Absolutely gigantic. If you asked me to say two words about my new owner, that’s what I would say. And I would be the only person to ever say those words about my owner.

This is my first entry on my journal, and hopefully it’s going to be one of many. I am writing this as I lay on the floor, with my back resting on the side of my owner’s converse sneaker, the one she was wearing today when she picked me up. The light in the room is still on, and I can see her, pacing around the room, doing this and that, and in general not paying attention to me or using me, for the first time this day. I look up, and I see the black sidestrip of her converse’s sole. If I stand up, I can barely reach it, if I stand on my toes. As I said, she’s absolutely gigantic. Above the mass of plastic is an enormous expanse of pink fabric, slightly weathered, that forms the canopy under which a foot that I cannot even describe would lie when she wears the shoe. Pretty close to me is the end of her lace. I can walk up to it right now if I want to. It’s mostly white, but you can see that it has seen a lot of use. If I lay down on it … give me a moment… yes. It is wider than I am tall. The surface is rough, and I can feel the threads of the shoelace with my hands. I could easily use this as a rope and climb up to the top of the shoe, which lies far above me. But I won’t do that now. I just got out of it a few moments ago, why would I want to go back in so soon?

As she paces around the floor, normal people would describe her steps as soft, inaudible, or even cute little steps. Not for me. The slightest move of her foot causes a boom, and a quite perceptible rumble that shakes across the floor, that shakes my whole body to the core. A shadow passes over me. My owner’s enormous foot just passed over me as she steps towards the bathroom to continue her nightly preparations. I didn’t even have enough time to see the sole of her foot, she passed so fast over me … it is really mindboggling that such a monstrosity could move so quickly and so gracefully.

This is my first day under her ownership. Under Hannah’s ownership. I turn my attention back to the shoe, that is so unbelievably huge. If there were towns for people my size, it could easily crush a few blocks under a simple step without issue. She would probably not even feel anything other than a soft crunch through the thick plastic of her shoe. If I could imagine a whole society of people like me, it would be a doomed world, where her enormous shoe overshadows us, and crushes everything under its step. Entire lives pulverized without a care in the world. But Hannah cares. I am happy that she does. I am happy that she’s even allowing me to record my times under her. But then, it’s part of her therapy, and I don’t know she would allow me if it was completely her choice, or if she was a normal girl.

I walk around the sole of the shoe. I am at the back of it now. The heel is the thinnest part of a converse sneaker, but it’s still as thick as a multiple lane highway to me. There are enormous letters “All Star” on the back that are more than double, or even close to three times my height. The shoe’s bottom is slightly uneven, and I can see the flakes of dirt that are stuck on the bottom. I reach out and touch it. It’s so real. It should be scary. Every bit of my body should be screaming and trying to escape this instrument of death, and its unbelievably huge owner. I look down at myself. I am not wearing any clothes, as they’d be destroyed in one way or another pretty soon anyway. She didn’t seem to care when she got me, and if she doesn’t care, I won’t care.

I’m at the front of the shoe now. The nose in the front is rising up in the air, and it’s tall enough that I can walk under the tip of the shoe without even having to duck. The huge brown sole has an interesting pattern to it. I crawl a bit further in and lay down. The shoe’s sole is resting above me. If she was wearing her shoe right now, and she decided to take a step, I’d be instantly buried under the tip of the shoe as it comes crashing down under the weight that’d be rolling through her toes and on me. I am somewhat resistant, but I’m sure I couldn’t withstand a full step. And I am glad I can’t, to be honest. Fully resistant people usually end up with owners that plan on fully using this trait of their plaything. I look up at the shoe again as I lie in the shadow of it. Even if I could survive getting stepped on, it would probably be extremely painful. Unless… unless I was so small, maybe small enough to call an ant a giant, then if she stepped on me, the shoe would probably not even make contact with my puny body, I’d have a pretty good chance of being spared as my body would be between the gigantic grooves of her shoe. But would I want to be one of those even smaller people? Not really. Those are too small to end as companions, they usually end up in a lab, under a microscope, or as seasoning on someone’s meal. I shudder at the thought. I’ve had the chance to be close to Hanna’s mouth already, and if she so chose, I could vanish inside her cavernous mouth instantly. I’m glad she won’t use me for that. I think.

I hear rumbling again. I can see her shadow covering a huge area on the floor. She steps around a few times, the boom almost making me jump and hit my head on the sole of the shoe that’s still above me. She steps about a few times, and then she stops. “Where did you go?”, she asks, in a voice that is both soft, sweet, and at the same time thunderous and all encompassing. A person in her scale would find her voice cute and somewhat weak. Not me. I can feel it shaking my body with every sound. I respond to her by walking out of the shade of the tip of the shoe.

What I see is so incredible that I cannot override my survival instincts. I take a step back as I see the enormous Hannah, my owner, down on the floor on her knees, with her thin torso slightly bending over as her massive head is almost vertically above the pair of shoes I am exploring. She smiles when her massive brown eyes locate me. I can see her pupils coming into focus. Her hair, ash-blond, shoulder length is dropping forward, falling around her face as a curtain. She is wearing baby blue PJs with some kind of cupcake pattern on them. Those cupcakes are still so huge compared to me, that if they were real, I would still be only about half as tall as they are. I could be a topping on them easily. And then I think about real cupcakes, much more massive, much taller, much huger. I could probably disappear in the frosting.

As I’m looking at her, trying to make sense of her size that fills my vision, she’s gently observing me. My tiny body is, well, tiny to her. She could easily cover me with her little fingertip and have room to spare. Content, she gets up. My jaw drops as I see the enormous, towering giantess slowly straighten her body, and then slowly get off her knees and back on her bare feet that are sticking out of the pajama pants that touch the floor. It’s absolutely scary to see a giant that is about multiple hundred times my scale, but I’ve been trained for this, and I have a good feeling about Hannah, I just do.

She steps over me again, as she fiddles with something on her desk. My gaze follows her and observes the room I’m in. I’m in a pretty standard dorm room. Hannah is a student at a university in whatever town we are in. Normal people geography is not something we are really taught. The world is so huge that it’s not worth it trying to find out what lies even what people call a “mile” away from where I am. I am close to the pair of pink converse that I was exploring before. The floor is some kind of wooden surface. Far in the distance I can see a few items. Some books here and there, a discarded sock, and what looks like a mountain to me – Hannah’s book bag. Further away are the table, the desks, and the beds, superstructures for the giants to do their daily business on. Hannah’s roommate is not here. It is Friday, and she is out of the weekend, I was told by Hannah. That gives me time to meet her and get to know the place before I have to meet a second person. If she’s half as nice as Hannah, it’ll be good.

Hannah has finished whatever she was doing on the table. She carefully walks back to me, almost as if she’s aware that her littlest, softest step is still a world-rending stomp to me. She crouches down again, and I can see her giving me an encouraging smile. Her hand comes close to me. It’s got something cupped on her palm. Even if it’s touching the floor, I am too little to see above the tops of her enormous fingers, fingers that could punch through anything with the tiniest effort, I’m sure. I can see a flash of soft pink on her nails, the same soft pink that her toenails are dyed in. She brings her other hand and gently picks up the item she was holding on her cupped palm. It’s a disk-shaped white object with a large circle that floats above it. The circle is attached to the disk by two white pillars.

“I know it’s a milk bottle seal, but I don’t have anything smaller that could serve as a plate, really.” She says, in an almost apologetic note. I can feel the vibrations of her resounding voice all around my body, and I can feel the soft gusts of air she’s producing towards me as she speaks. She sets the item on the floor, and I can see that even if it looked small on her fingers, it’s still got a radius that is multiple times my height. There is nothing small in the world of giants. Except for one thing.

Hannah gets up and leaves me alone, as she goes to sit on her chair and do something on her computer for a moment. I walk towards the item and look at what’s on it. It’s food. It’s tiny pieces cut from whatever Hannah had for dinner. I can remember when she was there. I was inside her shoe, smothered between the insole of her shoe and her soft baby blue sock, as she absentmindedly tried to get her toes comfortably around me. Massive, probing toes, trying to get used to my presence. But I don’t care about remembering that experience for now, I care about dinner. She was obviously thinking about me even then, as she prepared a meal that is almost as big as I am. There is a piece of bacon, a tiny glob of mashed potato, and what is probably a few strands of some vegetable. She’s also set a droplet of water for me. I dig in and indulge in my first meal that was not crummy shop food for a long time.

For the first time, I didn’t even notice Hannah as she walked back to observe me – that’s how engrossed in my food I am. She carefully sat down cross-legged, and just kept staring at me. She’s got a finger stretched from her hand, but she’s not bringing it closer – her curiosity to probe me came second to just watching me eat. I try to picture myself in her place, watching something slightly bigger than a large ant, trying to eat from those pieces of enormous food. She could probably just place my feast on her gigantic mouth and not even feel the food as she gulps down with the force of a … whatever force a giantess swallowing has.

When I finished, barely putting a dent on the amount of food, she finally reaches with her hand, and very gently pushes me off my plate with her giant pinky. I hold on to the ridges on her fingerprint as she moves me gently towards her face. With her other hand, she picks up the milk bottle seal, and does exactly what I was thinking about. With one quick motion, she tips it towards her open, gigantic lips, and in an instant, what to me is an amount of food equal to a man’s weight, to her is an insignificant portion that vanishes inside her cavernous maw. I can feel her warm breath washing over me, and I can see her throat muscles flexing as she gulps down what must be 99 parts globs of saliva and 1 part food. She winks at me and smiles again.

“I don’t roll around, so you’ll be safe here. Please don’t wander off. Good night.”, she tells me, and brings me closer to her chest. Her massive pajama shirt has a pocket on her chest. It is not a very tight shirt, and I can barely see her breasts as two mountainous lumps pushing the shirt out. I am still sitting on her pinky finger, that very gently pushes the pocket apart and drops me in. I can immediately feel the enormous amounts of heat emanating from her body. As she gets up, the whole world of fabric around me moves and shifts about, and I can barely remain standing. I drop off towards the bottom of the soft pocket, and I can feel the lurching motions as she walks. It is definitely a softer experience than being on her feet – her torso is just moving forwards as she walks, instead of the rollercoaster movement of her feet. For a moment, I feel weightless as she hops on her bed and quickly ducks under her covers that enclose me into absolute darkness. As she settles down, my whole experience is dominated by three things: the soft fabric both below and above me, her steady, rhythmical breathing that moves me up and down gently, and her heartbeat that I can feel punching underneath me, the heartbeat whose noise I can definitely get used to.

Hannah has probably turned off the lights and soon drifts to sleep. I should really do the same. And I guess, I should really explain how and why I got here. You see, Hannah is a pretty and almost care-free college aged girl. She isn’t really the kind of person that buys a tiny like myself to own. However, it was the suggestion of her therapist to get me, and here we are. You see, Hannah, a usually pretty and cheerful girl, has the need of one specific thing. She needs someone smaller than herself. Someone she can control, and someone she can actually look down to. Because Hannah, even though she is a young adult, and has all the features and markings of a developed young woman, only has the height of a nine year old girl.

When I woke up, my world was already in motion. Hannah was already up and doing something. I don’t really know what, but she is pacing around her room. The soft fabric of her pajama top is swinging gently, back and forth against her skin as she walks and pauses and walks again. The pocket I am in could fit hundreds of me, that’s how small I am, but there is only one of me. I guess she felt me moving around as I woke up, because she’s stopped moving. A shadow covers the front of the pocket, and I slowly see it take the shape of a finger outside the fabric wall. It gently pokes around the area until it locates me. She gently pushes her finger on me and rubs me slowly. I squirm a little to show acknowledgement that I felt her touch. Did her heartbeat become slightly faster during this moment, or am I just imagining things, in the sudden stillness?

“Good morning”, I hear her thundering yet sweet voice from above. Well, not just from above, but all around me. I could feel her lungs emptying thousands upon thousands of cubic meters of air, and her voice resonates through her skin and clothes. The pocket is still closed though, I cannot see her and she is not making a motion to reach for me. “I’ll get us some breakfast after I shower”, her voice continues, “but for now I’d appreciate it if you just stayed in there, ok? I don’t want to lose you”.

I’m not really used to people requesting things from me, instead of outright demanding them. Suddenly my whole world shifts, as she pulls her top off her body. I am in freefall as the piece of clothing crashes on some soft surface – probably her bed. Her hand approaches and her fingertip squeezes me gently once more, before her shadow turns around and I hear her footsteps as she walks away.

I could now easily walk out of her pocket and explore around. I crawl my way out on the top of the pocket, and exit through the gigantic flat opening. I rub my eyes as they try to focus on the landscape. I am indeed on her massive bed, a bed that was as long and wide as a small town for my kind. The covers have some sort of white and pink pattern, and they are slightly messy, forming small hills and valleys around. I immediately feel the cool breeze of the air around me. I don’t really like it, and I would prefer to be close to Hannah’s reassuring body heat. I remember her instruction and head back into the blue pocket, into her leftover warmth, thinking about the last twenty-four hours. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a showerhead emptying oceans of water on a body so huge that I can’t really describe.

Yesterday I woke up in a much different place than my new owner’s soft clothing. Indeed, I woke up under my bed. Not on my bed, under it. That’s the place I belonged. The fake plasticky fabric of my cage’s floor bit into my back. I did not wake up from the discomfort, however, but because of the creaking noise. You see, my bed was not only mine, but it belonged to two other tiny people. I stand about a quarter inch tall, but they are much bigger, a formidable whole two inches. The store has those on display, and I’m an afterthought. I don’t dare sleep on the bed however: the last time I tried, I ended up being used as a toy for the couple’s games. And they were going at it again above me, causing a huge noise. So I’d rather not be entangled around their massive arms and legs, or being kicked by their feet that are as long as I am tall, and I slept under my bed.

Their own noises are drowned out by the sudden, shuttering noise of the shopkeeper lady’s fingers tapping the glass of our display. “Customer”, she yells at us. “Stop fucking, you two, and try and sell yourselves. If you don’t, I’ll feed you to the cat’. I’m pretty sure the thought of sex is out of their minds immediately. They jump off the bed, I can see their legs hitting the floor, as they run to the water bottle to get cleaned up and look somewhat presentable.

Tiny people cost thousands of dollars. They grow up as slowly as a normal human, they have to be healthy, they have to have at least some basic reading and writing skills in order to be useful as human pets, as well as a general understanding of a world that is too large for us to ever be a real part of. We still learn about geography, and politics, and about how common household stuff works. We also learn that if we anger or displease our masters, we have no rights and we can be punished. Total obedience is something I have learned ever since I was taken from my birth family, my real family. I do not remember them at all any more. All I know is that very rarely, during a normal human pregnancy, a tiny twin will be born alongside the normal baby. Somewhere out there, my brother is living a normal human life, and he looks just like me, only ... he’s a real person instead of a toy. When I could walk and talk, I was sold off to be educated and trained for the rest of my childhood and teenage years. I won’t bore you with the details, but you can tell that I was a success, since I survived and was deemed appropriate to be sold.

The giant couple are finishing their preparations. They don’t care about me, thankfully, they only care to get sold today. I won’t. I’m the runt, too small to be useful. At my size, I don’t really have a use as a toy, or as a companion, and I am not worth my price, according to the market. I peer under the bed, looking towards the glass windows. I might not get bought, but I am always curious about the customers. They are so different! Men and women of all ages, and everyone is looking for something different. There are other boxes next to mine with other tinies, with all sorts of sizes. Most are bigger than me, all the way up to a comfortable doll-sized person, and all the way down to people who are only visible under a microscope. I am not sure how are those even detected at birth, and how they don’t just drown in the fluids of their planet-sized sibling’s birth, but they do have their uses. I don’t know what, but if they are being sold, they must have a use.

A face appears on the window. It’s a sweet, round face, with ashen blonde hair. My first thought is that it’s a child, as she is not bending down to look at our enclosure. I can feel the couple being slightly afraid. You do not buy tinies for your kid if you are a normal parent. They are too expensive, and children cannot care for them correctly. Only rich dads with spoiled kids buy them, and if the kid is spoiled, the tiny will probably end up abused, forgotten, or killed. I smile and hope that she’ll buy those damn two sex crazed tinies, so that I can have the bed for me again.

I look at the girl again, and my first impression vanishes. Those brown eyes are peering in our room not with a childish excitement, but with a careful and calculating look. I look at her other features, and slowly realize that this person is not a child. She looks like a late teenager, or at most an adult in her early twenties. But she’s not bending down to look at us! Did they move our box higher up? The shopkeeper lady walks next to her, and it’s not an illusion anymore. The girl’s head reaches only about the chest of the lady’s body.

“Those have been trained to have social skills. Reading, writing, math, some science, current events…” I can hear her trying to make her standard sales pitch. “You can get only one if you wish but I’d advise you to get both if you’re in biology or anatomy, and they like to fuck each other, so why split them?”

The girl does not respond to the shopkeep’s forced laugh. She opens her mouth, her soft pink lips parting gently, barely revealing the massive black pit of her maw inside. The shopkeeper keeps talking about the two others as if they’re the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t know what’s great about sliced bread, really, since it’s a big slab of bread, the area of a small field for me, but I’ve been taught that it’s apparently the thing against which all great inventions are measured. But the girl isn’t really interested in hearing about how the two sex crazed things would keep her company. She isn’t really blushing, but looks rather uneasy at the prospect. “Miss, when you say companionship, do they just …talk and do stuff?” The owner is taken a bit aback. When college aged girls come to her shop, it’s because they’re about to charge a live, expensive sex doll on daddy’s card, not to talk politics with their toys. “Yes, why, they know their ABCs, as I told you! Neutered so that you won’t have to worry about tadpoles anytime soon, but they still have drive, isn’t modern tiny medicine amazing? Now, as I said, you can shove them anywhere you want and they’ll be fine, trained for any kind of contact and clothing situation. Why, you could probably sit on them easi-“ “Thank you. Can I spend some time with them?”, the girl interrupts her.

The lady isn’t too keen on letting the girl alone, but she’s also been slightly angered by the girl taking her sweet time deciding. On a good day, a sorority brat would have spent a minute before snatching whatever was closest to her bratty palms, but this one is a careful shopper. The bell of the store rings, and she uses it as an excuse to greet another customer, finally leaving the four of us alone.

At this point, I’ve crawled from under the bed and I stand next to it, watching the scene with curiosity. The giant pair is closer to the glass, posing and smiling at her. This is the point where she must choose one, or god, I hope both, and goes away. But she’s not. A few moments pass, and I can see the couple getting a bit restless under the giantess’ gaze. “So, um, I don’t know how this works, but I’m Hannah.”, her giant voice resonates around our box. “I need someone to be with me around the day and, um, keep me company. No, no, not the stuff she was talking about” she quickly adds, turning her head towards the shopkeeper. When she turns back to face us, she looks slightly embarrassed and her soft cheeks have the slightest of blushes. “I just need someone that’s, you know, small. I think you guys can relate.” No, I don’t really relate. You’re the size of a small mountain to me, and even to those two idiots staring at you. But you’re the first person that tried to make chitchat with the toys for a long time. Of course, I don’t speak out my mind, I do not want to draw attention to myself. The others don’t really respond. Hannah looks around her once more, before grabbing the window and pulling the side open, allowing her access to our box. She reaches in with a giant hand. Again, my first impression was that it was a child’s hand, but her fingers are more dainty, less kid-chubby, and more well-formed. She has well-trimmed nails with a soft pink, almost clear polish on them. The couple yelps as she reaches and curls her massive fingers around the girl, leaving her boyfriend behind. The tiny girl squeaks as she is carried off, and Hannah turns her hand so that the tiny girl rests on her massive palm. “Are you trained to be inside a shoe?” I cannot see the girl’s reaction, since the towering fingers that have her cupped in Hannah’s palm are obstructing the view, but I assume that the girl nodded furiously, because Hannah smiled and nodded. I can sense the guy’s disappointment as he seems forgotten, and I am disappointed since I will not be left alone in my cage, after all. “Hey, mistress, how about you take me for your other pretty shoe?” the guy yells up at her. Hannah turns to look at him, with an almost guilty expression. I am trying to imagine what reason she will use to say no. Maybe the girl is prettier and better to look at (I can agree with that too). Maybe Hannah is a lesbian and wants to toe fuck a girl tiny only. Maybe she wants to gift the girl to her boyfriend. As Hannah tries to reply, the shopkeep is back, having already sold a dollsized girl off to her other customer. “Oh, so you’ll have the girl then! Excellent! Want me to ring her up? Maybe tie a bow around her neck?” “Um, miss, how much will she be?” At this point, the guy slumps down and tries not to break down as his fuck buddy is being stolen, no, bought away from him.

“This will be five thousand, sweetheart. Now, are you sure you don’t want the other one too? Look at his broken little heart! I’ll give you both for nine, no, eight and a half.”

Hannah’s expression turns from slightly embarrassed to sad really quickly. A soft “oh…’ escapes her lips, and with an almost trembling hand, she returns the girl to the cage and gently drops her on the floor. She runs to her boyfriend and they hug. Oh god. They’ll be having loud sex again in no time the moment this poor girl gets kicked out of the store for being poor.

“Wait, wait, girl, wait! I’ll give you the girl for four, or you buy the boy only for ...three and a half. Come on, a woman’s got to live somehow!”

“I’m sorry to waste your time, miss”, the girl says, taking a step back – she almost literally shrinks away from the annoyed lady. The scene looks more like a mother that is about to yell at her unruly daughter than a buyer that’s grossly overestimated her budget’s ability.

“Wait! I’ve got it!” the lady yells. “I’ll sell you the runt for two thousand. Just get the thing off my hands so that I won’t have to eventually give him out for free for some pie eating contest or something.” Uh oh. Her hand is already reaching in, shoving the small bed aside with force. The bed slams against the wall and shatters. The two other tinies look back at me, remembering my presence for the first time since they forced me to have a threesome with them two nights ago. I get picked up, buried between the middle-aged woman’s thumb and forefinger, and dumped unceremoniously on Hannah’s palm. It’s soft. It’s soft, youthful and healthy. I sit there, looking up at the chin of the giant shopper. “Two thousand? And he can do what you said?” “Well, yeah, it can speak and do stuff, but he’s so small you’d better get it a megaphone or something. And it’ll probably be harder to please you and you’ll have to worry about squashing it but…” “I’ll buy him. What’s his name?”

Name? The shopkeeper lady starts laughing. This girl has obviously never shopped for a tiny before. I poke my own memory, trying to remember it. Tinies have personalities, but they don’t have names.

“I guess you can name it whatever strikes your fancy. I don’t care. Want me to box it up for you? I can’t really tie a ribbon around this one’s neck, too small for my stuff. Shopping for accessories today, miss?”

“No ma’am, I’ll just wear him out. If you don’t mind. Two thousand okay?”

“Plus sales tax! Come over here now. Will it be card, or cash?”

Hannah’s fingers curl completely around me, closing me in her gigantic, albeit small fist. There is still some light escaping through the gaps between her fingers. I can feel the swinging motion of her arm as she walks. There is some mumbling around me that I’m not paying attention to. I am out of my cage. I am out of this ruddy shop. Finally. I am going to some kind of home. I start wondering what is this Hannah like, but she looks gentle and nice enough.

The two giant women finish their transaction, and Hannah asks for a moment before leaving. She hops on a stool and opens her palm, brining me close to her face. Her breath is somewhat quick, forming small gusts around me. “I hope you’ve been shoe trained too, littlie.” She tells me gently. She’s not really good at this dominant giant thing. She almost looks like she cares, and I would believe it, if I didn’t know better. “We’ll talk more soon, but…” she turns around to look at the shopkeeper who has completely lost her interest in Hannah by now “I’d rather somewhere else.”

She brings me down, close by her feet. They are huge, gigantic to me. “Please don’t make fun of me, but I’m only a size one…” I can’t even begin to fathom how would I make fun of those behemoths that can snuff me out in an instant. I can see her gigantic feet enclosed a pair of gently worn pink converse. Around her bare ankles I can barely see the edge of a white sock. She brings me to the side of the shoe, where there are two small holes. Small is a relative term, of course, as I am slightly taller than they are wide. I know where this is going, and I remember my obedience training. I get up from the middle of her palm, and walk across it, and onto her index finger that is now touching the side of the shoe. Her skin is soft and lovely to walk on. She’s trying to stay as still as possible; she clearly does not know that I’ve been trained to hold my balance while on the body of a normally moving giant. I reach her fingertip, and the edge of the shoe. I look up at her, and she gives me a smile. I cannot tell if it is an encouraging or a shy smile. I belong to her now. I look at the hole again. I can feel her warmth emanating from the shoe, and I can smell her foot scent, a slightly vinegary scent, mixed with something that must be the scent of the detergent she uses to wash her enormous socks. Every foot I’ve been around had a different feel and scent. In time, I’ll grow to get used to this one too.

With nothing else to do, I jump in, into the warm, damp darkness, and into the rest of my life.

I land on a soft and (at least for me), thick fabric. My first instinct is to let myself slide down for a moment and get some distance from the hole, I don’t want to fall out during her gigantic steps. As she starts lowering her foot to the ground, the weightlessness kicks in, and I do what I’ve been trained to do: I dig my hands and feet into the fabric, between the strands. Half a moment later, the shoe crashes into the ground with enormous, world-shattering force. My senses go into overdrive: The first thing I experience is the overwhelming sound. The soft “tap” of her foot on the floor is to me an earthquaking rumble. As her weight is distributed on her foot, the plastic and the canvas of the shoe creak audibly all around me. If I didn’t know better, I would be afraid that the megastructure could collapse all around me at any instant – but it’s just an extraordinarily small girl’s cute little shoe! The scent of her shoe and foot become stronger on my nose, as the air I am breathing in is now wholly tainted by my new owner’s footwear. It’s strong but not bad. My eyes see a blur of light blue in the limited light – I guess only the tops of her socks were white, and the rest was baby blue. And the heat! I am slowly being accustomed to being enclosed in an environment that is dominated by a hmuan’s body temperature instead of the open air in my previous “home”. There is enough space between her foot and the canvas so that I am not completely pressed on both sides. Where am I? I’m around the middle of her instep, on the edge of the arch of her gigantic foot. If I let myself drop further down, I would easily drop down underneath her arch. For now, I hold on. We aren’t moving. There are muffled voices from above – Hannah and the shopkeep probably exchanging a pointless goodbye and thank you very much for your business chat. And then, her gigantic foot flexes. She’s adjusting her toes, and her muscles move all across her foot. It suddenly moves and smashes my back against the canvas wall of the sneaker. My body is almost absorbed into the fabric of her sock. She’s trying to feel me. That must be it. I hear a thundering grinding noise, as her plastic sole is rubbing on the floor. If she had bought the bigger ones, she could easily feel them in her shoe, but I guess I’m a bit too small. “The runt”, as I was called. This girl had two thousand to buy me, but I was still a significant cost. I wonder what my fate will be.

As I am finishing my thoughts, she starts walking. Her foot pushes up, dragging me and her shoe along for the ride, as I am once more weightless and flying forward for just an instant. I hold on for dear life, because I know that the next crash is coming. And it comes, it echoes across the tight chamber. Flying again, crashing again. The sound changes as she steps out of the shop, from the fake wooden floor to the harder pavement. I look up, at the holes that bring a tiny amount of light in the shoe. After only a few steps, we stop. Well, she stops, I don’t have a say. I hear a heavy car door opening, and she climbs in. I cannot hear any voices greeting her, so I assume we’re alone. She pulls her leg inside, and everything turns on its side – she must be having her foot crossed on her other leg, as the canvas of the shoe is not my ceiling. I relax my grip just a little bit on her sock, and take a deep breath.

Suddenly, the canvas collapses on the sock a short distance away from me. Something enormous is pressing down on it. It must be her finger. It slowly moves, tracking the surface of the shoe from the outside. She’s searching for me. After a few seconds, I take a deep, slightly vinegary breath and brace myself as the enormous fingertip reaches me, compressing me once again between the fabric of her gigantic sock and her shoe. It immediately withdraws, however. “Please hold on right there, okay?” I can hear her from outside. Please? I chuckle. She’s actually asking me to hold on! Her hand moves away and there is rumbling from the top of her shoe. Something long and soft slaps on the side, it must be her laces. Indeed, the shoe opens up slightly as the laces become less tight. More light floods in, and suddenly the canvas cover speeds away from me and the sock, as we are violently pulled off the shoe. Well, violently for me, as the light and air are rushing around me, but to her mind, it must have been a gentle and soft tug.

Once my eyes are accustomed to the light, I can see that I was right. Her foot is resting against her leg. I am indeed on a light blue colored sock. My eyes scan my new owner. Far above, her face is looking down directly at me. Her ashen blonde hair is crowning her round face, dropping down like curtains. She is wearing a simple white puffy jacket that covers her body – I can’t help but think that she’s almost swimming in it. One of her arms is on her chest, and an enormous hand is clutching her chest, as she breathes quickly – she’s excited and amazed at what she’s looking at. From where I am, on the side of her sock, I can barely see her wearing jeans on her legs. I stand up, my feet barely digging into the fabric of the sock, and I wait to be spoken to, to be ordered and instructed.

“Hi… I’m Hannah. Pleased to meet you … um… you don’t really have a name, do you? She told me. I don’t know what to call you, but you’re so little!” She takes a sharp breath, and I can almost feel the air rushing around me as she inhales. I am trying to think of something to answer, but she starts speaking again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope my voice isn’t hurting your little ears.” I shake my head vigorously. It doesn’t really. She could bring me up to her mouth and scream on the top of her little lungs, and only then I’d be mildly discomforted. “I’ll just call you little for now, if you don’t mind.” This is becoming silly, but I try not to laugh at the situation. She either has no idea on how to treat something like me, or I spent my last fifteen years being trained for the wrong kind of use. At this point I should be smothered under her heel or drowning in her mouth or being forced into a sticky cave, not have “small” talk forced on me!

“As you can tell, I’m kind of, um, little.” Oh boy. I could tell you that you’re a towering mountain and you wouldn’t believe me, I think. But I can’t help to crack a smile at her. I guess I need to be reassuring at this point. “My therapy lady said that it would do me good to have someone like you to have around. You know. When you want to feel that you do have some kind of control instead of, of…” Suddenly, her hand comes close to me, and her awaiting palm stands next to me. I obediently grab onto her little finger and hop on it. She very gently slopes it down towards her palm, so I walk towards the middle. “I can feel your tiny feet on my skin!” She exclaims. She pulls her leg down and lowers me, showing me the pedals of her car. “I mean; I can barely reach those when driving. I need a special boost on my seat. People treat me like a kid everywhere I go. You saw that lady at the store, I’m sure she’s a great lady but…”

“NO!” I yell up at her. She pauses. Good. She can hear my squeaky voice. “No? No what?” she asks me, shutting up for the first time. Her eyes focus on me, pupils almost as wide as I am tall, waiting for an answer. I take a deep breath and yell back an answer: “She’s rude and obnoxious to everyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing basketball, if you’re normal, if you’re short or if you’re a tiny. She’s just mean to everyone like that. You’re not special, trust me.” I want to keep talking to her, telling her that it’s absurd for her to worry about reaching pedals when I will never be able to feel what is like to drive a car, to be a real human being instead of a toy. But I bite my tongue. Maybe a good first impression will do much more good to me. Boy, this girl has problems. But I can’t help feeling a bit proud of myself as I see her relaxing and gently smiling. If I am a psychological prescription tiny, I better act my part.

I can see the point. I can see myself being tortured by those idiots that are probably still fucking their brains out in my old box at the store. I can remember the times I snuck out to visit the box of the even tinier people, just to dominate them for a bit and feel a bit different. It must be the same to her.

She brings me closer to her face to inspect me. I don’t particularly like this part, but I just stand on her palm, watching the gigantic eyes peering through my naked body. “Do you not have clothes? Do they even make them for you?” Of course they do, but I’m the cheap option. Plus, if I’m to be worn in her clothing, her sweat is going to eventually ruin them anyway, and she can cover my need for warmth anyway. I let her figure this out on her own as she keeps staring at me. She brings her little pinky fingertip close to me, and touches me as gently as she can. I’m positively surprised that I didn’t really need to brace myself for impact. For a first time buyer of a tiny, she knows how to handle one. Good. I let her feel my body. It brushes against my chest and arms. She lowers it, and it passes my abdomen and genitals. She probably can’t even feel them, but this invasion of my nonexistent privacy still feels nice, soft and warm to me. I spread my legs just a bit as I stand so that she can feel them better. She looks slightly embarrassed to be touching me like that, but I feel like she’s enjoying it.

“Okay. It’s nice to meet you. I drove here from my college town, and we need to get back soon. Would you mind riding under my toes for the drive back? Are you hungry? The lady said you ate before I walked in the store. I’ll get you some food when we make it home in a couple of hours.” She’s not really supposed to ask for my consent, but I simply nod. I haven’t been fed today, but I won’t object for now. She lowers her hand and very gently drops me on her jeans-clad lap. I look up at her gigantic jacket again. There is a pocket that is cavernous enough for me to get in, but I guess she wants to actually feel me on her body. That’s expected. With her other hand, she reaches to the passenger seat and pulls her enormous shoe close. It’s turned around so that I can see its bottom. The brown plastic is somewhat worn. I can still see the treads of her shoe and the diamond-like pattern, but there are small pieces of dirt here and there. I shudder at the thought that I could disappear under this dirty sole in an instant if she wants to step on me. It’s enormous, gigantic, but at the same time, yes, it is quite small. Most of my training has been with adults wearing me in their imposing shoes, not children, and she … ah, I did the same mistake as everyone else who meets Hannah does. She’s not a child, even if she’s the size of one. She’s an adult woman. I can start seeing a world where her ownership of me might have a medical, psychological point. She sets her shoe next to me on her lap. I’m only barely as tall as the black stipe on the side of the canvas. As the enormous footwear settles next to me, I grab onto the plastic side and start climbing my way up to the low-top lip. But before I can even reach the canvas fabric, I am gently squished between the thumb and forefinger. She carries me up and down again. When the fingertips separate, I feel my feet touch the soft beige floor of the shoe. The scent of her foot is there, albeit weaker than when she is wearing the shoe. I look down and see that I stand between the huge letters of her heel. I look up at the opening, and I see her peering down on me. “I hope you didn’t mind me giving you a boost! Even though you looked kinda cute trying to climb my little shoe.” Yep, that’s an honest smile, instead of a shy one. She’s already getting used to being a giant goddess to me. I smile back and wave to her, and I start my trek towards the front edge of the shoe. The floor is definitely shaped after her foot, and the spots that receive the most pressure are darker than the rest. I am walking on my owner’s enormous footprint. Deep ahead, I can see the mark the ball of her foot has left, and the small marks of her petite, monstrous toes. The shoe tilts down a bit, but not enough to make me lose my footing and tumble. The light behind me becomes darker. I turn to look back, expecting to see a gigantic blue socked foot entering already, a foot that I couldn’t outrun, a foot that will just overtake me and uncaringly carry me with it across the sole of the shoe. Instead of that, I see a small piece of her face, and a brown eye looking at me. I sigh. This isn’t ownership, this is a damn circus. I give her a thumbs up and keep walking until I reach the wall of the shoe. I can see that her toe marks close to me. Even her smallest leaves an imprint the size of a small bed to me.

I hold on to the edge as her hand grabs onto the shoe, partially collapsing the enormous ceiling of the sneaker. She tilts the shoe slightly on the back. Thankfully I don’t tumble back to her heel. Finally, the light goes dark as her unquestionably massive foot enters the cavern, five hungry toes gently wiggling as they move towards me, stopping only a really short distance from my body. I can feel her tightening the laces above. It’s not a tight fit for Hannah, but it’s not loose either. I’m glad she shops the right size. Too tight of a shoe and there isn’t enough space for me, too big and I tumble around crazily as she walks. She mentioned wanting me under her toes, didn’t she? I comply, and as her foot rests almost vertically on the pedal, I let go of the edge of the shoe, and drop on to her sock-covered toes. They immediately wiggle at my presence. I wait a moment for her excitement to pass, and then I squirm my way underneath them. I’m somewhere between her big and second toe. I lay my back on the floor of the shoe, and I am facing the sock fabric that rubs my whole body. She wiggles her toes once again and secures me in place. If I drop more, I’d be wedged under the ball of her foot.

I hear a rumble of a thousand volcanoes – the engine of her car has started. We are on the move. Hannah is short, and she can barely reach the pedals. As I soon found out, she drives with the tips of her toes on the pedal, which means I’m directly between her foot and the machine. Every time she presses on it, her socked foot smashes me against the floor of the shoe. Then it softly lifts up just a bit. Then I am slammed again. I lose track of it, slowly drifting to sleep. It’s winter outside, and predictably enough, Hannah turns on the heat. Soon, her foot starts sweating, and the sock that’s smashing against me becomes damp. I take a deep breath, and her foot scent is now undeniably all around me. Even if her manners are sweet, her body is now greeting me with salt. My body is now clinging to the somewhat wet fabric. That’s why tinies don’t have clothes, I reassure myself. They’d get ruined right here. At least I am not directly under a toe, then I’d be in an even tighter situation. An enormous toe wiggle here and there breaks the monotony of her driving. But it’s really not that bad, I have to admit. She isn’t trying to purposefully kill me in her shoe. She’s just having me along for the ride. I hope she feels some empowerment from that.

Soon after, I drifted off to complete sleep. I did not wake up until we made it home. And that’s all I have to say about yesterday, the day I met Hannah. Just as I am done reminiscing yesterday’s events, I come back to the present. She’s out of the shower, and she’s casting her shadow on the pajama pocket I am still in. It’s time for the second day to begin.

She pulls the shirt up from the bottom, turning it upside down. I didn’t really expect that, and I find myself tumbling down out of the pocket, rolling across the soft fabric. I’m frantically trying to hold on to something, trying to grab something, anything! Finally I am able to stop my drop, right before I dropped out of the shirt. I’m basically dangling right at the edge of her top, close to the hole that the shirt has for her head.

“Aww, I would have caught you”, I hear a disappointed voice from above. I look down, and certainly enough, there is an awaiting palm, just an inch below me. No, I am certainly not ready to take a trust fall like that. However, I don’t want to disappoint. I take a deep breath, and release my hold, dropping on my back on her awaiting palm. She immediately snatches me, curling her enormous fingers around me, enclosing me in warm darkness again. Her skin is warm and just a tiny bit moist. I can’t really figure out her body wash’s scent, but it’s overpowering me. The hand moves, and when it opens, it’s resting on top of her pillow. She gently tilts her hand on the side, so I walk over, and hop off her hand onto the pillow. “Hold on now”, she exclaims, and hops on her bed. Yes, hops. She’s probably too short to correctly sit on those raised dorm bed, so she has to – I find myself thrown in the air as her massive body crashes on the mattress, sending waves of force all around. I land headfirst back on the pillow. “Hey!” I almost exclaim back at her, but instead I stay quiet and I take a step back.

Her enormous head is inches away from me. She’s laying down on her belly, and her head is right above the pillow where I am on. She’s looking down on me. Enormous strands of hair circle around from her head and fall on the pillow, curtaining the area off. It’s like the opera, and I’m the main event. Hannah’s soft breath is causing small gusts around me, but nothing I can’t handle. It’s warm and minty. I’m glad I don’t have to endure morning breath. The ground I am on is still unstable, as she adjusts her arms and her body on the bed, but I can handle that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be mean. Kayla says that when I jump on the bed nothing happens, but… I guess to you, it’s a bit of a shake, isn’t it?” I nod back at her, and take the courage to reply. “More like an earthquake.” Her smile encourages me to talk more. “Your body exploded like a ton of bombs”. I almost wait to be swatted for talking like that to my owner, but all I hear is a giggle that resonates through my body. She thinks that her ability to move mountains with a hop is funny!

“You’re just so cute, being affected like that by my movements”. Her finger comes close and pushes down on the pillow somewhere close to where I stand. The ground immediately changes shape as it slopes towards the point of pressure. I adjust my footing but don’t fall over, but she can definitely see me doing that. She lifts her finger and pokes the pillow again, this time more quickly. Now I lose my balance and fall over. Another giggle. But it doesn’t sound like she’s doing it out of malice, but it honestly surprises her too. She doesn’t know her power over me, and it’s being tested right now. I stand up again, but I am faced with her index finger, as she sets it right next to me. Her fingernail is short and looks like she’s taking good care of it, but it’s still taller than me. She very gently nudges me, not enough to poke me down, but it’s still an unmistakable suggestion. I lie down, and she covers me with her finger, gently pressing me down on the pillow. I’m just that small and insignificant, that this girl can keep me pinned there. I try to move my arms and legs just a little, as much as I can. The texture of her finger is soft, but still strong enough so that I can feel the ridges of her fingertip exploring my body. “You don’t need to squirm, I won’t hurt you”, I hear from above. The sound travels more through her body to reach me, than through the limited air I have available. I still obey and stop squirming. I stay there for what feels like a minute or two, but it’s probably less than that, until she lifts her finger up.

Hannah pulls her face so close to me that I can almost touch her chin, if I run and jump. I look at her lips. They have soft ridges on them, and I can see the wetness of tiny drops of saliva on them. They are gently glistening in the morning light that comes through the window behind us. I see the details of her face, a soft peachy surface that is dotted with fuzz. There are a few imperfections here and there – to my scale, even the tiniest of features are clear as day. For all the detail I can see though, I can’t not admit that she’s pretty. Her lips part as she speaks again, and I can see her teeth arranged like the walls of a castle.

“I could feel your heartbeat, I could feel you breathing”. She doesn’t sound as much excited about it, as simply amazed, as if someone suddenly revealed to her the mysteries of the universe. No shit, I breathe and have a heartbeat. I’m a human! “Can I do that again, please?” she asks. “Sure, anything you want. I’m yours, remember?” “I don’t like it when people touch me without permission, when they ruffle my hair or when they pull me towards their bellies for a hug” is her response. I guess that makes sense. In some point of view that is unimaginable to me, this goddess is actually a small cuddly thing. And I am happy that she is at least considering treating me like she wants to be treated. Minus the being shoved inside her footwear or clothing, I assume.

“Yeah, I’m fine, you can feel me again”, I tell her, more reassuringly this time. I lie down and she covers me with her fingertip again. This time she feels my body and then very gently starts rubbing me, with the tiniest possible motion of her finger. It feels nice, warm and reassuring. I almost fall asleep right there by her touch. At some point my genitals get pulled by one of the ridges in her fingertip, but thankfully they dislodge themselves really quickly, without hurting me. I hear a shy “oops, sorry” from above, but she continues rubbing me against her pillow. With care that I didn’t know was possible, she gently flips me around, and she’s now feeling my back. It’s like getting a massage from her. Now I am really falling asleep.

I come back to my senses once she pulls her finger back and cooler air rushes all around me. I turn around and looks into the deep, peering brown eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mistress… what is my purpose here?” She’s taken clearly aback by my sudden question. “Please, littlie, call me Hannah”. “Alright, Hannah, what are we doing here? I appreciate that you haven’t eaten me or stomped me on the dirt or done other things with me, but I’m just wondering”.

And then we start talking. Well, she does, and I’m mostly listening. She starts explaining on how she was born normal, on how she was developing normally through her childhood, on how she was even one of the taller kids in her class in pre-school… until her growth abruptly stopped around second grade. She saw her once shorter friends reach her, then pass her, then start towering above her as they all entered puberty and she still gained maybe a few inches during that while they shot up a couple of feet. She told me about how her family took her to the doctors once they realized that she’s stopped growing, but her family couldn’t afford much in terms of treatment, plus the doctors weren’t too worried since she was developing as a woman otherwise.

She’s telling me about the teasing and poking and shoving and holding like a baby. She’s telling me about standing in lines with people shoving her out of the way, she’s telling me about the dread of shopping.

Again I get the urge to yell at her, tough life, at least you are born somewhat human sized, but the deluge of information gets to me. I think back at my boring shop box, at the two giant tinies treating me like a toy, at my training and my handling after that, where I was the runt that’s going to be solved for cheap. I look up at Hannah as she’s babbling something about hand me downs from her ten year younger cousins, and I realize that she’s the runt of her own world. I can’t hold her massive, gigantic size against her, because to everyone else, she’s neither massive, nor gigantic. And here she is, emptying her heart at me.

“… so, she thought it’s a good idea I get a tiny for myself and sort, of, you know, see that I’m not the bottom in the food chain as far as people go, I mean, no, I’m not going to eat you, not that kind of food chain, aaaah” … she’s clearly flustered and embarrassed. She’s talking to me as if I am not a complete stranger, but a friend. I guess I was bought to be a friend. I could get used to this, but her voice is ringing in my ears and it’s still too much information for me all together!

“Hey, Hannah. Relax.” She’s taken aback, and to be honest, I’m taken aback too. I ordered her to do something? Did I really take the courage? She stops talking and looks at me. Her puzzled expression soon turns into a grin, and her finger comes down, poking me gently on my torso. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“No, it’s just that, that… I’ve lost track of the story, that’s all.”

“It’s ok. I guess your tiny little brain needs some rest to process all that. Plus you’ll get to meet me better soon, right? Right?”

She’s excited. She’s somehow both imposing and inviting, both commanding and friendly. I am not really trained to make friends with giants, I did not really have friends of people my size either. So, I default to what I think will work best, making her feel good about owning me.

“Say, Hannah. Did you enjoy the drive home from the shop?” It’s totally weird using her name, but I can now weave it into my words almost naturally.

“Oh yes, I was excited and happy and to be honest, a bit unsure about you, but…”

“No, I mean, did you like sticking me under your toes like that?” I would also ask why, but I kept my question to the first part for now. Not sure what’s the fascination with giants, even little innocent ones keeping us in their shoes, with the heat, darkness, sweat and grime, but I’m not THAT courageous with her yet.

“You were kind of warm, and squishy, and fun to feel around there. I didn’t stomp you too much, did I?”

“Nah, I’m used to people wanting to actually hurt me. You didn’t do that.”

“Plus, I wanted to feel you on me, you know? Not put you in my purse or something, you’d not be safe on my shoulder if I brake or speed up too fast, I don’t want you tangled in my hair, and in other safe and closed spaces it’d be too embarrassing to put you, y’know?” the slightest blush on her cheeks makes me smile.

It’s to both of our advantage for me not to mention that in the past I’ve been shoved in every imaginable “embarrassing” place, so I don’t, at least for now. There’s worse places than shoes, and hers weren’t nearly as bad either. I switch the subject towards what I think she’d enjoy.

“You know you look pretty damn huge from down here, don’t you?”

“I do? Can you tell me?”

“Godzilla would probably not come even halfway up to your knees if he was made for cities of people like me. Not that there are any cities for people like me, mind you, even you could probably step on whole building complexes and you’d be finding debris stuck under your enormous shoes for days after you were done walking on the-“

“No, can you tell me something nicer I could do? Please? I’d be so much bigger than Godzilla, but how can I stop him if he’s in the middle of the city and I can’t step near him? I’d squish too many things!”

She’s a damn pacifist! The absurdity of our roleplay makes me laugh, but I try my best. “I guess you could step on a park – yeah, it’d be shaped like your footprints after, but you could reach and pick him up with your giant hand, and drop him in your purse or a box or something.”

“I’d probably not wear shoes, try and leave the smallest print as possible.”

“But then you’d get trees and cars hurting your petite toes. Sure you’re a giant, but you’re not so big to brush everything off like dust. I’d say you could get some thin sandals maybe as a compromise.”

“The sandals I can buy, usually have flower patterns on the bottom, I’d be leaving a nice stamp for people to enjoy when I step on their tiny park, I guess. I like your plan. Fear Hannah, Godzilla! I’ll trap you in my purse, you ugly oversized lizard!”

Boy she’s getting excited and laughing at this. I’m laughing too. For a moment, I wonder what would the world be like if there were such giants that towered above normal people’s cities. People like me would be officially microbes to them. Hannah’s imposing toes would be bigger than mountains to me, if she was that huge compared to normal people and I was still as I am now. Did I feel a pang of sadness at the thought of not being able to interact with her? She’s getting to me, badly.

“And then I could drop him off on a government facility and use my hands to carry materials for the rebuilding efforts, if I didn’t get in their way, that is”, she continues. Her voice trails off and she sighs, looking back down at me.

“Hey. Littlie. Mind if I show you how huge I am?”

I barely have enough time to nod before she gently picks me up between the thumb and forefinger. I feel like I’m flying through the air, but the descent is much longer than the ascent. I guess I’m headed straight towards the floor.

My guess was correct. The moment her fingers released me from the softest total body grip you’ve ever imagined, I found myself on the floor of her room. Not alone of course, as next to me, she was standing up on her full, unimpressive to others, gargantuan to me, height. There is a slight rumbling on the floor: that is her toes gently wiggling as she’s looking down at me. Said toes are just a few inches away from me, the same ones that I spent yesterday’s afternoon and evening underneath their sweating, crushing weight inside Hannah’s shoe. The toes are small and dainty, just like her hands, almost doll-like but unmistakably feminine, not girly, at the same time. I know there are many different types of dwarfism in humans, ranging all the way from just super short people, to midgets, to people with misshapen bodies, to tinies like me. Her case is as she told me – at some point her body just decided to give up growing, and her features matured as they were. I look further up from her toes. She’s got a pair of light blue pants, that look suspiciously like the pair of the pajama top she was wearing earlier. I mean, the cupcake patterns betray that. They reach down to her feet, about half an inch of fabric simply resting on the floor, only the tips of her feet peeking out of the somewhat oversized clothing. However, since I was occupying her pajama top, she grabbed a t-shirt to throw on. It’s light green with some kind of drawing or lettering that I cannot see from my lowly vantage point. Her arms are protruding from somewhat loose sleeves, and her hands are resting on her waist. Finally, further up, past the small but noticeable bumps of her chest, I make eye contact with her as she’s still staring down at me.

“Took you long enough to see it all, didn’t it? Like what you see?” her thundering voice came from above. Even though I could hear her normal voice just fine from there, I guess she thought that my tiny ears couldn’t pick up the sound and she spoke louder than before. I try to yell an answer back at her, but she comically pulls her palm on her ear, pretending to try and listen harder. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you from my lofty tower of almost-four-feet-town.” Oh I can hear the giggle, however. “Do you still think I could give Godzilla a fight for his scaly money?” She barely lifts her foot and inches it towards me. Does she want me to run or sit and take a toe beating? I’m trying to think. But that moment of indecisiveness is all it takes for her to act she drops her foot a hair’s width in front of me. Her big toe dwarfs me, and the other ones do too – probably not the smallest one, barely.

“Don’t be scared, okay? I’m with the good guys, I won’t let the lizard eat you… but I need to cover you to protect you!” In a flash, she lifts up her big toe, pushes her foot just a tiny bit closer, and lowers the toe, taking me down with it. I’m smothered underneath my fleshy prison. She very gently taps her toe on top of me, hopefully enjoying the sensation.

“Watch out little things, as I run!” she yells. It is unbelievable to me, but her massive body shifts about as she almost carelessly pretends to run on the stop, her giantess feet crashing around me, left and right, again and again. She’s careful enough not to directly step on me, which I definitely appreciate – even at her relatively small weight, it’d still hurt to be stepped on full-force like that. The booming sounds and the earthquakes on the floor are deafening. My adrenaline is pumping. During my training, I was dropped in a floor of actually dancing, careless people, and had to survive the onslaught of feet much more enormous than those, enclosed in shoes much more punishing than this girl’s soft barefoot skin. My instincts tell me to run, to avoid her steps, find the little gaps that her enormous bludgeoning feet cannot easily step on. However, Hannah’s actually paying attention where she steps. I can’t deny my owner her game, and I set a straight course, running off. She picks up on that, and chases me around her room, if you can call it a chase: I run, run, and run some more, and then she takes one step, completely obliterating whatever distance I’ve put between us. We do that a few times, until I realize that I am slowly being steered to a dead end, as I find myself between her chasing giantess feet and the spine of a book that lies on the floor. “Gotcha” rings on my ears, and I do what I do best: I curl around in a ball and brace for the deadly impact of tons upon tons of barefoot flesh obliterating me like a bug. However, while the shadow of her foot covers me, she lowers it gently on me, and I end up being under the canopy of the space between her toes. She gives them a quick flex, and now I’m wedged between her second and third toe.

“Hold on there a moment”, I hear from above. She starts … she starts walking. I immediately grab onto her toe, as they start turning and twisting as she walks. Normal people don’t really appreciate how much do toes move and shift in their joints as they walk, but I can tell you, it’s a world of difference. I cling on for dear life as Hannah walks a few steps across the room, my tiny head barely sticking above the gap of her toes, watching the environment zoom by in a blur. When her foot lands on her destination, we are back by Hannah’s towering bed. I look up and see that it’s indeed set up a bit too high, and that she has to hop on it every time she wants to get on it, instead of just sitting on the bed like normal people do. It suddenly reminds me of my bed in the shop, even if that was for people at least eight times as big as me, while Hannah’s bed is just uncomfortably tall instead of towering.

She wiggles her toes softly until I let go and drop on the floor, where I am greeted with the ball of her foot, aimed straight at me. She steps on me, even though I can tell she is not putting her weight on me. She very gently rubs me on the floor in a gentle twisting motion. It doesn’t take long until she lifts it, and announces that it’s time for a protective circle, whatever that is. She lowers her body, depositing her (relative to me) massive butt on the ground, causing a massive quake on the floor, and forms a literal circle around me with her enormous “long” legs. Her feet slam together, and I’m enclosed in a circle of fleshy walls, covered in enormous cupcake on blue tapestries. I can see that she’s inspecting me. I am standing firm, and there is no bruise or abuse on me, and it doesn’t even hurt. She played with me amazingly gently for that level of pretend roughness AND for being a first timer. “I am sorry, little one, I did not see that you got caught in my big ol’ toes as I ran to chase the monster! My bad”, she laughs. She then whispers softly, showing me a temporary out of character insight: “I practiced with gummy bears before, you know. Else I’d be too scared I’d squish you.” I could write an essay on how gummy bears are not really substitutes for me: they are twice as tall, they are soft, they are inanimate, but I won’t ruin her fun. Whatever she practiced on, her method works fine on me, and I won’t complain.

Hannah wastes no time, and swipes me under my feet on her fingertip, bringing me at her feet, where her toes are touching each other. I look down at the ten fleshy digits wiggling, writhing, almost like teeth expecting their meal. “To the vault, put the innocents in the vault so that Godzilla can’t reach them!” she exclaims as I drop right between her big toes. The two big toes grab me and start gently rubbing me between them. I try to breathe every moment I am not squished between the moving wiggling toes. She carefully, even masterfully, drops me between the balls of her feet, enclosing me in the warm gigantic flesh, as she keeps rubbing her feet together. There are a few dust particles here and there that are stuck to her otherwise freshly washed feet. I don’t mind a change from yesterday’s sweaty drive. As she keeps rubbing me between her bare feet, I slowly drop even further, until I find myself massaging her heels. The skin there is just slightly more tough than the rest of her foot, but even there it’s one of the softest heels I’ve ever had the chance to step on me. I eventually slip on the floor, and I look up at her towering feet. They might be quite small for a human, but they are still almost eight inches tall as they rise up as towers from the floor, topped with toe-turrets and battlement gaps between them, easily at least twenty times as tall as I am. The soft flesh is pink and relatively free of any imperfections or marks.

As I am still amazed by the enormous feet ahead of me, one of them gently moves toward me. I take a step back, trying to avoid being overrun by her massive heel. “Hey, over here”, she calls softly. I turn around, leaving her feet and walk towards her body. I walk until I can see straight ahead of me the seams that connect the pant legs in front of her crotch – and that is still fairly above my point of view as I stand in front of her mountainous torso. Close to the seam is another one of those enormous cupcake shapes. I could still get easily lost in it, if it were real, I remind myself. Finally realizing what I’ve been staring at, I look quickly away from her covered womanhood though, and back to her face. “Hey, can you hear me now?” I yell up at her.

“Yeah, I figured the mountain would have to move for your prayers to be heard, little one. I grant you an audience.” She raises her finger and brings it down, pointing at me, but not touching me. She’s completely engrossed in playing her role, and I can’t fault her. I’m sure this “brand new toy” period will end at some point and things will go to normal. I just hope she doesn’t get bored of dominating me too easily before I end up in some kind of second hand shop.

But now I have doubts about this. Her previous outburst of sincerity, when she spoke so quickly and changed subject so many times is still on my mind. She’s already invested a part of her soul in me, she won’t make me food for a lizard any time soon. Suddenly she pokes me, barely enough to shake out of my endless internal monologue me but not enough to topple me. “I said, I grant you an audience inside the castle of legs. Speak!” she orders in mock commanding voice. I’m lost for words; I’m not sure what role am I playing any more or what she expects me to say. So, I try my best.

“Um, is Godzilla gone? Is the town safe?”

“Ayup. He’s gone. I got tired chasing him, but the deed is done. Give your savior a little kiss, will ya?”

I make a fake bow, and then stand up again, blowing a kiss up at her. Hannah’s smile softly erodes from her face, replaced by concern. She brings her hand next to me, gently cupped and slightly tilted towards me, my sign to hop on that I’ve learned by now. I climb her soft hand and walk to the middle of her palm. Even though I’ve walked on the uneven soft skin before, I can feel her pulse underneath my steps, I can feel the rivers of blood pushing through the pipes under her skin. She brings me close to her face. “I feel bad making you play along like that, my little. I mean, I just treated you like a toy, a prop in my silly scene. You’re a person though. I took you out of home, stomped on you, had you sleep on me, toyed with you, and demanded you blow me a kiss on top of that. You probably hate me by now. I’m sorry.”

I’ve initially no idea where this is coming from, but I should have guessed that this girl has more insecurities than just about her height. How many times have I felt worthless because I was the runt? Somehow, now my role is to be the bigger person in this delightfully absurd relationship. It’s time for some brutal honesty.

“Look, Hannah. You paid for me, you own me, okay? If you ask me to do something, I’ll do it for you. If it’s to blow you a kiss, that I’ll do. If it’s to eat toe cheese, that’s what I’ll do. It’s my part in this. I’m too small to be your friend, your real friend, at least. I’m a toy you use to feel better. So … stop worrying and use me to feel better, whatever it is you need me to do.”

Mistake. Mistake, mistake, mistake. I just made a big one. I can almost picture the little heart being broken by my words. Words that I don’t want to believe, because, dammit, deep down I’ve actually had fun the last few minutes, and it did not feel like I was just obeying orders from my owner.

I expect tears, or anger, or defeat. However, I did not expect what actually came from her lips.

“Yeah, I own you. Yeah, you don’t have a choice, because if you hop off my palm, you’ll either starve on the floor, or if you escape my room you’ll get vacuumed up or stomped on by any of the girls in the corridor. I bought you for two thousand dollars, money that my family barely has, but they gave to me in hopes I can feel better. And it’s your job to make me feel better, but…”

Brutal honesty from her as well. I’m amazed at the range of emotions this girl can show. If anyone had to keep reminding themselves that they are not dealing with a child, but a rational adult, there is no doubt anymore.

“… but the way this will work is if we at least maintain an illusion of this being more than just me bossing you around like someone bosses a dog for treats. Yes, technically I own your almost invisible ass. But I won’t hurt you or punish you if you don’t want to do something for me. Please. Try and be comfortable, and just be yourself. You were probably trained to obey, but unless your life is in danger, I don’t want you to blindly obey. Be yourself. I want to meet you, little one. I want us to be friends, and not toy and master. Got it?”

I stand there, looking like an idiot on the girl’s palm. There is a little voice inside me telling me that there’s still a good chance she’s just toying with me, but I don’t listen to it anymore. I slowly bow down, on my knees, and bring my head on the soft skin floor. I place the tiniest kiss on her palm. I look up back at her as I am still down on all fours. “This is not because you asked me to, but because it feels right.” For my whole life I’ve been almost tortured into absolute submission, but in this one, this Hannah, that has in her littlest bone all the force needed to squish me, I think I have found something stronger than fear. I have found respect.

Hannah has left me on the floor, on an area that she calls “safe from her squishy squashy mighty footsteps”. She’s formed a wall using what looks like her blanket, creating a circular wall around me. In this area she’s placed a bunch of everyday items for me to explore, and play with. Play with! I’m not a kid to play with things, but I’d both rather humor her and of course spend my free time doing something than just sitting on a spot. As for Hannah, she is sitting on her chair, working on some kind of homework for tomorrow. She told me that since we played enough already, it’d be unfair and boring for me to be squished between her once again socked toes while she’s doing that. Whatever, I would have done that anyway if that’s where she wanted me.

The most surprising item that’s left for me is a toy car. She thought it’d be cute for tiny me to play around in a tiny toy car. Of course, the scale on the car is bigger than mine, so I end up being as tall as one of the wheels on it. It’s a car made for giants – even though my giant ex-roommates would have probably been too big to fit in. The car is shiny blue, and everything on it is metallic, even the wheels. She’s left the little door open, so I walk over there and look inside. The plastic interior does not look too inviting – it is plastic, plus everything is too big. I reach and climb in the car, and onto the seat. I can stand on the seat and my head doesn’t reach the ceiling of the car. I’m too small and too weak to even considering closing the door. If I sit down on it, my legs can’t reach past the seat, never mind trying to reach the floor, and my hands cannot even get close to the massive toy wheel. I shiver as I think that if there was a baby seat in this scale, I would still be too small to fit in properly.

When Hannah placed that car on the floor a few minutes ago, she told me that there is an old movie that she likes watching. It’s about a little kid who gets blown up to gigantic size and runs around a city. At some point, the kid picks up real cars as if they are toys, and the people inside have to survive the ride of their lives in his pudgy, gigantic hands. I’ve not watched this movie, but I don’t doubt that Hanna’s enormous hand might grab my vehicle and push it around. I hope I can just hold on and not be thrown around like a tiny ragdoll inside the plastic interior, that would hurt me. I’m sure that in her movie, those people had seatbelts! I also wonder if a real car would be able to withstand the pressure of an uncaring, playing kid’s hand. It would probably fold like foil and the tiny passengers would be squished into oblivion. I’m glad I’m in a toy, that at least for its scale, is more sturdy than real cars. She could probably step on it and all that would happen is that she’s hurt her foot and my ride would get launched who knows how far.

I hop off the car and walk around it. Yep, it’s huge, even if it’s just a toy!

I look around the area. There are more things that Hannah has left for me to explore. Among them, there is a pair of socks and a pair of black leather boots that “we’ll be wearing later on so please get used to these please”, as she told me. I look over at her towering form in the distance. She’s still busy with her homework, and I guess she’ll be for a while, so there is no rush to get back into her shoes just yet. I look around for other interesting things to explore.

I walk up to something else. It’s a massively long and somewhat less wide piece of paper. It would be almost flat, but while its edges touch the floor, the middle of it is slightly raised. It’s as if the paper used to be rolled tightly in, well, a roll, before it was torn off. I hop on the paper and head to the top. My heart races as I read the letters that are almost as big as I am tall:

>>>Aunt Mina’s Tiny People Shop<<<

I keep reading the next few lines, which are, I guess, an address and a phone number. I walk further down, and I see the unmistakable record of my own sale. It takes much more space to print “1 tiny, male, quarter inch, runty, as is, no returns” than the space my whole existence takes. Next to the flattering description, there are the numbers. $2000, the price of a life, of a tiny human being. Even though I was raised and trained for this, I feel my stomach clench for a moment, as I realize how truly insignificant I am to those giant people. For a moment, my previous conversations with Hannah vanish, and I am just a thing for her, much like the toy car, or her clothes. Just a bit more expensive, that’s all. I walk further down, to where she signed her signature. The thick scribble is in blue ink, and the whole shape, is, surprise, much bigger than I am. I easily lie down on the script “H” at the beginning of her signature and feel the paper with my hands. The force of her writing has deformed the paper slightly, causing a valley where her pen wrote, indenting the paper. I can feel it easily with my hands. The blue ink has dried since yesterday, but I can still feel it in my hands. She signed with more ink than I have blood in my body, I’m sure. And yet, while the receipt makes me feel somewhat sick, there is something soothing about Hannah’s signature. It could have been anyone else, and I could have been a snack or worse by now, but I’m not.

I wonder what was she thinking when she left that receipt for me to “play with”. My instincts tell me that she’s doing it to assert her dominance over me, to show me that I’m owned. However, I can’t really think that she’d do it if she knew what it made me feel. I don’t know anymore. I want to believe that she’s cruel, because that’s easy to believe and be done with.

Suddenly there is a massive shadow over me. While I was lost in thought, I completely failed to notice the rumbles of her steps. But she’s not looking at me, she just passed over to find something else in her room. I look at her again. She’s gigantic, enormous by any standards, yet you can tell that she’s kind of small compared to her surroundings. Maybe not as much as I am compared to my toy car, but still. And I can’t but notice how graceful she looks while walking, while leafing through a stack of notes. She’s not a lumbering giant, she’s a careful and petite giant. She walks back to her desk and sits on her chair again. An enormous sigh escapes her lips as she does so, and even I can hear it.

Next to the receipt is a pen. It’s of course extremely long for me, but thankfully it’s thin enough so that I am actually taller than it, as it lays on its side on the floor. It’s not the pen she used to buy me – since past the clear body of the pen, I can see a barrel of pink, glittery ink inside. At this point it’s expected that Hannah is a fan of pink and girly stuff, I guess. I hop on the pen and walk across the thin body until I reach the top, where it’s closed off with a slightly thicker cap. I hop off the pen and head to my next item, which is more personal, more close to Hannah than some random trinket.

It’s a hair band. It’s all scrunched up into almost a ball. I haven’t seen her with tied up hair yet, but I guess sometimes she’s wearing it. I walk close to it and feel the small imperfections and ridges in the pink elastic band. It’s too massive to be used to contain me, but I’ve seen other, bigger tinies, being immobilized by such a band. However, what’s more striking about the band is the slight scent it emanates. While I’ve had my chance to smell Hannah’s feet, I haven’t had really met the rest of her body other than her hands just yet. The band has a softer, sweeter, almost enjoyable smell. I guess that’s what Hanna’s hair smells like. It’s an almost intoxicating scent. Giant men are supposed to like the scent of giant women’s hair, and I am getting hit with a disproportionately huge amount of scent right now. It makes me want to just climb on the hair scrunchie and sleep on it.

But I’d rather walk away than fall into the trap. Next up is something much more massive. It’s a glove. It’s a soft green glove made of wool. I am facing its entrance, where her enormous hand would enter and stretch the space open to fit her fingers and palm. I stare into the dark insides of the glove, but I decide to hop on the surface instead of crawling in. I walk to the middle of the giant glove, and see the five fingers extend past the main body of the fabric. I’ve already been on Hanna’s little hand enough times to instantly recognize that the glove might be a bit too big for her. Those fingers look slightly too long compared to what I know. The price of being little, I guess. I walk down the pinky finger of the glove and sit on the tip. I wonder if she’d ever want to wear me inside her glove. I’d certainly be gently smashed up against everything she touches if she did. And it would probably be less warm and less comfortable than inside her sock. But I wouldn’t mind trying at least once.

I finally make it to the pair of socks that’s on the floor. These are much more massive than the one I rode in yesterday. This style is so long that it looks like it can easily reach above Hannah’s ankles. The socks themselves are black, with red in the toe and heel, a red stripe on the lip of the sock, and they’re patterned with red hearts. Enormous red hearts that are easily bigger than I am. The way the socks are lumped up on the floor, they make a small mound that I could climb, but for now I just walk around them, taking in their sheer magnitude and enormity. There is no scent coming off those, they must be fresh, but I’m sure by the time she’s done using them tonight, they’ll have their fair share of Hannah’s foot odor. I’ll probably have it on me too, come to think about it. I walk towards the toe section of one of the socks. It’s so huge. I can easily get in there and be worn between her toes no problem. I start climbing the sock “hill”. It’s easy for my little hands to find holds between the strands. My feet walk on the fabric and sometimes get tangled up on the strands. The fabric is soft, but I can definitely feel that those are a well-worn and loved pair that has seen a lot of use over time. There are small imperfections here and there in the weave. I finally make it to the top of the hill, and I’m standing on the red floor of one of the cute adorning hearts. Standing on it makes me kind of miss Hannah’s gigantic heartbeat from the past night. I wonder if she’d let me sleep in her shirt pocket again. Maybe if I serve her well enough I can ask for it as a favor.

Speaking of serving Hannah, it’s time I make good on the only order she gave me: to make myself acquainted with her boots that she’ll be wearing me in later on. From my sock vantage point I can see them close by. They are two towering, enormous black leather boots. They have a flat heel on the back, and a very round front that barely lifts off the ground. On the very top, a black leather bow adorns the entrance of the boot. I remind myself that they’re probably children’s boots, but they look classy and inviting, not childish. I’m sure Hannah is happy that little miss styles exist for her size. The boots reach up to what I suppose is a height above ankle but lower than mid-calf. They are barely shorter than they are long. I can see their laces going up from the base of the boot all the way up to the top. I guess there is also a zipper on the side, but I cannot see it from here.

I make my way down from sock hill and walk towards the boots. I find myself by their flat heels. I am still shorter than the thickness of her sole. I walk around the massive footwear, admiring the imposing size of them, looking up at the already towering height, even if it’s just a short bootie!

Time to get in. But how? I walk back around to the other side of the boot where I can see the end of the zipper above the sole of the shoe. All I need to do is jump on the sole, latch myself onto the plastic, and then use the zipper as a ladder of sorts. I’ve done this before. A few unsuccessful jumps later, I am finally holding onto her giant sole and I’m climbing up. However, when I make it up to the zipper, I have another idea. My feet are now standing on the top of the sole, and I can walk the narrow path around the sole of the shoe. I spend a couple of minutes carefully inching towards the front, where the front edge of the sole is slightly rising. This makes it easy for me to get on the leather and right on top of the rounded leather tip of the shoe. I am now standing on the shoe. I hop a few times on it. Right below me, underneath the floor I am standing on, is the enormous cavern where Hannah’s playful toes will soon be squeezing me and rubbing all around me pretty soon.

I look towards the back of the shoe, where now I am facing the crisscrossing laces of the shoe. I could probably squeeze inside one of the holes that the giant black laces emerge from and get inside the shoe by avoiding the climb, but where is the fun in that? I run to the laces, that are surprisingly thinner than my height, but also made from some kind of hard elastic material instead of fabric, like yesterday’s converse shoes. I hold on and start climbing up the leather shoe, using the laces as steps and holding on to them whenever I can. As the ascent turns vertical, I get slowed down significantly, but I don’t give up. A few minutes later, I am finally on the top of her shoe. An untrained human would probably feel dizzy looking down to what is probably more than a hundred feet vertical drop. On one side of where I stand, I can drop back to the front of the shoe, whereas on the other I see the dark pit of the inside of her boot.

I look around me from my vantage point. I’m high enough to be able to finally see past my blanket-made safe perimeter that Hannah set up for me. I can see all the way across the room in any direction. There is Hannah’, sitting on her wooden chair, her socked feet dangling gently off it, unable to reach down. Next to her desk is her bed, towering ever so high. On the other side of the room is another desk and bed. The bed is tidy, but there is no sign of that giant woman yet. I wonder what she’s like. Hannah mentioned her name yesterday, I think, but I can’t remember it. There are a few pairs of shoes underneath the bed, but they’re so far away and it’s so dark that I can’t really tell much, other than that I see a couple of pairs of sneakers, sandals and heels. They look more womanly than girly. I guess the other girl is at least adult-sized. Looking back at Hannah’s bed, I can’t see much underneath her own bed. I guess she’s slightly more tidy. But then again, her massive converse that she wore me on yesterday are under her desk. They look so little and distant from where I stand! There is what looks like a door to a closet further away, but it’s closed. And finally, all the way towards the back, a door to their bathroom on the side, and the door that leads out to the corridor of the dorm room, and into certain death for me, if I ever try escaping.

I turn my attention back to Hannah. I think she’s humming along some tune as she’s working. I can only see her back, but her body seems relaxed. I guess whatever she’s writing isn’t giving her too much trouble. And that means she could possibly be done soon. Right, let’s get back to business then.

I look back down at the dark pit of her boot. There is already a small odor coming out from the shoe. It’s similar to what I experienced yesterday, but not really the same. It’s less potent, for now, but less vinegary and more leathery. Different materials for different shoes. I need to make my way down, and the easiest way to do that would be to jump. I’m small enough so that my terminal velocity is relatively small and such a drop won’t damage me, but it’ll still hurt a bit. I decide against that, and carefully walk around the top of the boot to the side, where I can start climbing down the inside of Hannah’s giant footwear. I give her a thumbs up, even if she’s turned away, and start climbing down.

It’s a relatively fast descent. The inside of the boot has a thick, soft fur, and I have no problem grabbing a hold of it and going down. The light becomes more limited and the smell of leather and foot becomes stronger by every inch. During my descent I stumble upon a large tag that’s sticking out from the fur. It’s the tag that mentions the shoe’s materials and size. I read and see that this boot is a size 2. That’s bigger than what she told me yesterday – that’s what the silver letters that are embroidered on the black cloth tag say. I wonder if it’s just a better fit, given that not all shoes are made out of the same sizing info, or if she just couldn’t fund a size small enough for her. Once I am finally down, I step on a relatively soft insole. I can see that the middle of it is noticeably squished in, from the weight of Hannah’s mighty heel. There are some faded silver letters on the heel, but I’m not here to read. I look around me, and especially down the almost pitch black cavern that her foot will almost fill up. If the shoe is truly bigger than her size, I will want to be worn inside her sock instead of directly inside her shoe. I don’t like it when there is too much open space for me to be potentially thrown around. I walk down the surface of her insole until the toe section, which is still massive to my eyes. The ceiling is still taller than what I can reach, probably double or three times my height at least. It’s then that I notice something on the very front of her boot. Contrasting with the black of the shoe is a white mass that covers the wall. I walk up to it and touch it. It’s soft and made up of threads that are too tiny even for me to individually discern. It’s a ball of cotton. I guess I have my answer. The shoe is slightly too big for Hannah, and she’s fixed that by adding some cotton in the front so that her toes will have something to push against. The cotton is indeed pushed in, as if her giant toes have squished it between them and the toe end of the shoe multiple times in the past. I can hardly see them due to the lack of light, but as I walk around, I can feel the indentations her enormous toes have made on the sole of the shoe. The smell down here is the strongest, but still not as strong as what I’m sure it will be when she eventually puts her shoe on.

My exploring is suddenly interrupted, as the whole cavernous, gigantic little shoe is shaken. I lose my balance and get thrown around before I desperately hold onto the cotton at the end of the shoe. Hannah must’ve picked up the boot. Time’s up.