David flew up the stone staircase two steps at a time, sandals clacking against the dusty pink stone. The abbots would be furious. He had already managed to be tardy to prayer twice this week. Another infraction could cost him three nights of supper. His ego wouldn’t be able to handle begging his brothers for their leftovers again.

Abbot Eamon was already waiting by the door. The abbot’s shaggy grey brow furrowed the moment he recognized David. He clicked his tongue and waved him into the Divine Auditorium with his staff. David bowed his head and hurried inside.

Thwop!

He winced as Eamon’s parting shot stung his right buttock. Despite his age the man had wicked aim with that gnarly old stick. Damn sour codger.

The Auditorium was already full of brothers hunched over in prayer. David skulked against the back wall, looking for an open spot between the hundreds of kneeling worshipers. He found one between two men whose faces he recognized but whose names he could not recall. They both had their lips pressed against the ground, murmuring somber words of prayer. David got on all fours next to them and assumed the prostrate position as well, still catching his breath.

All the men were facing the front of the Auditorium, towards the holy portrait of Goddess Clare. Three times a day - morning, noon, and night - the men of the monastery gathered in the Auditorium to worship her. The enormous photograph loomed high above them, taking up the entire far wall from floor to ceiling. It was a breathtaking piece of work, both in scale and subject. Goddess Clare created these portraits for them using a device she called a camera. The images usually featured part of her gigantic body; a closeup of her radiant smiling face perhaps, or a vista of her vast naked tits. Occasionally they would be treated to a full body shot.

This week’s photo depicted her standing nude in front of a full length mirror, hair loose and streaming down her shoulders, beautiful face partially obscured by the camera’s bulky grey frame. One arm held the sacred device aloft, while the other was tasked with restraining the bulging swell of her enormous bosom. Her wide hips - which would have measured miles across to tiny David - were cocked to the side in a coquettish pose. The dark hair of her pussy peeked out from between her thighs. Her dainty toes were painted with white gloss. Their petite appearance in the photograph was deceiving. David knew that Goddess Clare’s foot was over two thousand feet long relative to him. Looking at the photo made it easy to forget that to her, he and the other monks were naught but grains of sand.

David had always found daily prayer somewhat boring, but he bowed his head along with the other prostrate men and feigned eagerness as he went through the motions. He had memorized every little detail of the photograph by now. He hoped a new one was coming soon.

Some thirty minutes later the ringing of Abbot Blake’s gong brought prayer to an end. David got to his feet and shuffled towards the exit alongside his fellow brothers. The sole entrance to the Auditorium was only a few feet wide, and with nearly a thousand men in the monastery it took some time for everyone to file through the door. Abbot Eamon was still manning his post at the top of the staircase. The old man stared down David as he passed, and brandished his staff menacingly towards him. David kept his head down and pretended not to notice. He figured the hot-tempered abbot was probably grumpy about not being able to punish him for tardiness. 

He followed the crowd as it meandered its way down the stairs and into the courtyard. Besides the Divine Auditorium the monastery was composed of three main buildings - the holy chapel, the abbot’s quarters, and the dormitory house - which were arranged in a circle around a large central clearing. Surrounding them, the four glass walls which denoted the limits of the brothers’ world rose high into the sky, topped with a vast rectangular canopy of wire mesh. Beyond the glass was the never-ending expanse of Goddess Clare’s domain, which as far as David could tell was boundless in size. Ominous shapes lurked in the distance there, gigantic beyond measure, including the throne Goddess Clare would sometimes sit upon when she fancied a closer look at the goings on inside the monastery.

David had never set foot outside those four walls. Only the Chosen were permitted to leave the monastery, and those that returned were forbidden to divulge what they saw. Goddess Clare usually summoned an assembly of Chosen once or twice a week, sometimes more. She announced the order in the morning, and by afternoon the abbots compiled a list of a hundred or so men for the cause. They were herded into the holy chapel, and at nightfall Goddess Clare would appear to collect them, reaching down into the vivarium with her gargantuan hand to pluck the chapel and its cargo of monks into the sky, bringing them with her to parts unknown. The next morning she returned the building, along with the monks. Most of them, anyway. There were always at least a dozen who never returned. The abbots said that those brothers had moved on to someplace even better than the vivarium.

David knew he would probably find himself selected in the next batch. Only fully grown men were allowed the privilege of being Chosen, and David had just reached the traditional age of maturity a week and a half ago, meaning his name was probably at the top of the list. David felt apprehensive, but the excitement of having the opportunity to finally see the world beyond the glass dampened his fear somewhat. And besides, no Chosen had ever spoken ill of the experience. It was an honor, a privilege, the brotherhood’s most sacred means of communion with their Goddess.    

“Hey David, I missed you at morning’s today - did you make it?”

David looked up. For a moment he had been lost in thought. Before him stood Tom, a lanky, sandy-haired brother who roomed near him in the dormitory. Tom was David’s age, and the two had been friends for as long as either of them could remember.

“Yeah, I made it,” David smirked, “just barely though. Eamon was none too pleased.”

Tom grinned. “Nothing new under the sun. Shall we play kickball before breakfast?”

David nodded. Until recently their free hours had been filled with study and scripture under the abbots’ watchful tutelage. But now, as grown men, the time was their own.

Sport was a beloved pastime among the monks. Besides foot races and wrestling, kickball was popular among the younger brothers. The pitch was located adjacent to the dormitory, a little ways past the courtyard. David and Tom made their way over, chatting idly as they walked. There were already several brothers tossing the ball around when they arrived.  

Teams were selected, and David found himself manning far left field. He slipped off his sandals and tossed them aside. The crude leather thongs were a nuisance to run in. He squatted in place a few times to loosen his muscles.

After a couple innings, David’s team had fallen behind several points. Another home run and the teams switched sides once more. Tom jogged past David on his way to second base and gave him a jovial slap on the back.

“Getting wiped clean out there! I hope you’ve got some more wind left in you old man!”

David smiled ruefully, but didn’t return the banter. They really were getting wiped clean. He hated losing.

As he took his place in the kicker’s line, David felt a shiver stir the ground beneath his feet. A moment later another tremor, harder this time. The game was forgotten as all the brothers glanced towards the vivarium’s far wall. It was a familiar crescendo that could only mean one thing.

She was coming.

“Oh well, time to eat!” the team captain hollered.

David retrieved his sandals and began jogging back to the courtyard along with the others. He did not want to be last in line for breakfast. By the time the group reached the courtyard there was already a sizable congregation of monks milling about. As usual the abbots were trying to corral everyone into single file lines, with mixed success. David could make out the baritone voice of the amiable Abbot Carter - the monastery’s eldest abbot - as he bellowed to make himself heard over the crowd.

“Form up! Damn it to pieces. You know the drill! Yes, you too Benjamin - nobody eats till you all line up!”

David managed to slip into the middle of the third line as it slowly settled in order. He spotted Tom, stranded at the end a long ways behind him, and stuck out his tongue. Tom shot back an obscene hand gesture. Lucky Eamon didn’t see that one!

He faced front and stood on his tiptoes to get a look at the vivarium wall. The hubbub had died down, and all the men had their eyes locked on that monumental pane of glass, trying to pierce the shadows that lay beyond. Any minute now.                

Thoom.

Another distant impact reverberated through the floor. David squinted. Far off in the distance, on the other side of the glass, a hulking black shape was slowly emerging from the darkness.

Thoom.

He shifted anxiously from foot to foot. The tremors were growing stronger, rattling the vivarium walls. The men stood silently, waiting.

Click.

Light flooded the room, illuminating every corner of the vivarium and drowning out the dim blue glow of their overhead lamp. David shielded his eyes from the glare.

Before them, haloed in light, stood the celestial being who with a flick of a finger had turned night into day for them. David stared in awe. He had witnessed this routine hundreds of times, but he could never quite shake the electrifying feeling of wonderment which overcame him when he beheld Goddess Clare in all her glory like this.

She was still miles away, pausing in the door-frame for a moment to survey the room. From this distance David was able to observe her body in full. The goddess had her long shiny tresses teased up in a messy bun - her typical morning hairdo. She was clad in a tight olive-green tank top, her abundant bosom straining the upper portion of the garment to its limit. Her legs were ensconced in tight black leggings which clung to the curving slopes of her ample hips and shapely legs, all the way down to her bare feet.

David watched as she raised a hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Seeing her from this distance almost made the goddess seem mortal - but David knew that was a misleading trick of perspective. A trick which her next few steps swiftly erased.

Thoom!

Thoom!

Thoom!

She sauntered towards them, each footstep triggering an earthquake. David drank in the majesty of her body as she moved. Her breasts, which were huge by any standard, wobbled heavily beneath her top. Despite their great size, each tit was firm, round, and full. Free of the undergarment she sometimes wore to restrain them they hung nearly to her navel, and every step sent them bouncing ponderously against her slender torso. David often wondered how much Goddess Clare’s enormous breasts weighed. In truth, he figured one of those boobs probably outweighed all the monks in the monastery combined - and then some!

THOOM!

In a few effortless steps Goddess Clare had crossed the expanse between her and the vivarium - a distance David guessed would take him hours, if not days, to traverse. Any lingering illusions of perspective were promptly evaporated. She loomed before the assembled monks, her flat stomach a vast pasture of green fabric dominating their field of vision, with just a sliver of round underboob visible high above.

A flurry of movement, and the green wall was replaced with Goddess Clare’s radiant smiling face. David instinctively took a step back. He was used to her presence, but nothing could overcome the behavioral hardwiring which compelled his body to react when confronted with something so big moving so fast. A ways below her head David could see the endless cleavage which had formed when she bent over, a vast canyon so deep and wide it could have swallowed the entire Divine Auditorium with ease.

The goddess’s brilliant eyes, each a hundred feet across, scrutinized them from behind the glass. The gold-flecked tissue of her iris rippled like water as it adjusted to focus on the brothers, a detail David could only notice because of her colossal size in comparison to him. It made him feel utterly insignificant.
 
Fog formed on the vivarium wall as the goddess parted her lips and spoke.

“Good morning my little ones!”

Her voice was feminine thunder. David could feel its deep bass tones reverberate through his body. As if on cue, the crowd of monks fell on their knees before her. David followed suit. He doubted she could see what they were doing from this distance - from her perspective each brother was probably little more than a dark speck. But it was tradition. Besides, when confronted with her almighty presence like this, the adulatory gesture seemed appropriate. Her brilliant beauty, her booming voice, her breathtaking size and the power it afforded her over them - every aspect of her existence invoked feelings of veneration and helpless worship. She was a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood god.

“Are you hungry?”

The goddess rose to her full height once more. The vivarium ceiling - an opaque wire mesh hundreds of feet above them - began to rumble as she opened their container. It was as if the sky itself was being torn away. She set the lid aside, revealing the top half of her body. The twin mountains hanging from her chest cast the vivarium in shadow and obscured her face from view, but a moment later it appeared again, peeking over the horizon of her bosom, radiant as the morning sun.

She peered down at them from above.

“It’s beef today, I know you guys like that one.”

Goddess Clare’s huge hand, a pale colossus which dwarfed the monastery buildings, slowly descended towards them. Her columnar fingers were wrapped around a small plastic object. With the utmost care she placed it in front of them. It landed with a thud. She withdrew her hand, which whipped up gusts of displaced air as it receded back into the sky. Her perfume smelled of lavender.

The feeder, a domed plastic container the size of a big top tent, was perforated on three sides. At mealtimes, Goddess Clare filled its hollow interior with kibble, which came in a variety of flavors. Beef was indeed one of the more popular ones among the brothers.

“Okay, one at a time! Line up!”

The abbots guided the three lines of monks to the edge of the feeder. Their voices sounded so delicate and thin in comparison to Goddess Clare’s thunderous utterances. Several minutes elapsed before it was finally David’s turn to collect his portion. Abbot Patrick handed him a bowl and winked.

“Glad to see you’re staying out of trouble!”

David returned the abbot’s smile and helped himself to two generous scoops. He chose an unoccupied corner of the courtyard and sat down to eat. The dry brown pellets were not particularly appetizing - David preferred when Goddess Clare treated them to a slice of fruit or cheese - but they were filling and went down easy. He looked up at the goddess, who was watching them through the glass again. Her face bore a serene expression as she observed the courtyard from on high. For a moment it seemed as if she was looking directly at him, but he knew it only seemed that way. He was just another speck to her. A speck among specks. David felt lucky to be under the care of such a warm and loving goddess. They were so small, so insignificant to her; yet she saw fit to provide for their every need, from the goodness of her heart.

“I think I’d like to have some company tonight,” the kibble in David’s bowl bounced as Goddess Clare’s booming voice addressed them once more, “arrange that for me by this evening.”

With that, the goddess turned and took her leave. David watched her gargantuan ass sway back and forth as she walked into the distance. The round cheeks were practically bursting out of her tight leggings. Each giant buttock extended for acres, their firm bulk trembling slightly in rhythm with her footsteps. The thuds of her bare feet slapping against the floor grew softer and softer, until finally she disappeared beyond the doorway.
 
Chosen. The goddess’s request was nothing unusual, but for David it carried a newfound significance. He glanced around the courtyard, searching for Tom. The other monks - some settled in small groups, others seated alone like David - continued their breakfasts unperturbed.

He spotted Abbot Eamon sitting on the dormitory steps. The greying abbot glanced up from his bowl and for a brief moment their eyes met.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but David could swear he saw the old man’s lips curl upwards in a sickly smile.