Goddess

Goddess

by Cheyenne Chaste Moon

His eyes snapped open. He awoke startled, scared, apprehensive, unsure of where he was, how he got there, and... who he was. He sat up and thought, but nothing came. He prodded his memory, but it remained blank. There was nothing to focus on, nothing to remember. It was then he noticed his surroundings. His eyes swept the area and found it all very unfamiliar...and depressing.

There was a very small fold up cot which he was lying on. Like his own nakedness, so was the cot. It had no sheets, no blankets, and no pillow. The room itself was a small ten foot cube. In the center of the ceiling was a lone, dim, bare bulb; the walls were a dirty grey; and the floor was cold, smooth, uncovered cement. There were no windows, but mounted on one wall was a full length mirror, and on another wall was an open doorway.

He stood up and looked in the mirror, and a stranger stared blankly back. He did not recognize the body, or the face; his face. It stirred no memories, and, in fact, only strengthened his confusion.

He turned and stepped through the doorway, entering another room which held no answers, but many more questions. This room was larger than the first, but still a small twelve foot square. The walls, floor, and ceiling were the same as in the smaller room. In the center of the room sat a large, overstuffed, easy chair. To the left of the chair was the open doorway in which he was standing. Directly in front of the old, easy chair was a door; a large, dark, heavily reinforced, wooden door.

He walked to the door and pulled on the huge ornate handle. Nothing happened. He pushed, with the same result. Perhaps it was locked, but if it was, it was done so on the opposite side of the door, for, though he searched, he found no lock or latch, nor did he find the door to be stuck in the frame. In frustration, he lashed out and injured his toes. He let out a curse, grasped his foot, hopped about, and finally came to rest in the easy chair, where he sat for a very long time, trying to think, trying to remember.

As time went by, he grew more and more restless. Who was he? Why was he here? Was he imprisoned for some hideous crime which he refused to remember. Maybe he was insane. Perhaps he was dead. He wished he could remember something...anything. He stood up to pace the room, to search the room, to try and open the door once again. It was then he noticed, for the first time, the statue.

The statue was directly behind the chair, standing a foot from the wall. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. Had it been there all along? But, of course, it would have to have been. Aside from the doorway to the little room, the only other door was the one he had been staring at for so long. Of course, it had to have been there, he just hadn't noticed it.

The statue was made from something he couldn't identify, and appeared to be hand painted. It was a life-sized, and extremely life-like woman, although, he noticed, parts of her anatomy looked to be other than life-sized. She was standing, feet slightly apart, leaning slightly forward from the waist. Her shoulder length hair was the color of chestnuts. Her eyes, bluish-grey, seemed to peer right through him, to his very soul. Her nose was small and cute, and her lips, painted satin pink, were lush and inviting. She stood at five-foot six-inches, and had hips measuring thirty-six inches, with buttocks which looked firm and round.

One of the things which seemed strangely wrong with the statue was her waist, which measured a mere seventeen inches. The other thing, which seemed to him as odd, were her breasts, with the creamy pink nipples, which she was holding up and outward toward him, temptingly. More than holding them, she seemed to be cradling them; one in each arm; for they were colossal. He thought, that for her height, thirty-six to thirty- eight inches would be average, forty to forty-five would be large, forty-five to fifty would be huge, while anything larger would truly be a physical impossibility. With that being the case, the breasts on this statue were indeed beyond the impossible, and even beyond the imagination, for they measured one hundred inches.

He stepped back and took the sight in. Even with the outrageous size of the breasts, which made the petite waist appear even more diminutive, the statue was still quite voluptuous, and enticing.

Time passed. He had no idea, and no way of knowing, just how much time. The dim bulbs stayed on constantly, his biological clock didn't exist, his hair never grew, he never thought about food, or even once was thirsty, which was good, for there was no food or drink. It was as if he was living outside of time, existing in another universe, in another dimension... all alone.

...Time passed. He didn't know how much. He suspected it was years. It had been so long, he had given up all but living. He had given up hoping for answers to the many questions he had once asked himself; given up hoping to be set free, trying to escape, trying to open the large wooden door. The only thing he did anymore was walk aimlessly about the two little, drab rooms, or sleep on the bare, narrow cot, but he was finding that harder and harder to do.

He awoke from a fitful sleep, with his mind numb. He knew he couldn't survive much longer, at least, not without going mad. If only he wasn't alone. If he just had some one, anyone, to talk to, perhaps he could save his sanity. He climbed to his feet, stumbled into the larger room, plopped himself into the chair, and stared at the large, wooden door which held him prisoner. How he hated that door. He sat and glared.

The hatred swelled inside him until he had to act on it. He rushed to the door and hammered on it with both fists. He knew it was useless, but he continued, hoping to hold onto his sanity. Finally he stopped and slumped to the floor.

Opening his eyes, he saw, standing across the room, the statue of the woman, which was the most beautiful thing in his world, or, he thought, in any world, anywhere. As he sat staring at the statue, which, when he first saw it, he thought had breasts which were ridiculously gigantic, he concluded that he would not go mad so long as it remained, for suddenly he saw her eyes sparkle, and, for the first time, he realized that the awe inspiring breasts weren't oversized for the statue of this goddess.

He closed his eyes and quickly shook his head, then gazed again into the eyes of the statue, which once again twinkled, bringing him to the conclusion that the statue was of a goddess. If only she was real, he thought, then he surely wouldn't go mad, but, perhaps he already was.

He rose to his feet and walked across the floor toward the statue, with his eyes perpetually mixed with the seemingly effervescent eyes of the beauty. As he reached the woman, her eyes seemed to glow of their own accord, and he reached out with both hands, and, for the first time ever, touched the statue. His hands were seemingly, magnetically, drawn to her awesome breasts, which were alluringly being offered to him. He was expecting them to be cold and hard, made from stone or ceramic, but, as he touched them, they felt warm, soft, and life-like. He closed his eyes, began to rub the vast mounds, and fantasized.

He suddenly stopped, his hands still on the breasts of the statue. He opened his eyes and shook his head. Perhaps he was already mad.

It was the first time he had spoken since he awakened to find himself a prisoner, alone, in a strange, little universe. "Goddess," he hushed to the statue he had been stroking, since he was convinced such a beauty could only be a goddess. "I wish..." He stopped there and thought to himself, again, that he must have gone mad.

"What is it you wish?"

His eyes snapped open, he turned, then spun around, searching the room. "What?" he asked, though he saw no one.

"What is it you wish?" he heard again. It was a very feminine voice; soft, soothing, and...heavenly. It wasn't coming from any one location, it wasn't coming from anywhere, and yet, it seemed to be everywhere. He knew then he wasn't mad, for he could never, ever, invent such a beautiful, perfect voice.

"Who are you?" he asked, still searching the room with lingering hopes, or fears, of finding hidden speakers somewhere, although he knew there wasn't any; he had searched his small universe thoroughly before, more times than he could count.

"I am Goddess." Something in his mind clicked, and he believed the voice, reverently.

He turned and knelt before the statue of Goddess, then raised his bowed head to stare into the shimmering eyes of the heavenly, unmoving statue, and spoke solemnly. "Who am I?"

"You are number twelve."

He didn't question this. He wasn't about to question anything he heard. "Where am I?"

"You are here."

"Where are you?"

"I am all around you. I am within you. I am everywhere." "May I see you?"

"In the statue, you see me as you wish. Is this not enough?"

"Yes," he told her. As his eyes fingered their way along the statue, intimately becoming acquainted with every hill and valley, every shadow, every curve and line, he was pleased, but he was still curious. "Why am I here?"

"Because I brought you here."

"Why?"

"You will know in time."

"When will I leave?"

"Is this what wish; to leave?"

He stood up, looking longingly at the august breasts which the statue was offering, then into the eyes of the idol. "Yes. More than anything."

Absolute quiet swept through the room, and a cold shiver ran up his spine, and, after a long period of time, he whispered, "Goddess?" Silence answered him, and he wondered why she didn't respond, and where she had gone. He, hesitantly, placed his hands back on the statue; back on her breasts; and found them to be just as warm, and soft, and heavenly as before, hoping that maybe this would manifest her, as it seemed to have before. "Goddess?" he inquired again, louder. There was no answer, but his thoughts of madness were gone.

He was content.

He awoke from a long, very restful sleep; the first he'd had since he could remember. It was immediately that he noticed something wonderfully strange had occured. Two feet away, parallel to his own, stood another small, bare, fold-up cot, on which was a sleeping person, who, though turned away from him, he could tell by the svelte frame, and seemingly flawless curves, was most definitely a woman. He sat for a period, thinking himself to be dreaming, although, to the best of his recollection, he had never dreamt before, then he noticed her arms. While she was lying on her side, her arms were both behind her back, and appeared to be restrained.

He got to his feet, took a step toward her, then stopped as she stirred, sat up, wobbly got to her feet, without the aid of her arms, and turned to face him. The first thing he noticed was the gag. He stepped closer and saw that it was a very efficient and permanent device which spread her mouth to the extreme limits, packing it solid, allowing not even the slightest of sounds to escape, while being held in place by a one-piece, unbroken, irremovable band of steel which encircled her head, going underneath her hair, which, like the statue of Goddess, was long and brown.

He was stunned by this, and her other restraints. Tightly about her wrists was a thick, heavy, wide, single band of polished, cold steel, which forced them together unmercifully, while around her elbows was a similar, wider, steel band, which brought them together, touching snugly and securely, and causing her small, pert, attractive breasts to be thrust forward as if she were exhibiting them proudly for him to see.

He reached her, and, with great urgency, tried to remove her restraints, while she stood, unfearful of him, and seemingly, he thought, unconcerned as to whether her strict and obviously painful bondage was removed. He quickly realized they could not be removed, and asked for help. "Goddess?" he called quietly.

"Yes, number twelve?" Her voice was as before; heavenly and soothing, relaxing and peaceful.

"Can you help me remove these bands?"

"I cannot." He did not question this, just as he did not question anything she said.

"Who is this woman?"

"She is your companion."

"Where did she come from?" he wished to know.

"From your heart."

"And you brought her here?"

"Yes."

"Why is she bound?"

"She must be."

"But, she is my companion," he quietly reminded her, thinking that, perchance, she had forgotten.

"Yes. She is yours to speak to, and to gaze upon, but...you must never touch her...in any manner."

This, also, he did not question, although he felt, ever so strongly, that he may not be able to obey it, for the woman, he reasoned, was exquisite; the quintessence of mortal femininity.

...Time continued to pass, only now it didn't seem to matter to him, for he had someone to spend it with. It seemed he spent all his waking time conversing with, viewing pleasantly, and dreaming about the woman whom Goddess had chosen for him.

His reveries were fantastic things, filled with fiery emotions and passionate, physical probing, in which they were both in complete harmony with the universe. His dreams were aroused by the enchanting, practically unbelievable beauty which only his eyes were allowed to caress of his lovely companion.

Although their conversations were always one sided, they did seem to progress as his companion became more adapt at using physical gestures, other than a simple nod or shake of her head. He was now more unsure than ever of how much time was passing, only now it no longer seemed to matter.

They were both asleep, and he was having a beautiful, erotic vision of his companion, when he was gently and serenely awakened by Goddess. "Number twelve?"

"Yes, Goddess?" he answered, coming to a seated position.

"I have something for you. Please come to my statue."

He obeyed, and instantly noticed something lying atop her generous breasts, as if being offered on a golden platter.

"Pick it up," coached Goddess.

He did so, and examined it, still not discovering, to the best of his recollection, what it was. But then again, he had no memory of anything, except the two rooms and what few things were in them, and this strange thing had never before been one of them. "What is it?" he asked Goddess.

"It is a corset."

"What am I to do with it?"

"You are to place it on your companion."

"What is it for?" he inquired.

"It will make her beautiful."

He did not understand this, for he thought her to be beautiful from the first moment he saw her. How could this be, he thought.

"Go now. Make haste," Goddess told him.

Carrying the corset, he entered the little room where he had left his sleeping companion and found her awake, waiting his return, and seemingly anxious to wear the gift from Goddess. She met him halfway and offered herself to him. He slipped the garment around her torso and latched the hooks down the front of it. It fit snugly as it covered her from her shapely hips to the bottom of her round, perky breasts. He was amazed at his sudden knowledge of the garment, and he tightly cinched the laces until her breathing dramatically changed, and her slim twenty-four inch waist was compressed and molded in the corset until it measured a mere twenty inches. When he finished, he tied the laces into a bow and stuffed them under the edge of the vestment, then he stepped back to look at the creation.

"Why do you stop, number twelve?" Goddess asked of him.

"It is done."

"No," Goddess corrected him, in a voice which remained unchanged since she had first spoken to him. "You have yet to finish. Her waist must be the same as the one which adorns my statue."

"That is not possible, Goddess. The corset is painfully tight now. It cannot be tightened further."

"It cannot, or you will not?" she asked gently of the man.

"It cannot. It is not possible."

After a time, they both laid back down and slept. He dreamt. His visions now, however, were not of his companion, but rather of a different, strange, wonderful, new world which was filled with dazzling colors, and harmonious sounds, and beautiful people of all shapes and sizes, none of which existed in his dull, depressing little universe. How he longed to be a part of this new world.

He groggily awoke, visions of his dream world still dancing in his mind, then slowly realized he was barely breathing. He took a deep breath, but it was cut drastically short, and he coughed, sputtered, and wheezed, then tried desperately to continue breathing. He found it becoming more and more difficult, and was panicking hysterically, then, after a brief period, he noticed the soothing voice of Goddess. "Fear not, number twelve. You are fine. Breath slowly, evenly, in short, shallow breaths."

He closed his eyes while the mothering voice of Goddess caressed him, allowing him to relax. As he did, he found his breathing to come easier, yet slower and much shallower than it had been. "What is wrong with me?" he frightenedly inquired while lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Nothing. You are wearing a corset."

He reached for his torso and discovered around him the heavily boned, thick, leather corset which he had placed on his companion earlier. He tried to set up, but found that the garment made that difficult to do. He slowly managed to get to his feet, and he walked to the mirror. In the mirror, he saw both a bizarre, and ridiculous sight. Just as it had on his companion, the bodice covered him from his hips to his chest, and it forcibly constricted his thirty-four inch waist until it was even tinier than his companion's, until it measured an astonishing seventeen inches, the same as that on the statue of Goddess, and it compelled his back into a stiff, vertical line which pulled his shoulders back, throwing out his chest.

He noticed, in the mirror, that his companion was standing behind him, and he saw the surprise in her eyes, and discovered that the corset he was donning was not the one he had been given to place on her, for she was still adorned with hers. His eyes returned to the reflection of the garment he was wearing and saw a somber sight. His corset, unlike his companion's, and more comparable to her fetters, was a permanent fixture about his waist. It had no hooks down the front, and no lacing up the back. He turned and stared into the eyes of his companion and saw the same confusion he had.

"Why am I wearing this?" he inquired of Goddess.

"To show you your error," she softly informed him.

"I do not understand."

"If your waist can be sculpted as such, then so too can that of your companion."

"I see." He understood then.

"You will continue?"

"Yes, Goddess." He went to his companion, and she turned willingly. He withdrew the bow and untied it, then, starting at the bottom of the corset, proceeded to pull and tighten the laces with more strength than he had possessed before, until her waist was compressed even more, until it matched, both, his own tapered waist, and the one on the statue, then he retied the excess laces and stuffed them back out of the way.

As the two of them tried to adjust to the restricting garments, time continued to pass, and they, once again, fell asleep. He dreamt again. It was the same pleasant dream he had dreamt before. It was of a world of laughter, color, and beauty; unlike his world. He dreamt of sweet, fresh air; cool, soft grass beneath his feet; and the warm, loving hand of his companion gently placed in his. They laughed, talked, and touched as they walked through a field of clover on a breezy, warm, sun-filled day.

...Time continued to pass, and, as it did, he, once again, grew more and more restless. His companion seemed to become more beautiful with each awakening, and his longing to touch, caress, hold, and make love to her increased. But, even more than that, his desire for freedom was overwhelming. Even with his companion there he could feel the madness of his situation returning.

"Number twelve," he heard Goddess whisper as he awoke.

"Yes, Goddess?"

"You have not visited my statue recently. Please come there now."

He did so without hesitation, knelt before the statue, then stood. As he caressed the form with his eyes, something stirred inside of him. He thought of the statue not as an inanimate object, but as Goddess; the flesh and blood of Goddess. He reached out with trembling hands and gently placed them on her majestic, heavenly breasts, and, as he explored them with his fingertips, he became aroused, and his manly member became engorged. "Number twelve," Goddess cooed. He dropped to his knees, his head lowered with shame and embarrassment, and he did not speak.

"Number twelve," Goddess whispered again. "Do not be embarrassed...for I am the one who bestowed you these emotions. There is no reason for you to be ashamed of them."

"Yes, Goddess." He stood; his effector no longer aroused; and looked, once more, at the image of Goddess, and discovered a small, cylindrical object resting atop her breasts. He carefully lifted it and noticed that one end was extremely tiny and very sharp. "What is it?" He was tremendously curious.

"A gift."

"What is it for?"

"It will give your companion beautiful breasts, such as those you idolize on my statue."

This startled him. "Oh, no. I couldn't do that," he told Goddess, replacing the gift.

"Why? You find my breasts exceedingly pleasing. Do you not?"

"Yes, Goddess. They are...heavenly. That is why I could not. Such divine beauty belongs only to you. They are much too grand for mere persons."

After a while he left the statue and returned to his cot. He found his companion awake and sitting upright. She gazed questioningly at him as he sat down in front of her. He told her of his conversation with Goddess, and, as he did, he tried to envision his companion with such breasts, but could not. Since he thought them truly divine, he could envision them only on Goddess.

A wave of apprehension swelled over his companion. He saw this and decided to calm her with stories of his dream world. As he talked, she became more and more relaxed, and eventually laid down and began to contemplate the imagined world of his. He had described it so vividly that she could picture it in her mind, and soon they were both fast asleep with dreams of a Utopian world swirling through their minds.

His dream this time, after sharing it with his companion, seemed much more real, and more beautiful. It was of him and his ethereal world, and of his companion, who's bondage did not exist, and of, not only their love for each other, but of their love for the glorious world and everyone in it. It was indeed Utopia.

As his dream progressed, he found the two of them, once again, in the field of clover, where they were running, jumping, touching; being free. He then tripped, graceful falling forward, but was unhurt, and quickly got to his feet, laughing...but his laughter abruptly ended. He saw that he was once again wearing the corset, which drastically constricted his waist, and that he, somehow miraculously, was supporting a pair of female breasts, the size and shape of those on the statue of Goddess.

This was most strange. He had never had a dream like this before. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then found himself awake and standing in front of the mirror. It was then he realized the last part of his dream hadn't been a dream at all. He must have fallen off his cot, and as he stared into the mirror, he saw the breasts which hung on his chest, and which were being thrust forward due to the fact that his shoulders were drawn back, and his back was forced straight and erect by the corset. His eyes were transfixed on the huge, round mounds of flesh which terminated in large, rigid, pink nipples surrounded by comparable areolas.

He did not want them! They looked disgusting on him, and, even though they looked to be the same as those on the statue of Goddess, he was repulsed by them. "NO!!" he screamed as loud as his breathless condition allowed. His vociferation awakened his companion, who bolted upright, and he spun on his heels to face her, to see if she had been stricken with the same fate. He stopped as he faced her and his back faced the mirror, but his lavish breasts didn't, and they continued their swing until they reached their apogee at his side, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor, painfully squashing his newly acquired, abundant breasts beneath him.

He staggered to his feet, and viewed his companion. She was like him only the aspect of wearing a similar corset. She did not have outrageous breasts, but rather her own simple, normal, gorgeous pair. He did notice, however, that her eyes were filled with surprise at his physique, but that quickly faded, only to be replaced with something he didn't quite recognize. Perhaps it was anticipation, or perhaps it was anguish, or maybe it was abhorrence.

Whatever it was, it destroyed his anger and brought rationality back to him. He turned his back to his companion, for he didn't want her to see him, or his bulbous breasts. He sadly, silently questioned why this had happened. Why had Goddess done this freakish thing to him? He did not know.

He walked, ever so slowly, with his unwanted, bounteous breasts undulating with each step, through the doorway, into the largest room of his minute, two room universe, and toward the statue of Goddess. And as he did, he came to realize why he had been embellished with the bountiful breasts.

He reached the statue and stopped in front of it. His pink, obtrusive nipples were just inches from those of the statue. "Goddess?" he whispered reverently.

"Yes, number twelve?"

"You have given me these breasts to show that they are not divine, but rather can be possessed by mere persons?"

"Yes. I wish for you to give them to your companion. Having this knowledge, will you do so now, number twelve?"

"I...I cannot. I know them now to be extremely heavy, and very cumbersome. They are most impractical."

"Are they not also beautiful...and pleasurable?"

"...Yes," he hesitated.

"Then you will fulfill my request?"

"I..." He did not know how to tell Goddess that he wished not to. It was a very troubling conflict for him.

"Do you wish to leave this place?" Goddess asked of him.

"Oh, yes. More than anything," he informed Goddess once again.

"Then this must be done, and soon you will be free."

"Very well," he said humbly.

There was a blinding flash of pure white light, and, when his eyes slowly readjusted, he noticed the long cylindrical object, once again, lying atop the pre-eminent breasts of the statue. He reached for it, shakily, and, as he did, his taut, sensitive nipples brushed those of the statue, bringing a heretofore unfelt exhilaration surging through him, causing him to gasp, startled, yet delightfully pleased at the sensation.

As he gazed at the instrument in his hand, he suddenly knew what to do with it, yet could not remember ever having seen one before. But then, he still couldn't remember anything of before. If there ever had been a before. "Goddess?" he asked.

"Yes, number twelve?"

"Will it be painful?"

"No."

As he turned to leave the room and fulfill his task, he stopped, surprised, when he came face to face with his companion immediately behind him. Her shoulder was being submitted, seemingly eagerly, to him. He inserted the needle into the soft, round flesh of her shoulder, pressed the plunger, then withdrew it, turned, and placed the empty cylinder back on the breasts of the statue of Goddess. Once more he brushed his nipples across those of the statue. This time he was expecting the thrill which ran through him, and he enjoyed it immensely, even more than he expected.

"Goddess?"

"Yes?"

"It is done. Will I be leaving now?"

"No...but soon."

"Where will I go?"

"Wherever you choose."

"There is a world of which I dream. It is a beautiful place. I would like to go there. Is it very far?"

"No...not far."

"Then it does exist?" He was thrilled.

"Yes. This place, where you are, is only one of many worlds."

"Are they as beautiful as the world in my dreams?"

"There is beauty everywhere. You only need look."

"I do not understand. There is nothing beautiful in this place."

"But there is, number twelve. Your world is full of beauty."

He did not know where. This prison he found himself in was dark, ugly, and loathsome. Beauty did not exist here, he thought. He stood there for quite some time with his head lowered, his eyes fixed on his prodigal breasts, which seemed only to confirm his thinking, and he decided that he was right.

As he turned to join his companion in the smaller room, he noticed the movements of his overflowing breasts, and found that, as he moved, they seemed so vibrant and stimulating, almost with a life of their own. They gently, almost erotically, swayed, bounced, rolled, waved, and undulated in every way possible, in rhythm with, not only each step or breath he took, but with each subtle move he made. They were beautifully fantastic.

He reached his cot and sat down, erectly, with his awesome breasts thrust outward, toward his companion, who was sitting opposite him on her cot. He was thankful that he reached his cot quickly, for as he was walking, his generous, sensitive breasts were gently caressing each other and arousing in him an uncontrollable passion of ecstatic pleasure, which he could do nothing to stop.

The more he thought of it, and the more he walked, the greater the pleasure became, until he was almost at a frenzy. As a man, the thoughts which were flooding him, repulsed him; thoughts of his unfettered companion suckling his yearning nipples while tenderly massaging his round, firm, bountiful, pleasure-starved breasts. And yet...he noticed that his manhood was erect and throbbing, almost painfully.

He was embarrassed by, both, his physical and emotional states, and did not look at his companion, but instead, just sat with his head lowered, staring at his marvelous breasts, which confused him so.

Sitting there, unmoving, with his eyes fixed in a glassy, hollow stare, trying to hold back the multitude of emotions which were swirling around inside him, he could hear his companion roaming restlessly about. He settled nothing. Especially the most sensual emotions. His staff was still pounding, aching for relief. When he finally got back up, he found his companion in the only other room of their small universe, sleeping contentedly in the mothering warmth of the old, large, overstuffed chair. As he leaned in the doorway watching her, his anguish, confusion, and bitterness toward himself slowly faded, and a gratifying calm surrounded him, and he realized, for the first time, how childlike and innocent his companion was. His effector was no longer tense and demanding, and he was grateful.

He grew tired, so returned to his narrow, flimsy cot to sleep, only to discover that lying down was no longer such a simple, fundamental thing to do. He usually slept on his stomach, but, with his mountainesque breasts, he found this to be grossly impossible, unless there existed, which there didn't, a large opening near one end of the cot, through which his breasts could be placed and allowed to rest on the floor beneath.

He tried lying on his back, even though he could never sleep that way, and found that position, due to the narrowness of the cot, painfully uncomfortable. As he laid back, with his arms at his sides, his mammoth breasts rolled to either side, hanging over the sides of the cot, trapping his arms, and painfully stretching the smooth, ivory skin of his chest.

Finally, he decided on a more realistic approach, and laid on his side. He was as far to the edge of the cot as physically possible without falling off, and he could feel the rounded metal edge running up his right side, and he could feel the cold metal rod of the other side pressing against his breasts as his right breast lay in front of his face, and his left breast laid below it, in front of his midriff. Both of which were hanging halfway off the cot.

He thought to himself that his little cot was now virtually useless, and that he would probably do better sleeping on the floor, but he was too sleepy to get up, and it had taken him so long to get in a, not really comfortable position, but one which he felt would allow him to sleep, that he decided to stay where he was. Perhaps, he thought, the next time he was to lay down it would be on the floor. Like this, he finally fell into a dreamless slumber.

It was the first time he hadn't dreamt in many a sleep, but it was a long, sound, refreshing, reenergizing repose; something he had needed for a long time.

When he awoke, he was joyous and carefree, and was once again ready to enjoy his little world. He turned and thumped to the floor, where he instantly remembered his "condition" when his magnanimous breasts plopped down in front of him and laid joggling. He laid there, temporarily, until his breasts came to rest, disappointed in himself for having forgotten, then he sighed and slowly managed to climb to his feet.

He ambled to the mirror, with his immense breasts quaking with each step, and eyed the bizarre reflection he saw. It was the same one he had seen before, and he still didn't like it. However...he wasn't quite as adamant about his bulky, gargantuan breasts, which, he felt, on anyone else, such as Goddess or his companion, would have been glorious things.

His companion? He had forgotten about her, like everything else. Where was she? It was then he heard a dull thud on the smooth cement floor somewhere behind him, and as he spun on his heels to investigate, he once again forgot about his more-than-substantial breasts, and when he stopped, his massive mounds, again, brought him crashing to the floor, where he squashed them grievously. He closed his eyes, grimaced, and slowly sat up, then massaged his agonizing, superabundant breasts until the pain subsided and was replaced with a warm, pleasurable sensation. It was an exquisite pleasure, much like that he felt when his nipples brushed those of the statue's, and he didn't want it to end, but a muffled noise reminded him that he was looking for his companion.

He opened his eyes and saw, across the room, his companion lying on her side and wriggling, ever so slowly, through the doorway. He also noticed that now, like himself, she had a most ample bosom. She raised her eyes to meet his, and he, while remaining seated, scooted across the small to her, then got to his knees and sat back, with his buttocks resting on his heels, and his extraordinary breasts resting on his thighs, with his prominent, rigid nipples thrust obtrusively just inches from his companion's face. He intertwined his fingers, placed his forearms atop his huge breasts, placed his chin on his hands, then gazed lovingly over the curve of his bosom to his troubled companion.

"Hello there," he quipped, smiling.

Her eyes twinkled and smiled back. She was glad to see that he was no longer disparaging over his body, for she thought him to be most beautiful. She loved him, and she knew that he was the way he was because he tried to protect her from the same fate. How she wished Goddess had allowed her to speak. The things she would tell him; so many things. She would declare her love for him over and over again. He was everything she ever dreamt of.

"Fall over did we?" he asked teasingly.

She nodded.

"Can't get up, huh? He was jesting, of course, for he knew she couldn't. He had difficulty himself, and he had the use of his arms.

He placed his palms on the floor and leaned forward, his bulbous breasts swinging toward his companion's face. "Perhaps I should leave you like that."

She roughly shook her head.

His grin beamed brilliantly, and he tittered. "What am I going to do with you?"

He moved behind her and took her by her shoulders. He was in awe, temporarily, for she was so warm and soft, and aside from the statue of Goddess, he could not remember anything so exciting. As he pulled his companion to a sitting position, her silky soft hair brushed his receptive nipples, sending a chill through him. He walked around her in front, straddled her legs, crouched down, his breasts resting atop hers, which sent another thrill through him, held her shoulders, then pulled her to her feet. As he did, their enormous breasts squeezed each other in a battle for their own space. They both won, for during the fight their ultra sensitive nipples kissed each other, sending erotic exhilarations through them both.

His loins stirred, and his manhood sprang to attention, and he had an uncontrollable urge to kiss her lush, full lips, but the villainous gag prevented that, so he pulled her tighter, squeezing their oversized breasts more, and managed to kiss her chin. He could feel her passion build, and could feel his own about to explode. He knew, this time, that it had to be fulfilled, and that his companion was feeling the same.

His hands traveled down her sides to her petite waist, while his mouth dropped to her beckoning, vivacious nipples, which he heatedly suckled, licked and nibbled. While his mouth was busy with one teat, one hand would caress the other teat, and his other hand would tickle and massage his companion's feminine secrets.

She pressed closer to him, moaning constantly in ecstasy, although her sounds of pleasure never once escaped the gag. She wanted to get closer to him. She wanted him to get closer to her. She was so wild with passion, so tingling with pleasure she could hardly breath. She had an orgasm...then another.

He felt them with her, and felt his own, then they dropped to their knees, their bodies in heat, glistening in the dim light of the room. He laid under her, with his hands on her thighs, and directed her hips downward until she had mounted his bulging, pulsating, hungry staff. She rode him, and, as she did, he stimulated her erotic, ultra sensitive breasts, as well as his own, which, at that moment, he was thrilled to have, and they both climaxed over and over again; seemingly endlessly.

Their intense, amorous passions mounted as time passed, and they continued their pleasurable, nonstop, fiery love making for what, from lack of a time reference, may have been days. They finally exhausted themselves and fell into a long, deep, well needed sleep, still entwined in one another.

In his dream, their vigorously passionate love making continued. This was a different dream than his past ones, for in this dream he, and his companion, though they were no longer wearing corsets, still had their miniscule waists, and still, to the immense joy of them both, had their enormous one hundred-inch breasts. And he thought how heavenly his companion looked. She looked like Goddess, or rather, like he envisioned the statue of Goddess to look. He considered her to be, even though there was no such thing, in any universe, more than perfect.

When he awoke, he was pleased, and content, and full of love. The first thing he saw was his companion, who was lying atop him, still asleep. He thought how glorious life would be, to always awaken with his beautiful companion, lovingly, lying with him. Her stupendous breasts were strategically lying on either side of his miniscule waist, while she was facing him with her chin wedged in the cleavage of his own tremendous breasts. He smiled, remembering recent events, then gently managed a kiss on her forehead.

He did not know when she would awaken, and he did not wish to disturb her, so, to idly whittle away the time, he slowly, gently, caressed his copious breasts, and teased his proficient nipples. Aside from being overly large, they were rather pleasurable things, he intimately confessed to himself. He held absolutely no animosity for them now, and, though he still thought them huge, heavy, and cumbersome; which they were; he was, strangely enough, infinitely delighted to have them.

As he laid there, with his fingers prancing over his vibrant breasts, he could feel his emotions, once again, rise, and the stirring in his loins began to mount. He felt his effector swell, and he knew if he didn't stop now he would need his companion to relieve him. But, that's what he wanted, so he continued, more vigorously, with immense pleasure.

When his companion awoke, his eyes were closed, he was moaning gleefully, and he could feel his engorged staff throb yearningly. She shook her head, causing his glorious, pleasurable breasts to wobble, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a smile in hers. She rubbed her silky hair against his breasts in greeting. "Hello, sleepy head," he responded with a smile.

She rolled onto her side so he could climb to his feet, and as he did, she noticed something which terrified her. He saw the look of horror in her eyes, which quickly faded to sympathy, then to despair, and finally exploded into horror again. Following her stare, he quickly glanced down...which was a really useless thing to do. "Aaaahh," he complained, more to himself than to her. He swiftly bounced to the mirror, then, like his companion, he was struck with horror. His steely, erect manhood was gone! He was wide eyed, and speechless. His hands darted to his emptiness, and found nothing but smooth, tight, unblemished skin between his legs, as if nothing had ever been there. Yet, his mind was telling him that his effector was there, and that it was hard, and aching for some relief. But it wasn't. His hands and eyes proved that. He could get as sexually aroused as he wanted, only now he had no way of releasing it. He collapsed to the floor and cried.

As he lay weeping, his companion wriggled her way between him and the mirror and gazed at her own form in it, and was relieved to find that she still had her sexual port, which made her feel even more miserable for the person she loved. She didn't know what to do, so she rolled over and placed her head gently on his soft, pillowy breasts, and tried to soothe him.

His sorrow and self pity slowly turned into unfocused anger. He hated this place, and everything about it. He hated that his manhood was stripped from him; that he had been cursed with disgusting, monstrous breasts; that his waist was being cruelly constricted; that he was a prisoner in a two room universe; and even his companion. But, most of all, he hated Goddess for doing all this to him. And he hated that his companion was touching him, especially that she was touching his loathsome breasts. To her surprise, he pushed her away, then climbed to his feet and, with his gargantuan breasts quaking before him, stormed to the statue. "Goddess!!" he bellowed vehemently, losing his breath.

"Yes, number twelve?" Goddess answered in her soothing, loving voice, which never seemed to change.

"Why?! Why have you done this thing to me?!"

"I have done nothing."

"Nothing?! You call this nothing? You took my manhood! Now I'm nothing more than a walking, sexless, pair of monstrous breasts!"

"This thing which upsets you, number twelve, you have done to yourself. When I gave you your companion, I commanded of you only one thing. That was to never touch her. You broke that commandment."

A stark reality set upon him as he remembered this condition. "Yes, but to punish me so cruelly..."

"Cruelty, as is beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. I merely made an assurance that your act could not repeat itself."

"I can't take this anymore!" he emphasized, waving his arms about, causing his gigantic breasts to wobble. "I want out of here!" He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. "I don't care what it takes!"

"Very well," he heard Goddess say. "Bring your companion here, and it shall be done."

He wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. Had she said he was to be set free? He was afraid to ask her, so he decided to do what he thought he had heard. He turned to get his companion and spied her wriggling through the doorway. He rushed to her with his bodacious breasts jouncing gleefully, then joyfully helped her to her feet.

"Did you hear? We're to be set free." He pulled her tight and kissed her cute little nose. Though pleased for him, she did not share his joy, for she somehow knew. They walked side by side to the statue of Goddess, his arm around her shoulders. Their mighty breasts, which, together, formed a spectacular, bewildering sight, as they created a formidable tsunami of female flesh.

"We are here, Goddess."

"Very well. Are you sure you wish to leave, number twelve?"

"Yes. Very much. More than anything."

"Very well then. To leave this place, you need merely to pass through the door." He turned and glanced at the large, wooden door which had frustrated him for so long. "Once on the other side you will decide again, and forever, if you wish to leave this place."

He did not understand this, for he was positive he wanted to leave, and he was sure he had made that clear enough. He and his companion walked jointly to the door, which, when he pulled on the large, ornate handle, opened ever so easily. They stepped through the doorway, and directly in front of them was the statue of Goddess. His companion dropped to her knees immediately, and, until he turned and glanced back through the doorway, he wondered why she had done this.

As the door was closing, he saw that the statue was still silently standing where it always had. He then turned back around and noticed a pleasant glow around this statue. He knew then that it was no statue, but Goddess, herself, and he quickly dropped to his knees, bowing his head. "Please forgive me, Goddess," he hushed, trembling.

"Please rise. There is no need for such liturgy," she informed the duo.

He helped his companion to her feet, and gazed hypnotically at Goddess. He finally spoke, without moving his eyes, which were transfixed on her form, as if he were in a trance. "You are beautiful beyond words, Goddess."

"I am as you imagine me to be."

He stood there, for a long time, gazing at her incredible, heavenly beauty, which was beyond anything in his dreams, then finally, slowly, he began to notice his surroundings. "Where are we?"

"We are here," Goddess informed him, spreading her arms. "This is the Great Hall of Decision."

He scanned the surroundings. Ahead of him was a hallway of seemingly infinite length, but at the end of it he could just make out a door. The left wall, from door to door, floor to ceiling, was a solid mirror. The right side was dotted with little cubicles, eight foot square, which had open fronts so the interiors could be fully reflected in the mirrored wall.

Goddess lead the two of them down the Great Hall of Decision on an ominous, unnarrated tour.

The first little room was empty except of a lone woman, who was gagged and chained to the rear wall with her arms and legs spread as far as they could possibly be. She was unclad, with the exception of a corset similar to the ones worn by him and his companion, which, too, constricted her waist to an astonishing seventeen inches. That was not the only similarity he had with this woman, for her breasts were also like his; huge, round, firm, and topped with large, pink nipples which thrust out defiantly.

He stood for a while, pondering what she must have done to deserve such a punishment. The three of them moved on to the next cubicle.

This too, like the first one, was filled only with a lone woman. She, too, had the outlandish breasts and waist, and, just as his companion was, she too was bound. She was lying on her stomach, which he knew from personal experience to be most uncomfortable with such colossal breasts. And she wore a steel collar which was attached to the floor by only a few links of chair, which prevented her from moving and relieving the pain in her breasts. He felt for her.

They visited nine other cubicles, and each one held in it a lone female prisoner, who's confinement seemed to be more strict and cruel that the last, and who all had the same familiar physique as his own.

At the end of the hall, the twelfth cubicle was empty, and they stopped in front of it. "This cubicle is for you," Goddess imparted with a flourish of her hand. He was shocked! "For you to depart through this door, you must fill the display with your companion."

His companion was not stunned or scared, for she would willingly submit if it meant his freedom. He did not look at her, or Goddess, but bowed his head and stared vacantly at his vast breasts. He sighed. "I...cannot."

"Do you not wish to leave?"

"No. This world of which I dream is so beautiful I would do anything to..." His voice faded away as he realized what he was saying. Did he truly mean the words he spoke, or were they just words? He did indeed wish to be free of his prison. But for what price? His eyes ran across his immense breasts until they reached the mirror where they focused on the eyes of his companion. She slowly nodded, telling him it was alright. His eyes shifted back to the reflection of his own bizarre figure. "When I leave, will I be as I am, or as I used to be?" he asked Goddess.

"You will be as you wish."

He stared at himself in the mirror, and felt absolutely nothing. "I don't think..." He paused, slowly raised his hand, and softly touched his left breast. "It doesn't really matter," he announced somberly. He then turned and faced Goddess. "What must I do?"

"Close your eyes and envision your companion in the display ...and it will be."

He turned and faced his companion, and stared into her eyes, then slowly closed his own and dreamt.

"Very well done, number twelve," Goddess told him.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked into the cubicle. He found his companion gagged and restrained exactly as he had envisioned. He didn't feel very pleased. He slowly turned to face Goddess and whispered, "How long must she remain here?"

"For eternity." A lump caught in his throat, and he choked. He felt sick. "Go now. You are free. The world of your dreams lies just beyond that door."

He turned and stumbled toward the door. Stopping with his hand on the handle, he turned and, once more, for possibly the last time, gazed into the eyes of his companion. She returned it, lovingly. He pulled the handle and opened the door wide, and his senses were enjoyably assaulted by the beauty his dreams scarcely scratched.

His dream world was one step away, and it was an extreme contrast to what he was used to. All he had to do was take that one step and he would be free; he would be home. He didn't, however, take that step. His companion had given up everything for him, and now he would give up everything for her. He loved her. He released the handle, turned, and headed back toward Goddess, without once looking back toward the world which he so long dreamt to be a part of.

"I cannot. I love her, and if she must remain here, then I will relinquish my freedom and remain here with her."

"Very well." Goddess smiled at him.

There was a blinding white light, and, when it faded, he saw, standing next him, in all her splendid glory, his companion.

"Your decision pleases me, number twelve," he heard Goddess say. "You are the first to surrender all for your companion. You are most unique...or perhaps man is changing. Perhaps I should reconsider destroying him. I shall see what number thirteen holds, then I shall decide. But, fear not, number twelve. You and your companion shall remain eternally safe, regardless of my decision. And for your altruism, I shall reward you." Her arm flourished toward the door. "You both are free. Go now, for I give you a life together, full of pleasure, joy, caring, and love. I give you my blessing that you and your companion may touch in whatever ways please you."

He and his companion were overjoyed by the generosity of Goddess. His companion was no longer gagged or fettered, and neither of them were wearing the corsets. She did, however, still have her enormous, one hundred-inch breasts, and her miniscule, seventeen-inch waist...as did he. And he, number twelve, was now a complete woman, beautiful, sensual, excitable. They held hands, for the first time, and they gazed longingly into each other's eyes, then they quietly passed through the doorway into a beautiful, glorious world. The two of them made romantic, impassioned, breathless love. And as number twelve's companion loved her, she knew she had made the right choice; the only choice. She was a woman, in her heart as well as in her wondrous new body, and she loved her companion.