Hi all, my unbelievably beautiful girl occasionally Crushes ants and other smaller bugs barefoot... and she has incredible feet!! She is a natural giantess! We are thinking of creating some material to sell. Anyone know if this would be profitable? Anyone with experience in this offer any advice? Seems like it would be an option to just sell feet pics too... any advice/customers appreciated
Thanks

Giantess Feet, butt or so. I’ve just started and its very profitable at the moment. The shooting process is quite different, but not that hard to learn! Share you experiences

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Alien-Nation Chapter 165: General Quarters

[Chapter Summary:
Recreant: Gavin keeps tabs on someone and tries to suss out if Emperor's claims that they're arresting "everyone" has any merit. ]
Khan: An old student of Dr. Sampson's stops by to deliver a warning about the closed border, and instructions for the Sampson family's extraction from an unnamed entity.
General Quarters: Amilita and Azraea get in a verbal tussle before Amilita decides to work with Azraea.]
Recreant
Gavin longed for the end of this impromptu overnight shift spent staring at a wall, like a prisoner. He felt he could be elsewhere, doing something more constructive, even if he couldn’t put a name to the activity. Instead, he’d dutifully stared at the pieces of office flair pinned to the bland, inoffensive gray board in front of him, carefully curated to present a certain image: That of an inoffensive Office Drone’s five-to-nine, content with this home-away-from-home drudgery.
With great difficulty, Gavin Martin forced himself to reframe the time spent thus far after having sat for what felt like an eternity, lying in wait for his mark to make his move. At least he would get kudos for picking up the sudden night shift. In this industry, perception of value was value in and of itself. Gavin hated the maxim, but couldn’t deny its truth.
That was when his mark at last started their preparations to go home, each movement amplified by the office’s relative emptiness. The rustle of papers being stacked atop one another, the click of the laptop being closed, the chime of an Omni-pad being turned off. This time, he definitely wasn’t going to the bathroom. The last time had been a false alarm that he’d almost jumped from his seat over. Gavin marked the time, locked his own PC and stood. In a few short strides, he had caught up with ‘The Boss,’ as he wandered past his cubicle, falling into stride behind the broad man’s wake as he unwrapped a piece of gum.
Together they made their way past the rows of government office cubicles to their floor’s elevator bay, both silent. Gavin stepped past to press the ‘down’ button first, summoning the tiny little box that would take them to the parking garage. Now came a moment of intimacy between what the Boss might assume were two people who barely knew one another. But Gavin knew every intimate detail about this man; His unusual habits and schedule, the fact that he was married twice. It was in these waters of loose familiarity Gavin knew he had to act.
Up close and personal, where the slightest mistake might mean he would be spotted, outed, and it would all be over. The risks would all be worth it, if he could pry information from the man.
“So, have you seen what’s going on in Delaware?” He asked mildly, not offering his own opinion. Sparking conversation was easy enough for him, he found, and the sparks he cast always seemed to catch. He’d been told he just had ‘one of those faces,’ though he’d always thought it plain, others had described it as ‘trustworthy.’
“Of course I saw, Martin. The border is shut.” The tone was one of ‘don’t be an idiot.’ Unfortunately for them both, albeit for different reasons, Gavin played a convincing one.
The next question had to be asked carefully, and timed precisely. “Think they’ll, you know… do anything?”
“Hm?”
“Here in Maryland, they didn’t seal our border, you know? Even during the worst days, which hopefully are behind us.” Fortunately, it seemed the man was just as intrigued with the possibilities of the situation, and missed Gavin’s break of his usual character. The brown haired young man didn’t note any suspicion in the boss’s dark eyes.
“Who knows,” he grunted. “Who gives a shit?” He added, spitting out the gum into his cup of old, convenience store coffee, staring after it as if annoyed at being made to waste such a fresh wad.
Gavin stayed silent, waiting. Fishing had taught him the value of patience, and to read movements below the water’s surface. Out of sight, certainly, but not imperceptible- at least, not if you trained yourself.
The silence stretched, and at last, the big man grunted again in annoyance. “Seems we’re always the last to find this shit out. ‘Oh, your informatics team in Wilmington? Yeah, just about all dead.’” With an exaggerated wave of the hand to signal his irritation, he continued. “‘The office building that got blown up right next to the capitol? You may wanna correct that report to say ‘terrorist bomb’ instead of ‘orbital strike,’ if you know what’s good for you.” He sounded disgusted, then seemed to stiffen at the intense curiosity Gavin belatedly realized he was accidentally expressing, backing off and forcing a slight smile at the boss’s expression, as if he were in on some joke with the man. “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if they nuke the damn place tip to tip. Hardly a great loss- what’s their population, less than a million? And such an irritating, useless bunch. Their main export was financial crimes, and with the shuffling of financial laws under the new system, even that’s gone.”
“Right, sir,” Gavin agreed quickly. “Very annoying. Though it would be nice if the Shil’vati paid us the courtesy of at least a head’s up, save us a bit of work.” he forced out a chuckle.
“Well, we’re Mister Mushroom these days.”
“Mister Mushroom?”
“Kept in the dark and fed bullshit.”
Another obligatory, forced chuckle at the joke, and Gavin admitted to himself it wasn’t a bad one.
The elevator dinged, and the man Gavin was speaking to stepped out, and Gavin almost let out a sigh- except the elevator doors jolted, then reopened as the man jammed the tip of his umbrella back into the closing doors. Sweat broke out on the back of Gavin’s neck.
“You know,” the big man muttered slowly, then staring Gavin in the eyes. “I stopped by your desk earlier…I didn’t figure you were one to be involved in…go-karting, was it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gavin was alarmed. He’d been away from his desk for only a short bathroom break to deliver a status update.
“I thought sports championships in the state were all on hold.”
“Yes sir, they are.” Gavin admitted quietly, the cover story bubbling up from memory, Gavin pretended to look like it was genuine passion springing up from his heart as he searched for the words. “It’s…chaotic, out there on the test track. Even working on it doesn’t always go the way it’s expected to. So it’s a way I barely have control over. Things break. Other things work well, and then break…and, well, I just wanted it to be ready in case we needed it.”
The big man chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve picked up a hunk of scrap you’re running around the circuit.”
Gavin was glad he wasn’t questioned on the ‘we.’ “Yes sir, something like that. It’s a miracle it works at all, after it got pulled apart. Bit of a…uh, you know, diversion from my usual day-to-day, or even my other hobbies. That’s the new world we live in, though, right? Adapt or die.”
The big man’s grin seemed genuine, for what little that meant. “That’s right. Adapt or die,” he repeated the mantra thoughtfully. “Have a good evening. Maybe I’ll see you try a lap sometime.” The big man pulled the umbrella back and spun his considerable mass around on his heel, disappearing from Gavin’s sight behind the pair of sliding stainless steel doors.
Gavin knew there were cameras and microphones all throughout the building, and didn’t let out any hint of the stress leaving his body. He let the nervous energy carry him to his base-model old ford focus, the electric blue-raspberry paint peeling back from being parked on the street outside the family home; the garage was too full of crap already to be parked in. Now he’d have to requisition a go kart to his list, too.
He pulled out of the basement garage, passing the scaffolding of the remodeling work where the workers were busy adding a landing pad for shil’vati shuttles.
Once clear of watching cameras, he fished out a curious device set up by a prodigious young man from his pocket, placing it in the hands-free phone holder and called a device quite similar to his own, both having been sourced from the same rather entrepreneurial, if ethically challenged motorcyclist.
“Yeah?” The gruff voice barked without introduction.
Gavin cleared his throat. “There may be something to what Emperor’s saying on the airwaves. How goes the ‘kart?’”
“Good enough. Will we need it?”
“That was never in doubt in my mind. Get it ready, I’m on my way.”
“What? We’ll need you to arrange transit for the assets we’ve got in-state.”
“And that’s what I’ll be facilitating, in a manner of speaking.”
The unhappy silence on the other end of the line may’ve just been contemplation, but if Gavin were a betting man he knew his boss- his real boss, would never let a moment go to waste, and was likely giving orders off-mic for final preparations to hastily be made.
“Fine. Come in.”
“You got it running?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘running’ in the operative word.”
“I…don’t understand.” The line was clear, or as clear as it could be. His boss could be paranoid.
“We found a workaround for that. Just get here, you’ve got a train to catch.”
Khan
The knock on the heavy old wooden door was urgent and rapid. Had Mister Sampson not been expecting it, he’d have jerked awake, as he was typically asleep by this hour. Staying awake was a task made even more arduous by the incessant pecking of his wife, who was possessed with a certain anxiety that lent itself to seeing his awakened state as an opportunity to get a helping hand on whatever jumped to mind. She was in an unusually feisty mood given the town hall’s proceedings, and the current total lack of data.
As it was, the porch light and thin glass sidelite revealed a familiar face that looked uncomfortable even standing there. A former post doc student at his lab, now a Doctor in his own right.
“The border is sealed,” Doctor Khan said by way of introduction, pressing the folded piece of paper into his former professor’s hand. “But it won’t be, at least, not forever. Pack your bags, and make sure you’re ready when there’s an opening. They’ll arrange pickup tomorrow morning and some special instructions, in exchange for all your hard work. Again, it’s tomorrow morning, assuming their preparations go through.”
Mister Sampson nodded to show he was listening, doing his best to ignore his pounding headache. Every word hit harder than the old brass knocker had struck the door.
His former student glanced around him, eyebrows rising in surprise. Mister Sampson didn’t need to turn around to know his wife had come up behind him: Ever light on her feet, a house settled on its foundations and thick timbers centuries ago on a concrete foundation gave no creaks, hiding her movement well. Even their son had picked up on the house’s sturdy nature, slipping in and out at will.
“Bill,” Mary-Anne whispered somewhat tersely. “We’re not leaving- not until Elias is back.”
“Leave him a note,” urged Doctor Khan. “Scribble something on the refrigerator, or something. He might even have better luck on foot. Personally? I’m getting the kids and trying to ford the border that way. The aliens, they’re supposedly grabbing everyone. I’m not going to wait around until tomorrow morning, when-”
Mister Sampson coughed, interrupting before a fight could start. “Pardon,” he apologized, despite not feeling the least bit sorry for sparing all present the brewing contention erupting into arguments. “You’re well within your rights to try and leave,” his voice was low and slow, and Doctor Khan’s anxious disposition seemed somewhat settled by the weighty words of his former mentor. “But we’ll be staying put, I think, at least until Elias is back.”
“And then?”
Mister Sampson silently but meaningfully glanced at the paper tucked into the folds of his giant hand, by way of answer.
Doctor Khan shook his head.
“You’ve more faith in them than I, Doctor Sampson. Tomorrow Morning. Good luck.”
Mister Sampson gave him a slow and solemn nod. “You too.”
When the door had closed and he was alone again, he read them. Tomorrow. Eight thirty. Tune to the radio at this frequency for instructions.
General Quarters
Amilita barged into the base’s headquarters, marching up to the desk of the Governess-General as the office staffers all but threw themselves out of her way. She found it difficult to force herself to display even the barest veneer of military decorum, and harder still to stand poised perfectly and waiting to be recognized amidst the low hum of duty officers busily filling out orders in Azraea’s office.
At last, Azraea seemed to come to a stopping point and waved Amilita to her desk without so much as looking up.
“What in the name of the Empress are you doing?” She demanded of her commanding officer, in a low hiss she’d never used on a superior in her entire life, not even in school or at the academy, no matter how wrong she knew they were.
“When your opponent refuses to play by the rules, do you continue to play anyways, or do you change the game?” Azraea answered Amilita with a question. The old battle ax had not so much as a drop of fear in her voice. She then busied herself by tapping on her screen with a casual ease of command that Amilita might have envied, had she not a gut feeling that it was heartless callousness drove Azraea’s certainty of her own decisions, rather than supreme confidence that they were the best ones.
“We’re supposed to govern and lead, and if we carry this out there will be no one to govern. We can not-“
“I’ve decided to leave concerns about what is ‘governing best’ to the civilians,” Azraea finally broke her staring match with the command screen to almost spit the word.
The giantess knew she had to at least try and talk sense into her commander, late though the attempt would be.
“We have a duty to uphold.”
“Yes, and we’ve lost sight of that, against my better judgment. Mine is the one I was chosen for. I’ve explained my perspective to the now Acting Fleet Admiral, and before you even ask, I have her full support. See, I took this role precisely for this eventuality, because I knew matters might come down to this. I took the governesship in hand precisely because I didn’t want some feckless civilian body to try and get in the way of what would have to be done, the way Governess Bal’Shir jumped in the way of General Zylkyn time and again. All to protect her own job, her precious reputation, rather than admitting the reality of the situation she’d inherited. I have no such political ambitions, nor worries of my future.”
“To do what is ‘necessary’?” Amilita asked critically, folding her arms, and forcing her hands to stop clenching- her forearms were bulging.
“Just so,” Azraea admitted frankly. “We’re the military, we aren’t summoned to do tasks that are profitable and pleasant.”
“Then tell me- I’m your junior, I should be informed about what you think is necessary, that is how we can move together-“
Azraea crooked a corner of her lip up. She knew all along about the plot to unseat her. Amilita was suddenly glad she hadn’t taken up Lesha’s offer to play ‘poker,’ because she knew her shock was written on her face.
“Are we finally finished playing pretend?” Her commanding officer asked mildly. “As for what is ‘necessary’? I will force the fight, Amilita, no matter the cost, because I have to. I will do that for the Empire.” She pointed to the display of the strategic overview map of the state, and then stared up at the giantess, the intensity of the woman’s gaze more than bridging the gap in the two’s physical size.
“They think you’re coming for everyone. While it may not be the work of a General, the least you could do is put out a statement professing the truth, that it’s just the insurgents we want. That we’re questioning some, demanding answers, sure, and arresting those we know, or at least strongly suspect of insurgent behaviors. Some of the people you’re forcing to take their side are sure to be innocents, people who’ve never even held a weapon before!”
Amilita had been hoping for an admission of regret, at least. Instead, Azraea’s wry grin broadened into a fiercely self-satisfied and genuine smile. “In other words, not much of a threat, and we’ll have nothing to fear from them taking up arms. What was it, a thousand to one loss ratio you managed? I bet I can beat that in the next day or two.”
The answer sent Amilita rocking back on her heels. “Ma’am,” she gasped. “You can’t be considering what I think you are. If you are, it’s almost a mass murder…those were soldiers I faced, this is…” her hands searched for something to grip, and she settled for the general’s desk to steady herself.
“It’s war, Amilita,” the Governess-General snipped. “I hope you don’t imagine frontline service demands anything less, or else you haven’t worked your rank, leaving me to wonder how you earned it. Lots of commendations, little stomach to show for it.”
“War?” Amilita challenged, ignoring the insult. “The war’s over, their government has surrendered, they signed a treaty.”
Azraea sighed and put a hand to her forehead, massaging her temples, as if she were arguing with a recalcitrant, if precocious and idealistic child. Is this how it feels to be Elias? A part of her wondered, as Azraea formulated her response, speaking patiently.
“Tell me- What is one expected to do if the planet they are garrisoned on takes up arms against the Empress, against their governess, her militia, and continues to rail against her even in the face of the military’s presence, the Interior, even when presented with a show of all their guns and might? What is routinely done, when the populace of a planet in our empire proves unwilling to cooperate in ending that insurgency? What is done, if that planet of rebels are Shil’vati?”
Amilita didn’t answer, even though Azraea’s steady gaze didn’t break. Finally, she grit the words out. “They’re to be dealt with, ma’am. Harshly. As traitors to the Empress. But the situation is-”
“-Does the enemy wear a uniform?” Azraea interrupted.
Gritting her teeth, Amilita begrudgingly let out: “Typically, masks.”
“Otherwise? A mask is typically worn even among rebellions on our own worlds. Do those governesses on rebellious worlds target only those of their population who wear masks?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Do you open fire on a Roach, the moment you see one? That is our doctrine, is it not, regardless of the form they take or uniform they wear? Special circumstances do allow for mercy, but we do have guidelines in place.”
“We took an oath to never allow a diplomatic fiasco like that to happen again. The Empress swore she’d ushered in an era of peace!” Amilita protested.
“Peace has made us weak!” Azraea roared, and Amilita knew she’d struck a nerve. Now she just had to survive having done so.
“Ma’am, peace- that’s our Empress’s orders. We are to obey, as good subjects must. That is her will!”
Azraea’s chest heaved as she struggled to contain her temper.
“We muster forces to protect the loyal. We are not armed to not kill. Fleets, armies, troops, they exist to kill and hunt down her enemies, be they the traitors within or armies on the border. Think of the social unrest on Naavist. The response to the slaughter of the Saren Garrison. The skirmishes on the border. The uprising in the Tullusa system. The secession of the Pawr system after that cult took hold, and the subsequent invasion and resettlement in the wake of its devastation. We have been crueler to our own people as a matter of routine than I am being now. Why should we treat humanity any differently than we would treat ourselves? Those events were catastrophes, but no censure followed the officers who did what they had to. I’ll leave the muttered complaints of the outcome to those same politicians who created this fiasco. I am here to end the fiasco, and I care not what others say in the wake of the decisions I’ve made.”
“Ma’am, the eyes of the galaxy are affixed to earth. This is not a normal world. We must tread carefully, or else the reputation of the empire will surely be damaged. If we treat them too harshly, we’ll be seen as monsters. If we fail to capture him even after resorting to such measures, we’ll only escalate his fame, and seem all the weaker. The peace we’ve fought for will seem to be one we needed from a position of weakness, rather than one we’ve offered to the galaxy. I don’t want to think of what may follow in time.”
“I will leave the politics to the minds of the noblewomen who will sign documents with their hands, the control of narrative to the lips of our Interior. Those are the other parts of our body politic. I, however, am a clenched fist, and have been let loose to smash this rebellion. You do not teach a fist to espouse high-minded ideals, Amilita, else it tends to disagree with its role and charm others into agreement that it need not be wielded as it is. That’s how you get a rebellion, and more worlds burn than you can comprehend.” Her voice had a tinge of sadness to it. “I studied history, Amilita. In what spare time I had. I saw patterns of how wars began. Strife, weakness, stagnation…”
“You burden those parts of the empire’s body unnecessarily,” Amilita said. “Let the mind focus on trade and prosperity. Let that voice sing praise of your deeds rather than scramble to explain them to others. A clenched fist may still offer a greeting.”
“I hadn’t taken you for one so well-read,” Azraea mused. “Regrettably, by the time I came to this post, the chances of any other outcome was already slim. I gave this place every chance to turn course. What alternatives have we, Amilita, that don’t make a mockery of our Empire, of our fleet, of our forces, or allow him to grow unchecked, our noblewomen in continued captivity?”
Amilita worked her jaw. Terms. She wanted to scream the word, though she knew Azraea had refused them already. Azraea took the silence as an admission of no answer at all, of acquiescence, and continued speaking.
“By sparing them what is necessary, sparing them what we have undergone ourselves to forge ourselves into one Empire, we spoil them. When we do so it is to their developmental detriment to reward the deviant, and punish the loyal. Those loyal sons and daughters who marched in our stead. The loyal who died for our dream. How many of them would you let perish before you took action to protect the dream of a loyal humanity? Would you wait until that boy you so dote on disappears before you take action?” Amilita almost started, and at last Azraea relented, adding somewhat more softly: “Sometimes to protect the ones we love, action must be taken, before tragedy strikes. I’ve never known the caress, but I have known love. If you refuse your duty, if you refuse to carry out what must be done, then you are free to resign your commission.”
Amilita’s emotions roiled. What could she do? The Fleet Admiral, if Azraea was speaking the truth, would offer no salvation to the civilians. If Amilita resigned, whomever Azraea replaced her with would be less competent, less capable, and perhaps more aligned with Azraea, more ready to agree with the one who promoted her. Her mind went through the chain of command before arriving at the obvious answer. The terrible answer. Captain Goshen. Promotions issued so quickly was unthinkable in the modern age, but Azraea had already offered her opinion on the modern military. Goshen might be appointed acting Major or even Field Commander. She’d already ingratiated herself to Azraea with her obvious, brutal, straightforward suggestion of an orbital strike during that first meeting. There was a chance Azraea might choose another, yet Amilita held no doubt the replacement would acquiesce to anything Azraea asked, albeit incapably. With great loss of life. And as the Governess-General pointed out, correctly, some of those lives might be ones she cherished.
The situation was spiraling, that much was true. They hadn’t counted estimations until the insurgency would die down, and hadn’t done so for almost a year. They’d resigned themselves to only bracing and waiting for the next tragedy. Was this truly the path of necessity? The way to protect the ones she cared for? Amilita had already almost lost him once, and remembered his sobbing in her arms. Yet still she shook in anger over how she used him against her.
“No, ma’am.” She felt as if she had just ‘signed away her soul.’
“See your duties through when you receive them. Orders are to be carried out with no hesitation. Is that clear?”
“Ma’am- the- Yes. Yes, ma’am.“ Amilita managed to contain herself- just barely.
“The enemy will show itself, Lieutenant Colonel, and soon. Then we either imprison or kill enough to sway the expected voting outcome to prevail- or at least, convincingly. Those we imprisoned will be labeled with felony crimes with light sentences to put them to work, removing their right to vote but also putting them through the system for reform and mandatory classes. With this, we will be granted a fresh lease on governing, a new chance to rebuild with a more compliant, somewhat chastened populace. We will have their champion in chains, ready to face the Empress’s justice, and our system ladies either martyred or free, but either way this continued embarrassment will be at an end. Whatever the populace’s future complaints, whatever their malcontent, they will route it through proper channels and behave as proper citizens. Or else.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amilita said reflexively; she was operating on autopilot now. This was insane. It was going to result in untold bloodshed. She forced her mind back into the present. One needed only look at what became of the dropship downed by enemy fire almost a year ago now, to know where running on autopilot might lead. She had to keep her wits about her.
“One more matter, before you go about your duties in preparing to organize the new arrivals. You’re fond of their histories, so I did page through them as well. The supposedly humane republic that this ‘country’ pretends it is based off of would purge any revolting provinces, complete with all the other many horrors of war, displacing them from their homelands, or sometimes salting the earth in their wake. Anyone who says this will spark future rebellion has lived only in times of peace. The other humans here would understand the object lesson rather well, I think, given this heralded a time of peace in the wake. They should be grateful I’m not so cruel as to have begun by orbitally bombarding this pathetic little state, end to end, and ‘salting the earth’ in the wake of their failure to cooperate. Don’t let matters come to that. Do your job. See to it that the troops are deployed, and that any resistance is found and summarily crushed. Kill anyone who gets in your way. It will spare many more.”
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Heyy,
I am a 21 yrs old college student selling feet pics online. Willing to take offers on the type of content you'd like to see!! Eventually will be showing my face in the paid albums.
I show soles, scrunched soles, top of feet, sometimes bikini shots & need someone to help me pay for my pedicures 👣❤️ Wanting to get into stepping on things so if anyone has a request for giantess like videos, or stepping on food/other people please message me!
Going to be posting everyday or every other day and answering as many messages as I can. Every follow will get a free photo in their messages as a thank you <3 Help me pay my rent and college tuition!!
https://app.feetfinder.com/userProfile/gabrielamato
Cashtag $gabbb420

Alex came running to his best friend Max, ready to inform him about the upcoming event that would change every citizen's life forever. Panting, Alex could barely make any words come out of his mouth. "Max, there's no easy way to say this, but a giant invasion has just begun" said Alex. Max rolled his eyes. He was almost certain that this was one of Alex's, what he calls "dull' pranks. Stuttering, Alex said "I- I went to go get a test to see if I have the mutation that causes you to become a giant, and I have it...". Max was barely even acknowledging Alex, until his phone dinged and he saw the news. There really was an ongoing giant invasion. "You need to read this article" said Alex as he gave Max a paper that contained giant information on it. The paper was slightly torn on the edges, and had a big picture of a giantess on it. Giants look like regular humans, just bigger. Max began reading out the paper. "Giants. Giants are human creatures, however they are much bigger. Giants can be as small as 10 meters tall (32 feet), but nobody knows how big they can get. The biggest confirmed giant is 400 meters tall (1312 feet). Most giants are quite aggressive towards humans, however there have been a few nice giants recorded. Female giants tend to be bigger than males, but not by much. When a giant passes an area, it has a small chance of leaving behind a virus called the gigantavirus. When a human breathes near an area infected with this virus, it has a small chance of going into the human and slowly turning them into a giant. The growth is sudden. As soon as you get it, an hour or two later you will grow into a giant. The size is completely random. Good luck humans, and don't get infected". Max's face turned white, because he now knew that his best friend, might not act like his best friend after becoming a giant...

Alex came running to his best friend Max, ready to inform him about the upcoming event that would change every citizen's life forever. Panting, Alex could barely make any words come out of his mouth. "Max, there's no easy way to say this, but a giant invasion has just begun" said Alex. Max rolled his eyes. He was almost certain that this was one of Alex's, what he calls "dull' pranks. Stuttering, Alex said "I- I went to go get a test to see if I have the mutation that causes you to become a giant, and I have it...". Max was barely even acknowledging Alex, until his phone dinged and he saw the news. There really was an ongoing giant invasion. "You need to read this article" said Alex as he gave Max a paper that contained giant information on it. The paper was slightly torn on the edges, and had a big picture of a giantess on it. Giants look like regular humans, just bigger. Max began reading out the paper. "Giants. Giants are human creatures, however they are much bigger. Giants can be as small as 10 meters tall (32 feet), but nobody knows how big they can get. The biggest confirmed giant is 400 meters tall (1312 feet). Most giants are quite aggressive towards humans, however there have been a few nice giants recorded. Female giants tend to be bigger than males, but not by much. When a giant passes an area, it has a small chance of leaving behind a virus called the gigantavirus. When a human breathes near an area infected with this virus, it has a small chance of going into the human and slowly turning them into a giant. The growth is sudden. As soon as you get it, an hour or two later you will grow into a giant. The size is completely random. Good luck humans, and don't get infected". Max's face turned white, because he now knew that his best friend, might not act like his best friend after becoming a giant...

So I've been a buyer on FeetFinder since Nov of 2022 (got convinced to join by a friend that I've been buying feet pics off of for years, look me up under SoleReaver) and in that time I've given feedback to hundreds of models. I've noticed that a lot of models tend to run into the same problems, so I figured I'd just run through my most common bits of advice and collect them here. For all the more experienced sellers on here, please feel free to give me your opinions on these points, as I hope to refine them as time goes on.
Ok, here we go...

1. Don't neglect your "about" information. This information may seem unnecessary, but you'd be surprised how many buyers search for specifics (i.e. blonde blue eyed females in Indiana). Everything you leave out is something that could potentially filter you OUT of search results, so add everything you're comfortable with. MALE SELLERS: be sure that your profile actually shows "male"! There's only like 10 buyers actively looking for male feet, so make sure they can find you!
   
2. Use your gallery. The gallery is a separate section specifically for low resolution freebies (720x1080, IIRC) that you can find under profile settings. This section has a lot of benefits. It keeps those "non-serious" buyers just interested in freebies out of your inbox, gives serious buyers the confidence to approach you with what they want, and since they get uploaded to another non-model-specific section of the site, those pics become another way for buyers to find you.
   
3. Put up a cover photo. This is just a good way to keep the attention of whoever happens to land on your page.
   
4. Experiment with your angles. Remember, you're selling the fantasy of being offered the feet of a beautiful woman ( or man), so why are you only taking photos from your own POV looking down on your own feet? Invest in a stand, set it up somewhere, pretend it's a cute guy that just told you he's into your feet and SEDUCE him.
   
5. Pricing. (Established sellers, check me on this) In my experience, a good range for albums is... 3 pics = $5. 5 pics = $8. 7+ pics / 1 minute of video = $10. You can sometimes charge as much as double this for customs, depending on the specifics of what your buyer wants. (Thanks for bringing this up Daisy ❤️)
   
6. Vetting buyers and avoiding scams. Always check the reviews of a buyer that approaches you. No reviews likely means they've never actually purchased anything. And although there MAY be legitimate reasons for buyers to want to move discussions to other platforms (better notifications, less crowded inboxes, etc.) Try to keep conversations on FeetFinder as long as possible. Scammers will try to move you off the site immediately.
   
7. Most buyers completely ignore messages. Try not to take it personally. So try to target buyers that have reviews, preferably a bio too, and that you think may actually be interested.
   
8. Use keywords in your profile. Since every buyer on feedfinder is looking for their own specific thing, it's often good practice to list out the different fetish subgenres that you're comfortable doing. Things such as food crushing, tickling, trampling, giantess play, footjob etc. Again, buyers are always searching for these kinds of things, and you want to make sure that you show up in as many search results as possible.
   
9. CUSTOMS - use the order system. OK, so you have a buyer and he says he wants a custom and he's offering a good amount, great! Now what? Well, you could just send it to him and HOPE he tips you afterwards, but that's taking a big risk. It's much safer (for both you and the buyer) to use the offeorder system. Basically the buyer sends you an offer, detailing what they want and what they're willing to pay. If you accept it, it becomes an order for you. You have 10 days from when they send the offer to accept it, and 10 days to upload the content after you accept. Once you've submitted the content, it basically becomes a private album for the buyer, blurred and locked just like any other unpurchased album. Benefits of the order system is that the buyer can't change the price, money and content exchange hands at the same time so no one is taking the risk, and you can upload much larger files. Thanks to u/rougerednylons for bringing this up
   

That's all I can think of for now, will add as need be...

Hello! I made the text below in an page about the difference between Marvel Comics and the extant myths explaining some of the main differences between the portrayal of Giants in an informal and accessible way, but I wasn't sure if it could be misleading. Do you notice any crucious errors I should correct? Thank you in advance.
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● The Frost Giants are often portrayed as blue-skinned humanoids of immense height, with the average giant being around twenty feet/6.1 meters tall and human-sized giants like Loki being the exception. However, despite 'giant' being the most common way to translate the Old Norse word "jötunn" ("jötnar" in plural), not all giants in Norse mythology were necessarily gigantic; there were immense ones such as Ymir, the primeval progenitor of the jötnar, Jörmungandr, the serpent so massive that it encircled the world, and Skrymir, the mountain-sized disguise used by Útgarða-Loki, but most of the time their descriptions don't specify notably large sizes, and jötnar several times interacted with the Aesir under the same roof with no particular mention of height differences. In fact, the exact distinction between gods and jötnar isn't very clearly defined in Norse myths, to the point some studies recommend seeing their relationship less like different races and more or less like different clans. Furthermore, in Norse myth, while there were many truly monstrous jötnar (such as Fenrir, Jörmungandr, and Týr's nine-hundred headed grandmother), there were also giants associated with great beauty, like Gunnlöd and Gerdr.
● With rare exceptions like Loki, Hela and Utgard-Loki, the Giants in Marvel are often depicted as thuggish, uncivilized, simple-minded and weak in magic, preferring violence and brute strength over strategy and spellcraft. In Norse mythology, however, while they were indeed strongly associated with fundamental, chaotic and tough forces of nature, the giants were just as well-known for sorcery, trickery, cunning and shapeshifting, as many jötnar, like Utgarða-Loki, Gríðr, Gróa and Þjazi, outwitted, challenged or helped the Aesir with their skill in magic, which rivaled or even surpassed that of the gods. Notably, the Norns were giantesses who shaped the course of fate. Furthermore, a few jötnar were also quite smart, sagacious and eloquent, with the jötunn Vafþrúðnir being nearly as wise and knowledgeable as Odin and only narrowly losing a battle of wits against him; Odin himself on several occasions sought or stole knowledge from the Giants, most notably stealing the Mead of Poetry from Suttungr and taking out his eye for a drink from Mimir's well of wisdom, who is implied to be a giant according to some scholars and whose well is located in Jötunheim. The portrayal of giants in general as always dim-witted, barbaric, relatively less powerful and easy to outwit only becomes stronger in Scandinavia in post-medieval folklore, in which they are frequently interchangeable with the modern ideas of trolls (who exist as a separate race in the Marvel universe).
● The Giants are generally much meaner and more destructive than in Norse myth. While they were certainly foes of the gods and brought Ragnarök, represented untamed forces of nature and were considered threats to humanity, they had a much more important, helpful and complex role in mythology than simply of one-dimensional evil antagonists. Not only were most Aesir (like Odin, Thor, Heimdall, Týr, Magni and Loki) direct children of jötnar, but some gods were jötnar themselves, like Skaði, and many (like Freyr, Thor, Njörd and Odin) had relationships with giantesses. Moreover, in the myths, it was from Ymir's body that the gods fashioned the world, and two giants were the ones to pull the sun and the moon. In short, rather than the giants being a mostly evil and chaotic race, there were as many giants who were either neutral or actively helped the gods and the natural order as there were monstrous giants with foul motivations.