I have a weird relationship with authority.

If I had to guess why, it’s likely got something to do with my upbringing. I read somewhere that often kids can become the opposite of their parents. And as for mine, well, they’re meek and obedient, born to be trod on and told what to do. They blend into crowds, stand hunched over, stumble on their words, get nerves when they answer the phone, say sorry for no good reason, don’t look you in the eye and for Christ sake, they can barely hold a conversation. It’s no wonder they’re two feet tall.

For some forsaken reason, on what I imagine was a particularly depressing day some twenty years ago, they decided to put themselves in debt to have me. Me, of all people. I’m not special, let me tell you, and even if I didn’t share their pint-sized stature, I would be totally and utterly ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes, pasty white skin with nothing else to write home about in any department. I’ve been described as ‘mouse-like’ by my peers, to which I say fair play but fuck you. I’m sure I’m destined to fade into obscurity and die in an old house next to an old sod who I never liked in the first place. But that’s beside the point.

As I was saying, my timid parents put themselves in debt to have me. Which in a world where money quite literally defines you, it comes across as rather bold. They were already struggling to maintain a spot in the Third when they added me to the mix. A screaming baby packed inside a miniature room that bordered the home of someone much larger. We moved a few times since then, but it always ended in the same situation. Some garden shed beside an enormous house, it was an unusual setup but my parents ran a personal cleaning business and would provide their services onsite, like I said, they were born to be subservient. On my fourteenth birthday, my dad finally convinced me to join them. I don’t have much to say about that time in my life other than I hated every minute of it. There’s something about a giant hag telling me to clean the stains from her toilet bowl that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t know what it is with our bracket’s people and being okay with living in their squalor. At least I hope you can see where some of my bitterness comes from.

Seeing I had ambitions outside of a personal maid, my parents enrolled me into a Public Threefive School. If there’s one thing I learned there: status matters.

What do your parents do?

Are you going to Sarah’s party?

I’m pretty sure our family is moving up!

She is so fucking tiny.

You’re in my way.

Why is she even talking to us?

Who let you in here?

Kiss my shoe.

Pathetic.

I’m small yes, there are people smaller than me sure, but when we’re talking about society, like human society, like with economics and justice and politics, you don’t get much smaller than me. It wasn’t long before this became very apparent. For the beginning of my schooling life I was ignored. To realise how unimportant you are at the age of twelve, it does a number on you. Most kids have dreams of stardom, saving the planet, helping people and animals and all the pure things children like to dream and I’m sure it’s easy to believe when your family can afford to let you believe it. Their thoughts while wondering the corridors were directed to the future, whether mundane or not, it didn’t matter, but mine were focused on skirting between denim pillars and giant sneakers as they uncaringly stomped all around me. They were just like me, but so, so much bigger. So much more important.

I used to be so scared of them.

It’s funny really, how my fear shifted to something else. My senior quote was I like being short because it means I spend more time looking at the sky, I was going for something cute and it’s not entirely untrue. Though the main reason I like my height, and there’s no real nice way of putting it, is because I’m a filthy, rotten pervert. How could you expect me to not be? I spend half my time staring at the ass of the person in front and stirring in the musk of genitals. No one really spoke to me so I did lots of people watching and when everyone’s so huge, your eyes tend to wander. And as the years wore on and I got more and more curious, I begun to put myself into more and more precarious situations. I played it off well though, I was mostly known as the quiet little mousey girl, so I have my parents to thank for the disguise at least.

The first time I decided to act on my impulses, was in my tenth grade English class. My teacher, Mrs Colehall, was the object of my infatuation. She was eight feet tall, I barely came up to her pudgy knees and Christ sake, she wore these tight checkered skirts that hugged her round, fat ass. I could go on for days about the skirts she wore, I spent far too many hours looking at them crying for mercy as they painted her backside and daydreaming myself being smothered beneath that comparative tonne of ass. Then there was her chest, a heavy bosom that stretched any blouse she tried to conceal them with, the tight fabric wobbled with her movements. It was a particularly hot day and I shamelessly snuck my hand down my skirt as I imagined drowning in her tit sweat. I’m far beneath most people’s line of sight, so long as I bury my face in my arm no one will ever notice my whimpers. You have to understand that when there’s these objects that are ingrained in our heads to be sexually appealing, when you see them blown up in proportion it really grabs your attention, it’s hard to think about anything else, I understand this more so than anyone else. At least I rationalised this to myself, so I felt slightly better about my actions.

And it wasn’t just her physical appearance, it hardly ever is for me. Mrs Colehall hated my guts, which was all according to plan since from the moment I laid eyes on her, I wanted to be on her bad side. I never handed in homework or did assignments and she caught on fast, she was a stickler for the rules. And when she pulled me up, I didn’t speak and continued to do so until she snapped.

“You little brat.”

She sounded like such an old nagging bitch. I loved that.

My desk was moved on top of her much larger one, next to a big binder and a stack of exams. I immediately complied with her after that, as to convince her that her plan had worked and I would now be a diligent hard-working student. It wasn’t hard to put in a little effort when my view for an hour each day was her magnificent tits. Sometimes they would knock into the desk and the whole thing would rock, it sent shivers down my spine. I had to step out of line occasionally otherwise I wouldn’t have the pleasure of hearing her demean me, the best way to do this was by showing up late, this one was particularly great because she would wait by the door and I’d have to crane my neck (and rake my eyes) up and over her body to meet her steely gaze, her arms crossed beneath her bosom. What a fantastic way to start the day. The rest of the year continued with that back and forth, my days usually ended with sexual fantasies about her.

I would dream of her taunting me until I shrunk even smaller, down the brackets I went, my school uniform swallowing me, becoming smaller and smaller as she grew to a monstrous size, she’d raise her gigantic loafer above me and slam it down, she’d let me crawl across her humongous tits like I was navigating a landscape or suffocate me beneath her pillowy ass as she settled in to watch TV for many, many hours. She knew how pathetic I was and she hoped I’d never forget it, that’s how I imagined it.

Side track aside, I’ll ease on the tales of my perverted past. I was a horny teenager, what else is there to say. I use my brain now, and my words when flirting with those larger than I. Though, now you see, this is where my relationship with authority had officially crossed over into being strange. On one hand, I hate that I could one day end up like my parents, having to say yes to whatever is asked of me, scrubbing the floors of some rich family but on the other, I yearn for that, being told what to do because I’m worthless, a pet to someone who believes themselves superior. I’m a Gemini in case you were wondering.

I finished school two years ago and I’ve been racking my brain trying to decide what I want to do with my life. Your options certainly narrow when you’re two feet tall but I wanted to make a name for myself, defy all the expectations. Especially with my 21st birthday coming up, I could no longer rely on my parents income for my size and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I had nothing. I heard that the key to success for the lower brackets was learning how to code, the size barrier was non-existent, you only had to use your brain, and well, own a computer. Which I didn’t, but I tried studying Java at the library and to my credit I did spend a few months at it, though by the end I couldn’t code shit, it’s a lot harder than it looks. Not studying in school was coming back to bite me in the ass. Who would’ve thought.

Most of my free time in school, the little of it that I got when I wasn’t scared or horny for my life, was spent reading, so I decided I should try to write. That was another profession that didn’t require a certain size to be successful. But I could only produce derivative garbage, it was worse than bad fan-fiction, I was never going to make money doing this without improving. I set that to the side for a while and worked for my parents business again, the family we live with at the moment are tolerable and the mum’s a total milf so I can’t complain. But at the same time, I didn’t want to settle, my ego outweighs my desire.

I needed a part-time job that could help sustain me while I tried to improve my writing. So, I scoured the internet to find somewhere worth my time. And finally, I found one. A call consultant position for a firm in the city and they were looking for people in the Third, experience not required. We’re cheap workers I’d say.

I tell you this as a precursor to my life now. Something very problematic happened because of something very stupid and it’s all my fault. Though, it’s not entirely awful, something worth talking about finally happened to me.

After I applied, I received a call from a man who briefly took me through the position, I was cold-calling people to try and get them to sign up with whatever service they were offering, soulless for sure, but to be fair I suspect mine had been damned a long time ago. He offered me a trial shift and told me to come to the office on Monday. Honestly, it was a far easier process than I had anticipated, I spent the rest of the weekend watching Big and Small, there’s this lady called Ruth on this season. She was on my mind a lot.

When Monday rolled around, I made my way to the city. It’s a scary place for someone like me, I mostly stick close to the wall and sneak glances to the giants above. As I past by a busy café, a lady crunched down on a fresh croissant and shower of crumbs rained over me. It’s times like these where I truly feel like I’m a rat. Yes I did eat a few of the crumbs. I caught the train to the inner business district and as I hopped up the subway stairs, I set eyes on the skyscrapers.

Glossy monstrosity’s of glass and reinforced concrete, fit for titans and nestled together to form one dominating skyline, the streets below constantly shrouded by shadow and as I walked closer, my neck craned all the way back, I was in awe of their size. I was half an hour early so I sat on a bench and watched the buildings for a while. Maybe I could be an architect one day I thought to myself.

On the corner of Bloomfield and Vale was an enormous building and its rather interesting intertwining pattern of coloured metal crawling up the frontside. This building housed the firm I was trialling for. I’ve been waiting for the right time to mention it because this is no regular company. It’s part of the reason why this was all so exciting to me. Because on floors 32 through 42, lay the most successful consultancy firm listed on the ASX, Stannard.

After the size brackets introduction, an overwhelming surge of financial issues hit the market, what was someone to do when they found themselves too short to reach the peddles of their car or too large to fit in their cubicle at work. For a scheme that was meant to solve the issue of over-population, it sure did create a sprawling list of inconveniences. Yet, as all things in society are, it was exploitable. And after one ambitious businesswoman gathered a team of savvy managers and targeted their focus at easing the financial burden of those less fortunate, Stannard rose to the heights of success over a thirty-five year time period, and now each department, the inner-workings of one greater system, proudly divided themselves into five well-oiled machines. So I was told when I first arrived.

The introductory tour was extravagant, especially for someone of my stature. The buildings constructed nowadays were vast and expansive, a single floor now double the size of what they used to be. Mostly, to allow the giants who could afford to rent them the ability to move without effort. To speak of the floors, it would be remiss of me not to mention the inhabitants.

Floor 32 & 33: Human Resources. Head of Department: Eileen Bellinghart. Colloquially known as the heart of the system. There were smaller workers running between desks, handing off resumes, complaints and benefit forms to the co-workers who could fill out a seat. Their efforts never went unappreciated, for the process would crumble and burn without their utmost performance. Eileen foresaw the process from behind a large oak desk, one that had an unobstructed view of the office, she much preferred to be directly involved and her subordinates didn’t mind, they saw her as somewhat of a mother figure. I could understand why. There was a set of rules Eileen had forged in the early days of Stannard, what she had donned as the Stannard Standard, a set of rules that prioritised professionalism, diligence and respect. And while she maintained a bubbly persona at the best of times, if anyone ever deviated from these rules, hell hath no fury. Employees knew this, and rarely was there an occurrence where Eileen would raise her voice. Later, I had found out that over the course of her tenure, only four employees had ever been fired from Stannard, but whatever you do, don’t ask me about them.

Floor 34 & 35: Information Technology. Head of Department: Stuart Greer. He and his mega-sized team of tech wizards operated over two floors of dimly lit cubicles. He believed in relaxing the mind, blocking out all other distractions until lines of code embedded themselves into his pre-frontal cortex. To assist with this, the floors had incense burning around the clock, and calming ocean ambience to accompany the click-clack of keyboards. They were considered to be the most smoothly run department in Stannard. In fact, there hadn’t been a single server hitch over the entire thirty-five years the company had been in operation.

Floor 36 & 37: Operations. Head of Department: Aubrey Porter. She took running the business a little too seriously, a total cardio junkie. The only employees who ditched the standard office dress code and instead were clad in a variety of gym shorts and tank tops. With no chairs in sight, each desk, a standing desk of course, had a treadmill beneath it. There was a noticeable rumble shaking the foundations of the floor and a swampy blanket of body odour.

Floor 38, 39 & 40: Finance and Marketing. Heads of Department: Dana Conrad and Greta Stannard. A funny dichotomy of labour where two vastly opposite sized groups worked in harmony. Dana Conrad had lead the charge in boosting Stannard’s stock price a further 7% in the last quarter alone, all while ignoring the ankle-high marketing team scurrying between her heels, a stroke of genius just in time for the upcoming Census Date. And the tele-team wrangler, Greta Stannard, ruled over rows of tiny cubicles built into the wall, their droning murmurs an inaudible hum to the 20-foot hot head.

Floor 41 & 42: The CEO: Leona Stannard and her office.

Amongst an all-star line-up, or rather, far, far beneath them, crammed into a cubicle on the bottom floor of Finance & Marketing was where I was. I got the job and I worked there for two weeks. It wasn’t terrible at first, I made friends with the girl next to me who was only a bit taller than me, it was a nice change of pace to not be so much smaller than everyone else.

But I must be honest, I had ulterior motives, plans that begun to form as soon as I was given a tour of this place.

I did a very stupid thing and a very problematic thing began.

23/06/2039. 10:43AM.

To employee #29219 SYLVIE BISHOP.

Please be advised that I am aware of the series of photographs and messages sent over 15/06/2029 – 21/06/2029.

This will not be tolerated. The subject shall be discussed in my office as soon as this email reaches you.

Eileen Bellinghart, Human Resources Manager.

Stannard Standard.

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.

I used to go skinny dipping at night. I’d sneak past my parents room, tiptoe out the front door to our shed into the frigid air, only to gaze upon the looming manor that was my neighbours house. Once I was sure all the lights were out, I’d snake around the side and slither through the fence surrounding the pool, then slip from my clothes into the water. I never learned to swim as a child so I mostly float around the pool stairs. I can’t help but feel so free as I look up at the inky night sky and listen to the water lap around me. There’s no need to worry about what I’m doing or what I’m meant to do. Everything is so quiet and nice, I can’t help but be overcome with bliss.

Apparently you used to be able to see little balls of light called stars in the sky, their disappearance has something to do with the city. Mum used to tell me stories of when her and Dad would go camping and the sky would be covered in millions and millions of sparkling stars. She described it like an obsidian slate flickering with precious gems. I think I’d like to see them one day.

When I think about a moment, like really think about it, I can transport there. I try not to do it all the time as to not cheapen the experience, but its wholeheartedly true. I’m not sure why but when my head struck Eileen’s desk I couldn’t stop thinking about the stars. And so, I let myself be transported away.

I was lying in the desert with dunes rolling all around, streams of sand being taken away with the wind. Somewhere far away from anyone else, where all I could hear was the breeze. There were thousands of bright pupils across the sky staring down at me. They were incredible. I reached out and swam my hands through them, collecting the brightest ones in my palm. They were exactly as beautiful as I had imagined. When I reached toward the sky again I saw my hand reflected back at me. Then I sat up and hit my head.

Confused I looked upward and saw a rat staring back at me. Christ sake.

“And what do you want?”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she started to tremble. “You’re not very nice.”

“What could you possibly know about being nice!” I jabbed my finger at her. “Why do you insist on ruining everything for me?”

Of course she wouldn’t reply to that. Of course she would start crying.

“It’s your fault,” she finally managed between her whimpers.

I was filled with an unbridled rage and lunged toward her. I was going to choke her I was so mad.

Instead I smacked my hands and forehead against the metal ceiling. I fell on my back and took a few minutes to decompress as my chest rapidly dilated. That fucking rat didn’t know what she was talking about so there was no point in thinking about it.

Was I losing it?

I closed my eyes and pushed down on them until they hurt and I saw static.

Maybe I am.

Eventually, I sat up on a huge expanse of white, the walls were a similar dull grey like the ceiling. There was a thin strip of light streaming in from the far side of the room so I crawled toward it. The rest of the room was hidden from view but stacked high above my prison were mighty metal doors. I was inside a filing cabinet.

Time passed and passed. I spent some of it trying to pry the drawer open to no avail, that was obviously fruitless, my arms are twigs. Then I tried to climb out and slid down repeatedly as I jumped for the edge. In the end I was curled in the corner trying to think about something else.

Something far removed from this situation. But the last few days of my life had been filled with nothing but endless spirals of anxiety surrounding this very situation.

Why did I send those photos?

Why did I take them?

Why would I even think to do that?

What kind of person does that?

Does that make me a bad person?

Oh to hell with it all.

I banged my head against the metal wall and a tinny noise echoed. Then I shouted as loud and as long as I could, and again, and one more time to make sure it was all out.

Before I could get back to my self-pity, I heard the elevator doors open and the whole place begun to rumble rhythmically. Eileen was back.

Fat fingers curled around the edge of the drawer and the whole structure started to move. My balance was lost and I sprawled over the files, the underside of her boobs encompassed the sky. She was far wider than the filing cabinet.

“Eileen!” I shouted. “Misses Bellinghart I’m sorry!”

“Shut it you.” She reached into the drawer and wrapped me up in her hands, only my head was showing from her meaty fist. “You keep your mouth shut until I speak to you. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Hell if I didn’t wheeze as she squeezed me in confirmation.

Eileen brought me to her desk and placed her big red purse on it, it matched her shoes. She zipped it open and dropped me inside. I landed on a lipstick and then rolled onto a soft pile of tissues, the sky was zipped away as I plummeted into darkness. The heady scent of her belongings washed over me.

I won’t lie and say the ride in her purse was fun. I initially thought to take advantage of the situation and indulge in a bit of pleasure, but as soon as she hooked the purse over her shoulder and begun her earth shaking strides, all hell broke loose. Over and over again, the bag smacked into her hip, crushing me between an assortment of items, her lipstick, her glasses, her perfume, the tissues from earlier and my eyes went wide as a huge tampon arced in the air and hit me square in the face.

When I came to I was still in Eileen’s purse, drooling on a tin of mints. Huge booming voices echoed outside and as I slowly lifted myself up I began to recognise it. Eileen was concluding a presentation about something, there was a round of murmurs and back and forth chat. I was lost, something to do with margins and fixed costs. Whatever that means. And curiously I also heard Greta’s voice amongst them. The chatter lightened into general discussion, notably someone was planning a trip to Argentina with their family. It was mostly rich people drivel, though eventually something Eileen said called me to immediate attention.

“Now I know you’re all probably wondering what it is I wanted to talk about. And well, why I may have been all out of sorts recently.” She softly laughed. “Please don’t be worried, I’m okay. Really. So, last week, I became aware of someone stalking me.”

“Oh my god Eileen.”

“Who?”

“Are you okay?”

Eileen spoke over the ruckus. “Please. Everyone, please. It’s okay, I’m okay. Rather, I actually have some news you might like to hear.”

“Traitor,” I muttered. The sky zipped open and a pudgy white hand plunged inside to rummage around, I scrambled away but it tracked me down and pinched my foot. A wave of vertigo filled my head as I rose up and out into a bright upside down boardroom.

Eileen let me fall in a heap on the table and boomed out. “If you can believe it, this is the little thing that has been stalking me. Calling her a stalker might be pushing it if I’m honest.”

When I got to my feet I was trembling beneath a group of bored, disgusted, bewildered and amused expressions. Each head of department sat around the conference table, like a giant council who would decide my fate. Stuart had his arms crossed and looked like he couldn’t care less, Aubrey had her hands over her mouth as her eyes darted between me and Eileen and Dana backed away slightly with her mouth screwed up in disgust, she was the closest to me and her upper body was a veritable mountain. But worst of all was Greta, she was the furthest away with her feet kicked up, but now leant forward with a wry smirk on her shaking head.

“Fucking Sylvie Bishop?!”

Eileen tapped my head and made me stumble forward. “That’s it, looks like we got another one.”

“You little perv.” Greta leant even further toward me, pointing her finger and reaching over the table to get a better look at me. She slapped her palm down and rose from her seat, laughing as I cowered beneath her.

“What’d she do exactly?” Dana asked.

“She snuck under my desk and took several pictures of me.”

“Slut!” Greta slapped the desk in amusement and my balance wobbled.

“And she also sent me naked pictures of herself. With the message: ‘This is what you’re missing out on’ with three kisses.”

Aubrey scoffed and hid a smirk while Dana nudged her, she had a disgusted look on her face.

“C’mon it’s pretty funny.” Aubrey reasoned with Dana.

“It’s hysterical,” Greta laughed.

Dana crossed her arms. “It’s perverted.”

“Okay grandma,” Greta rolled her eyes and turned to Eileen. “Are you gonna fire her or should you like, fire her?”

“First of all, thanks for your concern Greta, but no, I’m not sure. I’m still processing it all. We haven’t had a case like this for a while.”

Aubrey must have finally caught on with what was being said as her eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. “Wait, really? Please Eileen! We haven’t had one in ages.”

Stuart suddenly shot up and lugged his leather bag over his shoulder, he eyed the women one by one. “You’re all sick. I’ll see you tomorrow and I best not be involved.” And then he left the room in silence. As soon as the door clicked shut the ladies burst back into discussion. I was drowning in the volume of their voice, I couldn’t get a word in and I’d just missed my chance as they launched back into another round.

“See? I told you it’s perverted.” Dana motioned to the door. “Don’t you remember how he gets?”

“Pfft. Stuart’s a fucking virgin,” Greta said and Aubrey snorted.

“Sorry,” Aubrey whispered as Dana glared at her.

“It’s fine, he’ll be fine. Stuart doesn’t need to be included, it’s not like that changes anything.”

“I never said I wanted to be included either.”

“You’re all talk Dana.” Greta covered her mouth and pretended to whisper to Aubrey. “I give her a week before she’s begging for a go.”

Aubrey giggled. “Yeah c’mon Dana, last time you wouldn’t shut up about how goooood it felt.”

Dana blushed a crimson shade of red and jerked toward Eileen. “Would you shut these two up?”

“Girls please. She told us that story in confidence, we have to respect that. Look, I know you’re excited but we need to go about this the right way.”

Greta huffed and fell back into her seat, two huge pumps rose and crashed down as she kicked her feet up. The dirty soles were scuffed and scratched and over two times my height.

“Well get on with it. Fill ol’ Sylvie in.”

I turned to Eileen, my head was totally spinning and confused. Normally, I can defuse any situation with my cunning wit but I was in the deep end here. What had Greta said?

Fire her? What was that supposed to mean. Before I had the chance to ask, Eileen finally looked me in the eyes, her and those big blue piercing orbs. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath and the fabric holding her bosom groaned in protest. Maybe, just maybe it meant something great.

“You’re not the first person to try this you know. The fifth in fact. Aubrey’s had one, Stuart’s had one, Dana’s had two. Some little bug who doesn’t quite understand how things work. I don’t blame you hun, your brain is definitely smaller than ours, that’s for sure. Remember yours Aubrey. That boy who wouldn’t stop coming up behind you to ask you questions, CCTV caught him right in the act. What’d we do with him again?”

Aubrey laughed and gazed longingly upwards. “Oh yeah, what was his name again? Ryan? Ralph? Yeah! Aw, little Ralphie. I think I made him clean the treadmills at the end of each day.” Her laughter grew. “With his tongue!”

“So lucky,” Greta muttered.

“But he got way too attached. Always hung around offering massages to everyone. God and then I found him in my gym bag. He’d definitely gone past his expiry date by then.”

“Right, and Stuart’s, she didn’t last very long did she?”

“He squashed her as soon as he found out,” said Dana.

“What’d you do with your first?”

Dana’s words got caught in her throat, stumbling before continuing on. “Oh um, I. Well, He was a little creep so I had to get rid of him.”

Aubrey snickered. “How’d you do it?”

“I uh, I just flushed him down the toilet.”

“But the second one…” Greta and Aubrey burst into hysterics.

“It’s not funny!” Dana’s chair shot back as she stood up.

Eileen stifled a smirk and rose her hands. “Ladies. The past is beside the point, isn’t it? We have a fresh recruit right here.”

The back of my shirt was pinched between her fingers and I kicked my legs around as I levitated. Up and up I went until I was eye level with the giant women.

Aubrey was an incredibly fit woman, lean muscle riddled her upper body but still retained the feminine softness and her sports bra left little to the imagination when compared to the other women in their office attire.

Dana was certainly my type, a motherly figure, that while not as girthy as Eileen, made up for it in height. She was easily the largest of the women, even towering over Eileen by several feet. She had sharp features and a very strange look in her eye.

Then there was Greta. She was always covered in makeup and cosmetics, dark eyeliner and bright lipstick and she had this bitchy upturned grin. She was the smallest of the bunch but made up for it with her attitude. She was part of the great Stannard clan after all.

My vision spun until I was face to face with Eileen’s enormous breasts. They easily outsized me on their own and through the white fabric I could see faint nubs protruding where her nipples were.

“Well… Perhaps we could sort it out now. Do you three have any suggestions for the title of the position?” Eileen rumbled, her tits bouncing ever so slightly.

“Doormat?” Aubrey said.

“Personal Manager Assistant?” Dana offered.

Greta’s hand shot up. “Office bitch!”

“That’s a bit crude.”

“But I think it fits,” Aubrey said. “She is a girl right?” The brunette poked me and I swung in Eileen’s hand. She poked me again with a big grin. “Not much to her is there?”

“She’s built like a popsicle stick.” Greta leaned in beside her. Their two giant mouths blowing hot air over me as they examined my body. Their fingers poked and prodded me, Greta fingered her way around my ass and ran her finger down my leg, tickling my foot at the end. Aubrey continued to squash my flat boobs flatter with a wide-eyed expression.

At this point my cheeks were bright red and my panties were soaked. A tear welled up in my eye. My plan had worked. I’d made it even further than I’d aimed for. My very own harem. I shot for the moon and landed on fucking mars.

And as Aubrey’s finger covered my stomach and brushed over my crotch, my body shuddered and I orgasmed right there.

“Oh my god!” Dana gasped. “What is she doing?”

“Oops,” Aubrey retracted her hand.

My mind was speeding the wrong way down a freeway.

“Someone’s got a short fuse.” Greta sneered at me, getting even more up in my business. I could see the pores in her face.

“Everybody PLEASE!” I yelled, breaking my vow of silence. “I accept! I accept the position.”

“I knew you were a freak since the day I saw you Bishop.”

“You’re a dolt Greta,” I said. I didn’t mean to it just slipped out.

I almost threw up as she flicked me in the stomach.

“Can we do the induction now then?” Aubrey asked

The vibe of the room had changed many times during the meeting. At first, cautious and worried then Stuart left and it became excited and playful. But now, it was like someone had turned up the heat. The giant women breathed deeper and maintained knowing eye contact, their presence leaned closer and closer and I could tell the mood had officially switched into something hot and heavy.

“You want to stick around Dana?”

“Oh just, for morbid curiosity really,” she reasoned with an awkward hand gesture.

“Well then, I don’t see why we can’t start now,” said Eileen and I was dropped back onto the boardroom table. Aubrey and Greta scooted closer and Dana locked her eyes on me but kept her distance.

“This is the best part.” Aubrey whispered to Greta. Their heads rested in their palms, Aubrey had a healthy line of cleavage from pressing her forearms together.

“I wish that was me,” Greta’s eyes flicked to Eileen.

“I’m a busy woman honey. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time with this one.”

Eileen’s chair creaked as she rolled backwards, she fiddled with something beneath my sight. A soft pop followed by another, and then she swung her giant feet down in front of me. They forced me to my knees and I gazed up the meaty wrinkled soles to the wiggling toes above, her feet were plump and red from being trapped in her shoes all day. And her toes cracked and clenched and spread a blanket of reeking sweaty odour.

“Aubrey take it away,” Eileen boomed.

“You got it!” She said and made a stupid trumpet noise and rattled her hands on the table.

“Sylvie Bishop. Employee number… uh.”

“29219.” Eileen added.

“With the power vested in us, I formerly demote you to your position as our humble office bitch. Your salary will receive a 20% decrease and you may be required to work weekends. You’ll be subject to our whims and desires and every little thing we want. It’s the beginning of the end of –”

Say no more Aubrey.

I lurched at Eileen’s foot and wrapped my hands around, barely holding the width of it. I aggressively made out and gyrated against her and made no attempt to hide my satisfaction. Greta and Aubrey began to cackle and I heard Dana mutter something beneath her breath.

The answer to it all struck me. What I was meant to do with my life. Like a hole had been filled, I rolled my eyes back and groaned into the meaty flesh.

I knew what I’d do.

I’d be the best office bitch there ever was.

That evening when I hopped off the train, I decided to take the long way home. And strangely, I kept my eyes on the ground the whole time. Those last few hours had been rather arduous, I turned my nose up at the foul stench radiating off me. A terrible concoction of body odour and fluids. Mine and theirs. My blouse had lost multiple buttons, my bra was half on show too. There was a rip down my skirt and my stockings had been completely tattered. I wasn’t sure where my shoes were.

I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for over 24 hours either. My stomach was yelling at me to do something about it. There were some vending machines outside a convenience store near where I lived, they hummed as I approached. To my dismay, all the good stuff was in the machines I was too small to reach.

Even the smallest machine was designed for someone a little bigger than myself. A big three was titled at the top and my eye followed upwards to a four and a five. Those machines double and quadruple the size respectively. Tantalising goodies were hidden behind their cool glass, slices of pizza, fresh burgers, hot fries, a variety of iced tea and soda and hot coffee in cans, all lit up by luminous blue light. My mouth was practically watering from the sight.

If only.

The selection in front of me caused a weary sigh. Warm cans of water and beer were the only drinks on offer and the food was drab, a single ham sandwich all alone on the shelf, the lone light flickered occasionally.

I hovered my finger over the water button before deciding to get the beer and the sandwich instead. My home – my shed, wasn’t far so with some effort I cracked into my drink and set off. The sandwich was gross, the bread was stale and the ham did not taste like ham but I forced it down anyway. The beer was okay – beer’s always okay. I strolled down a dimly lit road and turned right into my street. The houses all looked the exact same. Sleek, modern and boring. There was no soul in residential architecture these days.

In school they taught us about the roaring twenties, a time period in the United States where entire neighbourhoods were mass constructed out of cheap materials and branded in an almost utopian fashion, the promise of a beautiful house in a homely neighbourhood with your loving family. The American Dream, the beginning of planned obsolescence. Supposedly, the same sort of thing happened when Size Tax was introduced, albeit vastly different in scale. Though, this time it wasn’t because of economic prosperity, it was out of necessity since humanity had grown so vast and numerous that we were hurtling toward our demise. Or something like that, I told you I didn’t listen much in school.

I climbed through my neighbour’s front gate and crossed the front lawn to my house. I always laugh when I refer to my house as my house. It’s a goddamn garden shed. My parents managed to spruce it up, using some plasterboards to create rooms and my dad made a variety of furniture from old wooden scraps. There is furniture and houses for people of my size, but nothing we can afford. We must live frugally if we want to hold onto some semblance of normal life, hang on for dear life to the Third.

If we dropped to the Second we’d be on a slippery slope. No one has ever heard of a successful business owner who is barely 10 inches tall. Besides my parents would be much too small to provide any form of adequate cleaning service.

The light was still on inside even though it was past eleven. Mum was up knitting, waiting for me. She sat on a thrifted couch with a yarn and needle softly smiling as I walked in. She’s exactly what I imagine I’ll look like in the future. Homely and unassuming.

“Hey honey.”

“Hi.”

Her eyes fell to my hands where I had an empty beer can and the remnants of a sandwich. “Oh, you got dinner?”

“Yeah, only cause I had to stay back so late.”

“That’s uh… Why so late?”

I was stumped for a second. I was not ready to discuss why. My little allocated space was across the room, behind a thin partition, mum noticed my staring.

“Well, you know how I’ve been a little sick. I had to make some time up,” I said and tried a smile.

“Right, that makes sense. Hey, why rush off. Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll make you a tea.”

“I’m not really in the mood mum.”

She just stared at me with these dead eyes.

“Are you okay Sylvie?”

“What? Yes, obviously I’m okay.”

“You look like you’ve been attacked.”

“I fell over, I’m okay.”

“Sylvie where have you been?”

I just shrugged. “Work.”

“Why won’t you ever tell me the truth?”

“That is the truth.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I promise.”

She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Your 21st is coming up.”

“I’m hoping to jump off a bridge before then.”

Another dead stare, fair enough. “You know Dad and I can’t support you anymore. If there was something I could do, I would, but we can’t afford to keep you with us in the Third if you don’t change something.”

She says as if I don’t know that.

“I know, it’s okay. I actually got promoted today.”

“Really?” She didn’t believe me. “H-how’d you get promoted?”

“My call numbers were off the charts.”

“Right, right. That’s great honey. So, did they give you a raise?”

“You’re awfully curious tonight.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

Mum was fidgeting a lot, she looked down and shook her head. “Then why have you not left your room for three days! And then you come home this late, looking and smelling how you do. How can I believe you?”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m done here.”

“Why Sylvie?”

“Because I don’t fucking want to!”

She stood up to block me so I pushed past her and slammed my door shut behind me. I jumped onto my bed and screamed into a pillow.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the corrugated iron ceiling. Doing my darndest to zone out and fade away into nonexistence. My phone buzzed and when I flipped it open I had a message from Stella.

‘hey u okay?’

I stared at it for a minute before lobbing it across the room.

As the night progressed, it all started to creep back in. That goddamn boardroom. Goddamn Greta, Aubrey and Dana. Goddamn Greta. In what I thought was a great turn of events eventually turned sour. Eileen left shortly after I orgasmed on her foot, she told me I was free to go home tonight and would need to be in her office by 7am tomorrow. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me as she left me in the room with the three hungry managers. Unlike the others Eileen seemed far less eager to play with me. It broke my little heart.

First they convinced Dana to lick my face, which she did with extreme hesitation and even gagged afterward. It was kind of rude, surely I don’t taste that bad. Then they tried to convince her to put me in her cleavage, she chickened out and only wanted to watch.

To prove a point, Aubrey snatched me up and pulled her sports bra open and let me fall between her boobs. As I peered upward, she pressed them together and sealed me in a day’s worth of sweat, Greta cackled outside the fleshy prison when Aubrey started to rub her tits together. I came in there, twice.

When I was eventually fished out, it was Greta’s turn. She took her pumps off and let them clatter on the table, the mouths of her footwear emanated a balmy stink that had my eyes watering. I was pushed onto my back by her big toe as she stroked and circled and fondled my body. Over and over again I was pushed to climax, it went on for what felt like hours. At some point I think Aubrey and Dana got too uncomfortable or bored of watching and excused themselves saying they’ll see Greta tomorrow.

I was drenched in her sweat and mine as she relentlessly toyed with my body. Once the others had left, she resorted to masturbation and dirty talk. She was talking to herself the whole time, taunting me, random trains of thought and then back to abusing me. She’s more insane than I’d thought. Eventually, by the time I lost count of how many times I’d shuddered under her toe, she replaced her foot with her face as she blocked everything else with her enormous visage. I laid under her stare panting with my eyes glazed over. If only I knew what a problem she would become.

“You’re so teensy tiny.”

I hardly had the energy to form any coherent reply.

“I would so take you home with me if I could. Ugh, it’d be so obvious.”

Finally I managed a groan and flopped onto my stomach, my arms shaking as I tried to get up. Greta’s finger pinned me back down and she chuckled. “I guess someone’s gotta let you out huh.”

My vision went black as she grabbed my lifeless body, her fingers smelt of dank fish. She must have woken me up at ground floor because she let me out onto the cold street and walked off, rugged in her fur jacket. I remember standing there shaking in my destroyed clothes, wondering if someone would notice me.

Foolish of me to believe anything would be any different. No one noticed me. No one has ever noticed me.

The one question that’d been burning in my mind was why would they let me leave so easily? It felt strangely anticlimactic, I’d been caught and confronted and now I was homebound, apparently with an oath of trust that I would return.

There were a few reasons I could think of.

First was that I was in the wrong, if anything legal happened I’d most likely be the one to go down, no way could I afford a good lawyer. And well, I had been the one to take and send explicit photos. Can’t imagine that would win any points with the jury. If I didn’t show up they’d bury me sixty feet under.

Second was that they just didn’t care, it made sense, I was so much smaller than them. I’m used to being eye level with the stomach to thigh on most people, not the size of a figurine. I hardly mattered to them, if I piped up and tried to do anything, it might go terribly wrong and if I never showed up, they might not even question it. People like me, they go missing all the time. And people like them, they operate on another level of the law.

Third was that they knew I would come back for more. And of course I did.

The census date was only a few weeks away, it fell on the 18th of June, also my birthday. It’s like some kind of sick joke. Every single birthday I spent waiting in line for hours at the nearest Size Centre, mum, dad and I waiting in silence to be either reduced or remain stagnant. Over the span of age thirteen to eighteen I steadily decreased from 2’7 to 2’.

And once I turned 21 my size would be dependent on my own income, and my bank account was looking incredibly sparse, I’d been playing online slot machines to fill the time during my latest manic episode. I wouldn’t only drop to the Second, no I’d be in the First. Barely six inches tall. I’d lose my job and then before I know it I’m a Sub. Out of the system and a mite living in the cracks of the sidewalk. Did you know that life expectancy of a Sub is only 24 years old? So don’t blame me for being self-destructive.

I arrived at Eileen’s office at a quarter to seven. Dressed in a new blouse but the same ripped skirt, I ditched the stockings, they were far beyond saving. As the elevator raced upward, I adjusted the little blue clip in my hair. I felt as if Eileen and I had got off on the wrong foot and perhaps she could be swayed with my charm.

When the doors slid open, the soft smile I donned immediately faded, Greta was sitting in Eileen’s chair, absorbed in her phone.

The doors shut behind me with a heavy clunk, sealing my escape and forcing me onward.

Until this point, I hadn’t considered if I should be afraid of Greta. Before I’d been exposed, I saw her as a minor nuisance but that night in the boardroom made me see her in a different light. She had a strange interest in me, which isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world. What made me scared was that I would have to reject her if it came to it.  

What made me terrified was that Eileen was nowhere to be seen.

I caught the lift up the desk and walked into the harsh lamplight squinting my eyes as Greta’s enormous form came into view. It had been two weeks since I’d been introduced to giants from the Sixth but their size still took my breath away. Her huge maw gaped open and a bellowing yawn rumbled overhead. She lounged back and rapidly tapped away at her smartphone. A huge pink bubble expanded from her mouth and I jumped when it popped. She brought it back in her mouth and kept chewing.

In some act of defiance, I decided to remain quiet and wait for her to notice me. I crossed my legs and sat down on the dark navy leather desktop gazing past her vapid expression to the clock on the wall. It took her 25 minutes to notice me.

“How long have you been there?”

“Only three hours.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny Bishop.” She smirked. “Or should I call you Bitchop?”

“You’re sharp.”

“Don’t fucking mock me.” And back I was, under her finger, my cheek smushed against the cool desk surface and her giant appendage. “I thought you would have learned your lesson yesterday, you were all tuckered out at the end.”

“Where’s Eileen?” I rasped and the pressure on my head eased.

“What was that?”

“This is Eileen’s office.”

“And what’s it to you?”

“It’s not yours. What’re you doing here?”

“Wow, talk about obsessed. Why are you so into Eileen anyway. She’s a fucking cow.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Greta scoffed, she pulled herself closer to the desk and suddenly her boobs were right above, admittedly much smaller than Eileen’s but still eye catching. She stuck her tongue out and pinched the gum between her fingers. “Give me a compliment.”

“Sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m a terrible liar.”

I flinched as she stuck the pale pink gum on my head, the weighty mass pulled on my hair and I fell over. The entire right side of my head was buried in the mush.

“Ha! Is my gum a little heavy?” Greta pouted.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever had gum stuck in your hair, but just know that it’s fucking terrible. And I had a gigantic lump bigger than my head pulling on what felt like my entire scalp.

“Fucking cunt!” Half my thin brunette hair turned to a goopy pink wig, it got all over my hands as I tried to pry it off.

“Rubbish mouth on you.”

“I’m fucking serious. Help me.”

“Why do I need to help you?”

“Get fucked!”

“I’ll help you if you compliment me.”

“Go to fucking hell!”

“Okay chill out. Jesus.” Greta pushed away from the desk and rummaged around in a bunch of drawers until she found a pair of scissors.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“What? How else am I gonna get it out?”

“Christ sake.”

She just laughed. Her soft fingers enwrapped my body and she held me horizontal, slowly lifting me so my hair became taut with the gum. A searing burn across my scalp.

“Ow! Stop!”

“Settle down. I just gotta…” Two huge metal blades appeared only inches from my face, my terrified expression mirrored back to me. Greta leaned closer in as she positioned the scissors, her fingers tightened with her focus.

Snip!

I screamed.

Greta held me up for inspection, beaming a wonky smile. “See? All better.” Not exactly reassuring. “I used to do that to my old barbies when their hair got all manky and shit.”

The side of my head felt short and buzzed. I must’ve looked ridiculous. “You goddamn owe me for this.”

“C’mon I helped you.”

“I look like fucking Skrillex.”

“Yeah… You kinda do. Sorry. How about we kiss and makeup?”

“Not happening. How about fifty thousand dollars?”

She burst into laughter then pulled me close so I was right beneath her gaze. “What are you?”

“I’m desperate is what I am.”

“Maybe we can strike some kind of deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you one kay to go in my shoe for the rest of the day.”

“Done.”

“Pleasure doing business,” she grinned and set me on the desk.

One after the other, two enormous dark grey treads slammed down in front of me, they were scuffed and had some rocks lodged between the rubber. A mustard yellow rope landed by my feet as she undid the laces of her shoe. They were a lowcut pair of Doc Martens, clearly worn by the creased leather. She yanked it off with a little effort and flexed her yellow socked foot in the air. Thankfully it was only the beginning of the day and they didn’t reek to high heavens.

“Here you go,” she faced the mouth of her shoe toward me and tapped inside.

“Aren’t these against the dress code.”

“Guess so. Get in.”

I approached the footwear, crouching to fit in the dank cavern. Her long footprint disappeared into the dark toe end of the shoe. “You’re really gonna pay me?”

“If you get in there, hell yeah.”

“Just don’t squash me.” I slipped my shoes off and threw them outside.

“You’ll be fine, I’m light footed.” Then she snatched her shoe up and I tumbled inside, my face fell into the deep impression left by her heel. The whole thing tilted and I rolled and slid downwards until my head bumped into leather, my feet only reached halfway down the sole. I defied gravity briefly as the enormous shoe lowered to the ground.

Five furry yellow boulders blocked the only source of light and began cramming themselves into the tight space. Completely encompassing any available space as they scrunched their way forward. My feet disappeared beneath the woolly mass and before long my head was jammed between two pudgy beanbags, the ease at which they contorted and clenched at my body made my heart race. It was exhilarating.

Then I was weightless. It was an odd sensation, to be completely locked in place against an enormous fuzzy monster as it rose far into the air. My stomach dropped as I plummeted down and a head splitting thud ripped through me. As she took another step, the ball of her foot ground me flat and my hips flexed along with her sole as I rose again.

A hot humid atmosphere gradually overtook the inside of her shoe, the cold leather sole now in tandem with the heavy living beast atop me, moisture seeped off the leathery material into my hair. My clothes felt glued to my body and I could only huff air through the thick woollen fabric between her big toes. Each breath was laboured, and with ever step, my stomach took the brunt of her monumental weight. It was like I was trapped in cement, any movement I made, no matter what herculean effort I put in, was met with an immovable mass. Her toes clenched down and rubbed my head between them, forcing the taste of lint down my throat.

It was taking all my energy not to pass out, the oxygen was slowly turning into a noxious vinegar scented smog. The only saving grace was to buck my hips and grind into her sole, it put me in a dizzied trance as her foot funk infused itself with the inside of my nostrils. I must have swallowed a litre of her sweat at this point.

After however long, the overwhelming up and down ceased. The darkness and claustrophobic environment finally got to me and I began to writhe and protest with everything I had. I screamed between her toes and bucked my head into the little gap between them and her meaty ball. Greta trapped me there with her big toe, the smell between her toes was ungodly and she rolled my face deep in there. She pressed down on the hardwood floor and quelled my protest.

I was powerless. My body was brimming with energy and I wanted so badly to disperse it, yet every movement was nullified. I couldn’t even lift a finger beneath her giant fucking foot. To make it worse, I was being actively compacted. She steadily increased the pressure, tighter and tighter, until I became one with her foot. The pressure held itself there briefly, forcing any last bits of oxygen out and fogging it with Greta’s scent. Like there was sweat on the inside of my lungs. And then I had a thought.

This might really kill me.

A cool sensation encompassed my back and I shivered. I laid on a huge mustard pillow sopping wet, my hair was stringy and my hairclip had fallen out.

“She lives,” Greta boomed.

We were in one of the office bathroom stalls, the overhead lights were blinding and turned some of Greta’s red hair gold. With a quart of effort I unstuck myself from her damp woollen sock. My hands sunk slightly into her soft sole and I got lost in the lattice work of her socks threads, slick oily sweat seeped between my sticky fingers. Her enormous toes wiggled under the thick fabric, like they were playfully trying to trap my hands.

Greta had her foot upturned on her knee, she flipped me over with her thumb and pinned me down. Not so aggressively this time, she used a gentle touch as she pulled me to the middle of her sole and stroked my stomach. “So I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news. Which one you want first?”

“Water.” I wheezed past the nails in my throat. I was so thirsty.

“In a minute. Which one?”

It’s never when I’m ready. “Good news,” I said.

“Well, you’re alive.”

“Fuckin’ A.”

“Most people like to hear the bad news first.”

“Just tell me.”

“It’s only half past one, you didn’t last the whole day in my shoe. Valiant effort though.”

“So you’re not gonna pay me?”

“Seems the most fair to me.”

She was so damn smug all the time, I couldn’t stand it.

“That’s a load of horse shit.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I can do it, put me back in.”

Greta put some thought into it. “Really? You didn’t seem too eager a minute ago.”

Then a booming knock rattled the stall door and Greta snapped to attention, horrified of who it might be.

“Greta?” It was Dana. “Greta is that you?”

“Hey shh. Yes, it’s me. What do you want, I’m on the shitter.”

“Do you have the um, new recruit with you?”

The redhead smirked down at me as if to say, get a load of this.

“And what if I did?”

“I only want to look.”

Greta leaned forward to flip the lock open. The doorway was filled with Dana’s enormous form, her hips almost the width of it. I thought Greta was huge but this lady was almost 10 feet taller.

“Is she alright?”

“Never better.” I gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

“It always makes me feel weird when they talk. Don’t you think?” Dana totally ignored me.

Greta devilishly smirked. “They’re still people. It makes it better when you play with them. When they’re yap, yap, yapping away.” She ground my stomach into her foot until I squeaked in protest. “Sure you only want a look?”

Dana stammered on her words. “I-I don’t know.”

“I have been with her all day. Why don’t you take her for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not, I’m feeling generous and I can tell you want to.”

“Sh!” Dana shoved her finger over Greta’s mouth and got close to her ear, her huge tits swung above me, wobbling to a stop. She almost gave Eileen a run for her money. “Okay. If you’re offering.” Fingers that were longer than I was tall wrapped me up and I was held before the mighty hills on Dana’s chest. She loosened two taut buttons across her bosom, her boring beige bra peeked out, the creamy flesh was swelling out the cups slightly. “Remember what you and Aubrey were trying to get me to do yesterday.”

“Oh, you’re so bad.” Greta giggled.

Dana peeled her bra cup away and tossed me inside like she’d been dealing with a filthy bug. My face audibly smacked against her fat tit and I tumbled down a sloping curve. The fleshy boulder rounded over me and half my body disappeared in her mass. Dana’s bottle cap nipple stopped right in front of me, I smacked right into it as she let her bra snap shut.

Whatever, I didn’t need water anyway.