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.