Gigantic Variations

by Maxwell Avoi

  Justin was too tired to understand what the hell Chuck was talking about. “Absolutely. Thanks for the tour and the lemonade. Good night, Helen.”

  With that, he left. He wended his way upstairs, his protesting legs barely making it up the single flight, and then he went in and half-collapsed on the end of the couch. He kept his front door open in the hopes of seeing Helen go by.

  She was only a moment behind him but he was still almost asleep by the time she passed the open door. She smiled and waved, entering a few feet when he waved back. “How’d the meeting go with his royal highness?” said Justin.

  “Oh, he asked me out. As if. If I’m going to go out with a guy, he has to at least know the rudiments of how to make lemonade.”

  Justin grinned at that. Then he decided to take a chance. “You know, I make a hell of a glass of lemonade.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded, and she gave him that smile for a dizzying third time that night. “Well, we’ll just have to find out sometime, won’t we.”

  She turned to go and he stopped her by saying, “How about Saturday?”

  She nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me. Bring your best brew and we’ll see how things go.”

  Justin was so stoked that he didn’t even watch her leave. He closed the door, got out of his clothes, and collapsed into bed, asleep before he could even marvel at his good fortune.

  Justin dreamed of strange chants, symbols and runes from lost times, and flickering candles. A blindfolded man sat on a chair made of steel and whispered over and over again, “A man’s home is his kingdom.”

  Justin gradually became aware of the bed and how lumpy it was. It was as if someone had replaced it with a sack full of footballs in the night. Even hitting it didn’t help, and finally he opened his eyes.

  His room had changed. It wasn’t just a few tiny details here and there, either. Where he’d once lain on a queen-size bed in the middle of the room, he was now on a pallet in the corner. Where his room had been well-lit and airy, it was now close and dark, smelling of wetness. Instead of plaster and wood, the walls around him were built from mortared stones. A single candle provided all the light there was; the room had no windows. It was tiny, too, barely large enough for the bed and a small wooden chest at the end of it. The candle sat atop the chest, which struck him in passing as a probable fire hazard.

  He had other, more important things on his mind than starting fires by accident. The room was definitely one of them but the really pressing thing was the fact that he seemed to have turned into a woman sometime in the night. Justin stared down at himself, unable to process this turn of events. Enormous, heavy breasts wobbled unbound beneath a white (ish) top, unlaced enough that he was in serious danger of spilling those breasts for the world to see. Further down he wore a long skirt from which protruded a pair of shapely calves and small feet, both dirty. His hands and arms were smaller, slimmer, and had the same shapely appearance as the calves. Justin poked one of the breasts, watching it shiver from the movement, and he laughed.

  This was the weirdest dream he’d ever had.

  It was certainly the most detailed; even the laugh had sounded different in his head. He looked around, surprised to find that the details of the room hadn’t changed when he’d realized that he was dreaming. He decided to go with it, wondering what on earth had possessed his mind to tell him that he’d become a woman.

  With some effort Justin sat up on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t that sitting took an effort but that the dream had given him new balance to go along with new flesh. He had to adjust to wildly different curves than he was used to, the way that his new breasts slid and bounced being just one of the problems. How did real women put up with these things? He knew that the ones that the dream had saddled him with were far in excess of the average models, but still. Now that he was up and paying attention he found that he felt as though he was sitting on a cushion. It moved with him as he shifted, and it dawned on him that he was feeling the results of a plumper ass than he was used to. This dream was amazing!

  He felt more and more alert as time went by, almost exactly as if coming awake, and it occurred to him that if he was wearing the rest of a woman then he might have changed in the most important way as well. He was almost eager to reach between his legs, his slim hand traveling up his leg beneath his skirt until it came to rest on…flat smoothness. Some sort of underwear was in the way and when he pushed it to the side he found nothing but a thick bush and a pair of lips that felt familiar to his hand. Granted, it had been a while since he’d touched or seen lips like that, but it wasn’t something that could have been mistaken for anything else. Certainly he wouldn’t have mistaken it for a cock.

  He was giggling with the joy of the sheer detail of the dream when his finger found an opening and pushed inward. Instantly, the joy was dispelled and cold panic replaced it. Justin felt as though his entire belly had been changed out for a bag of ice, but when he stopped moving it didn’t help; he still had a finger two knuckles deep into a new pussy.

  HIS new pussy. Or hers. He wasn’t sure of the nomenclature and could frankly have given a shit about it; somehow, impossibly, this was no dream. This was happening.

  He pulled in a deep breath and found that he couldn’t let it out; his new breasts heaved as he tried to make himself let out the scream that had built up into a shriek in his mind. It was piled up against the back of his tongue, unable to escape, but it turned into a sort of a yerk noise when someone hammered on his door. “Julia!” came a loud, annoyed female voice on the other side. “Julia, get your lazy behind out of that bed right this instant!”

  The door slammed open and Justin stared at the woman revealed there. She was about his height, but much broader in the…well, broader everywhere. She had a round, red face that had no trace of jolliness in it anywhere. Justin thought that he recognized her, had seen her recently, but couldn’t seem to place her. She shouted, “What’re you doing sitting here diddling yourself when you need to get scrubbing?” She raised one hand and brought it down, slapping Justin so hard that his head rang. “Get yourself together, girl, and get out here! No breakfast for you today!”

  With that, the unnamed woman swept out of the tiny room. Justin gaped after her, not knowing what to do, but he knew that if he was to figure it out he would have to leave his new bedroom; if that slap on the head hadn’t woken him from this terrible dream then nothing would. Between that and the sensation of his own finger inside himself, he was starting to think that he wasn’t even having a dream. Somehow, in some ridiculous way, this was real.

  He stood, shivering at the feeling of his new flesh as it settled. Now that he was facing the truth of the situation he realized that he would have to go out and move around while wearing this new body, and the idea made him want to run around screaming. He wasn’t against women in any way but he didn’t want to be one!

  It appeared that he wasn’t going to get a choice. He went to the door and peeked out, looking to see if there was anyone around to see him. Absurdly, he was more concerned about someone looking at him than he was about the fact of his new gender; he felt as if he was wearing a ridiculous costume and would be recognized by anyone who knew him.

  He headed for the louder sounds and found himself in a hot, smoky kitchen that stretched out into an area as large as his real apartment. The huge woman who’d awakened him caught sight of him standing in the doorway and bustled over, glaring the whole way. “Well? What are you waiting for? And what are you doing out here with your clothes undone? Turn around!”

  Justin did, hardly realizing that he was following her barked orders until he had done so. She immediately seized the ties on the back of his top and started pulling them tight, then tighter. Just on the edge of him not being able to breathe, she tied them off and grunted in satisfaction. “Now get scrubbing,” she said, pointing to a tubful of wooden dishes.

  Justin headed in that direction, tottering slightly. The ties had pushed his new breasts higher,
making them bulge at the top of his neckline and giving him enormous, deep cleavage. They were at least more controlled this way, even if they were more on display. No mention was made of his lack of shoes, and he soon realized that few of the others in the kitchen wore them either. His feet, tiny and delicate though they were, had tough soles that made it comfortable for him to walk on the stones even without shoes.

  The origins of the calluses on his tiny fingers were soon revealed as well, as he watched one of the other women cleaning her tubful of dishes. They used sand to scour out the dishes, washing them clean and stacking them in the appropriate places. The water was hot, almost too hot, and between that and the sand Justin soon found that his hands were red and raw.

  As he scrubbed he tried to listen to the women nearby. He quickly learned that his colleagues didn’t like him. He didn’t know what the deal was but they weren’t interested in talking to him or helping him in any way. In fact, when he tried moving his tub closer to theirs, they actually moved further away from him and glared until he stopped trying. The only one who would speak to him was the matron who appeared to be in charge of the kitchen, and then only to yell at him. Justin concentrated on his work, cleaning things as they came, and tried to force himself to wake up.

  When the first meal went out, an elaborate breakfast of some kind, the activity level of the kitchen went down. He was sure that it would pick back up but until the dishes started returning he had a few minutes to himself. He headed for the same hall that the others were using to head into the dining area, but just before he got there he felt someone latch onto the trailing ties that bound his belly and yank him backward. The round matron stood there glaring. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I…I just…” Justin was unable to come up with a good response; between the confusion of the morning and his lack of experience with his new voice, all he could do was stand there stammering.

  The matron lowered her voice, a note of sympathy creeping in. It was strange to hear from her, like a dog suddenly singing an opera, but there it was. “Look, I know what it’s like to be young and beautiful, Julia, but slutting around like you’ve been in just asking for trouble.”

  Justin was dumbfounded; it seemed that he had spent his entire day in that state. “Slutting around? What?”

  The matron rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows, girl. It’s just lucky that you didn’t catch pregnant from Lord Charles or you and the child would both be out in the cold.”

  “Lord…lord Charles. Right, I…” Justin fumbled for something to say as the matron pushed her back into the kitchen, gently but firmly.

  “Now just listen to old Bonny. Help me get those big pots ready, get a jump on things.”

  Bonny’s flash of sympathy lasted long enough for them to roll the huge iron pots off the fire and fill them with sand and water. At that point there were newly dirtied dishes coming in, and she left Justin to roll the pots to get them clean. He tried not to think about all the bacteria and tiny flecks of food being left behind, reasoning that they would simply be re-cooked in an hour or two anyway. Much like the baking ovens, there was at least one pot simmering at all times over the fire.

  A few minutes later and he was sitting there on his stool again, scrubbing at the plates and other dishes while the rest of the kitchen crew pointedly ignored him. Justin sank into his own private land of misery, wishing that whatever had happened to him had turned out to be a dream after all. He could have handled a dream. But now, here, with these gigantic tits getting in his way all the time and these women being mean to him while he worked as hard as he ever had at cleaning things, he could barely handle sitting upright. It only helped a little to learn that once the morning dishes were done that he had an hour or two of free time.

  He headed for the door that marked the servant’s entrance as soon as he could, determined to get the hell out of there. If he could figure out how to get out, he was sure that he could find someone who could help him get back to reality.

  The door opened into a wide courtyard paved with cobblestones. They were hard on his feet but not as hard as they would have been had this new body not been used to going barefoot. The courtyard was quiet, with just a few cats prowling around a couple of parked wagons. He looked at the building he’d just exited and stopped to stare for a moment.

  It was a huge stone structure, obviously built to withstand rampaging hordes, at least the size of his old apartment building (his real apartment building, he reminded himself). Banners of red and gold fluttered from peaked roofs, and the whole thing had an air of Wayne Manor. He wondered what time period he’d dropped into, what nation, but just couldn’t tell from the outside of the…what? Mansion? Castle? There were elements of both. Justin finally decided to call it a castle until he learned differently. It wasn’t like he was going to be around long enough for it to matter.

  The castle and its grounds were surrounded by a stone wall about fifteen feet high. Justin set out to find the entrance, striding purposefully. A few steps later and he had cut the length of his steps; his new hips made it hard to walk the way that he was used to. It made his hips thrash and his gigantic new tits bounce wildly even despite the support that the tight lacings offered. He’d never thought that he’d be wishing for a bra but that was where he was right then.

  All thoughts of his tits were forgotten (well, pushed to the back; the bouncy weights were impossible to ignore) when he approached the gate. The two guardsmen standing there at attention were superfluous. There was nowhere to go.

  The cobblestone ground went another five feet or so before it simply vanished. Past that there was shifting nothing. It was blue, like the sky was blue, and it was full of puffy white clouds, but there was nothing else at all. It was as if the castle and its denizens simply floated in the middle of an endless sky, with no ground beneath or stars above that he could see. There was a sun, far above in about a ten-o’clock sort of position, but there was nothing else. Wherever they were, whatever had happened to them, they were cut off from anything else.

  “Saucy Julie,” said one of the guards, grinning at her. He exchanged glances with the other one, sharing a masculine expression that was instantly familiar to anyone who’d ever met a man before. It was the grin of a man who saw a sure thing and had probably seen it naked.

  “What did you call me?” said Justin, still absently surprised at the sound of his new voice. He found himself crossing his arms over his huge chest, hiding the deep cleavage there. It felt self-conscious, as if he’d done something wrong, but it was better than putting himself on display.

  “Only what they all call you, ain’t that right,” said the other one. They both had some sort of accent, possibly British but not exactly right. It was one that would probably be called “European.”

  “What-“ said Justin.

  “Oh, hush,” said the first guard. He was taller than the other and better-looking, Justin noticed. Then he blinked. Why had he noticed that? He didn’t have time to consider things before the guard spoke again. “We had ourselves a great time in the stable last week, proved that name right. Thought you might want another roll, maybe even with my friend here.”

  “What…you…” Justin sputtered, trying to come up with something to say to express his overwhelming anger and disgust, but nothing presented itself. Instead he turned and stormed away, hardly recognizing that he had removed his arms from his chest sometime during the exchange. His breasts bounced and jiggled with each indignant step. He was more concerned with the sudden heat that had flowered inside of him at the guard’s words, heat that was terrible and gentle at the same time.

  Justin slowed as he turned the corner, heading back to the servant entrance. He realized that he’d allowed his irritation at the guards to overshadow the fact of the impossibility of the location of the castle. How could it simply be floating here? Where were they?

  He found a stone protruding from the wall and sat on it, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight on his skin even as
he worried at the questions that flooded his mind. Why had the guards upset him so much? As far as nicknames went, “Saucy” was a pretty mild one, and what did he care if they had the impression that they’d spent time in the stables with this body? It wasn’t like this was him, or at least not the real him. He could hardly imagine what the heat inside of him meant but it was still there. It wasn’t as strong as before, just hovering on the edges of his thoughts. A strange reaction but he was in a strange situation. He stood, vowing to get to the bottom of things.

  When he turned back to the servant entrance, he was surprised to find it blocked by an absolute mountain of a man. He was tall and bald and looked as though he worked out by lifting horses all day. Bare to the waist, his muscles were obvious and prodigious, and Justin felt that heat again.

  The huge man lowered his eyes, suddenly not sure what to do with his hands. “Uh, hello, miss, uh, sorry.” He shuffled to the side, his face turning red as he did so. Justin frowned. The man looked familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place it.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “Uh, nothing, miss, just didn’t mean to get in your way. Is all.” The huge man wore a leather apron, the top dangling down, and between the burn marks on it and the scars on his arm, Justin thought that he might be the blacksmith.

  “It’s okay. Are you from here?”

  The possible blacksmith looked up, surprised, and said, “Well yes, miss. Born here. Daniel Smith. And you’re J…Julia.” The man looked uncertain, as if he didn’t have all his facts straight. Justin could sympathize. More than that, he felt a strange tenderness for the giant, who was obviously flustered at the sight of Justin’s new body. The tenderness fell into the heat, and they formed a heady brew.

  “Hmm. Where…how do we get new supplies, Daniel?”

  “Supplies, miss? They come in the wagon.”

  “And the wagon comes from the outside?”

  “Outside, miss? I…I suppose. I never looked.”