Bong! Bong! Bong!

David woke with a start. What had started as a quick nap had turned into a full on snooze. He swung his legs over the side of his narrow wooden cot and rubbed his eyes. It must be well past noon already. As he fumbled beneath the bed for his sandals, the sharp peal of the gong rang out once more.

Bong! Bong! Bong!

He glanced out the window. It was time. There was a steady stream of monks heading towards the courtyard from various corners of the vivarium. The abbots had brought out their oratory podium: a rectangular wooden platform from which they would address the gathering crowd. In front of it stood Abbot Blake, next to his ubiquitous bronze gong. David winced as the abbot swung his mallet and beat out another echoing alarm.

Bong! Bong! Bong!

“Time to go sleepy head!”

David turned. Tom, fully dressed, was smirking at him from behind the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

David hastily slipped into his gown and robes. His waist cord was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell did I put that thing? He dropped down on all fours and peered under his cot.

“Alright, I’m done waiting,” Tom laughed, “maybe I’ll see you outside eventually.” He disappeared down the hall.

David cursed under his breath. He would have to make do holding his robes together with a free hand. He hurried out the door after his friend.

By the time he reached the courtyard there was already a sizable congregation gathered around the podium. Most of the monks in the crowd were standing quietly, hands in pockets. Above them on the podium the abbots were poring over long reams of parchment paper, communing with each other in hushed tones. Occasionally one of them would jot down a note with a flourish of quill and ink. The mood was somber, quite unlike the boisterous atmosphere earlier at breakfast. David weaved between the hooded figures searching for Tom, one hand clasped firmly at his waist to keep his robes together. He finally spotted his friend near the corner of the stage.

“You made it,” Tom remarked, “I think they’re going to start soon. Is something wrong with your robe?”

David began to reply, but was interrupted mid-sentence by Abbot Blake.

BONG!

The crowd fell silent. There was a rustling of paper as the abbots folded their scrolls and handed Abbot Carter a piece of folded parchment. The old man stepped forward and addressed the gathering.

“Our Goddess has summoned a retinue of Chosen, and in accordance with her divine command we have assembled one for her.” He unfurled the parchment and cleared his throat. “It is a great honor to be selected to serve your Goddess. If your name is called, I ask that you move to the front of the group. Abbot Patrick will guide you from there.”

David gulped. His heart was racing. Tom seemed nervous as well. The two stood at rapt attention as the greying abbot read the first name.

“Brother Abram!”

A round, bearded, balding monk sidled up to the stage.

“Brother Adam!”

Red haired Adam, a brother David had played games in the yard with many times, shuffled his way to the front of the crowd. After him came Alistair, Amir, Archibald, and Azure. By the time Carter meandered his way to the D section, David was practically shaking with anticipation.

“Brother David!”

His stomach did a cartwheel. Tom elbowed him in the ribs.

“Lucky bastard! I can’t believe you’re actually going to see what’s on the other side.”

David responded with what he hoped was a confident smile. In truth he was too nervous to speak. He gave Tom a halfhearted pat on the back with his free hand and began making his way towards the podium. The other monks parted to let him pass. He hoped none of them noticed his unclasped robe. How embarrassing.

David took his place in the slowly growing lineup of Chosen. He recognized a few of the other monks, several of which he knew had been Chosen before. Although their expressions were serious they did not seem afraid, which eased his nerves somewhat. It was reassuring to know he would be accompanied by experienced brothers on his adventure into the unknown.

At last, Abbot Carter made it to the T’s. To David’s disappointment, Tom’s name was not called. He had hoped they would be Chosen together. David scanned the crowd. Tom looked upset, but grinned and threw up a jaunty salute when he made eye contact with David. It was going to feel strange to come back home after his journey unable to tell his friend about anything he had seen. That is, if I come back at all.

David banished the thought. It was no use worrying. The majority of Chosen returned to the vivarium come morning, and besides, those that didn’t were beatified by Goddess Clare herself. An eternal life in the presence of Goddess Clare - according to the abbots it was the greatest reward any monk could dream of. If he truly loved his goddess he had to trust in her plan for him, whatever that might be. David closed his eyes, envisioning her celestial beauty, her supernatural power, her divine grace, and murmured a quick prayer under his breath.

“Come along now. We’re running a little late. Follow me!”

Abbot Eamon prodded David with his staff as he walked by him towards the front of the line. The crowd was beginning to disperse. Several brothers were helping the abbots push the wooden stage back to the storage shed.

“Alright. To the chapel!”

David and the other Chosen - nearly one hundred and fifty by his reckoning - marched behind Abbot Eamon as he led them towards the holy chapel. When they arrived at the door Eamon ordered the brothers to disrobe. Relieved to not have to worry about his missing belt any longer David dropped his robes and tossed them into the pile with the others. Nudity was nothing out of the ordinary at the monastery. All the monks bathed together in communal pools, and their spartan living quarters offered little in terms of privacy. David figured they didn’t need clothes for where they were going. And anyways, even if it mattered to her, Goddess Clare was probably too big to even notice their nakedness.

One by one, the men filed into the chapel. The narrow doorway led to a large room with a circular arrangement of paved stone steps running along the walls. Light shone in through a round skylight in the ceiling. The building was reminiscent of an open air colosseum or amphitheater. David grabbed a seat along the top row.

Abbot Eamon ushered the last brother through the door. Even with nearly two hundred men there was plenty of room for everyone. He lingered in the doorway, tapping his fingers on the frame.

“The Goddess will arrive shortly to collect you. In the meantime I suggest you all try to get some sleep. She expects her Chosen to be well rested.”

With that, the abbot turned on his heel and departed, closing the door behind him. There was a metallic creak as he lowered the iron door-bar, sealing the chapel from the outside.

David shook his head in disbelief. He was finally going outside the vivarium. Perhaps they would be lucky enough to see what Goddess Clare did when she wasn’t taking care of the vivarium. David imagined a dazzling golden palace stretching into the sky, full of luxurious furnishings, jewel encrusted statues, and kitchen larders overflowing with food. Perhaps Goddess Clare herself would address the monks with a sermon from on high, imparting them with sacred knowledge or new passages of scripture. David leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. It was no use. He was far too excited to sleep.

Luckily he did not have to wait long. Just thirty minutes after Eamon sealed the door, the familiar rumble of Goddess Clare’s distant footsteps began to rattle the chapel. As the rhythmic quaking steadily crescendoed, the other Chosen began to stir, rising from their seats and squinting apprehensively up through the skylight.

“She’s coming,” someone muttered.

Moments later the earthquakes stopped. A grating screech reverberated through the chapel. She was opening the vivarium. David rose from his seat and hopped down a few steps to get a better view. He saw the mesh lid receding into the sky, and caught a brief glimpse of what appeared to be the Goddess’ shoulder as it flashed by far above them.

THUD!

The whole chapel shook as something huge and heavy clamped down around the walls. David’s stomach dropped as he felt his body accelerating upwards. He stumbled and fell flat on his ass. The chapel and its payload of Chosen were slowly rising into the air. Around him the other monks were bracing themselves against the ground. A surge of panic overcame him, but then something clicked in his mind. It was obvious, yet somehow the conclusion had initially escaped him. She’s lifting us.

Such was the nature of the incongruity between his experience and the goddess’ perception. Her transcendent power made mind-boggling feats of strength utterly mundane. What for him was a secure building built of solid stone was for her naught but a miniature bauble. The unseen entities which had wrapped themselves around the chapel walls and ripped the structure from the ground were in fact merely the finger and thumb of her slender hand.

David gulped. She was lifting nearly two hundred men into the air with no effort. The realization was humbling.

Barely a second later the chapel’s tooth-grinding ascension came to an abrupt halt. The Chosen found themselves confronted by Goddess Clare’s cyclopean eye peering down at them through the round skylight. Her pupil, a bottomless black pit, flickered back and forth as she scanned her minuscule cargo. The eye blinked placidly, a flurry of dark mascara and voluminous lashes. David felt a gentle breeze brush past his face. The gentle movement of her eyelid - an insignificant, unconscious reflex - was enough to whip up a noticeable gust of air. David knew Goddess Clare was gigantic, but beholding her in such intimate proximity gave new meaning to the word.

“Hello little ones. So you’ll be my company tonight.”

The monks cowered and covered their ears. The volume of her voice, up close and with no glass wall to separate them, was overwhelming. It boomed throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the walls and shaking the floor beneath them. David could feel every syllable reverberate deep in his chest. He could feel her words as much as hear them.

Mercifully, she did not speak again. The goddess’ all-seeing eye disappeared, and the sickening sensation of movement commenced anew. She was walking, holding them in her hand the way one might carry a glass of water. The chapel wobbled as the goddess shifted her weight back and forth in rhythm with her steps. David could hear the thunder of her footfalls against the floor, far, far below them. After experiencing the wind generated by a single blink of her enormous eye, the destructive potential of Goddess Clare’s feet was nigh unimaginable. The thought made David feel ill, compounding with the incessant motion sickness. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught in her path would get crushed flat in an instant - and likely without her even realizing they were there. After all, why would a goddess concern herself with specks of dust beneath her feet?

David crouched, bracing his shoulder against the stone step. The violent rocking was making it difficult to stand. All he could see through the skylight now was a disconcerting blur of light and color. He closed his eyes to try and settle his spinning head. There was a piercing reverberation of metal-on-metal, and a low rumble followed by a gust of air whistling across the chapel dome. Moments later, a deafening crash made all the monks flinch in terror. That must have been a door. Goddess Clare’s booming footsteps slowed to a stop. David felt a nauseating rush of acceleration as she lowered the chapel, setting it down on a hard surface with a resounding thud.

David opened his eyes. The chapel was dark. The only thing visible through the skylight was the eggshell-white ceiling thousands of feet above them. Where the hell are we? David could hear rustling and rumbling from outside as Goddess Clare moved about the room. Her footsteps sounded muffled. David wondered if she planned to let them out of confinement anytime soon. How would she unlock the door?

The answer to his question came not a minute later. Without warning the chapel was flipped upside down. David and the other Chosen tumbled out through the skylight in a tangle of bodies and flailing limbs. He landed on his back, and rolled out of the way to avoid another monk who almost plopped down on top of him. Winded, but otherwise intact, David scrambled to his feet. The fall had been painful, but far from fatal. He looked up and saw the chapel hovering above them, perhaps a dozen feet off the ground, suspended by Goddess Clare’s pillar-like finger and thumb which were pinched around its base.

The goddess gave the building a few shakes to dislodge any stragglers, then set it aside. David looked around. The other monks were scattered about him, in various states of recovery from the fall. Most were sluggishly rising to their feet, but David noticed a few who seemed to be in serious pain. One man was groaning and clutching his ankle. Goddess Clare’s hand passed overhead, momentarily casting them in shadow. David was taken aback at how roughly she had treated them. His eyes slowly traced along her arm, from her wrist to her elbow up to her shoulder. He turned, and instinctively backpedaled as the vast panorama of her body came into terrifying focus.

David’s mouth went dry.

Only a few hundred feet away from them, Goddess Clare towered into the sky like an antediluvian mountain, so shockingly colossal that it was difficult to process her all at once. She was naked. The tabletop she had set them on stood only about waist-high to her. The edge of her bush, a snarling jungle of black curls, was pressed against the edge of the table. David’s eyes moved up the endless white plain of her stomach, disrupted only by the divot of her bellybutton - which was wide enough to serve as a swimming pool - all the way up to the undersides of her magnificent breasts. Holy shit. Goddess Clare’s bare bosom was a wonder to behold. Hanging loose and free, each planetary tit had settled into a bulbous teardrop shape against her tummy. Her pink nipples, standing erect in the cold, were set in smooth round aureola with a circumference at least thrice that of the chapel. Despite their astronomical weight, the goddess’ breasts looked round, full, and firm. They dominated her entire torso, with considerable portions extending past it on either side. David could see faint red outlines along the meatiest parts of each gigantic boob, where he supposed the goddess’ undergarment had dug into the teeming abundance of titflesh as it struggled in vain to restrain her twin monsters. With considerable effort David tore his eyes away and looked up at her radiant face. She was peering down at them, hair flowing loose, chin partially obscured by the obscene swells of her bosom. A faint smile played across her lips.

David had seen pictures of Goddess Clare’s naked body hundreds of times before, but nothing could have prepared him for beholding her nudity in the flesh. Her mere presence radiated beauty, power, and unquestionable divinity. Had David’s body not been frozen in terror he would have thrown himself on his knees to worship her.

Goddess Clare opened her mouth to speak. Her booming voice shattered his trance.

“Come over here, I’ve put down a little paper for you.”

She lowered her hand and tapped a portion of the tabletop in front of her with a single manicured finger. The motion of her arm sent a ponderous wave of energy wobbling across her breasts. There was a square piece of what looked like white cardboard, a hundred feet on each side, placed near the spot she was indicating.

The last thing David wanted to do was get closer to her. But the other monks had already begun jogging towards the paper platform. Too terrified to disobey, David followed Goddess Clare’s orders and joined the crowd. As he got closer, her face and upper body were completely eclipsed by the curving horizon of her breasts. Her pussy loomed over them like a dark storm cloud. At such close proximity her immense cunt emitted a palpable heat. There was something primordially threatening about a pussy that big. David looked away.

The men filed onto the paper square. The thing was bigger than the kickball pitch - more than enough room to fit them all.

Goddess Clare crouched down till her face was level with the table. The avalanche of movement stirred up powerful gusts of wind, whipping David’s hair across his face. She scrutinized them for a moment. David felt as if her gaze was penetrating into his very soul.

The tabletop shook beneath their feet as the goddess spoke once more.

“I hope you guys are ready to have some fun…”