Megamacropolis 2

 Hello everybody! Thank you so much for bearing with me, my computer died JUST before the end of last month, and I lost the first version of this story. I didn't fix it until the fifteenth, and from there I still didn't have access to Patreon for a while! A total disaster and I'm very sorry, rest assured, though, there is still time and you are getting another story this month... The CYOA is just getting moved to a midmonth sort of thing for a while. Vote will still be open for seven days...

Of course, first you have to read what we're doing now:

Your immediate thought would have been one of panic. Would have been were it not for the fact that the kind of panic that comes from knowing you're genuinely lost and alone in an alien world of giants somewhat precludes genuine 'thoughts'. It was really more of a feeling, your immediate feeling was “Don't Panic,” followed shortly by “I refuse to be intimidated by butts.” 

 At some point in your reaction you had tripped and fallen, face to face with a breakfast spoon polished well enough to get a glimpse of yourself. Your face looks a bit of a mess, but with the button nose and  flopsy ears typical of rabbits it still issn't enough to drop you below 'cute'. You're lying flat on your stomach, torso resting on your tits, adrenaline and surreality more than enough to keep the pain of squished E-cups from bothering you. Your midriff is a tiny bit pudgy, but well conditioned; the sort of thing that says 'I'm not out of shape, I just eat ALL the Easter Candy'.   

 That pudge is more or less what lead you to your second thought. Your butt, if the folks on the dating apps are asking, is your best feature. Taught, smooth, bouncy, and oh so very large... However, in the reflection of the spoon, it looks like a massive overhang of fat, embarrassing the rest of your body. Meanwhile, the nice old lady currently reaching a hand towards you is bent over, with an almost as massive but impossibly perky and toned butt standing out behind her. It's a better butt, but you refuse to be intimidated by it.   

 After the panic wears off and things stop moving in slow mo, coincidentally around the time the giantess actually does put her hands next to you, you can move on to your first duty. Ask the good questions, question the answers, be smart about this. Every world has rules and you can learn them and succeed with them, you trust this.   

 “Are you alright, dear?” your wolf hostess asks a question first.   

 'Yes, just hit me all at once,' is what you mean to answer, looking at her though you instead say, “How can I get a butt like that?” 

 She laughs good naturedly at your answer as you turn beet red, her husband shouting from the other room, “Not by marrying it, that's a me-only option!” 

 To her credit, she simply scoops you up and pulls you into the other room, taking over the duties of talking as you open and close your mouth futilely. “Now, correct me if I'm wrong,” she says, “But if I had to guess I'd say you only just realized this is real and/or you're stuck here. You thought you formed a plan, but got distracted by my massive hotness and possibly my pheromones and combined your plan with sexy thoughts and possible body inadequacy.”   

 “...Y-yes,” you say after a moment. Her response was... bizarrely specific.   

 “Thought so. First lesson, then, do you mind if I go through some lessons?” She paused. 

 You did not.   

 “Alright. First lesson, EVERYTHING is normal here. That my sound obvious, everything is normal everywhere, since whatever happens, that's what's normal. This normal, though, is not a normal you're used to. People falling from the sky? Normal. Giants? Normal. I've been around some six hundred years, and trust me, I've seen all kinds of stories.” 

 “Six...” you start to question the last part of that sentence.   

 “Six hundred years,” she cuts you off, “Lesson the second, people don't really die here. Everybody's pretty much 25 forever. Caught in a fire, impaled by a tree, somebody stomps you, you just go catatonic for a while and regenerate a little smaller out of however much mass is left. The fact that you ended up here is good! It means you start normal sized rather than ending up sucked into the micro communities, those places suck.” 

 You don't really have a response to that. Ideas of heaven and cosmic horror briefly flick through your mind, but you decide to simply listen. 

 “Third lesson,” she continues with a smile, “Outside of the few expensive 'protected retirement communities' like this one, it's all about size. The fact that you'll be FINE if stomped means that a lot of people will feel perfectly free to do so; and they'll want to as well. You beat somebody up, you get a little bigger. Possibly a lot bigger.” 

 The spicy temptation of violence sparks in the back of your mind. As somebody who has to count her ears to hit five feet, you'd felt short all your life; looking around here, you felt like less than an ant. But that could change... 

 “Now obviously I'm no violent thug, there are other ways to get bigger, too,” the wolfess smiles down and you briefly look embarrassed, hoping it passes as because you feel bad for doubting her rather than because you had been considering the exact opposite. “Good diet and exercise, aging, exposure to exotic materials... some very strange things too. Rest assured, you will find a way. Heck, you're not even allowed near a protected retirement community if you've ever gone on a rampage, which makes my Artie all bark and no bite.” 

 “I told you if you used that phrase again I was punching the tree down!” Artie bellowed from elsewhere.  

 “That's fine dear, we can give it to the guest, they might get as much use out of it as you did,” the matron stuck her tongue out.   

 “Me and Artie, we... oh, I haven't introduced myself have I?” your teacher pauses her lecture and steps back, reaching out a hand with a claw you could maybe get your whole arm around, offering an... approximation of a handshake.   

 “I'm Myra,” she says. 

 “Jane,” you respond.   

 For a long moment, you just smile at each other, her scent is pleasant and sugary. She seems so nice. The giant furniture around you is cozy despite its absurdity. It all seems so... suspiciously perfect. There's always a caveat. 

 “Sorry, Myra, but I'm about to go a little nuts...” you figure it won't hurt to be polite to somebody whose finger is as large as you are. “So just... everything makes you grow?” 

 “Not everything, it's harder than it sounds, just barely easy enough I'd say, it's more just...” Myra stood closer, letting her abs loom over you, the grooves between them deep enough to walk into, “everybody finds some reason to pursue it.” 

 “And society just works?” You continue, blushing deeply.   

 “Better than most! Not that that means too much, it's mostly about...” Myra starts, before being cut off. 

 “Half the big house is still morons!” Artie shouts from the other room. 

 “THANK YOU DEAR,” Myra responds loudly to her obviously not hard of hearing partner, “it's mostly about ambition, still. Some people get bigger in response to praise and general approval, and are held back strongly by genuine hatred, so most of our leaders and politicians really do have to please the constituency. That doesn't always work, but the media is really decentralized and it's tough to get up to no good in secret when EVERYBODY can see you.” 

 “What we NEED is to go back to the good old theocratic days,” Arthur finally gets up, stepping into the room with you and pointing a finger at you. 

 “Hello dear, finally getting up?” Myra asks. 

 “You finally got interesting. Listen small fry,” the massive squirrel toddered over, his beer gut and obscenely massive muscles making him rather graceless, and shaking the house with uncounted kilotons of man, “way back in the day we got this place actually run by real honest-to-them gods. They could do anything, where big enough that these days the 10-mile tall districts couldn't fit a toe, and the economy kicked ass. All those greedy growers on capital hill insisted on trying to CHALLENGE their size with whatever means necessary, though, and one day they just left us to it. Now you actually need a job to maintain your size. Hell, I used to be properly BIG instead of just little and fluffy. You go into the worship and politics game you learn that humble means low to the ground for a reason!”   

 He punctuates his rant with pokes of his finger while the wolf behind him gives and impressively long facepalm. 

 “THANK YOU DEAR,” she bellows loud enough to knock you down, “I wouldn't worry about politics until you get settled in. It's not that bad.” 

 You look between the giants, almost, but not quite, reluctant for another question, “So there's just, no limit to size?” 

 “Nope!” they answer in unison, before Myra continues alone, “I was in medicine rather than physics, so I can't offer you a COMPLETE explanation, but even outside of the collective powers of all the largest enforcing safety, gravity just works different here, as do a lot of other physical laws. You still need a LOT more food and air when you get bigger, but there's also the ability to GET a lot more. Thermodynamics is also a really popular elective around here, both for curiosity and because it's way easier.” 

 “I keep getting more questions...” you say to yourself, “How are you just assuming I'm from a different universe, how did I get here, the largest have magical powers, just... what?” 

 “Y'know, I think you'd have a lot more fun learning as you go,” Arthur grins, backing up and showing his buck teeth, “How about one more question before I have to take my wife back?” 

 Myra starts to protest again before admitting he might have a point and it might be best to let strangers be strangers, leaving you to think. 

 There's only one question that can determine if you'll have time to learn it all later.
 “So there's really no end?” 

 “Well, not from senescence nor injury, it's possible to be eaten, get certain diseases, starve to death... it's life, y'know? I did say I was in medicine, I've seen people go...” Myra says. 

 “I was too actually!” Arthur bellows from another room at the same time you ask for clarification. "Diseases?"

 “Oh yeah, some nasty stuff. Without the right treatments a bacterium from one district becomes another's blob monster, but medical treatment makes a lot of it manageable. Everybody gets their vaccines for the usuals, Largepox, Teranus, Petassis, Hepatitis Omega...” she closes her eyes, lost in thought. 

 “Don't forget the much deadlier Measlies, Size Difftheria, and things that aren't puns! Don't worry though,” Arthur says as he re-enters the room, holding a syringe bigger than his hand whose needle tip is larger than your head, making you very worried, “Nurse Artie has your first round vaccines all ready to go!” 

 In the space of about a tenth of a second, you decide that fleeing in panic doesn't count as a fear of needles in this case, turn to move, and come to grips with the logistics of fleeing from somebody who has the initiative and is four orders of magnitude larger than you. One second after that, you feel an impossible searing pain in your ass as the needle passes through you as you curse aloud squirrels and your own juicy bottom for providing a landing area.   

 “GODDAMNIT ARTHUR!” is the last thing you hear from Myra before you start to pass out. Some morbid part of you considers that this is definitely the last time it will happen. Your body feels like it's being torn apart, your legs bulging with fluid... and muscle... and one of them much longer than the other.