A History of Intersize Relations: First Contact (Chapter 2) (Patreon)

Easily large enough that they could’ve been repurposed into sturdy seafaring vessels for our citizens, with only minor changes to their design, the giantess’s brown leather buckle-strapped vessels had certain distinctions from our footwear, but were overall still close enough that it was simple enough to envision how they were meant to come unfastened for removal. The hard part was actually doing it. First things first: I had to put exquisite faith in the strength of those ropes holding her in place, as I got up the courage to climb up and over her shoes, so as to more accurately draw the diagrams included with this account. It was still rather unbelievable to think that a humanoid foot, if not quite a normal “human” one by our then-known standards, could actually be fitted correctly to such a tremendous barge of a thing. Yet in her sleep, the giantess twitched, causing her foot to nudge slightly side-to-side beneath me. Even in that gentle unintentional motion, I could feel the raw strength in her appendage that must’ve extended up her entire massive body, nearly losing my balance as I clung to the buckle, and no longer even remotely disbelieved.

My ten helpers soon devised a way to first unstrap and then pry her shoe free – though it took all of them together, some significant pulling, and a piece of heavy equipment to accomplish. As the loosened vessel was inched away, it became clear that the giantess did not wear socks or stockings of any kind. Her bare foot, even though its scale wasn’t a surprise by this point, somehow loomed even more prodigiously than I expected once viewed with the naked eye – propped with her long bulb-padded toes pointed to the sky and her thick weighty heel causing the earth to sink in a soft crater beneath her. Her soles were broad, supple, and flushed pink from probably prolonged wear in those shoes, though the tautly-squinched wrinkles lining the midsection of her arch bore a yellower hue. Aside from those expected touches of filth and a few minor calluses from walking, the giantess’s feet were (at least by sight) silkily smooth, mostly unblemished, and well-kept in a way that reminded me of earthen still-polished clay gently drizzled over by morning rain. And more specifically, well-kept for someone who must’ve been an expeditioner. For it was tough to believe she’d simply come here – the first of her kind to embark upon our shores – by total accident. Was it possible her mass was disproportionately light relative to her towering volume, thus inflicting less wear-and-tear upon her undersoles, or could it be that the hulking beings of our gigantic cousin-race were just more impervious to wounds? More study was required.

Most of my initial impressions at this first site of study were proven correct by my other senses, too, once I came close enough again to the slumbering giantess’s foot that I might glean other pieces of tactile information. To the touch, the underside of her foot was soft yet firm, with rougher density to her skin’s texture at the heel, but meatier and more forgiving along that quaggy middle region where her sole curved the deepest. Then plusher at the ball, just south of her squishy-fleshed toes that nonetheless belied fine musculature that must’ve made them dexterous, like that of a dancer’s. All of this on-contact recordkeeping of course had to be ascertained by first climbing a ladder, and then constructing multi-tier scaffolding to safely reach her toes much further above, because from the base of her heel to the rounded tips of those peach-russet digits, the woman’s upright foot stretched over one hundred and fourteen feet skyward. It was humbling, to be sure, requiring such elaborate constructions and grandiose team effort just to place my comparatively-miniscule hands upon every exposed square inch making up the giantess’s now-nude feet. I assured my ten helpers that this was all quite necessary, as they grimaced uncertainly every time I informed them of a yet-more-perilous measure we would have to take in order to gather more information for my records. To their credit, though, as dubious as they all seemed, they still followed all my directions, seemingly trusting that all of this work had a purpose.

Before any further study upon her feet themselves could be conducted, however, I first had to gather all the relevant information from those shoes my companions had pried free, while the subjects were still fresh. Here commenced the part of my job that these men were especially puzzled over, as if they weren’t already befuddled enough by the need to scale her bare foot like mountaineers, though of course this was only the beginning. Gathering my equipment, I held up a small lamp and entered the mouth of the giantess’s vacant shoe. Expectedly, the interior’s loamy-colored animal-hide terrain was tough but still malleably distorted, though only mildly, in response to each step I took deeper inside the darkness. It was a humid day, which meant the environment within her shoe was noticeably balmy, like an oven which had only just begun to cool down after a fiery bake. And that heat only further complicated the now-unleashed atmosphere which was previously bottled so tightly inside by her foot.

The aroma struck me in a wall after I’d taken barely five paces inside the cavern of her shoe, with still the deepest corners left to plumb. Stringently biting, like unripe citrus and a splash of curing brine, all mixed into a scent-based stew of caustic eye-watering salt and soggy flesh that verged on pruniness after too long spent soaking in sludge. Those flavors from her caked-in perspiration alone were also united with the bitterness of the crusty dirt and liquefied grass smeared along that cracking hide which lined the shoe’s walls, as well as the disintegrating canvas that constituted the insole. The broken-in basin of the giantess’s footwear naturally bore a vast wear-darkened depression of her colossal footprint that stretched deeper and deeper into the muggy lair. Again my knees wobbled, this time from pure rankness of those leftover fumes rather than my shock at the sight of a sleeping giantess, but still I forged ahead, furiously scribbling notes all the while and inhaling as deeply as I could bear without getting dizzy.

Especially once I’d adjusted just enough to the punch of that in-shoe stench that I could begin to pick up on the additional layers of exotic zest, beyond the expected fog of sweaty spiced leathery-sodden body odor. Seared into every nook and cranny within this stuffy drenched overheated vessel, I smelled touches of virginal nature and civilized creations alike that were assuredly all borne from a different land – essences of grain, sugar, sand, textiles, and unknown seasonings that had never touched the air of our nation, until today. Though of course those individual flavors were all but side-notes to the overwhelming raunch crafted underfoot over the course of her nebulous journey. The smell seeped so palpably from the claustrophobic internal walls of her shoe as I ventured ever-nearer toward the toe section – stinging my eyes and clotting in my throat – that I was reminded of steamy mist blustering away from the bottom of a crashing waterfall. It was overwhelming, but as a recordkeeper, I’d been trained to control any inherent bodily limits well enough to ensure my studies reached completion, even as the aroma in this shadowy enclosed space became so domineering that it threatened to affect my ability to take notes. And that was even before I’d collected accounts for every sense.