It was Otis’s second month on the job. Janitorial work. Night shift. Corporate pay. No qualifications required, except to be able-bodied. Low-key dangerous.

A dead-end job.

That’s where you end up after getting kicked out of college. But that’s another story.

Get your gear. Find your crew. Go through the tubes. Pick up dust and crumbs. Sweep. Wipe. Mop. Drink coffee. Repeat. Put away your stuff and go home. Live the rest of your day too tired to do anything requiring thought. Sleep. Repeat.

Safety Rules:

Always wear your hi-vis hat and vest. At least the hat.

Stay Alert. No headphones (everyone wears headphones on night shift. Nobody cares.)

Stay with your crew. No wandering.

Never be on the floor. Leave that to the scrapers. 

It was hard work. And excruciatingly boring. And completely fucked up your sleep cycle. And the coworkers were weird and lame. And Otis was pretty sure the cleaning chemicals were giving him eczema. That or the micro-dust. And he missed college already.

But there was one highlight to every night: Savanna.

She was the night supervisor. A full size person. A giantess.

Savanna was very pretty. She had a round, symmetrical face and looked like several celebrities all combined, and Otis could never decide which one she most resembled. She was around the same age as him, mid-to-late 20s, average height verging toward tall, and an average build with wide shoulders. Her hair was always dyed ruby-red, and usually up in a ponytail or messy bun, or just pinned back at the top.Her eyes were green, framed by winged eyeliner, and the tiredness of a graveyard-shift worker gave them almost a smoky shadow. She always wore black: black leggings or dress pants, work-compliant black sneakers (with steel toes, though you could hardly tell) and non-work-compliant black hoodies with heavy metal logos. She had the voice of a mean girl who was always polite, unless she was teasing. she laughed at anyone’s joke, no matter how bad it was. He sometimes felt like she was hiding her real emotions, some slight disdain or weariness, but other times he felt sincere joy and comradery from her.

He only saw her once or twice a day, but each time it brightened his day. She was always cheerful, or at least sarcastic. He wasn’t sure if he had fallen for her yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time. There were two small things he had not gotten over yet. One was that she was almost too nice and outgoing for his taste. The other was the all-black work shoes, which he did not find particularly attractive. He was used to the white sneakers of college girls, or the rarely-seen high heel pump. These were very bad reasons not to like someone, but that was just how he was.

He had no idea tonight was the night he would become a complete and absolute simp for her.

It was a night like any other. Tedious and strenuous. The one difference was that one of the guys hadn’t been seen for a while. Tom, a new kid. Otis liked Tom, he was quiet and polite, a good worker, and smiled at his jokes.

Not being seen for a while wasn’t the most unusual thing with new employees. It usually meant they were either slacking off somewhere, or their bowels were still readjusting to graveyard shift. But we were still told to keep an eye out in case they were lost or stuck somewhere, or worse.

It turned out to be worse.

Otis was mopping up a coffee stain on a desk when he noticed a figure in the distance, out in the hall, running. A person on the floor was in a very dangerous place, but he recognized their white jumpsuit  - a “Scraper”, a specialized floor cleaner. He had seen them around but never interacted with one before - they were always on the floor or some other dangerous area. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he knew the reason the man was running had to do with Tom. There was a different feeling in his chest however - his heartbeat quickening. He got almost lightheaded, and started acting without thinking.

Otis dropped his mop and hurried over to the edge of the desk behind the huge computer monitor, where it’s cables ran down to the computer. He made a cursory glance down the dizzying distance to the floor, and then hugged the huge plastic cables and slid down to the floor.

When he landed, he noticed another scraper run by in the same direction. Otis ran across the floor to the hallway and stood there panting, while peering cautiously around the corner. Something told him he shouldn’t be seen. He saw the man disappear around a corner. There was no one else in any direction, so Otis went after him. 

He didn’t know how long he ran, It must have been a while because he had not been this winded in a long time. But finally he came around a corner and immediately spun back around to hide there, for he had found his destination. He peered around the corner. Nearby, in this somewhat obscure section of the office, several men in white overalls had gathered around a central figure lying on the floor. Otis gasped despite himself. 

There lay Tom, on his side, in a puddle of blood. His leg was gone, completely gone, and some of his intestines had spilled out of his stomach onto the floor, and his skin was pale as a ghost. His mouth was open but words weren’t coming out, only weak groans and garbles. His eyes were wide, sunken, rolling and pleading. He was dying. Otis had never seen anything like it in real life before.

The men in white around him were shaking their heads gravely. One was holding Tom’s hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was a bizarre scene, like cultists surrounding a blood sacrifice. Otis noticed they had all brought their mops with them.

The floor shook slightly then - the telltale sign of a giantess approaching. The men turned to look, but did not move to get out of the way. They were expecting her. It was Savanna. Otis pressed himself against the wall, hiding instinctually. There was a gap in the wall that formed a kind of cubby hole he could crawl into. 

The giantess approached, and took his breath away. This was the first time he had seen Savanna from floor level. She was magnificent from this angle, her black-clad legs soaring endlessly above him, swinging like huge pendulums as she walked. Far above, unaware of his presence, her face looked strangely impassive, like a bored god. As usual she wore a headset and was staring at her tablet as she walked.

This was the angle from which Otis started to fall in love with her. But he was barely aware of this fact.

Savanna stopped just short of the circle of men, finished doing whatever she was doing on her tablet, turned off her headset and looked down. 

“Oh no!” She said, sadly. Was there a hint of insincerity in her voice? “It’s Tom alright. Aw, he got smushed. What happened buddy, you get lost? Someone walk over you?”

The men all nodded or shook their heads and spoke gravely at the same time. It was much harder to hear them than it was to hear her. 

The giantess squatted down to take a closer look. She said quietly “He’s a goner, right? There’s no saving him from… that?” She pointed at the blood and innards. Her quiet voice was still very much audible to Otis.

One of the scrapers seemed to be a foreman, and he nodded and spoke, indicating vaguely at the state of Tom and the slowly spreading pool of blood around him, and he took his visi-hat off. Many of the others did the same.

Savanna said, in a resigned voice, “So I guess I have to do it huh? He’s suffering pretty bad?”

The men nodded and muttered.

She sighed. “You know I hate it when I have to do this.” 

More nodding and shrugging and muttering. Otis’s heart was beating like a jackhammer now. Was he really going to witness this?

Savanna stood straight, once again towering high over them. “All right then, boys. Turn around.”

Most of them stepped back and turned around, holding their hats in their hands. Some backed up but didn’t turn away. Otis, in his hiding spot, couldn’t take his eyes off what was about to happen. 

Savanna lifted her foot, planted her heel, and carefully positioned her raised toe over the dying, suffering form below her. Otis saw the deep pattern of grooves and circles that made up the sturdy sole, black and pink rubber whitened with wear and dust. She tilted her head to make sure she was positioned completely right, and then lowered her foot slightly until it was just barely above him. She sighed again.

“Sorry Tom,” she said, sounding almost imperceptibly unapologetic, “I gotta smoosh ya now.”

Otis watched as Tom’s eyes rolled up and bulged in panic as the shadow fell over him. A surge of fight or flight took over the weakened body as he tried to crawl away, but he could barely lift his arms at this point. Otis was transfixed, tunnel-visioned, and watched Savanna’s shoe make contact.

In reality it was quick -that had been the point. But to Otis it was in slow motion. He watched as Savanna’s shoe smashed him into the floor and his body burst from the inside out. Blood, organs, eyeballs. It was all visible for a horrible split second that seemed to last forever. He heard all the ribs snap at once, a sound he would never forget, followed by a wet splat, and then the muffled crunch of a skull as he disappeared completely. Well, almost completely. He saw Tom’s arm twisted at a strange angle and pressed up into a groove in her sole, remaining grotesquely intact.

He watched in fascination, still in slow motion, as the weight settled in Savanna’s toe box, the black mesh-like fabric bulging outwards slightly, and a crease forming at the top near her laces as her heel lifted slightly off the floor. There was a scritch sound as she twisted her foot the slightest bit, not out of disrespect but the opposite: to ensure the man she had just crushed was in no way, shape, or form, still alive and suffering.

On that note, she tilted her foot back the other way again, resting on the heel, to raise the front and expose the sole and the grisly remains for inspection. The foreman peered forward at what was now a barely recognizable patch of skin and organs and blood pressed into her shoe tread. He gave her the thumbs up to indicate there was no sign of life. 

She nodded, and took out a wet wipe, kneeled, and wiped most of the remains off her sole, and folded up the white square and its contents. She held her shoe raised, and the foreman shouted something and gestured the rest of the scrapers inward. They got to work in the deeper recesses of her tread, digging out all the gory remains, and wiping down the surface to a shining finish. Someone carried away the arm, depositing it into a large bucket.

It was at this point, where the shock or adrenaline wore off, that Otis snapped out of a daze and immediately entered a manic state of arousal, rolling over in his little hidey-hole and pulling out his rock hard, straining cock. He had to cum. He had to cum so bad he felt crazy. He hadn’t even known his penis could get this long before - It was alarming and painful, the skin pulled so taught and the rod so stiff and straining, and he had to jack off now. He could almost use both hands, one on top of the other along the length of it. It was only a few seconds of breathless, desperate stroking before he orgasmed, spasming, shooting a huge load over and over, and this too was a little painful and alarming because it kept coming, and for a crazy second he thought it would never end, until finally he ran dry. He collapsed backward, remembering to breathe again, panting heavily.

When his head stopped spinning and he entered post nut clarity, he became hyper aware of where he was, and what had just happened and what he had done, all at the same time, and it was a lot, but he accepted it transcendently. His body was still bathing in afterglow, and very sore as well, so he remained lying on his side on the floor, staring out at the ceiling miles overhead. Had that been more intense than any sex he had ever had before? The question was rhetorical - of course it had been, he had never orgasmed like that before. 

Flashes came into his mind. Savanna’s face overhead, strangely impassive. The arm being carried away. Tom disappearing beneath the shoe. Tom laughing at his joke the day before. Tom’s face splitting and bursting. Otis stared at his hand, covered in cum, guilt washing over him. How could he have done that? But how could he have resisted?

Eventually he became aware of the scene outside coming to an end. The floor shuddered once more, and he curled up against the wall quickly. Part of him was scared she would see the splatter of his cum on the ground and find him curled up there with his pants open. There was a woosh of displaced air as the giantess passed by overhead. Otis’s heart was in his throat again as the massive legs swept by. He watched with intense morbid fascination the soles of her shoes as she walked away down the hall. 

It struck him heavily that her gait was unbothered. Exactly the same as any other time of day. Her focus was once again on her tablet as if nothing had happened - calm and so modestly self-confident. He felt himself getting hard again.

Otis spent the rest of his shift in a daze, barely able to do anything. When he got home, he got into bed and immediately jacked off again, replaying the images over in his mind. He would be completely obsessed for quite some time.