It was 9:30 PM on a Friday night. I had a full night ahead of me, no future responsibilities to put a time limit on my night owl ventures. It was a scenario that I could only dream of sitting at my desk in the work week. But now I can’t do it.

I can’t jack off anymore.

I’d be hard pressed to tell anyone why I get off on the things I do. It probably started with feet… no, it definitely started with feet. Feet porn had sort of a natural progression to giant-people porn. After all, it was what normal-sized people mostly saw of them. Of course it’s way too much effort to really dissect the matter and find out why exactly I got aroused. Well, thinking about it, I know why I got aroused. It’s because I’m a fucking porn addict and could probably get off to just about anything if I watch enough videos of it.

As far as I know, I’ve never touched a girl’s foot before. But I always imagined they would be soft. So a giantess’ foot must be like a plushy wonderland. And even though some people like the thought of the smell, that’s just nasty. If the wonderland smelled like a gym it would be hard as fuck to enjoy it. So even on the simplest level it’s a fantasy.

I have tons of videos and stories torrented onto my laptop, from all over the place. The gentle stuff isn’t bad but it was the hostile that really kept me jerking. There were two types of giantesses from my experience: the Insider and the Outsider. 

Insiders were people who used to be ordinary but then, through some extraordinary (and/or ridiculous) means become giants. The scientist who accidentally discovers her potion has unintended side effects. The college girl who discovers a powerful meteorite that imbues her with power. In almost every case, the girl would then go insane, regardless of who they used to be, and go on a rampage. No one would be spared, they would be slaughtered as if they didn’t use to be her neighbors and co-workers. These stories were good because it gave the story some urgency. It’s like I’m watching live, somewhere far away where it couldn’t possibly hurt me but I can watch people be turned into a sorority girl's’ lunch, toe jam, vibrator, etc. It could feel real even though the people were usually blatantly not acting like people.

Outsiders aren’t human. They come from somewhere else, but just happen to look like human girls (bonus points if they don’t have the concept of clothing). Some alien teens who use Earth as their vacation spot. A goddess who sees humanity as a pest and exterminates them when they encroach her territory. These stories were good because I’m a human, and being a human against these girls is helpless. That was part of the kink, after all. I’m not a giant alien teeny-bopper, or a goddess. And that difference meant that if either of those things were to show up, I’d be fucked, maybe literally. There was no fighting either of them. If Tara Starr (a character of my own creation; one of the giant teen partiers) happened to pick me among the crowd as an addition for her martini (the most original giantess execution method I’ve thought up), then that was it. I’m flavoring her drink.

Now that I think about the intricacies of my… ‘tastes’, I start feeling a little nice. Like I’m almost there. But it goes away. I can’t keep it up. Not since Jessica.

In a vacuum, the idea of her was exciting. A giant girl running around stark naked, feeding on the cities she passed. An image popped into my head of Scarlet Johansson (yeah, not my favorite but I like Marvel movies so she always ends up there) seductively pushing a screaming man into her lips, licking her fingers and staring dead into my eyes. Walking with a swing in her step, chuckling to herself when the steps became squashes, because she couldn’t be bothered to let them get out of the way. 

But, unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. She took me by surprise. It wasn’t anything like I imagined a giantess would be in real life. She did have a pretty good body, knowing now that she was a model, but there was no place to enjoy it on that scale. It was hard to comprehend she was even human. She wasn’t pristinely clean as I (come to think of it, why would she be?) imagined nude giantesses to be. In fact, she was coated with dirt. Her feet especially, were literally dripping with dust, dirt, rubble, blood, and who knows what else. In my imagination I used to like to think that giantesses would keep their feet clean by stealing a handful of people and enslaving them to lick at their toes. Seeing what it would actually look like to stomp through a city, the thought of bringing my tongue anywhere near that shit makes me wanna barf.

And the context made it worse. Her feet were anything but soft. They were more like planks of concrete that randomly pressed the ground. Cold and uncaring, they turned everything underneath them to goop. It didn’t matter if you were successful or down on your luck, rich or poor, male or female. If you fell under her step, or her step fell on to you, you were dead. And she would never notice, she would go on without even a moment’s hesitation. They (we) were truly insects, but it didn’t make me feel the good kind of helpless. It was just terrifying.

Then she would kneel down, or sit down, like a mountain was crumbling to the ground. Everything would shake, because the whole world was at her knees and had to move out of her way. She would start eating. That was the big scare with Jessica. And it was probably the furthest from sexy she ever got being a giant.

It was not done with any attempt for civility, no silly ‘table manners’. Not even any sultry teasing. Someone was caught between two tree-trunk fingers and flew up in the air. Her mouth opened, took them, and chewed them to paste. Rinse and repeat. Part of the giantess kink, I guess, was that the kills felt personal. It was you (me) she wanted to squish under her soft bare feet. It was you (me) she wanted to eat up like a little treat. But none of that was here. She was eating humans like I might eat potato chips. Blankly and routinely. It made my knees jelly. And I have to stop fondling myself, because it’s just not a good feeling anymore.

Most of the scenes in those flicks of bikini models knocking down cardboard buildings blend together. Any girl, any place. But this one stuck with me ever since. The first time seeing a giantess didn’t excite me. The first time I saw her in person.

She was leaving New York, walking down the sidewalks. It was like a cruel fucking joke, the whole street was open but she chose the path that would turn the most people to slop. I was trying to leave, I work(ed) down there. And everything was boom, boom, boom. I may as well not hide the facts; I was a mess. Crying, heart racing, stumbling on myself. And this was before I knew where she was or what direction she was going. 

At the time, I had cursed myself for still being in that city. I had known she was close, but the evacuation point closest to me was pretty far, and I didn’t feel comfortable potentially running into her on the way. So I gathered some essential supplies and went the opposite direction, just to hole up somewhere until things blew over. Now I know that that plan had saved my life; the bridge I would have needed to cross was her dinner table that night.

She had then been reported as leaving, so I thought it safe to head back home. At least just to get the rest of my things and do a proper move. But she either dodged the news, or I did, because she suddenly had turned around and was right on top of us again. Maybe I was stupid after all. But, can you really blame me? I just fucking ran.

I had lost track of where I was before long, trying to stay afloat in a sea of people. Everywhere, everyone pushed and fought with tooth and nail. I had always thought the way those scenes of fleeing devastation in cinema were so overblown, but it was even worse. People were actually fighting each other for a way out. They fell to the ground as they were pushed into the sides of buildings and light posts. In a panic, they would make a break for the street, only to promptly be bowled over by cars that didn’t spend a second to think to stop.

All the screams around me rose as the quaking sounds intensified. I couldn’t help myself, I turned around. And then, I screamed too.

Somehow, in that brief span of time, she had managed to close the distance. Where before she was just a noise on the horizon, now I was just a few feet away from her… well, feet. Her stride, by sheer luck, had been placed just behind me. And she hadn’t stopped as I soon saw, as the front side of the foot prepared for takeoff. It pressed deep into the ground with a sickening crunch. I couldn’t look away from the buckets of reddish-black viscera that oozed and spilled out of those who weren’t so lucky. Those who had missed the impact by even smaller a margin, shellshocked by the many hundreds of tons landing beside them, were slipping and falling into the puddle as she finally began to move on. For a brief moment, everything was dark as the foot passed over my head. A hideous stench wafted past in that moment. A graveyard flying overhead. 

I… just couldn’t move. It happened all over again with her other foot, which in comparison seemed so impossibly far away and still closed the gap with ease. I didn’t turn around, gratefully sparing me from seeing the faces of the people those next steps were dooming. 

But I stayed still for too long, and the crowd took me out. I fell, and I fell hard. Dizzy, I tried to crawl to somewhere safe. From down there I could see all sorts of shoeprints in the same ghastly color, as if the people fleeing had been doing the crushing. A woman tripped over me and I desperately pulled myself off the curb. I couldn’t tell if I was bleeding, or how badly I was hurt. I wasn’t thinking about it.

Instead, my gaze was locked dead ahead, where Jessica was at a complete stop. The fleeing crowd had turned on itself behind her ankles, piling up in a wild frenzy. Before her was just one man, who seemed to have a bum leg and had fallen behind the much larger crowd ahead. Tracing my eyes up her legs and over her ass, I could just see the incline of her head: she was looking directly at him. 

The man was yelling something, looking up as far as he could. Pleading. Asking for answers. I don’t know if she could hear him. 

In any case, she decided to keep moving. And she continued to watch him - intentionally, maliciously - as he disappeared under her foot. With the man dead, her normal pace returned. 

That was the moment where all this fell apart. The interest was gone. The fetish… was gone. Before, it had been easy enough to dismiss the bad actors screaming into a green screen as just made-up nonsense. But now… I knew what that was like. I did know what it felt like to be that small and helpless. And… I couldn’t get excited by reliving it. It just made me feel hollow.

At the end of the day, I was really fucking lucky. My family wasn’t in the area, so I didn’t lose anyone. She hadn’t targeted buildings, so all my stuff was still here. I had some bad bruises and a cut or two from the fall, but nothing that stuck for long. The department store I worked at went through a major turnover - they had lost many, many employees in the attack - so I just left. I didn’t have much of a connection to that place anyway.

Now I work as a designer. It pays decently, and is kinda what I really wanted to be doing anyway. All in all I’m not in a bad spot. But like I said, I’m a bit of a porn addict. I like to get a good rub in at the end of the day, and now I can never get away with that. It should be a good thing, but fuck me it sucks. I think about being aroused all the time at work. But what is there to be aroused about? Everyone else at work is talking and making jokes like she never was there. It’s stupid, but it makes me… kinda feel alone. Stuck in the past, I guess. 

I keep coming back here and trying, hoping that eventually I would get to think like that and just start beating it to giantesses again. But here we are.

God, I need to start seeing people.

“What’s this about?” was the first thing my dad said coming into the office. My heart sank in my chest seeing his face; he did not want to be here.

“Jared has been disrupting class multiple times,” Principal Olstein explained. “Telling obscene stories to his friends. His teachers have explained multiple times that there are topics not appropriate for the classroom. But he is eager to tell the story anyway.”

“A story, huh? What kind of story?” my dad pressed, a hand slipping subconsciously to his hip.

“It’s about the Jessica Attacks,” the Principal said with a sort of scary finality. 

I thought that when he said that, my dad would get it. He’d sort of smile and be relieved that this was nothing serious. But by the looks of it he got really, really mad. 

“Really?” He put a hand behind my back. It landed on the back of the chair I was sitting on, but I felt it in my stomach. “Care to explain, Jared?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat: was this a trick question? Would I just get in trouble again for saying the story?

“Uh… but…” I nervously started to plead, but I was quickly stopped.

“It’s alright, Jared,” the Principal was assuring me. “You can tell him. I think this is something he will need to properly understand if it’s going to get fixed.”

Using the corners of my eyes, I tried to get a read on what my dad was thinking. The furrowed brow, slight scowl, and eyes locked dead-on gave me the idea that I might be better off not knowing for sure.

“Well, uh… okay...”

*************************************************************************************************************

I was talking to Devon and Richard at lunch. Y’know, like I usually do, I’m sure you see me with them at that table all the time… but anyway, we were talking. I don’t remember exactly how they brought it up, but I think Devon said something like,

‘Hey, see that cheerleader over there? The blonde one up against the wall?’

He was talking about Linsey, I think. So we looked over to her for a little bit and said yea, and he was talking about how pretty she was. He really wants to ask her out one day but I don’t know if it’s ever going to work out that way… but really what he said is,

‘Look at the size of her boobs,’

*************************************************************************************************************

“Now, that’s hardly appropriate,” the Principal interjected uncomfortably.

“Well, it was something like that, anyway, it may not have been exactly right,” I hastily corrected, to make him feel at least a little better about it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, just keep going,” my dad urged from behind.

*************************************************************************************************************

I guess we did talk about that for a little bit. But it was nothing bad, we were just saying that she looks nice and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve talked to her a few times and she’s pretty cool, so I wouldn’t want to do anything that would make her upset or anything. 

Richard was the one that made it a competition. He’s just like that all the time.

‘I’ve seen bigger,’ he said. He was telling us about this girl that his stepdad knows who comes to visit sometimes, and how pretty she was. But she was way older so there was no trying to date her, or anything. There was a picture of her on Richard’s phone and she wears way too much makeup anyway.

Then Devon quickly started talking about a girl he saw in one of his brother’s magazines. I won’t talk too much about her because you probably know what I’m talking about and I don’t want to get in any more trouble.

But they started looking at me and saying things like, ‘Oh, I bet Jared’s never seen any good boobs’ and ‘You like tiny boobs, Jared?’. I didn’t ask for them to talk about boobs or anything, either, okay? But they wouldn’t stop until I told them something, so I told them something.

I told them that I had seen bigger boobs, I saw the biggest boobs ever, and I saw them way up close.

It was kind of a long time ago but we were being filed out of school for an early recess and there was a huge woman a few blocks away. The giant one, Jessica, right? I told them that she was walking by, which she was, and when she noticed me she stopped hurting people and crouched down to talk to me. 

If you really want me to repeat all the details, I will. I told them that she got down so close to the ground that they squeezed together. They were all squashed and still like a hundred feet high. I told them that… well, this part isn’t true, but I told them that she let me touch them.

Okay, I told them a lot of things that didn’t actually happen. I just felt like they needed to think that it actually happened. They thought I was so cool. And it was only half way a lie. I never saw her hurt anyone. I’m pretty sure no one at school did. I don’t think I scared anyone, and that’s the reason they say not to talk about her. 

Dad, you know it happened, right?

*************************************************************************************************************

“It happened,” he admitted. “And you were extremely lucky that you made it out in one piece.”

“Dad, it wasn’t a mistake or something, she talked to me! She chose not to hurt me.”

“You couldn’t have known she would make that choice. No one could have. I would never blame you for it, you just didn’t know any better. But now you should.”

“We were just talking about her.” I kept waiting for the moment where he finally understood, but it looked like he was in one of those moods where you can never change your mind.

“You shouldn’t be, Jared. It’s no different than any other bad thing that happens on the news. You’ve learned about a few disasters already. You know not to talk about them like that. What’s different about this one?”

“There’s a girl in this one,” was my simple answer. “A girl that talked to me and nobody else.”

“So you see the problem,” the Principal sighed, the only noise in the room after my retort.

“You said he was disrupting class,” my dad brought up as if I wasn’t even there. “I’m guessing this lunch story isn’t the first time he’s talked about it?”

“The particular incident that brought you here today was in Mrs. Rochelle’s English class. She overheard him bragging about the encounter to some of the other students.”

My dad gave me a stink eye and I panicked. I hated it when he gave me that look. It made me feel trapped. It always made me feel like nothing I could say would fix things once his eye looked that way. So I just said what I thought.

“What’s it matter if people hear me talking about it? It’s not like she can come hurt people again.”

“Mrs. Rochelle lost her mother to the attacks!” the Principal blurted. I had never heard him sound angry until that moment, nevermind directed at me. The heat of his voice filled my cheeks and I noticed I was starting to cry.

“I… well, I… I didn’t know that…”

“You can’t know how these things affect everyone, Jared,” my dad said in his typical ‘gotcha’ voice. “That’s why you shouldn’t talk about them as if they don’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as earnestly as my cracking voice allowed. “I won’t do it again.” My dad just exhaled from his nose.

“Is this going to affect his grade? Or his graduation, or anything?”

“No,” the Principal said, giving us both some relief. “All I ask is that you and him have a conversation about this and come to a compromise. I can help get you in touch with some traumatic stress specialists if you deem that necessary.”

“I don’t think it will be. But thank you, really. Come on, Jared.”

I stood up from the chair and took one last glance at the Professor. The anger didn’t seem to stick around on his face for long, but he didn’t look happy either. He gave me a brief nod that I was too stuck in my head to react to. I didn’t even feel like I was moving until the door to the office closed behind me.

“It’s alright, Jared,” my dad said quietly. We were still walking but he answered the question I hadn’t even asked him. “I know it’s a lot. It’s not as if it’s your fault, or that you could have stopped it. You just need to let people move on.”

“So… you aren’t mad at me?”

“I’m a little mad at you, but not that much. I think this was punishment enough. But…” he stopped in his path and leaned on one of the lockers so we were more face to face. “From now on no more bragging about this stuff. I know you remember the stuff I did about Jessica but it wasn’t anything special. You don’t need to try to convince people that it is.”

“But…”

“No buts. Jessica was giant, but she was just a giant person. There’s nothing special about having talked to her or seen her or whatever. There are some people that you won’t be able to convince and that’s fine. Just… move on, okay?”

“I just think she wasn’t lying when she told me those things,” I sputtered out. “I think it was all just a big mistake.”

“Maybe it was. But that doesn’t make it right. She did far more harm than good.”

“You were the one who said she saved the town! From the bombs, remember?”

“Hey!” my dad said, leaning in quickly, his voice quickly taking a turn for the worse. “Don’t say things like that out loud!” he growled in my ear. “No one saved anyone. Things just… worked out.”

“But if she didn’t do what she did, then…” I let my voice trail off to signify what I meant.

My dad sighed and backed away. He continued walking to the main door, me silently following by his side.

“Then yes,” he said after a few moments. “It would have been bad. But it only got to that point in the first place because she attacked. You see how it’s different? How it’s not really about a hero here?”

“But she tried,” I said. I meant for that to be my last point, but it hooked dad harder than I thought it would.

“I know she tried, but… ugh, it’s just not something you should try to figure out. She had really, really, really dumb reasons for doing what she did. She was sorry, yes, you are right. But it was too little too late. Even if she stayed, and we got used to her, where would she live? What would she do all day? It was going to end that way from the start.”
I thought about that for a little bit, and felt pretty bad. Dad was right. We couldn’t make giant houses or giant dinners or giant bathrooms.

The rest of the walk was super quiet. I was kind of freaking out a little bit… I had messed up super bad. What was I gonna tell Devon and Richard tomorrow? Should I apologize to Mrs. Rochelle? Or would that just make things worse?

Once we got outside, and I could see dad’s headlights flash out from the parking lot, we stopped again for a second.

“Let’s make a deal, Jared.”

“Uh… okay…”

“I think you’ll like it. How about we tell mom this meeting was about a misunderstanding… like some punk tried to blame you for something they got caught for… and in exchange, I’ll stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. Deal?”

I smiled and wiped at my damp face. 

“Deal.”

*************************************************************************************************************

Why Giants are Back, and Why it’s Worrying

By Lynn Perfelt

I don’t have to remind any of you what happened in the New York area in the month of April 2014. Jessica Tammy’s immense growth was a terrifying and humbling exercise against the strength of mankind. All of us, and all of our creations, monuments, and achievements, seemed to be invalidated by this one giant woman.

It was nothing short of a tragedy, and one of the worst our nation and our world has ever had to come to terms with. To tell the truth, I was never really satisfied with the blanket ban on the depiction of giant characters in the media as the only response. I had expected assurance policies, defensive protocols, laws, bills, anything that could stop this from happening again. 

I was sure that the appearance of a human being so titanic that she could rival buildings in height would have raised questions with our officials. That people far smarter than I had already worked out what made her that way, and were working together with lawmakers to put it to an end.

And, I thought for all this time that I was not in the minority for thinking this way. Unfortunately, with the recent uplifting of the ban, it seems I most certainly am.

As I said, I’m not offended by these ‘giant characters’, and in some ways I am rather glad that the ban is no more. Now more than ever they are a great creative tool for dealing with the feeling of helplessness. They are an anchor for us to lament and accept perceived weakness. And, poor Nintendo will no longer have to consider shelving their iconic Super Mushroom, or worse, relegating Princess Peach back to a story element rather than a playable character.

Even still, given that this was all we had learned from Jessica’s attacks, it is disheartening to see even that taken away. 

In my experience over the past few years I’ve noticed that many people seem unwilling to relate the Jessica incident to something like the September 11 Attacks or Pearl Harbor. Perhaps it’s because those attacks seem so much more human that we properly vilify them. Some even have the misconception that the tolls of the Jessica incident were not numerous enough to make a comparison. Ultimately, however, Jessica was a human, and we have no reason to believe she was not acting on her own will. She was, then, a terrorist.

I’m not insensitive to other’s feelings and can understand the disconnect between ordinary people and Jessica. At an estimated six hundred feet tall, an appetite for people, and a hauntingly primal lack of clothing, she was in no way like us.

The problem is that making that distinction is dangerous. Do we really have the capacity to draw that line? Should we? If mechanisms exist to make something like Jessica a reality, there’s no telling what other supernatural powers or abilities might come out of society. And if we make these abilities a cause for punishment, we severely limit our potential for innovation in individual potential. The American superhero dream could die.

My call is not to legalize being a giant, it is to put that aside and judge the individual. There’s reason to believe that the incident would not have happened if the giant was someone else. The size was not the deciding factor in the crimes, it was the girl herself.

What we need are limitations.

I have a sinking feeling that all of this is simply passing by us because the governments hope that one day we will simply forget this ever happened. Never again would we question just why Jessica Tammy was a giant for those few weeks. I will always be the first to doubt conspiracy theories, but the silence is damning.

I’m sure there are people who have or would like to forget about Jessica. I don’t blame them necessarily. But I won’t be forgetting any time soon. I’ll continue to remember until someone assumes responsibility and tells us what happened. There’s no point in trying to keep it a secret any longer; rather, we should hear out what it was that turned Jessica huge, and we should get confirmation of new limits placed upon that method or infrastructure.

However, as I write this, giant women are not only back, they are becoming a trend. Movies, TV shows, and video games have glorified the figure of a giantess, and it is working. The film ‘Carnal Hunger’ stars Alice Greczyn as a titaness in what can only be described as a shameless ‘same but not the same’ adaptation of Jessica’s attacks. And it’s made a profit.

So people haven’t forgotten then, instead, they’ve glorified it. It’s a fanatical appeal now. I’ve found this to be a trend; go on any Internet forum and you’ll surely find jokes and widely shared images that make light of September 11. We still don’t really think of Jessica as real yet.

My worry and reason for writing this is that if something solid and concrete is not done about the attacks in the past, something similar will happen again. If we have really learned nothing, I shudder to think of what might happen in a repeat incident, where a giant who wishes to cause harm has learned from Jessica’s mistakes.

So I urge you to contact your local representatives and let them know that Jessica was real, and the damage she inflicted still exists. It would be poetic for them to be punished by the problem they continue to ignore, but we all fall together.