She's not having a good night. Ember had tried to push it back then everything went wrong. From deep within her DNA the goddess screams, furious at the sink's disobedience. Ember ignores it. She squints her eyes and growls in anger and her hands re-crush the metal of the faucet, hoping to mass the steel in a way that will stop the water spraying. It doesn't work. It drips down her skin and pools near her tree-like calves. Ember is huge. In bare feet she stands not an inch less than eight feet tall. She's not a skinny huge either, her countenance is something between a Robert Crumb fantasy and Aubrey Plaza. She doesn't resemble the stringy Rambo bodybuilder look but she is thick with musculature. The kind word might be "beefy".

Ember's huge arms bulge like pythons as she tries to force the metal back around the leak. "Grrrrr" *splash!!!* The effort is doomed from the start. Her physiology has taken the hint that fight is off the table so it settles on flight instead. She shakes her hands in front of her face in a panic. Her thoughts doom-spiral and she imagines someone, maybe the government people, hearing her lose control and coming for Hidalgo. She can't let them think she can't handle this. *thomp* *thomp* Her mighty calves reposition and her bubble butt jiggles for an instant then stops on a dime like a soldier snapped to attention. She brushes a curtain of wet black hair out of her face. The last of her adrenaline is ebbing. She hadn't meant to step that angrily but her strength was underestimated as usual and she felt the floorboards shake beneath her. Her thoughts are a worried river as she stares upward.

"Damn it. Definitely don't break the floor "Cavewoman". Calm yourself. Calm calm calm. Who can help me? Anyone? I can phone to someone. Call someone. Call.. police? No. They'll laugh at me for calling the police about water. What to doooooo? Oh God Alex I'm already doing so bad at this. I promised you I wouldn't mess this up."

Red Gods Reborn: Chapter One

Tucumcari New Mexico, 2023. 9:42pm.

Chirping insects and across the way a young man named Austin is trying to jerk off and he can't. He hates that feeling alone hurts his horniness. The bills are paid, the house is intact, he hasn't hurt anyone so what's the problem? So he's lonely? At least he knows about it. And so what, lonely isn't a crime. And it's so dumb to want a woman now anyway. He'd hate to inflict his mood on a woman tonight. He shuts folded his computer and contemplates another long evening just with himself. His sleep schedule/circadian rhythm is fucked but why get it right? He imagines all the correct men in America judging his life but where do they get off judging him at all? He's made enough money to last another three years at least and his small, cheap, four rooms wooden floored white-walled home is owned outright which is more than most people his age can say. And he was never not a happy person before. He's only like this now because death is unfair and sometimes takes people who would laugh at the face of it. That would be his mother and he still can hear her smokey laugh and her easy humor. It was cringy and lame to think out loud but she was the best friend he had, and now she's gone. *whump* *whump* *whump* He grips his chest and gasps in shock at the sound of a quick series of slam-knocks coming from his front door. God in heaven what was that? He owns a Walmart shotgun and knows how to use it. He grabs it from the back closet and ties off his grey sweatpants and tosses on his wifebeater. Timidly he heads to the door.

"So here we go," Ember thinks. "Asking the neighbor for help here we go. That's not so strange right? It's the middle of the night sure but I told myself when I moved here I was going to make friends so that's just what this will be. Giant woman at the front of your house, hiya. Can we be friends? How does water work?" Ember closes her eyes and pinches her brow. She thinks this might be a really terrible idea. Her hands rush back down immediately to her sides and her eyes pop open as the screen door slowly creaks open. She tries a friendly smile. Even she can tell it's coming off too stiff and she ruefully accepts that she probably looks insane. Pants, also in retrospect she thinks she should have worn some pants.

Austin rubs his eyes and when they focus again he's staring at a glistening cabinet sized torso from a woman he almost can't comprehend. She's wearing black underwear and a dripping-wet white teeshirt and she looks like a meaty crossfit girl fell into vat of growth hormone. After a pause of intimidation Austin embarrassingly feels a wave of arousal grip him. His mind comprehends all at once that this behemoth before him is, along with terrifyingly gigantic, unmistakenly a gorgeously young woman. Perky breasts, wide flared hips, muscular bubble ass and all on the tallest person he'd ever met. So accustomed was he to seeing anything like this only via CGI he found his eyes unconsciously scanning for any sign of digital matting or cropping. There was none. No tricks. This person was actually happening.

From the greasy yellow streetlight's glare Austin made out out the shape of her face and he guesses Mexican or maybe Central-American. Along with the strangeness of her size he sees also thin runner-style black tattoos tracing along her light brown skin. He realizes after a second the lines are loosely matching the position of her skeleture. Like a child's black and white Halloween costume.

And then the biggest miracle of the night. To all this terrifying body Austin calmly says "hello". In spite of an introverted personality and computer science background Austin never had a hard time talking to women. Maybe another lonely legacy from his loud-talking mother.

-Yep, hello. Can I help you?

Ember's frozen nightmare smile continues for a few arduous seconds before her lips spread and Austin almost pisses himself. All of her teeth are canines! Like a fairytale ogress or something. Was this some monster from an urban horror movie? More seconds pass and her overgrown knuckles crack with tension as her fists tighten in a brutal power. Austin thinks for a moment she is going to try and eat him. His mind starts planning a backward dash for the shotgun when finally the giant-ess speaks.

-Dude! Hey dude! Hey hello! Buddy! Hello buddy! Yes so my water broke. No wait, that's having a baby.. I broke water! Handle. The handle on my water sink. Wow look at those stars tonight so bright! My name is Ember THE STARS man! So good! So again hello Yes. Can you? I mean could you do that?

"Couldn't have," Ember thinks. "Couldn't have possibly gone any worse than that. Oh God what happened? Did I forget ENGLISH? He's going to think I'm on drugs!" Just as Ember huffs in a long breath to try another sentence to salvage her failed first attempt Austin mercifully takes the conversation over.

-Yo, I didn't get all that but did you say you had a water leak? I got a toolbox so lets look at it. You said your name was Amber?

-Yes! Ok yes. Yeah I'm your neighbor from across the street. Yes water problem. Yeah my name's Ember, it's like Amber but with.. Ember.

The two talk in the hot, dry new Mexico night and despite a species dimorphism usually found only in the animal kingdom, in ten minutes it was like they'd talked for years.

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Quintana Roo, Mexico 2002. 2:23am

*bum bah dum DUUUUM*

From a hole in the ceiling a rope descends. Ass meat is packed ludicrously tight into brown khaki short shorts ensemble entering the antechamber first. Newly doctorate-ed Dr. Ava Evelyn Lewis descends a dangling rope into a musty Aztec tomb. The twine burns her delicate pasty thighs. Her look is clearly Lara Croft inspired and she is absentmindedly humming the Indian Jones theme as well. She shuffles less than skillfully down the braided cord feeling her fat legs burn. And packed like a sardine in the warm, water-bed, dirt covered, sweaty cleavage of Ava's top is the half inch tall Renan Cauich, highway robber and part-time tour guide.

He tries moving but her mountains of fluid dynamic jiggling veiny cleavage, enplumped by a weakness for little debbies, leaves him all but paralyzed. He had succumbed the previous night to her exaggerated hourglass shape and drunk ministrations. While encouraging him to spill the beans on the secret temple location she knew he knew she'd grabbed his head into her chest in a heavenly motorboat session. Then it turned into something more. The bubbly blond yanqui had perfectly played the part of sexpot school-girl gone wrong and encouraged him to put her big funbags to the test. His chapped lips had been salivating when he'd finally wetly clamped them around her rosy red right nipple and sucked for all he was worth. The rest was like a blur. Pain and body horror overcame him as Evelyn's chemically altered boob-juice played hell with his active genetics and organic composition. Like a kid plays with a mound of play-dough pounds of flesh, bone and blood converted into steam as he shrank and it all gushed out of his ragged clothes with a sickly sulfuric smell. A tiny almost imperceptibly high pitched squeaking pricked the silence of the dingy Yucatan hotel room and Dr. Lewis grins hideously.

Clad only in a cheap wall-mart knock-off victoria's secret blue top and panties Dr. Lewis looks down over the shelf of her tits. Her giant glasses wearing face looms like an evil moon over the two boulders of her straining veiny lactation machines. Her right nipple drops a bead of sticky yellow milk through the fabric and onto the cheap carpeted floor. Gazing over the still steaming clothes pile she notices a tiny creature half crawling, half falling out of the prison of a now enormous shirt sleeve. His features are mismatched and grotesque, like a bad artist's doodling of a man. His nose is too big, one arm too small. As hard as Dr. Lewis had worked to make the milky concoction shrink people proportionally it pained her to admit her appetites were still bigger than her tech. But it was certainly a great start. And, most importantly, it wettened her fat pussy. The most genius brain of the twenty first century had ruthlessly self-examined her meaning of existence and come up with no better life-goal than whatever blasted her sex with pleasure. Like the janitor before him, the formally 5'7 tour guide was now a simpering, mewling fleshy bug-sized experiment output and God did it get Evelyn going. That was last night

Entering the temple room now, with a gasp Evelyn feels her grip go weird and she falls the last four feet onto the stone floor below. Her ass rebounds like a bumper car back upwards and in the whiplash motion a fat-wave of tit meat bungies her rack back into place. At 1/100th normal size the cleavage slap for tiny Renan is a nightmare. Stuck in the middle of the repositioning titties he bellows a tiny disparate squeak as the veiny sloshing plumpness breaks half his bones and outright crushes the rest. Internal bleeding has begun and Renan doesn't have long but his senses, unmercifully, are still together and his ears are still working.

"Oh my dang old goodness amigo!" The plump blonde exclaims dusting herself off dramatically. "Why didn't you catch me? Oh that's right, you'd been feeling LESS than yourself all day. All shy and shit. Silly mijo, don't you know that's unattractive? But check it out! Your dumb half remembered temple was really a thing!" 

Righting herself and lighting a torch Evelyn pushes her damp circle gold-rimmed glasses back up on her nose and looks around the room. Beads of sweat drop down into her cleavage gulch and wash some of the bleeding off dying Roman. "They all thought I was crazy," she says to herself. "They all did. And so I was but it doesn't matter because I was RIGHT. The ancients HAD planned their deaths and their entombed remains HAD ended in this coastal city of their favorite peninsula! Just like my research predicted!" She felt like crying or singing or just laughing maniacally like usual as Dr. Lewis holds the torch above her Panama hat and takes in the sight.

She sees three gloriously detailed red, gold and turquoise frescos on the wall with unassuming clay pots on the floor beneath each one.

"Boom" she says to the ancient chamber spreading a shit eating grin across her face, "Dino DNA!". The quote didn't exactly apply here (nothing involving dinosaurs) but the DNA she was after was in the urns and Jurassic Park was still her second favorite movie.

"It's not a temple, it's a tomb! Via con dios Senorito hahaha!" She crushes him in her dirty tits. He sees her dumb pink and green alternating nails just crest over the jiggling ocean of salty tit-flesh one last time before something inside of him snaps and his panicky consciousness falls away for good.

"Adios Senor!"

****************************************************************************************************************************

Tucumcari New Mexico, 2023. 11:57pm.

Austin vs. Valve

Soundtrack: "Kiko vs. the Lavender Moon" by Los Lobos

*squeeeaaaaark*

In the darkness Austin muddies his sweatpants closing Ember's water main with a grunt. Ember holds his toolbox in one hand and in the other all two and a half feet of the biggest baby Austin has ever seen. Austin stifles a laugh to see the happy giant infant hanging like a grocery bag from Ember's powerful fist. Suspended from the scruff of its onesie. Austin is pretty sure that's not how you hold a baby.

-Ok that's it.

-That's it? There's no way it was that easy!

-Too easy. This is your water main, lives in front of your house. Anything catastrophic happens with your toilet or sink or whatever just turn it to the right till it closes.

-Man I should give you some money. Lets get inside, I'm huge. Don't want anyone to see.

-Sure.

This night feels to Austin like swimming through a dream. He follows Ember, tool box and baby swinging by her side, and he can't help but gasp at her ungodly huge and attractive ass swaying from side to side. Cheeks lifting left and right as she trudges on around the side of her house. He turns his head to watch her ugly yellow siding instead and tells himself a gym bunny butt at 200% is not entire his fault for noticing.

They enter her house and with an exhausted *whump* she drops her wet ass on the couch which works more like a love seat for her frame. She puts Hidalgo on the other cushion and doesn't find the energy to stop him chewing on her long black hair. There's not another seat in the room and Austin pockets his hands in his sweatpants and looks around nervously.

Ember eyes Austin's decision to stand with confused interest before realizing he has nowhere to sit.

-Aww dude! Shit. Here you want the couch? Me an Hiddie can take the floor. Or wait I can drag the bed in here.

-What?

-There's not enough chairs. Uhhh booze! Let's have a nightcap buddy and then the floor will be fun! Follow me!

With the accompanying weighty thumps she rises quickly still in her underwear and a shirt and starts trudging towards her kitchen. Hidalgo giggles as he's flung to the hardwood floor where his head slams down loudly. The horrified Austin realizes the enormous baby didn't even seem to notice. Hidalgo smiles and wobble-runs back to the couch hitting it with enough force to move it a few feet to the left.

Ember returns double fisting two clear bottles. Austin reads the labels.

-Everclear.

-It's a nightcap!

-It's grain alcohol.

-Yeah buddy.

Austin's eyes bug as the elephantine woman upside-down's the bottle in her right hand and slams her giant thighs down on the groaning hardwood. "Oh well" thinks Austin as he catches the second bottle tossed up to him and joins her on the floor, "when in Rome, or whatever this is."

The night bleeds into early morning and Austin makes a decision after two shots of Everclear he's not drinking another drop of Everclear without some kind of chaser.

-Like seriously you don't have even a soda?

-Uhh lets see!

Austin stands up and woozy walks after the giant woman as she ducks her head and enters her "bedroom". The evidence of it being that is only a single naked mattress on the ground which she kicks to the side of the room as she heads for the closet. The yellow streetlight flows through the blinds. Ember opens the closet and steps back hand on chin making a "deciding" squint eyed look. Austin thinks the bedroom closet is a weird place for the liquor cabinet but whatever. He waddles up to help her examine their choices. It's all Everclear. "It's all Everclear" he thinks to himself rubbing his buzzing eyes "what is she even contemplating then?" After a beat Ember speaks.

-Ok. So all I have is Everclear. Think I kind of remember that now. Uhhh supermarket run! Fuck yeah man! I'm down are you down?

-Ha. Sure. You have a car?

-I have a pickup truck where I'll go in the back and put a tarp over me and you drive us there.

-..sure.

An hour later, around one AM, in the parking lot and under the glow of the Tucumcari late night super-store fluorescents an amazingly un-arrested, still buzzed Austin Taylor climbs the tailgate of an F-150 and joins a gigantic woman under a dingy blue plastic tarp. He settles in her enormous lap with his relatively tiny head resting on her huge fleshy right thigh. In addition to something to chase the Everclear with (she brought four bottles) Austin had managed to score some weed from the back of the building from a guy he went to Highschool with. The hot night was finally starting to cool and he unconsciously snuggled, arms over his head, around her huge leg as he found out what kind of drunk Ember was. A talkative drunk.

It was such a strange one sided conversation to be a part of. She looked straight ahead while she talked but clearly was speaking to Austin. It was like she had such a flood of information to get out of her head she's couldn't even make time for eye contact. And the topics were freewheeling wildly, from her local DJ crush to body issues to wondering what being president would be like to how crazy pregnancy was to her Mexican woman holdup. Austin was pretty drunk while hearing this part but as best he understood it the gist of it was that Ember was racially very indigenous looking Mexican-American but didn't speak any Spanish or even have an accent so she was afraid that if she talked to a Latina or even looked at one too long they'd judge her as a failure to her people.

-I'm ethically Mexican but I was raised by a crazy white lady so I don't sound like it at all. Probably silly. I'm trying to learn Spanish too but I'm worried I'm too lazy.

She talks about her fear of mingling in town not just because of size but also her tattoos. Austin has to laugh at this one.

-I have tattoos.

-This is New Mexico, every woman here has cool tattoos.

Austin notices that, for someone thought-dumping so completely, Ember has said nothing about herself. It's the million dollar question he's begging to know. In vino veritas and Austin decides to just ask.

-So hey I have a question. Um, you're a very unusual person. Which is so cool. I love it. But uh, If there's any kind of reason for you I'd love to hear it.

Ember looks zoned out for a moment then smiles. "You remember the Red Gods?"

The Red Gods. Of course Austin remembered the Red Gods. Three giants painted red but with black tree-branch like vine patters all over their body. And they wore giant golden half face masks. They were cloned from an ancient Aztec pantheon, or so the story went. They could biologically grow and shrink-back at will.

Like Lance Armstrong they seemed like a miracle during their hey-day and then a big scandal happened and now they were an uncomfortable American cautionary tale no-one liked to think about. Most people liked to pretend they never existed.

Thunderguard, War and Vega. Three Aztec Gods (or neo-Gods as the official title went) cloned from the dead by a Top Secret military effort and returned to the world as 100 foot superheroes of The Red Gods task-force. When the "Cull-17" event in 2017 brought asteroid riding giant alien rock dogs rampaging through downtown Dallas The Red Gods were deployed and the results were dazzling. The invaders had been totally smashed. Overnight the mysterious giant red skinned, black tattooed golden masked trio were all anyone could talk about. More threats came and more victories for the Red Gods, until a few months of relative quiet after a giant squid in San Francisco.

And maybe that's what had done it, a cabin fever effect from a few months of monsterless doldrums. Or maybe it was the self experimentation Dr. Lewis had done on herself in the secrecy of the Task Force labs, splicing into her own genes and genetics until something was lost. Whatever the case, on April 2nd 2020 the quirky but sexy "Science-One" head researcher of task force Red Gods went insane and murdered the entire program staff. Doors and exits locked, acid pumped into the fire suppression, nanobots in the air filters, poison in the cafeteria potatoes. Most of the footage was still classified but what floated around the internet Austin had seen. It wasn't pretty. People in "RG" jumpsuits banging on glass walls as their skin melted and their fingertips blackened. And all the while, hazy in the background, Paul Simon's "Mother and Child Reunion" had been pumping through the sound system giving a hideous 70s pop dirge to the whole disaster.

People said the writing had been on the wall already. Church and family lobbiests had already been up in arms about the sky high pornographic coupling between the gargantuan Chalchiuhtlicue "Thunderguard" and Mictlantecuhtli or "War". Vega had been out for recovery and so the two had been left alone to handle a black and purple 200 foot monstrosity in Portland Oregon that had mutated from a vegan jack-root "BBQ with Mac and Cheese" combo gone bad and exposed to radiation. The victory had been spectacular but also disgusting and as the two red and gold giants cleaned themselves off they fell suddenly, shockingly, into a fit of desperate fornication. Studebaker sized wet tongues under their golden half masks slathering gallons of saliva onto each other as they intwined. Once the foreplay was finished and the erection into vagina started (doggy style w/ some hair pulling) started the internet was basically broken.

In the ensuing days several southern and midwestern housewives filed class-action lawsuits against the government for moral and mental anguish at seeing even the pixilated newsfootage of the act. A thirteen foot long fat, red, throbbing and gorgeous erection plunging fistlike into a sopping wet sex the size of a minivan between Thunderguard's monstrous ass. Pixels could block the image somewhat but live newscasters, unprepared for anything like this, failed to censor the booming low-pitched yet sensuous window shattering orgasmic anger-pleasure throaty release of Thunderguard as she came almost on time with War. Bucket sized drops of semen and vaginal lubricant from the act dribbled down her snatch and stomach and fell to even shatter a windshield. The chairman of the joint chiefs certainly looked sweaty on TV THAT afternoon.

So discipline of the program had clearly been failing and there was a general sense the giants needed to be controlled or the program needed to be stopped when the question answered itself. At first the DOD wanted the massacre and all surviving program files classified but a junior Senator from the northeast had other ideas. Putting her TV chops and twitter savvy to good use she had stuck a point about taxpayer transparency and the American dream (whatever that meant) and actually succeeded in making a successful sentate trial censuring every general and undersecretary who had let clandestine arrogance set the stage for this biochemical lunatic killing 200 government employees a mile under the ground. Unlike so many things government or politics related the aftermath of the Red Gods had actually been pretty close to a bipartisan win not just for congress but for the American people as well. The villains had been vilified, Dr. Lewis had been incarcerated and the program was completely scrapped. Even the war-hawks in government saw that public sentiment was not with them at the time and allowed the Junior Senator to complete a fully transparent disclosure of the disaster. As for the Red Gods, the report had laid out clearly that they had died victims of the mad doctor as well, and should be mourned as American heroes.

Americans have a strange trick where if they spend enough energy alternately hating/loving/hating/loving/hating something, after a time they just push it out of their minds completely. Now just even a few years after the disaster the Red Gods seemed like a strange dream forgotten. Scatterings of their popularity remained both in ernest and in irony and their posters had become a good edgy addition to any "cool kid" wall decoration. A loaded metaphor. Along with his favorite bands Austin had a blacklight reactive Vega poster on his wall. He wasn't proud of it but he'd beaten off to it more than once. She had been cloned from Xochitlicue and was notoriously overdeveloped in her hips and outlandishly fat-bloated gold/black tattooed swaying pendulous breasts.

Back in the midnight parking lot blue tarp flat-bed Everclear party, the "do you remember the red gods" question hangs in the air cut only by the sound of Hidalgo, struggling and giggling, duck taped into a way too small carseat in passenger side of the pickup truck cabin up front. Austin finally answers, jumping to more than a few conclusions.

-The Red Gods! Holy shit were you like there for all that? Like an engineer or something? Did you meet any of the New-Gods? What were they like like, for real, in real life? Holy shit that’s so rad! I was in a coding project with one of their S6 staff years ago, he died when all that went down..

Austin, weed buzzed and feeling overly easy as he rests on Embers thick warm thigh realizes all at once this was probably not a "cool" conversation for someone who lived it in real life. What a rude thing to bring up. He would have guessed her reaction to his enthusiastic questions about the worst day of her life would have been either polite forgiveness or a stern rebuke but she does neither. Instead Ember gazes down into the eyes of the little wifebeater clad blond New-Mexico young neighbor straddling her lap like a little white trash baby. She locks eyes longer and harder than she had all night and all of a sudden her presence hits him so hard he feels like a kid caught by Mom trying to steal a cookie from the shelf. With another surprise she tells him flatly and deliberately they need to drive out into the desert. Right now.

With the lights from the historical Route-66 highway town a glow behind them Austin leans against the truck while holding the happy and very heavy squirming Hidalgo as they both watch an Everclear drunk and very determined looking Ember (still in black panties and the tee) plod off sloppily into the high desert. "Shit" she exclaims as she trips on a brush-weed and her right foot plunges a half foot down into an adjacent hole she would have seen in daylight or sobriety. At about 150 feet from the truck she thinks it's probably enough. Hidalgo squeals again with joy in Austin's arms.

Ember looks up at the stars for a moment before facing back down at her feet and lightly, idly slapping both hands to both asscheeks. Stalling for time. Like she had some trick to show off but was bashful about it. "What is she doing?" Austin thinks.

Then it begins. A rush of heat and a light glow coming from her skeleton makes her appear, in the night, like a living dios de los Muertos icon and her legs reposition as her stance widens and her black underwear tightens then snaps across her ass as she groaningly, achingly, unstoppably starts to grow.

The muscles fibers and bone are all strengthening and enlarging and the synthesis sucks the oxygen out of the immediate air creating a windy tempest Austin weathers and he shields the laughing Hidalgo from the dust. When he opens his eyes again it's over and he's staring at shins. Then up to thick thighs and huge hips and finally a glowing tattooed abs and perfect perky tits and shoulders and half covered stern lipped face. Slowly, fearfully his eyes take in the humblingly perfect gigantic form of Chalchiuhtlicue realized in the twenty first century. Flames erupt from the nostrils just under the golden half mask that's making its own light in the darkness. The goliath's fists tighten reflexively just like his friend Ember had been doing that night and her lightly hairy vagina pulses once menacingly, probably a reflex as well. So much power, so much presence. It's staring down and it's staring down at him. He doesn't want to but he starts to cry in fear and shame. How was this the friend he'd made this evening? The casual acquaintance whose eccentricity and easy conversation had been such a welcome distraction from a long lonely night. She'd been so easy to talk to, if she ever shrank back how would he ever talk to her again?

"My God." He thinks. "She's Thunderguard."

End of chapter One. Soundtrack: "Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zepplin.