A/N: To explain this one there's a joke in 4chan gentle threads that once giantesses take over they'll institute a "cuddle tax" whereby everyone has to allow giant girls a certain amount of time to cuddle them every year, dodging the cuddle tax leads to more cuddling. This is a silly story about the concept playing out.

Jason stood in front of his mailbox, scowling as he read the official looking letter he’d received, “Dearest Tiny,” he rolled his eyes, We’re not tiny, they’re just big, “This is an official reminder that the cuddle tax deadline for this year has been moved to October 31st, if you need assistance with locating a Giantess for your cuddle tax please come to the offices of… Fuck this!” he crumpled the letter up, tossing it into his nearby recycling bin.

“What’s wrong?” a girl’s voice called. He turned to see his friend, Angela. She was arranging a series of fake graves in her garden across the street, and a carved Jack O’Lantern was already on her porch. He couldn’t help but smile at her decorations, he’d known Angela since they were kids, and she’d always loved Halloween. She brushed her red hair over her shoulder as she walked over to him with a smile.

“This cuddle tax crap again,” Jason said dismissively, “these growers think we owe them attention or something!”

Angela shifted uncomfortably, “W-Well the giant girls do a lot, you know? What about that giant candy bar they left downtown for you- us?”

“They can’t bribe me,” Jason declared, “I’m not doing cuddle taxes this year!”

Angela gulped, “Jason, cuddles are good for tinies, and for giants! It helps tinies feel safe, stabilizes their moods, and it also has a number of nervous system benefits according to-“

“Oh come on Angela,” he laughed, “they just think we’re cute and like to mess with us! All that other stuff is just an excuse.”

Angela blushed, “Is that really so bad though? Just do your cuddle taxes Jason!” She licked her lips, shuffling her feet nervously, “I-If you wanted, I know a grower who could help you get all of yours done by Halloween…”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Thanks Angela, but I’m getting together with some friends later to come up with a plan, I’ll see you later!”

Angela cursed her own cowardice, you’ve got to tell him sooner or later, she thought miserably.

…

Jason smiled as he looked around his basement poker table, he’d invited his four closest friends over to discuss his plans for the upcoming cuddle tax deadline. Like him they’d all been complaining about it since the giantesses had instituted the law, and were eager to take a stand.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Jason said, silencing the low conversation around the table, “we just won’t do our cuddle taxes this year, we’ll even announce it on youtube or something!”

“Isn’t that kind of tempting fate?” his friend Fred asked.

“We might get caught,” Jason admitted, “but if we just refuse to do cuddle taxes, soon people will realize we can just ignore them! They can’t punish us all?”

“What punishments do they usually do?” Chuck asked, brushing his red bangs out of his eyes nervously.

“I don’t know,” Jason said, waving dismissively, “we might do like a week in jail or something, it’s worth it if you ask me!” There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and Jason smiled, “All right, let’s set up a webcam…”

…

Angela sighed as she parked her car on the edge of the Giant district. The familiar buzzing sensation of growth shot through her as she went from five feet, to ten, twenty, finally stopping herself at one hundred feet tall. She looked down at her car, now barely the size of her shoe, and fought the urge to pick it up and examine it.

Everything is so CUTE at this size, she thought with a giggle as the ground shook with each of her footsteps. It was a sentiment common to other Growers, and tinies tended to avoid the area near the giant district, lest their Cuddle Taxes be collected early.

She couldn’t help but smile as she walked into the giant offices of the Cuddle Tax Administration, joined by her similarly gigantic colleagues as the girl’s boarded an elevator large enough to fit an aircraft carrier.

“Did you tell Jason about being a grower yet?” a bubbly blonde named Michelle asked.

Angela scowled, her anxiety over telling Jason her secret was popular office gossip, “No,” she said bitterly. “He doesn’t like the whole cuddle tax thing, or us giant girls in general… He says we live in a giantess-centric dystopia.”

“Dystopia!?” Michelle balked, “t-tinies love being snuggled! And we ended war, famine, all that other stuff!”

“Yeah,” Angela shrugged, “but he says we’ve instituted something called a New World Order? And he says that we’re not gentle at all!”

“Not gentle!” Michelle hissed, clenching her fists, “Okay, where is this guy? He’s getting so many snuggles for that.”

“No!” Angela whined, “He’ll come around, I just need to wait for the right time!”

“Whatever,” Michelle said,, rolling her eyes, “See you at the Halloween Party later!”

…

The head of the Cuddle Tax Administration was a middle aged woman named Deborah with a plump figure. While she normally wore a conservative business suit, today she was wearing a wide brimmed hat, a red and green sweater, and a glove with a series of fake knives attached.

“Happy Halloween everyone!” she called to the assembled women, “It looks like another successful year of cuddle taxes, the tinies are happier than ever!” The office workers cheered, a few lifting drinks high in a toast.

“WAIT!” a voice shouted.

The party came to a halt as a thin girl in a white robe and with a long black wig ran into the center of the room, “E-Everyone, you’ve got to see this!” she grabbed a remote for the large TV against the wall, pulling up the local news.

“Anti-Cuddle Tax Protesters Send Video Manifesto” the news crawler read, and Angela almost dropped her drink as she saw Jason’s smiling face fill the screen.

“For too long the cuddle tax has inconvenienced and annoyed us!” he declared, his friends nodding behind him, “I want you to know, I will not be subject to cuddle taxes this year! And neither will my friends!” They cheered, clinking beers as Jason beamed.

“Oh dear,” Deborah murmured, “if this catches on it could cause problems! Imagine the chaos that could be caused if giant girls don’t have a regular supply of tinies to cuddle!” The girls murmured worriedly. “We’ll have to go get them!” Deborah declared, “Girls! Move out! There’s no time to change out of costumes, just try not to scare them too much!”

Angela gulped, “C-Can we go easy on them?” she squeaked.

Deborah glanced over at her, then gave a small smile, “Well of course we’re going to go easy on them, but first they must learn of our gentle ways by any means necessary!”

Angela sighed with relief, “O-Okay then, I call dibs on the leader! J-Just because!”

The other girls in the cuddle tax office gave knowing giggles as Angela blushed, following them towards the exit.

…

Jason parted the curtains, looking out nervously, “I don’t see any,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to his friends.

“They probably won’t have time to find us before the deadline,” Chuck said with a laugh.

The ground shook, and the group went quiet. Jason gulped, looking at the glass of water on the living room’s end table. The water rippled in the glass with each tremor. He looked back at the television, which had been playing his announcement on the news, but the gigantic footsteps must have shaken something loose, because only static met his gaze.

“They’re here,” his friend Michael said, gulping nervously.

A loud tearing sound deafened them, and they looked up in shock to see the roof was being lifted off the house. A giggle rang out as a giant girl’s face loomed overhead, looking into the house like it was a shoebox. She was young, with blond hair and a pair of cat ears sticking through the top, the whisker’s drawn on her face twitched as she smiled, taking them in.

“Meow!” she said teasingly, “Hi little mice!”

“RUN!” Jason shouted, throwing the front door open and sprinting across the lawn. He didn’t bother looking back at his friends, but judging by the shattering glass at least one of them had jumped through the window.

“Scatter!” someone shouted, “they can’t catch all of us!”

The giant girl overhead smirked, “And they said a cat was a lazy costume!” She stood up, glancing at the fleeing crowd of tiny men and trying to decide which one to pursue. She opted for a cute looking guy close to her own age, looking over his shoulder with a terrified expression that melted her heart. “Aww, come here,” she cooed, reaching her hand out for him.

I should have just done the damn cuddle tax, Chuck thought, panting as he sprinted down the sidewalk. A giant shadow fell over him, and he looked up a split second before a giant manicured hand snatched him up, the soft fingers curling delicately under him as the titanic blonde lifted him off the ground. Chuck stuck his head out between the fingers as though the digits were prison bars, and he gulped as he saw the sidewalk and manicured lawns racing away as he got higher.

“Hey cutie,” the blonde giggled, flipping her palm and hefting the tiny man within as she studied him.

Chuck gulped, glancing over her in turn. The cat “costume” she wore was little more than a pair of tight black short shorts, high boots, and a matching tube top, if not for the wire tail affixed to her bottom and the cat ears on her head, he wouldn’t call it a costume at all.

“Looks like you’re caught,” she grinned, “and you’re such a cuddleable tiny too!”

Chuck blushed, “I-I am not cuddleable!”

In response the fingers seemed to collapse in on him, snarling around his body as the giant girl brought him to her cheek. He grunted as he was pressed into the warm expanse, his face sinking into the soft field of skin as he was snuggled against her.

That does feel pretty nice, he thought dreamily, and a second later he almost felt cold as she pulled him away again.

“Yeah, definitely cuddleable,” the girl teased. Chuck just nodded, his heart pounding, and the girl gave him a smug smirk and a wink. “I need my hands free to keep catching the other cuddle tax dodgers,” she said, bringing him down to the waistline of her shiny black shorts. “You stay in here, okay? We’ll count it towards your cuddle quota.”

Chuck’s eyes widened as she pulled her shorts and thong style underwear away from her smooth belly, giving him a brief glimpse of a small trimmed tuft of blond pubic hair before she let him roll down her outstretched palm into the dark prison of her underwear.

She giggled again as she released the waistband, patting her crotch playfully and nudging the tiny man into place. She shivered a moment as he moved against her, then with a smile she began scanning the ground below for the rest of the group.

…

Fred sighed with relief as he stumbled into the lobby of the large office building. It was mostly abandoned this late in the day, but the other tinies and the building itself would give him some cover.

No, he insisted to himself, We’re not tinies, they’re just big!

The thunder of a giant’s footsteps outside interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced back at the parking lot. A pair of giant black workboots greeted him, and he quickly bolted for the stairwell, eager to get off the ground floor.

Fred yelped in surprise as a giant face glanced in through the second floor window. His pursuer was kneeling, allowing a terrifyingly pale mask with dead black eyes to look in at him. His heart raced, and he almost tripped as he scurried up the stairs. With each passing floor he looked out the window, seeing his pursuer rise to follow him in his ascent, each story giving the wicked visage another chance to send his heart racing.

Fred was whimpering as he pushed the door to the roof open, panting and wiping sweat from his face, she can’t be up here, he thought wildly, this building is way too tall! She’s down there, she’s-

He squeaked in horror as the bottomless pits of those eyes rose over the edge of the building as the giant grew larger, the sickly pale skin catching the setting sun as the masked head blotted it out. She was wearing a blue mechanic’s suit, and he nearly fainted when he saw the enormous knife, easily the size of a city bus, in her hand.

He stumbled backward, then screamed one final time as he tumbled over the walled railing of the office tower.

“OH MY GOSH!” a muffled woman’s voice screamed. Fred grunted as he hit a giant open palm, stopping his descent. The enormous slasher ripped the rubber mask off, revealing a concerned looking brunette’s face. “Are you okay!?”

“Y-Yeah,” he panted, clutching his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. “T-That costume is really scary at this size.”

“You like it!?” the girl beamed, “Thanks!” She playfully pressed the giant knife into the building, causing the blade to bend like the rubber it was.

Fred just nodded, “It’s great,” he managed, feeling his arms and legs turn to jelly as the adrenaline subsided.

The brunette smirked, “Well the costume’s not the only thing scary! You owe cuddle taxes pal!”

“Okay, you got me, what’s the fine?” Fred asked, grunting as he sat up.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she giggled, slowly bringing him up to the mechanic’s suit pocket. He slid inside, his head just barely poking out. Fred gulped as he felt her enormous breast against his back, the warmth radiating through the fabric quickly relaxing him as the world shook from the woman’s first footstep.

“I think I’m going to leave the mask off,” she said, her voice vibrating his entire body, “I don’t want to scare another tiny into jumping off a building!”

…

Michael sprinted to the edge of the dock, “Hey!” he called, trying to get the attention of the captain of a small fishing boat. “Help! I need to get as far out to sea as possible!”

“Where are you tinies?” a girl’s thundering voice boomed from somewhere back in the city. “You can’t dodge your cuddle taxes forever!”

“Dodging cuddle taxes are ye?” the captain smiled, “hop aboard! I’m delinquent myself, gonna sail around the horn to get out of ‘em!”

“All right!” Michael said, smiling as he leapt aboard the ship.

“They’ll never catch the Orca!” the captain called, laughing with Michael as it pulled into the bay.

Michael sighed with relief, watching the shoreline disappear, “Even they can’t get us out on the water,” he murmured.

“Oh don’t be too sure,” the captain growled, “I was on the USS Indianapolis, after the ship sank during an unfortunate shuffleboard accident eleven hundred men went into the water… three hundred and sixteen came out, giant girls cuddled the rest… until they swam them back to shore anyway.”

There was a *thunk* and the boat rocked suddenly, “What was that!?” Michael asked, gripping the deck railing.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat,” the captain muttered.

A dark shape moved underneath them, causing the boat to lilt back and forth. Michael and the Captain watched with horror as an enormous fin breached the water, standing four times higher than their own mast. A moment later a giant head of light blue hair broke the water, and a grinning blue skinned girl’s face after it.

“Ba-dump, ba-dump,” she giggled.

The girl’s face slammed into the side of the boat, tossing Michael and the captain into the water. He coughed and sputtered, losing sight of the captain as he fought his way back to the surface, the salt water stinging his eyes as he blinked to clear his vision.

“Where is she!?” he called, treading water and looking around for the giant girl. “Where- AH!” he was pulled into the air, walls rising around him as the saltwater flowed out of her mouth, leaving him trapped and looking up at the walls of her jagged teeth.

The world went dark as she closed her mouth, and he tumbled down onto her tongue as she lifted her head upright. He scrambled across her tastebuds, earning a giggle as the girl felt his tickling movement. Her sticky spit welled up around him as the tongue lurched.

“Ptoo”

He flew through the air as she spat him into her cupped palms, and he landed with a groan next to the captain, who had lost his hat. Their captor was covered in blue body paint, with fake gills painted on her neck and a large plastic shark fin on her back, as she smirked again he saw that the teeth that had terrified him moments earlier were oversized fakes, causing her to lisp slightly as she spoke.

“Lookss like I caught two naughty tiniess trying to sskip out on the cuddle tax!” she said, tilting her head with a smug air as she looked down at them.

“Aye,” the captain sighed, “You’ve got us…”

The giant shark-girl gave them a smug chuckle, then brought her hand up, gently sliding the two into the massive fabric of her dark blue bra-cup. The pair tumbled in, quickly pressed against the soft hill of her breast as she adjusted the bikini top, pinning them in place. She slowly started wading back towards the shore, humming the theme to her favorite movie about sharks under her breath.

…

Why the hell did I get involved with Jason’s stupid cuddle tax protest!? Norman thought, the tires of his car skidding along the unpaved country road as he frantically looked for a place to hide from the pursuing giantesses.

His eyes lit up as he saw a massive hotel looming out of the foothills in front of him. With a smile he gunned the engine, eager to reach the possibility of safety.

“Overlook Hotel” he read the sign aloud read as he pulled up, “Closed for Season?” He grinned, it was perfect, without another thought he sprinted up the marble steps, almost jumping for joy when he found the front door unlocked.

The hotel was abandoned, and Norman chuckled to himself, proud of his own intellect as he waltzed to the bar to make himself a drink. Only a single bottle of rum was left, and it carried a peculiar red color, but it went down smooth as he mixed it with a bottle of coca cola from the fridge.

A tapping on the wall interrupted his good time, and he set his drink down with a nervous gulp as he crept back towards the massive twin wooden doors at the hotel’s entrance.

“H-Hello?” he called nervously, “I was just stopping in, for… a rest! Yeah, a rest, if you’re the groundskeeper I’m sure we could-“

The tapping grew louder, and he screamed in horror, leaping back as the wood splintered inward under the blows. The door continued to give way, reduced to toothpicks under the forceful flicking and tapping of a finger the size of a redwood.

“Here’s Jackie!” the girl giggled as her giant green eye filled the hole her finger had carved out. Norman screamed, and the giant eye blinked in surprise, “Oh, sorry, I mean uh… my name’s Jackie! Can you come do your cuddle taxes now?”

Norman didn’t answer, instead choosing to sprint upstairs, racing along the hotel’s long carpeted hallways. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, only that he had to escape the girl that had so effortlessly destroyed the door.

There were more cracking timbers, and he stopped, looking on in horror as the walls to the hallway were torn away by enormous well-manicured hands. A titanic pair of twins smiled in on him, each wearing a blue dress and white makeup that gave each a pale look.

“Come play with us!” they both said at once, reaching for him.

Both hands closed around him from each side, and the women locked hands, imprisoning him as he was lifted high.

“What should we do with him now?” the first laughed.

“Do you think he liked our creepy twin costume?”

“You two have done that same costume every year since high school,” Jackie grumbled, lumbering over to them.

“Yeah, because it’s great!” the first woman laughed.

“It’s fun!” the second agreed.

Jackie rolled her eyes, “Whatever, let’s get this guy back to HQ and figure out how many cuddles he owes! I call first!”

“Aww!” the twins pouted together.

…

Jason looked out of the alleyway, nervously scanning the building heights.

“Are you Jason?” a gravelly voice said from behind him, startling him.

He whirled around to see a pair of men in black suits with sunglasses and earpieces, “Yeah, that’s men,” he said nervously, “Look, I’m in the middle of something, so-“

“We’re from the government,” the first man said, producing a black bag, “We’re here to help!” A moment later the burly agent was forcing the felt fabric over his head while the other loaded him into a car.

…

Jason looked out of the window of the space shuttle, wide eyed, “You’re shooting me into space!?” he rasped into his spacesuit’s microphone.

“The United States government believes in protecting its citizens rights to not participate in the cuddle tax,” the president’s voice responded gravely, “the boys at NASA determined the best way to do that was to send you to a place so high up, even the giantesses can’t get you! SPACE!”

A moment later the leader of the free world was drowned out by the roar of rockets, and Jason was pinned to his chair as the shuttle lifted off.

“Space Station docking to commence in five minutes,” a computerized voice intoned as he exited the atmosphere.

Jason blinked, I didn’t want it to go this far… but at least they can’t cuddle tax me now!

…

Jason sighed, looking out the window of the massive space station with his helmet tucked under his arm. The earth swirled below, a peaceful blue marble, even the giant girls of the Cuddle Tax Agency weren’t visible from here.

His mind turned to Angela, his friend and neighbor, “She would have loved this,” he chuckled, “she always had a thing for sci-fi movies… Especially around Halloween.”

“I do!” she giggled, causing him to start.

“Angela!?” he squeaked, whirling around and taking in the sight of his friend, in her own spacesuit.

“I borrowed the twitter guy’s extra spaceship,” she said offhandedly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked excitedly, “are you joining my cuddle tax protest?”

“Uh… well,” she giggled nervously, “I’m kind of here to… stop it?” she almost whispered the last part.

“S-Stop it?” Jason’s eyes went wide, “Oh no, you’re joking, Angela, you’re not-“

She smiled sadly as she started to grow, stretching high and reaching the ceiling of the chamber they were in.

“Yeah,” she admitted with a sigh, “I’m one of those awful growers, you’re not too mad, are you?”

Jason stared at her in silence for a minute, trying to summon some kind of anger over the situation, but it simply didn’t come. Instead he felt almost… amused? He tried to fight it, but soon he was laughing, and Angela joined him as their mirth filled the air of the space station.

“Okay,” he breathed, “I guess that explains a lot… like the giant pair of panties you said some other giant girl left in your back yard?”

“Long story,” she muttered, “So uh… can you stop protesting the cuddle tax?” she smiled and shot him a wink, “I think it could be really fun if you worked off your snuggle debt with me…”

Jason just smirked, “Nope!” he bolted for the airlock to the next chamber, and Angela scowled as she leapt for him, her massive hands closing on air as the pneumatic door hissed shut behind him.

“You can’t run Jason!” she shouted, “in space nobody can hear you get cuddled!”

If Angela’s a giantess, she’ll probably be fine if I do this, Jason reasoned, hitting the “jettison” button on the section of the space station. Alarm Klaxons blared, and he watched Angela’s giant face press against the glass of the other station module as it disconnected, slowly floating away in a decaying orbit.

His spacsuit’s radio squawked, “You’re going to get it now Jason!”

Outside the metal hull of the other section burst open as Angela’s growth reduced the space age material to so much twisted metal. Jason gulped as she loomed like an angel against the sun, reaching towards him with a hand that blotted out the stars as it curled around the space station like a tin can, crumpling it as she squeezed.

“WARNING, ATMOSPHERE COMPROMISED!”

There was a hiss as the oxygen started to leak out, and Jason barely had time to get his helmet on before Angela tore the station apart, leaving him drifting in space among the rubble. The giant reflective bubble of her helmet came up, focusing on him as she wrapped her gloved hands tightly around him. She was at least a thousand feet tall now, if not larger, and her fingers were massive inescapable pillars in their own right. The stars blotted out and he lost sight of earth as her fingers knotted, imprisoning him.

“Hey Jason, you remember that one movie where the Friday the Thirteenth guy went to space?” she asked over the radio, squeezing him tight as she began to re-enter the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, “It’s a good one…”

The edges of Angela’s suit began to glow red-hot as the friction heated her, even so as a grower it was no more than a light tickle, and in her hands Jason was safe as they began their descent.

“I think I’m going to cuddle tax you while I watch that,” Angela mused, “And also one of the Alien movies, not the third or the fourth one though…”

…

The cuddle tax office Halloween party was in full swing, the victorious Cuddle Tax Authority agents displaying their captured tinies and variously snuggling them to their cheeks, or offering them bites of enormous pieces of candy corn.

Jason was resting on Angela’s shoulder, doing his best not to stare down into the deep valley of cleavage her Elvira, Mistress of the Dark costume had revealed.

“So all in all you guys owe about sixteen cuddle units each,” Angela beamed, holding up her calculator for him to see.

“And a cuddle unit is?” he asked uncertainly.

“A snuggle, a kiss, a foot massage, whatever,” Angela laughed, reaching up a finger to stroke his head. “I figure you and I will wipe out yours by the end of the night.”

Jason smiled, “Okay… I guess it doesn’t sound so bad…”

The gathered giant women screamed excitedly as the opening sound effects of the song “Monster Mash” played over the party speakers. Jason’s world lurched, and he tumbled down the front of Angela’s dress, quickly becoming lost in the soft canyon of her breasts as she swayed her hips to the song.

“Happy Halloween!” she shouted with a laugh.