I’ll let you in on a little secret.

I love big and mature women. I do, I’ll say it. I love a woman with large child bearing hips and thick ripe tits. With their disgustingly overpowering floral perfume and motherly tones and oversized jewellery that reminds you of their presence before you can even see them. Women with big bones who can snatch me up by my ponytail and cradle me in their huge arms while I sink into their soft skin. One of my favourite features has to be that little pudge over their stomach, it gives their waist just a touch more weight. God yes. Seriously, with the amount of times my face has been unwillingly plunged into this sweet area during a hug, it’s no wonder I’m so obsessed with it. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself, I’ve been known to exaggerate.

During the Stannard introductory tour, when I first laid eyes on Eileen Bellinghart, my heart exploded. I could tell from a distance she was absolutely enormous, even while sitting behind her desk, she had a bit of fat to her face – perfect, a blonde shoulder length bob – exactly my type, and for the love of god, a set of tits that could bring a grown man to his knees. As you can imagine, my hand immediately shot up to ask her height, I couldn’t care less if I was too eager.

Get this. She’s 26 feet tall. Holy hell.

Size has become a prominent part of our society. The likes of education, prestige, fashion and humour remain relative, but size is the crown jewel. It’s powerful, it’s dominant, it’s commanding, it’s authoritative, it’s sexy. The larger someone is the more pull they have, no matter the circumstance. At school you listen to the biggest kid. At work you listen to the biggest boss. At a party you listen to the biggest in the room. They pull your attention and demand you never let it drift.

Remember this and remember it well, size reigns supreme and money is the root of all evil.

At the time of the tour, I’d never heard of anyone so big. My heart thumped in my chest and in that very moment, I decided I had to have her.

Unfortunately, my impulsivity often leads me into dangerous situations. Like the one time I kept my mouth shut when a nurse failed to notice me on the train. She shuffled over the seat, her ass was visible through the blue slacks, I spread my arms out to accept her weight as she collapsed on top of me. In the end I played it off like an accident and she apologised profusely.

I’m terrible I know.

Though in this case, I meandered away from the touring group and made my way down an aisle of cubicles that ascended in size. I tried to look like I had a purpose as to not arouse suspicion, but I could hardly contain my excitement when I began to hear Eileen’s voice boom above the droning murmur. Larger and larger, the whole place seemingly grew, the desks now huge wooden canopies flanking above, I only came up halfway to the employees shins now. The chatter and click-clack of keyboards far above me and the long carpeted hall was now filled with a busy mix of pumps and loafers as they stepped around, Eileen’s voice continued to boom orders.

A huge black heel stepped out in front of me and I crashed into it, smearing my face against the bottom of the giant’s calf as I regained my balance.

“Oh shoot, sorry down there,” a giant woman waved down at me.

“No apology necessary, I should’ve had my eyes open!” I shouted back.

“You’re too cute.” She scrunched her nose and stepped over me. I spun to admire the underside of her ass before continuing on.

It became plainly obvious when I reached Eileen’s desk that I had underestimated her true size. I ran my hands along the bottom of the dark oak desk, tiptoeing closer so I could get a peek at this blonde behemoth. I was barely five feet away from rounding the corner when I was thrown off my feet. A resounding thoom rang in my ears and another one rattled the floor, from behind the desk a giant red dress shoe swung out, slamming the carpet flat as its partner followed in tandem, I scuttled back to gaze upon the colossus. It was like she moved in slow motion, an audible woosh as her shoe left the ground, then an overpowering boom. Her footsteps rocked the whole office.

No wonder.

Supple pearly calves widened into thunder thighs, a grey skirt hugged her enormous ass. Probably manufactured in some Second factory, constructed by a desperate swarm of tiny people who couldn’t comprehend the monstrosity that would fill the expansive fabric they worked tirelessly on. She took another step and I watched in adoration as her backside shuffled and pulled the fabric tight. An employee had taken their place before her, a man who only came up to her stomach, and handed her a huge binder that would look small in her hands.

“Here’s the new employee handbook. Charlotte and I had another look over it, we didn’t tweak too much but I think you’ll like this version much better.”

“You’re a darl Tom,” came her deep motherly voice. And dear god, she bent over to gracefully relieve him of the heavy file. Her ass stretched toward the ceiling and her skirt rode up her cellulite-ridden thighs to reveal two chunky pillars that needed my face buried in them.

I was shaking as I pulled my phone from my handbag, how was I so lucky? Like I was slammed on stimulants I snapped as many photos as I could, first blurry but then focused once I controlled my breathing. From my angle, her ass stuck out like a round grey shelf over her wide thighs. I seriously couldn’t believe my luck. If only my shitty phone could take higher quality pictures.

After that, I just soaked in her immensity. Her shoes alone were the size of a shipping container, and as she turned to head back to her desk, I bit my lip as the leather creaked from her massive peds and the floorboards whined under her weight. Her slow lumbering movements made sense given what she probably weighed, I’d imagine in the many tonnes. It struck me with awe similar to what I felt when I gazed upon those skyscrapers. Her shoes thundered off behind the desk, their impacts blew my hair back and ruffled my clothes. An ear piercing creak as her desk chair strained beneath her.

I was in love.

So, I bee-lined to the toilet and did what you’d probably expect of me.

When I looked in the mirror after, I was disgusted. A little rat of a girl peered back at me, with messy brown hair falling all around her flushed red face. The little blue pin in her bangs hung loosely over her eye, timidly she took it off. There was acne on her chin and her thin lips were trembling. She quietly washed her hands and averted my gaze.

I really hate looking in mirrors.

After the tour, my mind was constantly on Eileen, I couldn’t erase the image of her bending over from my mind. And that image refused to leave my mind for the next few weeks.

During this time I was living my life as per usual, wake up, commute to work, dial, dial, dial, dial, dial, dial, dial, commute home, daydream, sleep, repeat. For the first time in my life, I had money coming in that was my own and it felt damn good. I dreamt of becoming the greatest telemarketer of all time, ascending the ranks at Stannard until I was the one walking down the aisles with ankle high workers at my beck and call.

I’d be the same size as Eileen, we could banter in the staff room, snicker to each other in meetings, run into each other on the weekend, and then I’d ask her out and we’d get dinner at an Italian restaurant on the river, a pesto gnocchi for me and a lamb shoulder for her. Little waiters that only came to our knees would lug massive bottles of wine onto the table for us and our laughter would rumble above the restaurants murmur.

I came into my second week of work with this newfound fantasy consuming my waking thoughts. It was a regular Wednesday as I boarded the elevator, scrambling to the sides as was expected of me, workers of all sizes filled the space. A man and a woman who must have worked in finance or IT as they towered over the rest, then a bunch of others who gathered around their hips and knees. I was pushed toward the back behind a younger lady who clearly worked in operations, where I had to turn my head so my nose wouldn’t bury itself in the back of her leggings.

A sudden impulse struck me as the doors opened to human resources and I ducked between her legs and ran out behind my larger colleagues. I stood there shaking as the doors closed behind me and giants lumbered toward their desks. If I was caught I’d be in a lot of trouble, the tour had very much stressed the importance of staying on the floor you worked in.

Then Eileen’s voice cut above all my worries.

“Morning everyone!”

Oh sweet beloved.

I opted to sneak under the cubicles instead of through the main thoroughfare. This introduced a new set of challenges though. The first few rows were no issue, I’d stick away from the giant’s leg and wait until no one was watching and dart to the next cubicle. But as I got closer to Eileen’s desk, where the giants were bigger, my mission became a lot more dangerous. It was easier to remain unseen, yet any mistake was costly. I was reminded of this when I was almost flattened beneath someone’s loafer.

My excitement was mounting and finally I made it. I crept around the enormous wooden structure, leaning a hand against it to support me from the tremors that proceeded from someone leaving their desk. Around the corner, Eileen sat with her legs crossed, her shoe dangled from her foot as she bobbed it up and down. My bed could fit comfortably in there. Maybe she’d let me rent if I asked. No, I had other ideas. I slipped my phone out, took a few paces back and zoomed in on her face, her eyes furrowed behind glasses as they scanned over documents on the desk. I snapped a few nice pictures of her, I will admit the angle was unflattering but what was I to do.

Part of me wanted to park up beneath her desk and admire her all day, but my supervisor would not have appreciated. I scurried beneath the desks toward the fire exit where I spent the next thirty minutes traversing flights of stairs, cardio has never been a strong suit of mine. Now with my clothes soaked in sweat I swung the door open to marketing and walked down the hall toward the cubicle block.

The hall had an endless window running beside you that looked out onto the finance section of the floor. The people who worked there were all a bunch of nepotism girlies and business bros who contribute in whatever way they do. It’s above me and frankly I couldn’t care less. They were huge though I’ll give them that, pleasant eye candy for my arrival.

I caught an elevator up the cubicle block. The block is a glorified ant farm where all us call consultants work, it’s built into the wall and has a glass pane that allows our supervisor to check in on us. From distance it almost looked like a huge desktop computer but instead of electronics inside it was tiny humans. There’s a variety of green and red lights covering the surface indicating whether a worker is at their desk or not, by this point a majority of them were green except for mine.

Next to my desk was the friend I’d made last week, her name was Stella. She was an artist who wrote garage punk and had recently started making her way in the industry, explains why she’s a head taller than me. She looked my way and made a funny face to what I imagine was in reaction to my blouse drenched in sweat.

Stella flicked her headset off and wrinkled her nose as I settled in beside her. “Man, you stink.”

“Blame the stairs.” I said.

“What, couldn’t reach the button?”

I fake laughed. “I have work to do.”

“Uh huh. We’re on Godotec again.”

I groaned. Godotec is a terrible campaign. We’re cold-calling small companies that have no budget for the service we’re providing. Doesn’t make sense right? I know.

“Any good news?”

“Greta isn’t in.” Stella directed her attention back to her screen. “I think she was looking for you.”

“Just my luck.” Turning my shoulder to her, I looked down at my phone and scrolled through the pictures of Eileen. I had scrolled through these photos hundreds of times at this point, admiring her ass and thighs and now with a picture of her face, I could go ahead with my plan.

It wasn’t hard to find Eileen’s number on the company directory. And as I opened a new message and typed her number my phone rattled out of my hands.

My butt jumped out of the seat a few more times until I could feel the overpowering presence of a giant behind me. I spun around to face the back window, now totally blacked out.

Who else but Greta Stannard, daughter of the CEO and the bane of my existence. I may struggle with time management but I make up for it, I do. The dark window folded in on itself and an endless stream of white fabric passed by until her makeup caked face hovered in place, her hazel eyes sneered down at me.

“Finally decided to show up Bishop?” Her voice shook the glass between us.

I bowed my head. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Funny, you said that yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that. Actually I think you’ve told me that every day since you started working here. Am I right?”

Smart ass bitch.

“You’re right. I’m ashamed of my actions. I’ll do better.” I pleaded, I doe-eyed.

“Yah, whatever. You’re on the clock, so shoo,” She brushed her hand at me. Luckily, she was too lazy for her own good, she just sits at her desk all day, snapping photos of herself when she pleases instead of writing me up for my tardiness. Self-absorbed and narcissistic would be the best way to describe the redhead. Besides, she’s too skinny for my liking.

Stella snickered as I did a quick walk of shame to my seat. “I think she’s got the hots for you.”

“Yeah, she can join the queue.”

I grabbed my phone from the floor and waved Stella back to work, she found my mannerisms funny apparently. I waited a few minutes and made some calls before we settled into silence. Downwards I glanced, attached to my message to Eileen was the many photos I’d acquired of her. I typed ‘From your secret admirer. S.’ and pressed send.

Over the rest of the week I impatiently kept checking my phone, waiting for a response that would never come and on the weekend I decided to try again. This time I took several shameless nude pictures of myself, my face excluded and sent them to Eileen with the message ‘What you’re missing out on xxx.’ There was no response.

I threw a rock at my bathroom mirror on Sunday night. I didn’t go to work on Monday or Tuesday and on Wednesday morning I sent another message that said, ‘My name is Sylvie Bishop and I’m in love with you.’ And then I went to work.

I was later than usual, arriving at a quarter to eleven and that foreboding email from Eileen waited in my inbox. When I opened it I became unstuck in time.

I’m stupid, I’m a genius.

Sylvie you’re a freak. Sylvie you’re too impulsive. Sylvie you harassed her. Sylvie you did too much.

Wrong.

I am merely an innovator.

At least, that’s what I was telling myself as I walked down the carpeted hall to catch the elevator down to HR. Did Eileen like what I did? She wanted to talk to me personally, right? Me? Or was she furious, was she going to destroy my life and kick me out onto the street, she did say this will not be tolerated. I didn’t know but my knees were knocking together. I asked a tall gentlemen to call the elevator for me and send me down to floor 33. Eileen’s personal office.

Maybe my heart would just give out and I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences to my actions. It certainly beat like it would. I only did this to avoid the future, Eileen could provide for me. I know she’ll love me.

Ding and the iron gates opened to hell. Towering bookshelves lined one side of the room with the other housing enormous filing cabinets. And right in the middle behind a monumental mahogany desk was my beloved Eileen. I left my body as she made eye contact with me. She clicked her pen and shot me daggers.

“Come in.”

It’d be rude not to comply so I stepped out the elevator and my shoes sunk into the Persian carpet. Eileen’s face disappeared as I neared the desk, there was a small lift on one corner of the structure, a touch too large for someone like me but I could work with it. I switched a lever and the platform rose.

I was gifted with the sight of her upper body, her arms crossed beneath her bust and a scowl that followed me as I shuffled past huge stacks of paper and a pen holder the size of my house. My nose twitched at the potent perfume emanating from Eileen.

“Miss Sylvie Bishop, hm?”

Her giant boobs stretched her blouse tight and swelled over me, engulfing me in their shadow. I’d never been confronted with something so large, I never expected there to be so much of her.

“89285710. That’s your phone number correct?”

“Correct.” I squeaked.

She leaned close, her elbows settled as her bosom spilled onto the desk and made my knees weak.

“Why did you send me those photos?”

“Because I wanted you to notice me.”

“Ha!” Her hot breath forced a step back. “You’re not very bright are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

A tense moment of silence as we stared into each other.

“I’m not sure where to even start,” she began. “You know I could escalate this with the police? What you’ve done is wholly disturbing and a total violation of my privacy. I have a husband I’ll let you know, and he's outraged. He wants you locked up, he thinks you’re a psychopath and I’d agree that you are. I can’t believe anyone would do such a thing. At first you frightened me I’ll be honest and when you sent me those pictures of yourself. Gosh, even more so, you’re sick that’s for sure. But once I settled, I begun to think,” she tapped her chin. “Huh, that camera angle sure was low and then when I looked at the photos again, I really noticed the angle this time. Then it hit me! I can’t believe I was letting a morsel of a person scare me. I mean look at you, a psychotic mind sure but trapped in a very small body, what is there to even lock up.”

Her huge finger prodded my chest, like a tree trunk pressing them flat. I fell over and she pressed down on my stomach and smudged me back and forth.

“You little people are vermin. I don’t know why we bother.”

She lifted her finger from me to let me speak. I wheezed breath back into my lungs and ambled on all fours.

“When was the last time your husband made love to you?”

“What?”

“I said when did your husband last make you cum.”

Contorted in disgust she scoffed. “That is none of your business Miss Bishop.”

“You can keep me as a secret. I’ll do anything you want Eileen. I’m yours 24/7. I want you, I need you. I’ll give you pleasure you could have never even imagine-”

The pad of her finger snapped my head back on the hardwood and I finally saw it.

My future.