Meet Cute-Chapter 14 (Patreon)

One Week Later

Jennifer pinched the bridge of her nose. “Trooper, I’m not trying to be difficult here.”

“Nor am I, Ms. Ard. A fall from your shoulder would kill Mr. Banton. It isn’t safe for him to ride on you. He’ll be in one of the cruisers escorting you. Please put him down.”

Jennifer looked down at Ryan, whom she had cupped in her hands.

He nodded to her.

Jennifer nodded back. “Trooper, have you been briefed on what happens to men who are, um, exposed to women with my condition for protracted periods of time?”

The State Police trooper shook his head and looked around, confused. One of the campus police officers who was on site made a gesture of something enlarging.

Jennifer smirked. Apparently, she’d need to speak with Nancy about discretion. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Banton has been exposed to me for a long time. Watching me walk, particularly over rough ground, is, let’s be frank, going to have an effect on at least some of the heterosexual men here. But if it has that…effect…on Ryan, whom we know to be attracted to me, his erection will punch the engine straight out of your cruiser. And probably the one in front of it.”

The trooper swallowed.

“Bottom line, I’m the only one who can transport him safely.”

The trooper threw up his hands in frustration and put his bullhorn down on the roof of his marked car. He had clear orders, yes, but those orders were also clearly batshit crazy. It was his job to (1) keep hundreds of miles of highways and roadways clear while (2) a literal fifty foot woman walked on or alongside them from her college apartment to her parents’ house and (3) not trigger a 1950s sci-fi horror movie plot by pissing her off. The only thing binding her to obey him was her desire to do so. If she wanted to risk her boyfriend’s life, let her risk her boyfriend’s life. He put the bullhorn back up to his mouth. “Fine. Just…your shoulder is not a great place for him to sit, okay? Carry him in your hand or something. Or tie him to a necklace, but don’t make it all weird and fetishy. I don’t know.”

“I’ll put him someplace secure. Thank you, trooper.”

The trooper put his bullhorn down away from his mouth. He muttered, “She means her cleavage. God damn it.” He turned his back to Jennifer to address his fellow troopers and the local police. “Okay, let’s get ready to go! Leading cars, keep a safe distance ahead. If you run into engine trouble, call an all-stop immediately! She moves insanely fast and can kill you by accident with the barest fraction of her body.”

One of the troopers shouted, “Including her—?”

“Nope! Jenkins, don’t! She’s a person, not an object, even if she is nearly 60’ tall, and I am not sitting through another fucking Title IX training this month because of your misogynistic ass.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Following cars! Promptly report damage to roadways so the repair crews can do their work right away. We don’t need someone’s grandma driving her Buick Regal into a giant footprint on the way to Denny’s tomorrow morning. Everybody ready?”

The assembled police shouted back in unison, “Hoo rah!”

“A simple ‘yes sir’ will do! We’re police, not the fucking Marines, and the militarization of our profession in both equipment and attitude presents a constellation of power dynamics and governance issues with both short- and long-term deleterious social consequences!”

The assembled troopers exchanged a collection of confused looks. There was a smattering of “yes sirs” as they got in their cars and began to drive into formation around Jennifer.

The trooper driving one of the following cars turned to his partner as they lined up behind Jennifer’s gigantic calf. “I’m going to have to ask my buddy about the dick thing.”

“Why, is he screwing a giant woman?”

“Basically, yeah. His wife’s third cousin—or maybe her second cousin once removed?”

“I can never keep that straight.”

“Me neither. Anyway, she got his wife involved in this clinical trial for women of Latvian descent, and now she’s, like, seven feet tall with gigantic tits as a side effect.”

His partner’s eyes widened. “Jesus! That all sounds amazing!”

The driver shrugged. “I don’t know about the seven feet thing, but the giant tits? I’d be on board with that. You’d be okay with a taller woman?”

“My wife’s already got a few inches on me.”

“Eh. Not my thing. Although, if he gets a bigger dick out of the deal it might be worth it.” The driver turned on the cruiser’s lights as Jennifer started to move.

Both troopers braced themselves and laughed nervously as the car shook with Jennifer’s first footfall. They glanced at the radio as the first call came in of road damage: Twin two-foot-deep, seven-and-a-half-feet-long footprints in the street where Jennifer had been standing.

The driver then said, “This seems like a bit much, though.”

His partner shrugged. “To each his own.” He leaned forward to look up through the windshield at Jennifer’s massive, swaying hips and ass; his erection stirred as she completed a 20-foot-long stride and the vibration of her next footfall hit the car. “You know, now that I think about it, my mother-in-law’s family is from Latvia.”

One Hour Later

Jennifer finished her bottle of water and deposited the empty container on the platform of the Orange Yak drone hovering next to her. It whirred away pissily. She turned to look at Ryan, who was perched high in an oak tree next to where she was sitting. “Am I crazy, or do the drones sometimes seem angry at me?”

“No, I agree. I think some of the pilots don’t like their jobs. Which I can get. They used to film Santa skydiving off his rocket-powered sleigh from the edge of space. Now they’re running errands for giant women.”

Jennifer blinked at him. “Not the real Santa, right?”

“You…you’re fucking with me, right?”

Jennifer grinned. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes. This tree feels much less safe than your boobs.”

“Ryan! Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because from up here, I had a clear view of your boobs.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. She held out her palm under his feet and smiled to herself as he hopped down onto it. He felt like no more than a few ounces to her. She moved him to her chest, right at the beginning of her cleavage, and slid him in. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Jennifer gathered her legs under her on the hill next to the raised highway on which she had been resting. She waved to the farmer who had agreed for her to use his land as a place to rest; the farmer, who appeared trapped between his obligation to be a good host and his suspicion that a 50-foot woman was an abomination in the eyes of God, gave a halting wave back. Then—maybe because Jennifer was a little taller and heavier than expected, maybe because it had rained recently—the ground beneath her right heel gave way. Instead of putting her hands out to cushion her fall, she brought them up to hold Ryan still. As a result, all 54 tons of her hit the hill, dislodging yet more of the it. She and the now-rolling dirt, rocks, and blasted-out trees rushed towards the pillars under the highway. Jennifer did her best to scramble to her feet, but still clipped one of the concrete supports with her knee.

It disintegrated like it was made of baby powder.

“NO!” Jennifer watched as part of the highway above her began to collapse; she scrambled back out from under it and stood. The highway’s deck only came up to her waist, but as she tried to stabilize it, the cement cracked under her fingers. Jennifer realized that she wasn’t going to be able to stop the collapse, so she did the only other thing she could think to do: She caught the one police car that had been sitting on that stretch of highway as it fell. She felt a dread fear as every airbag in the cruiser deployed and the metal under her fingers whined and deformed. Jennifer looked down and tried to find stable footing as she gingerly approached the highway again and set the police car on the asphalt.

The lead trooper ran up. “Shit!” He looked at the seams of the doors and the damage to the front of the car. “Jenkins? Jenkins!” He tried the handle. He turned to the cohort of troopers on his side of the collapsed highway. “We may have a spinal injury here. Does anybody have a jaws of life?”

With her fingertips, Jennifer ripped the roof off the car like it was aluminum foil.

The lead trooper looked up at her. “Uh, th-thank you.” He gently pulled aside the deflating airbags to find Jenkins, dazed a little bruised and contact burnt, but conscious. “Fuck’s sake, Jenkins. You okay?”

“Y-yeah, Lieutenant. What happened? I was, uh, on my phone during our break, and then the highway was collapsing.”

“The giant college kid saved your life. She caught your entire car with her bare hands and carried you to safety. Like a baby bird, fallen from the nest.” The lead trooper picked up Jenkins’s phone and scrolled through the series of cleavage pics of Jennifer he’d taken while “on his phone.” He sighed and tossed the phone at Jenkins’s vest. “Delete those, thank her, get checked out, go home, and report straight to HR for a Title IX training when you’re fit for work.”

“But sir—“

“Shut the fuck up. Thank her. Now.”

Jenkins climbed out of his partially-crumpled car and approached Jennifer, who was kneeling next to the highway, talking to a man sitting in her palm. “Um, excuse me, ma’am?”

“Oh!” Jennifer leaned over to be both closer to him and more down on his level. “Trooper, I’m so sorry for what happened. It was an accident. Are you okay?”

Watching this behemoth of a woman, who had just saved his life with feats of strength usually ascribed to comic book superheroes, who could kill him in an instant, and whom he had nonetheless treated as a sex object, hunch herself over and apologize to him because she regarded him—him!—as an equal…it cemented connections in Jenkins’s mind that he had refused to complete for years. “Um. Wow. Uh, n-no, Ms. Ard, thank you. You saved my life. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Jennifer smiled. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“And I promise you that I’m going to be a better person because of you. A much better person. I will value and respect women, who are strong and powerful.”

“O-okay, great.”

“By which I mean all women! Not just women who are strong and powerful. What I mean is that all women are inherently strong and powerful, even those who aren’t, and I’m going to value and respect all of them.”

Jennifer nodded once. “Good. Um. I think you should really go get checked by the paramedics now.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Once he was out of earshot, Ryan cracked up laughing. “I think you just made a baby feminist!”

“Shut up! Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You got jostled around a lot.”

Ryan scoffed. “Please. The angles my body turned during that entire time only have two numbers in them. At least get me to 360 degrees before you start worrying.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You have the oddest perspective on things sometimes.”

“Ms. Ard?” The lead trooper called up to Jennifer with his bullhorn.

“Lieutenant?”

“We need to keep you moving. We’ve notified the Department of Transportation of the damage.”

“What about tracking the damage I might cause along the way? The following cars are stuck. Although I guess I could lift them across—”

“No! No. We had a different idea about that. But we need your help with it.”

Twelve Hours Later

“Quitting!?” Orange Yak’s Senior Executive Vice President for Extreme Human Resources removed their wraparound sunglasses in shock. “Why?”

The drone operator felt like pounding the desk next to his computer screen. “Because today is the first day since you moved me to Extreme Logistics that I actually enjoyed my job! I am criminally underutilized!”

“Underutilized? Because of your incredible work here, you now hold the world records for the tallest woman, bustiest woman, heaviest payload, and longest-screaming woman carried in a low-altitude quadcopter flight!”

“Except, Vice President, it was just a straightforward piloting job. Pitch this, yaw that, thrust, altitude, all one or maybe two at a time.” The drone operator leaned back in his chair defeatedly. “My job used to give me the chance to do it all at once. When we did the Santa thing—”

“What Santa thing?”

“Last year. Rocket sleigh, skydive from the edge of space.”

“Not with the real Santa though, right?”

The drone operator gave them a quizzical look. “…no. Anyway, my job was the continuous tracking shot. With a quadcopter drone. Up above the stratopause—”

“—with barely any atmosphere to grab with the blades.”

“Exactly.”

“Sick.”

“And I did it, Vice President. I did it. I put the drone into a dive alongside Santa—”

“Not—”

“—again, no, not the real Santa, kept it aligned and paced with him all the way down despite the drone having a completely different aerodynamic profile, kept the equipment going despite the incredible temperature changes. I even managed to position the drone right at his fur-lined hat when he pulled the cord.”

“I remember that shot! The soaring orchestral music scored over it was really good, too.”

“Yeah, the Orange Yak OrcXstra is fantastic. But I don’t want to lose focus here. The bottom line, Vice President, is that my job used to let me make the most of my piloting skills. Today reminded me of what that was like.”

The Vice President nodded and gestured silently for him to continue.

“After the really big one took out that stretch of highway and I had to replace a road damage identification crew of 10 with one drone, I did it. I did it! And I got to pilot behind, through, and around what is effectively a fast-moving architectural feature. I had to compensate for the crazy ways air flows around her moving body. Avoid getting the drone stuck in the hair of what is essentially a four-story building. And I was able to precisely geolocate each instance of damage she caused plus send high-res images of the damage to road crews so all of it can be handled quickly. I had to think about sixty things at once and worry about physics in new ways every two seconds. I had fun! I felt…”

“Utilized. Not underutilized.”

“Yes, Vice President.”

The Vice President nodded. “I’ll talk with the higher ups about moving you out of Extreme Logistics and back to your old position—and maybe keeping your new pay.”

“Th-thank you, Vice President!”

“I can’t make promises, mind you.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

“One more question, if you don’t mind. I understand that a few of our people who formed relationships with women in Latvia have recently run into some, uh, relationship dynamics shifts. How’s things on the home front?”

The drone operator looked down at his keyboard dejectedly. “They’re okay, Vice President. Inga’s in this clinical trial. There have been some…changes. But I love her and she loves me. That hasn’t changed.”

The Senior Vice President put on their wraparound sunglasses and quit out of Orange Yak’s proprietary video conference portal, Fwoosh.

“What the—” The drone operator’s phone rang. “Hello?”

It was the VP. “I’m about to say some very un-HR things and ask some very un-HR questions and you’re not going to breathe a word of them to anyone. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes?”

“Are you a shower or a grower?”

The drone operator’s eyes went wide in shock. “Uh…shower?”

“How big flaccid and erect?”

He blushed and muttered quietly, “Just over three inches and just under five inches.”

“Okay. If the issues with Inga are size-related, talk to her about taking one of her pills.”

“Why?”

“It’ll make you bigger.”

“What!?”

“Now. Don’t take a second. It’ll make you so huge you won’t fit into clothes. I’m going to send you some of the pills that they sent me. It’s a new formulation from our parent company that will increase your erect size more gradually.”

“Wait, our senior leadership got penis growth pills?”

“Yes.”

“As, what, a bonus?”

“Yes.”

“And…they sent some to…you?”

“Yes.”

“But—“

“Listen, you have no idea how often I get misgendered. I present masc, I work for an energy drink company, my title is Senior Executive Vice President. Misogyny and the Patriarchy, plus my clothes, plus my manner of speech, all make the old white men who run things forget that I’m non-binary and don’t have a dick. So now I have penis growth pills to hand out to people who actually might need them.”

The drone operator was silent for a few seconds. “Thank you. This—this and especially the job—means a lot.”

“No worries. Oh, hey. There is one notable side effect to discuss from the pills that occurs from the third dose forward.”

A few minutes later, the drone operator walked into his living room to find Inga laying on (and over) the couch, snoring lightly. She was now nearly eleven feet tall and, since she had started taking the pills to emphasize breast growth and slow her height growth because of exactly the size issues the Vice President had mentioned, had gone from a small B-cup to an M-cup. He stroked her face.

She woke, smiled, and sat up slightly to kiss him. “Long day?”

“Yeah. Inga, can we talk about something?”

“Of course, mana dzive.”

He knelt next to her. “Do you know what happens if I take one of your pills?”

Inga sat up slightly further in surprise, then drew her legs in and patted her lap for him to sit on it. She smiled sadly as he climbed on. “Jā. Your penis will grow somewhat.”

“Would you want me to?”

“Mana dzive, I love you as you are. You are perfect man.”

“Thank you, Inga. I love you so much. But I want to be able to please you the way you please me.”

“Is not possible. I am sex goddess.”

The drone operator laughed. “You are. But can you please take this seriously?”

She put a hand on his knees and scratched his back with her long fingernails. “My life, yes, you would grow somewhat. But I am already so big it might not make difference. And solution is not two pills. If you take two pills, you would be—how you say—mangle.”

“Disfigured.”

“Jā. Penis grow more than 30 centimeters long.”

“Inga, what if…what if I was able to get a version of the pills that made only my erection bigger? And more gradually?”

She paused scratching his back and looked down at him. Her pupils dilated. “You would like this?”

“Yes.”

“I would…not oppose.”

“And, um, what if the pills had a side effect of making me shrink to one tenth my size for about a day?”

For less than an instant, something feral flashed behind Inga’s eyes. “So erection would grow, but every so often, you would be little doll to me? And I would be giant to you—true giant, towering like mountain, as in myths of old?”

The drone operator swallowed in what felt to him like a mix of causeless fear and causeless arousal. “Y-yes?”

“This, I would like very much.”