Prologue: Descent to Hell

I’m not sure what I did to anger god or the universe. Maybe I was a real prick in my last life, because ever few years someone uploads a new problem with my body. By the time I figure it out and start living normally again a new one is uploaded. It’s like god is a lazy programmer who keeps sending in buggy code. Whatever the reality of it is, this body’s been falling apart since it was created.

That’s not to say this life has been all bad, one of the benefits of being stuck in bed for long stretches is I get to read and watch TV a lot. I’ve enjoyed countless stories, and to fall asleep at night I let my imagination run wild, changing these stories to include myself as a hero or villain. But lately it’s been hard just to do that.

My chest feels tight, my head feels heavy and the hospital lights feel brighter than the sun. Hopefully I can pass out soon and have a fun dream. That said I’m pretty dizzy, it almost feels like I’m falling. Ok I’m definitely falling what the HELL WAHHHHH.

***

WAHHHHHHHHH, oh I’m done falling. I feel warm, like I’m in a heated blanket, and I don’t feel much pain. Everything is dark though, it doesn’t feel like a dream so maybe I fell out of my hospital bed and died. That’s fine, I’m pretty comfortable wherever I am right now, maybe I can look around a bit.

I focus my vision, but the darkness is kinda… still super dark. My eyes feel heavy, maybe they’re not open all the way? I muster my strength and push them open.

JESUS FUCK it’s bright - got it I just had my eyes closed, they’ll adjust to the light in a minute. I blink over and over until my eyes can convey information beyond discomfort. I’m in a bright room with lots of windows - natural light, I like it. There's wooden furniture too, it’s a bit fancy for my liking, but I’d say it’s well made. I turn my eyes up and find a FUCKING GIANT GLOWING WOMAN.

Fuck, I made a lot of jokes about going to hell or god having it out for me, but it’s jarring to see I was right. She’s a pretty glowing giant with long dark hair, it’s so black it’s almost purple. Dark eyes, symmetrical face, glossy lips - giant rack. I suppose a giant would have a giant rack, but my goodness each one must be bigger than me. Maybe god took some pity me, there are worse things to be eaten by. I bet someone's had a fantasy of this type of scenario before.

The woman turns her head to the left and smiles - what’s she looking at?

It’s pretty hard to turn my neck, she must have me wrapped in some kind of giant tortilla. And the room is foggy, like there's something spread through the air. No, it must be steam or smoke from what they’ll be cooking me in, unlucky honestly. Past the fog, in the direction this woman is looking, there’s something else, it’s... a giant man.

Sigh, I could accept a beautiful giant woman with a voluptuous bosom using me for sustenance. But a man? I don’t like it. He walks over to me with a crumpled face. 

Look at this bastard, he’s crying tears of joy for the meal he’s about to eat. Don’t get me wrong, a proper steak can make the best of us wispy, but this adds insult to injury. He brings his hand down toward me, is he going to drop me into a stew? No, he’s rubbing my cheek? This mother fucker is seasoning me..

I get to be a meal, a fitting hell for someone who spent their life caged like livestock. But I’m not going down so easily. I wouldn't mind being delicious for miss milk jugs, but for this guy and his receding hair line, I’m going to make a mess of things. Ultimate suicide move: self-de-feces. I just have to pUSHHHH, and yup, I shit my tortilla.

How’s that big guy? Do I still look delectable? His tears stop flowing and a frown forms on his face, HA, I ruined the meal. Suck my dick you half bald.

No, no! He picks me up. 

Where are you taking me asshole? The man places me down on a hard surface. Don’t tell me this is a cutting board.. 

He reaches down and places his hands around me. Is he unwrapping the tortilla? Balls, I’m going to get flayed. 

He picks my up feet - this is gonna suck. I close my eyes and relax my breathing, I’ve been through plenty of pain, this will be over quickly.

I wait for the slicing pain of a kitchen knife, but all that comes is a soft caress. He’s wiping my ass? 

Without the tortilla around me, I can move around and see a little more. I look down at myself, and my arms move a little, but they’re chubby and small. My hands are even smaller. They glow too, just like half bald and my dark-haired milk princess. 

I look to my sides, the tortilla I was in.. it’s actually a blanket? So maybe I’m not food, I might’ve been reborn as a baby giant.

***

What’s going on I feel groggy? And what happened to glowing giant with hair deficiency? Maybe I passed out from the shock. It’s dark again, but I can see a little. The milk maiden is holding me and staring at me intently. One problem, I’m fucking starving.

I don’t think I can talk, but I can move my arms a little. Maybe if I poke her she’ll understand. I poke her repeatedly, but it's a struggle to clench my abs and raise my body closer to her.

She dips her head down towards me. Anddd she kissed my forehead. Thanks, but I need you to pop out one of the fun bags and feed me. Maybe if I try grabbing them she’ll understand? I need to do a bit of a sit-up, damn this baby body is as useless as my last one, I can barely move. I activate every muscle fiber available to me and manage to crunch forward. I reach with my arm and grab at her chest.

Alright lady are we on the same page now? 

She’s tilting her head like a dog, I must be her first kid, the experimental child. I hold onto her chest with the little grip strength I have - how else can I communicate what I’m looking for? I’ll open my mouth, saying ahh should be universal even if I can’t talk.

“AHHHHHHHH” I cry out with an open mouth, but I don't think she understands.

C’mon you’ve got gallons of milk right next to me, surely you see what I’m getting at here. She puts me down, and starts undoing her robe. We might be in business! Now pick me up and bring me to that massive spout of nutrition you have on your chest. Up we go and I’m on. 

I remember cats did the biscuit making thing to get milk out of their mother so maybe if I do the same and create a touch of suction…

There we are, ahhh warm milk. I asked my college girlfriend if she’d let me try her breast milk if she ever got pregnant and she said no. But jokes on her, this lady has more milk than my ex had blood. Maybe it’s because I’m in a baby body, but this is delicious. And it doesn’t feel as awkward as I expected. 

Ahh this is a nice vintage, I apologize for being so rude to your husband, he’s clearly provided you with a nice environment if you’re able to make something so delectable.

***

It’s been two weeks since my supposed descent to hell. I haven’t been eaten and I’ve been provided with incredible meals any time I request them. My only complaint is how often my father is the one to clean up after my bowel movements. Though I suspect that’ll be changing. I’m being carried around by a new woman in what appears to be a maid’s uniform.

She’s my mom’s height with brown hair down to her shoulders, similarly colored eyes and a pale complexion. I believe her name is Shayna. She talks to me a lot and I find her voice soothing, though I have no idea what she’s saying. She also glows much less than either of my parents do.

I’ve made a few important discoveries. During a rather treacherous bowel movement, I let out a few cries of pain, and my father tried to cheer me up. He pushed some of the glow from his body and into the air, once outside, it turned into small balls of fire that slowly dissipated before reaching the ceiling or floor.

What’s of particular note with this phenomenon is that the fog in the air didn’t react to his glow or fire as I might’ve expected, it was simply pushed out of the way. It seems the glowing coming from our bodies and the fog in the air are somehow different. I cry in front of father as often as I can to see more demonstrations, but he’s starting to leave me with mother more, so I’ll have to do this less frequently.

***

Shayna has continued tending to me, I find I’m almost as comfortable in her arms as I am in mothers, though her milk receptacles are smaller and I suspect don’t contain what I’m looking for. I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t hell yet, but if it is, there’s little to be done about it. My actions going forward will be taken under the assumption this is a new life, with the benefit of my previous memories.

I’ve formulated a training regimen I will adhere to until I am able to learn better methods. Mother has started to let me sleep in a separate bed and I’m no longer wrapped as tightly before being placed in it. This allows me the freedom to move my body each morning and night so long as I don’t make too much noise.

Each morning, I stretch as much as I’m able to and attempt to sit-up and roll slowly from side to side. Each evening, I meditate and try to manipulate the glowing energy in my body. I try to push a small amount of it through my bones, connective tissue, nerves, muscles and major organs excluding my skin. Once complete, I let the remaining glow dissipate from my body until it runs out and I fall asleep.