off.


It woke me up too, and I was glad because I wanted to witness my hard work come to fruition. I watched as Zoey began to stir under her covers, and sit up. She slowly reached out and turned off the alarm before she froze in place, just staring at it.

"What. . . The fuck?" She said, confused.

She quickly checked her phone, which I had made sure to unplug from the charger, before I went to sleep. The screen remained black and I had to hold back a smirk as my plan had worked.

Zoey still wasn't detoured, and got out of bed and checked the clock on the stove.


8:51


"FUCK!" She shouted, and I felt the floor quake as she came rushing back into her room. Clothes flew everywhere, a blur, as she hurried to get her work clothes on. 2 minutes later she was heading for the front door. The grand finale.

Everything was going according to plan. first, I changed her alarm clock by an hour, not giving her enough time to make it, even if she rushed. The phone was an after thought, but I was glad I did it. Now, was the whole pay off.

I ran to the bedroom door and peeked around the corner. Just in time.

I watched as Zoey picked up her left work shoe and slipped it with no issue. Then she went for the right. . . .the moment of truth.

She got her whole foot inside the shoe before she realized something wasn't right.

"What the hell?" She said under her breath, and pulled her foot back out. Dinner was served. Her whole sock was covered in the mush she had forced me to eat the night before. Her face shifted to dark red as she realized what I had done.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" She screeched. I laughed as she hopped on one foot so she could take her sock off. She threw the soiled sock on the ground. Forgetting about the shit in her shoe, again she stuffed her foot in and was greeted with a satisfying squish.

I had to stifle a laugh, as she screamed with rage. Avoiding her attention, I slipped back into her room. I only heard the door open and close, followed by the lock and her foot steps running down the hall.

I'd pulled it off. Everything had worked perfectly! I knew that she would make me pay when she got home, but I figured maybe today was the day I found my way out of this prison. It seemed as good a day as any.

First things first. . . . I was going back to sleep.

That was when I heard it. . . .

Heavy foot steps coming back my way.

The door lock.

Open door


"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Zoey bellowed, slamming the door shut.

Fuck fuck fuck! I screamed internally. What was she doing back right now? She should have been half way across the city by now.

Oh well, I didn't have time to think about it as her stomps neared the door. I dove under the bed, just in time to see her feet come into view. If I wasn't about to be literally killed, I would have laughed at the sight of her one socked foot and one bare foot.

"GET THE FUCK OUT HERE, YOU LITTLE PRICK!" she screamed as she walked into the room and straight to my pillow.

I didn't see it, but I heard her pick up my pillow and slam it against the closet door, before I felt her drop to her knees and search under her bed. Luckily I had climbed up into the frame and was out of sight when she scanned the floor for me.

I could tell that not finding me instantly demoralized her, and she pounded a fist on the top her bed before standing up.

"I'm GOING to find you! You know why?. . . . Because I called in sick today!" Zoey exclaimed from somewhere above me.

My heart immediately sank. I hadn't thought about that. Even though she apparently hated her job, and her boss. . . . I hadn't seen Zoey take a sick day in the whole 6 months she had been keeping me captive. There wasn't any reason to believe she could just do it whenever. . . . . I was completely screwed.



"That's right, dipshit! I was going to be late anyway so I borrowed Mrs. Hadley' s phone and faked being sick. . . .you know what that means. . . . . . I have all day to kick your fucking ass! There's gonna be some fresh giantess content tonight!


[Content]


Great.

That was another thing I hated about Zoey.

She was a self proclaimed "fetish model" in her free time.

That meant that at any time, she could be in her spare bedroom/studio filming any type of weird content for her clips4sale store.

Being an artist by trade, when she found out, I was forced into painting and creating sets and props for her. While I honestly wanted nothing to do with any of it, it was better than what I was promoted to.

[Content]

[Giantess content] to be exact. And of all sorts. Gentle, violent, size humiliation you name it. After the first time we realized how durable my body was, the flood gates were open.

Hearing her now, I knew I had to avoid her at all costs until she cooled down.