mavortheturnip
patreon
Glorious (Patreon Commission for VDO)
🕑 Added 2020-12-22 14:33:04 +0000 UTCTAGS: M/F, Macro, Hyper, Growth, God/Goddess
---===---
Another day and another opportunity for the sun to try and rise above the second horizon. It probably wouldn’t work, nor would anyone underneath it get to see anything but the haloed form of the hunky giant blocking the star’s light, but it could at least try, just like every other time. It had been so long since that region of the planet had even gotten a proper day that many had forgotten what it was like to see the proper blue sky, but that was perfectly fine as far as they cared, because they had something better, something far more magnificent and glamorous than a ball of floating hydrogen and helium powered by such a simplistic thing as nuclear fusion. They had him: their giant, their titan, the moving, mountainous mass of rippling muscle and luscious, silken fur that was their local god. While initially it was difficult to adapt to his arrival (or development, it was hard to remember from how hard he bent the timeline), the people living beneath his attentive care eventually learned to coexist with an entity that, far as they knew, only wished for their own everlasting happiness. Besides, it’s not like they needed the sun itself; while they couldn’t see the blazing circle in the sky, its light was still perfectly refracted by the many droplets of sweat trapped within the jungle of fur on the colossus’ body, allowing those who lived their daily lives under his care to see just perfectly fine underneath a “starlit” sky. It was like being in a cave where the ceiling was studded with gemstones, only far more arousing and with a greater chance of being bathed in a sudden shower of musk.
The giant himself hadn’t intended for this to happen, though it was difficult even for him to remember what his original motivation was. Given that he was so massive he literally warped spacetime by his sheer presence, his existence was in an unfortunate state of constant flux, whereby past, present and future commingled and mixed together to create a nonsensical timeline that warped and bent and corrected itself whenever he wasn’t looking; he recalled a time when he was much smaller, just big enough to qualify as a competitive bodybuilder, just as much as he remembered himself as always having been big enough to cover a substantial chunk of the planet in perpetual shade. Similarly, he saw a future where he had never grown as just as likely as one where the universe itself could fit on the tip of a single hair on his glorious mane. It made it hard for him to hold a conversation with anyone, given that he was effectively listening to a dozen alternatives at any given moment, but he did his best; after all, reality had agreed upon his “current” form being that of the titan of muscle mass, so the least he could do was go along with it until it decided to do something else entirely. This was why, up above and beyond multiple cloud layers, he basked in the actual light of the sun, unmoving and unrelenting, knowing that he had to stay there in order to illuminate the lives of the tiny ones going through the motions underneath him. It was a lonely existence… or would be, if not for her.
Truth be told, the Obstagoon behemoth had never held out any hope for anyone even being capable of engaging with him romantically, much less sexually; not only was it impossible for anyone to so much as hold a conversation without taking a flight and then braving the jungle of chest hair to get close enough to his head, the mere concept that someone might be even remotely able to do anything strong enough to arouse him was, to put it lightly, extremely unlikely. Yet, somehow, Hannah had not only managed to do both of those things, but somehow succeeded in getting him wrapped her around middle finger… in a good way, that is; as much as the giant enjoyed being the overbearing, all-dominating presence that he was, sometimes he enjoyed feeling like he was the one in the bottom, something he was certain no one would be capable of understanding. No one but Hannah, that is; the other Obstagoon had demonstrated an almost unnatural ability to locate and press his buttons with such efficiency that he often had to exercise a fraction of his incalculable strength to keep himself from squirming too much, lest the planet beneath him suffer an unfortunate case of multi-leveled earthquakes. What made it even more ridiculous was that she wasn’t even that big; sure, her breasts were big enough that she had to use a harness to keep them from reaching the ground, and just happened to jut out about five feet from either side of her. Sure, her ass was wide enough that no house could ever hope to let her in, but compared to him, she was downright miniscule. Yet all that was needed was for her to take a step, to say a word, and suddenly he felt as if the whole of existence stopped being real, and all that mattered was that gorgeous beauty there in front him.
Said beauty was waking up at about the same time as her lover, off in the distance where she decided to fall asleep that particular day. There was never any shortage of room for her to pick from, given the sheer enormity of her partner; with pecs the size of continents, it’d be worrying if she couldn’t find somewhere to lay her head down and rest, and even then that was barely even a decimal of a percentage point of her lover’s full size. It was impossible, even for her, to get a good grasp on how big the male Obstagoon actually was; given the amount of timeline distortions at play, he might be one given size on one day, and a completely different one the day after. The only constant was that he was big, though that word might fail to capture the true essence of what made him him; to say that Jonah was big was like saying that space was big: technically true, but utterly lacking in the sort of detail that truly brought to life the glory and majesty of just what was being discussed. Hannah should know, given that she lived and breathed it every day of her life and still managed to be surprised by how surprisingly intense and overwhelming the experience was every single time she opened her eyes or breathed in the strong, masculine scent that surrounded her in every direction. One could be forgiven for thinking that, at those scales, Jonah would be stationary, incapable of even so much as slightly adjusting his sitting position, but even there the Obstagoon god was more than capable of surprising everyone with how mobile he was; despite it being an obvious impossibility, he could easily bend down and reach his toes, flying in the face of the fact that, when he did so, all the space between said toes and his arms was taken up by his pectorals. It was literally impossible, yet he did it anyway, because when one became as magnificent a deity as him, rules just stopped applying; what was the universe going to do, enforce its decisions on someone who confused even time? Thus, Jonah was happy to demonstrate that he was possessed of the sort of mobility and agility more befitting of someone a billionth of his size, despite every indication that the opposite should be true; in fact, sometimes he went so far as to do a handstand, a gesture that had risked the integrity of the planet so many times that Hannah had to ask that he never do so again.
Every single time, his actions resulted in what could only be described in spacetime breaking apart in the local area; while he was nimble enough to perform any feat required of him, reality itself had a slight problem when it came to processing his motions, leaving it in a perpetual state of lag compared to what the titanic Obstagoon happened to be doing at any given time. Thus, in the few occasions where he flipped around and held himself with his head facing downwards, while he saw every step of the process, everyone else blinked and suddenly the immobile giant had been reversed while the ground began to crack under the strain of his weight being held up by a single pair of hands. It made it harder for him to relate to any mortal under his care, which is precisely why Hannah was so special to him: she wasn’t affected by this. In fact, she was able to talk with him like he was a perfectly normal individual, an absolute rarity in those days. Jonah should probably have known that something was up when he first felt her climbing his body, all those years (days?) ago; many tried to undergo such a pilgrimage, but none actually completed it, either cutting their losses and turning back or giving up and remaining wherever they were, basking in his warmth for all of eternity, their bodies kept alive by his immense power. But Hannah… Hannah was different. Hannah had kept going far past the point where even the boldest of explorers had stopped; she climbed up his dozens of rows of rock-solid abs, at some points forgoing the use of equipment and using her own hands alone, she’d braved the jungle of fur hanging from his impossibly-wide pecs, hell, she’d even managed to climb over said pectorals and take an extended break on one of his nipples. Many weeks (months?) later, she would joke that she was the one who deserved nips that big, and Jonah found it somewhat distressing that he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
Finally, after a literally uncountable amount of time, the Obstagoon gal reached her destination, the deep valley formed by the neckbulk surrounding Jonah’s head. This was the biggest of challenges, given that it was practically a sheer drop until the very bottom, at which point it levelled out into a mile-wide “clearing”, at the center of which was his head, perpetually stuck looking up at a (relatively) tiny circle of sky up above. This was a journey she took every day, for she had learned to use the spacetime distortions to her own advantage, waiting until they grew strong enough that she could take a single step and move miles in any given direction, travelling freely across her lover’s body; and every morning, Hannah would use this knowledge to head straight to where his head was, to give him the biggest, sloppiest, tongue-filled kiss that she could possibly imagine! It was important for the two of them to express their feelings for one another, and what better way to do so than by shamelessly burying her lover’s face in her tits for about ten minutes before practically slobbering all over him while giggling like a schoolgirl? Jonah was more than happy to pay back in the same coin, his body rumbling as he did something not dissimilar to purring whenever he was truly satisfied like that; the only bad part about it was that the larger Obstagoon had to refrain from talking above a whisper, as the force of his lungs, coupled with the reverberating properties of the cliffs of neck muscle around his head, made it dangerously likely for any spoken word to shred Hannah to bits if he wasn’t careful about it.
Still, as long as the two of them took the necessary precautions, they needn’t worry about anything; besides, the smaller Obstagoon was more than happy to preempt any sort of sound-based damage by just bringing her tits to bear and slamming them on top of her partner’s head, keeping him trapped in a titty prison that he could do nothing about. Jonah may be powerful, but he couldn’t ever ignore his arousal, which created quite a few issues for the people living below him; those lucky ones knew exactly when their goddess-consort was getting busy giving their god a piece of her mind, seeing as the occasions were always accompanied by an uptick in both nutquakes and floodings all around that part of the planet. The male Obstagoon’s productivity shot through the roof whenever he was being expertly handled like that, and the vibrations from his nuts were powerful enough to be felt on the other side of the globe; similarly, the spurts of pre bubbling and firing from his tip were usually big enough to warrant civil alerts about impending floods. More than once, dams had to be opened for hours at a time to help deal with the run-off, and the “contamination” downstream had led to a serious increase in the number of hyper-sized individuals in affected areas. It used to be that people were people-sized; now it was hard to find someone who didn’t either have floor-dragging nuts or a pair of chest-obscuring breasts, though obviously none even remotely compared to either his body or that of his goddess. No, they were unique, so much so that they appeared to have synched; whenever he grew, so did she, though never to the same proportion. Just enough for him to notice, comment on it, and then get a face full of boob for his troubles.
After the customary tit-snuggles, which usually lasted for at least a couple of hours, the two of them got comfy in preparation for something that had become tradition between the two: the teasing. In all honesty, Jonah never expected anyone to be able to leave him on edge with as much ease as Hannah did, but in the absence of any modern amenities, he supposed she had to find some other way to exercise her mind, and apparently chose to do so by sharpening it on the lewdest grindstone and then pointing it straight at him. Everything was fair game, be it deific exultations, adoring worship and the absolute worst in terms of undignified compliments of his most private areas, with the only rule being that she had to stop once he reached climax; if not for his own sake, then for that of the tiny ones down below. Neither of them could remember why they spent their time like this, with Jonah keeping his eyes closed as Hannah showered him with choice words meant to bulk him up even further and make life even more heavenly for those living underneath his care; it fell into the same category as everything else, so warped by the mere presence of the giant that they couldn’t really think back to a time where it never occurred. All they knew was that each word added more feet of muscle mass to some part of him, every sentence made him shudder and the vibrations from his package increase in proportion, every compliment left him whining pitifully as he strained himself not to outright beg for more. It was madness, it was insanity, and he loved every moment of it.
Of course, to the two lovers, this had become little more than routine at that point in their lives, a sentence that by itself strained the very definition of what was sensible and what was just downright nonsense. The sort of life they enjoyed together was one that the tiny ones living beneath them could not even begin to conceptualize, much less understand, so why should they spend any time trying to do so themselves, when they could just… accept it? When they could simply know it as true and live it as fully as they very well wanted? To be fair, most of this was Hannah’s influence rubbing off on her giant of a hubby, seeing as, for all of Jonah’s positive traits, being able to just accept his divinely-ordained gifts was not one of them; not a day went by that he didn’t question why it was that he was chosen, why, of all people, of all Obstagoons really, he was the one handpicked to become the glorious titan that he had become… was… always had been? It was hard for him to wallow in self-doubt when he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact nature of his existence, and the ensuing confusion that came along with it was exactly where his partner came in; Hannah’s presence had been such a positive influence on his life that even the colossus was reasonably certain he’d grown to become an even greater god just by being near her (or her being near him, at any rate). He somewhat recalled a point in time where he could still see the curvature of the planet, as opposed to being stuck at the bottom of a valley of muscle and ultimately unable to see it anyway, given he was about half as big as the floating rock itself was; but through her love and attention, through her tender touch and her love and care, he had become something greater, someone deserving of praise and adoration.
Not that he wanted any of it, obviously; as far as the Obstagoon was concerned, he was merely the first among equals, and every tiny one living under his shadow had as much of a claim to divinity as he did, at least in terms of how special they were. There was nothing spectacular about him, nothing out of the ordinary or extremely consequential; in fact, he knew that his old job, if he ever had one, was one of menial labour where his back would be broken and his finances were kept permanently teetering on the edge of rupturing. So, if someone like a possible past iteration of himself became the sort of musclebound, hyper-engorged titan that he was today, surely anyone could do it if only they put their minds to it; he couldn’t quite remember if he ever tried to achieve his current status, be it by excessive workouts or intense, cult-like prayer, or if he’d just woken up one day and had always been like that, but he was nothing if not a humble god. Jonah believed, with all of his heart, that all it took for anyone to achieve what he had was for them to believe in themselves and just try hard enough, that the universe ruled itself by some meritocratic constant that allowed those with the will to power to overcome their own limitations and become something greater. Whether or not they’d succeed, or whether they’d simply become a hunk rather than a planet-dominating mega-slab of muscle power, was something he couldn’t tell them, for he didn’t know the answer himself; they’d just have to find it themselves.
This wasn’t to say that his own voyage was complete; far from it, in fact. The more he grew, the more powerful he became, the more he came to realize that he was still a long way’s away from becoming that which he was meant to be, from unleashing the true divinity that lay in wait inside him and all others of his kind. In all honesty, most of this motivation came from Hannah, not him; Jonah was quite happy to be as he was and just let fate decide where the chips fell, but his partner and consort was insistent that he should take a more active role in defining his own destiny. She never pushed him to do anything specific, or to act in any particular way; rather, whenever she sensed that he was “slacking off” or “taking too long” in making a decision, there she came flying down to where his head lay so she could wrap it up in a titty prison from which he couldn’t escape. Jonah would be lying if he said he’d never deliberately held back on making a tough call just so he could enjoy that aspect of her every once in a while; he seriously doubted that Hannah wasn’t aware, but as long as she kept playing the game with him, he’d keep playing it as well. Still, with her firm hand guiding him and his own plans for the future forming inside his mind, he had come to take a much more active role in ruling over his home planet and those who lived on it, for that, he believed, was his true purpose in life.
Under his care, life on Earth had bloomed and prospered like never before. Wars had effectively ceased completely, as it was difficult to argue with a giant who could literally crush entire armies using only his pinky finger… not that he’d go so far, of course; Jonah merely politely asked that people please stop shooting at one another or he’d have to take their weapons away, and everyone quietly agreed that it was, perhaps, for the best. There was a lot of skepticism thrown about, that such a creature as him could ever hope to understand the inner workings of a mortal mind, but little did the naysayers know that Jonah was, at heart, just another person like them; a person possessed of multiple twelve-packs of abs harder than diamond and a set of pecs that could crush entire continents if he wasn’t careful, not to mention so much fur that he could clothe all of furkind several times over, but a person nonetheless. He woke up every day and went through the same concerns that most people did: whether they’d do well at their job that day, the chores he had to get through, and trying to find time for his loved ones. It just so happened that his concerns operated on a much grander scale, but that didn’t mean he was some alien entity who did not understand this thing that they called love; in fact, if there was anything he did understand fully, it was the burning passion that one might feel for someone who had become their world, their everything, someone for whom they would move mountains (quite literally, in his case). And whether it be the lack of armed conflict everywhere, his mere presence, or perhaps a mixture of both, the world’s population seemed to go in the same direction that he did: long-term conflicts were resolved in a matter of weeks or days, cooperation between nations reached an all-time high, the arts and sciences flourished as sectarian and ideological differences were hashed out; all of mortal kind experienced a second Renaissance, one that would lead them to a true golden age of scientific and sociological progress, all of it inspired by the presence of their Obstagoon god, who oversaw all of it with (what they assumed to be) a smile on his face.
In reality, Jonah couldn’t really see any of this; he was vaguely aware of the progress going on beneath him by virtue of Hannah informing him of specific titbits of information. The other Obstagoon wasn’t particularly interested in the goings-on of the mortal world, having long since transcended it herself; the female’s body had undergone the same sort of temporal distortions as her lover’s, and while it wasn’t nearly as large as Jonah’s, it was certainly a lot bigger than it used to be. Reaching about ten feet in height and with breasts even larger than the ones she had been blessed to smother her partner’s head with, each day she spent living on his body was one she woke up and noticed a certain part of her was bigger in some way, and one where her past became blurrier and harder to parse. Much like Jonah, Hannah no longer knew for certain whether or not she had once been mortal, if she had ascended, or if she had always been a semi-divine creature of immense proportions; unlike him, however, this had always been her intention, and as such she glorified herself and revelled in the pleasure that was not even understanding her own existence. There was one thing she knew, however, and that much was Jonah; in her current state, the female Obstagoon had garnered a non-insignificant amount of insight on the inner workings of her partner’s mind, and what she found there was not the immeasurably powerful god or domineering destroyer deity that she had once believed him as, but a gentle soul, one who wished for nothing more than the continued well-being of all those around him, and whose main concerns were in trying to minimize the amount of damage he did to reality by virtue of simply existing. It was in such sharp contrast to her own, far more active and intrusive personality that, for a few days after achieving this realization, Hannah avoided seeing him altogether, not for lack of wanting to, but for a deep sense of self-doubt that she suddenly found herself beset by.
Did she deserve him? That was the question, really. Were her intentions pure in meeting him, or had all of this just been an attempt at stealing some of his power for herself? Had she tried to seduce Jonah, not because she’d found him to be a perfect mate, but because he was a font of infinite might that she could tap for herself? Hannah had once been sure that her motivation was not centered around herself, that she had climbed the mountain of muscle and fur because she truly wished to meet the man at the very top, but now… now she wasn’t so certain. With a muddled past and an inability to even know what her present was, the influx of alternate timelines and other versions of herself had made it difficult for the “smaller” Obstagoon to truly know what her real self was, and what she truly had been thinking when taking the years-long trek up to the top of the muscular god. She wandered aimlessly amidst the sun-blotting forests of fur, occasionally stopping to rest on a particularly soft patch of pectoral muscle, before finally laying her head down and trying to snooze away the confusion; she did this for almost a week before something happened to bring her out of her funk, before Jonah, in an uncharacteristic fit of self-determination, took the initiative to show her what she was doing wrong.
Moving his hand close to her, demonstrating an impossible amount of elasticity as his arm bent in ways it literally could not, given the amount of muscle in the way, two fingers plucked her from where she was lying down and brought her back to where his head resided at the “bottom” of his neckbulk. This was, of course, not possible; not only did each of Jonah’s digits outsize entire countries, but he couldn’t even get his biceps to rotate a single degree from how swollen they were. Additionally, the speed at which Hannah would have to travel to get to her destination so quickly would have left her torn to shreds by air resistance… and yet, she was unmistakably there, looking at a very concerned Jonah, safe and secure at the very bottom of the valley which she used to visit religiously. No words were needed for her worry to be known, nothing more than the two of them looking at one another and then Hannah moving her head so as to not have to gaze upon those two verdant orbs piercing through her; she now fully believed herself unworthy to be in the presence of someone like Jonah, for she had taken advantage of him for her own gain, and the only way to atone for those sins would be to remove herself from his presence… permanently. She was prepared to give up everything, her size and divinity included, so that he may not suffer through the heartache that someone like her would bring to him. This much was certain.
“You’re being silly, you know?”
Five words. Five words and her tears were flowing already. How could he forgive her so easily? How could he find it in him to forget her transgressions and be ready to move on from them? Did he not know that she had used them, that she had sought them out under false pretenses for the sake of her own power? Did he not know that she was not the person who he thought she was?
“You’re not yourself,” he spoke again, his voice booming and thundering, reflecting off the walls of the valley of muscle around him, “literally. You are you and all others, converging into one spot. You’ve convinced yourself that you are but one, but you, my love, are a multitude. You are not who you think you are. You are who you decide to be. Just like I am who I decide to be.”
This couldn’t make sense. It would absolve her too easily, bring her back to enjoy a life of unending love with someone for whom she felt a great deal of affection… wait…
“We are that which we are,” Jonah carried on, “and you aren’t defrauding me, my sweet. Somewhere, in the countless timelines that circle around us, an infinite amount of Hannahs seek an infinite amount of Jonahs to become goddesses and nothing more. But an equally infinite amount of Hannahs seek an equal number of Jonahs because they see nothing more than a mate, a partner, one with whom they could spend their life with.”
She was crying openly, lost for words at how easily she was forgiven, and how much love her partner was showering her with. Was this true? Could she simply… choose to ignore that possibility?
“We are as gods, my love,” he concluded, “let yourself not be bound by a single interpretation, for that is not our fate. We are all things, and no things. But amidst it all, there is one certainty that we can hold onto.”
When he spoke his final three words, they were echoed by Hannah, who had fallen to her knees and wept with joy.
“I love you.”
