Author's Note: This is an unaware story with a different setting. The giantess in this story is a junkie, who is under the influence of a drug. If you do not like this for whatever reason, don't read the story.There is growth, crushing, killing, some peeing and strong body odors, especially sweaty feet. No sex. Also no real vore, but the giantess "uses" people and other stuff like a junkie would consume drugs.
Have fun and tell me what you think of it.
"Excuse me, do you have some cash?"
"No."
It was the usual conversation for Melissa. The 24-year old spent her days on the street, begging for money. The majority of the people either shook their heads after glancing briefly at her or bluntly said "no". Some even got annoyed and sneered she should get a job. Others simply ignored her. Only once in a while she got some coins. A few dimes and nickels, nothing more, but still something.
It was barely enough to finance her drug addiction. Melissa took heroin, one of the most dangerous and addictive drugs around. It gave her a feeling of euphoria, a feeling she wanted after having fled her elderly home a few years ago.
It was the classic story. Born in a slum of Atlanta, Melissa got more beatings than food at home during her childhood. Her two older brothers were in jail, as was her father. Her mother, addicted to alcohol, didn't care much about her, nor about any of her children. Melissa was hardly able to read and write, having attended only a few years in grammar school, and was left to her own fate most of the time. Not hard to imagine she was susceptible to a substance that promised feelings of happiness, feelings she hardly ever felt while being a child or adolescent.And now, she was drifting the streets of her home city, with an expressionless look in her eyes, begging for cash to buy her next shot of heroin. A life wasted.
If one can call this a "life".
She got her food either out of garbage cans or from local charity, which was a religious organization giving one meal for free for the homeless people and junkies like Melissa. During the night, she could sometime sleep in a shelter for the homeless or an empty room of a ruined, vacated building, but usually, it was a place under a bridge spanning Proctor Creek for her.
That evening, she had returned to her spot under the bridge after a day of begging and foraging. She'd gotten enough cash to be able to buy herself a new shot of heroin and a few cigarettes. Lying down, she took the heroin and curled herself up.
The drug began to work. Melissa felt her misery slowly ebb away and a sensation of lazy happiness spread through her meager frame. She closed her eyes and drifted away in blissful nothingness.
She didn't realize that a pair of evil eyes had been following her all day.