gigantic gods

food

Waltson was on something warm and cozy and felt a heavy weight on his body, but he did not mind; he was sleepy. That was a good dream. I have to say he wondered why he had such an odd dream lately until he woke up on top of the terror's chest. He realized that he was not dreaming the last little while it was real. He gasped and tried moving, but the giant's hands held him tightly, so he gave up his mind races of possibilities and outcomes. What's going to happen next?

Can you stop thinking so much at such a fast rate? Night terror mumbles the spooked Watson, but it only made him think.

The giant groans. I think there is no point since you are up now. A clock popped out of nowhere, but Watson could not understand the letters.
It looks like it's almost noon; we better get up for the day. He got up with Watson in hand and stretched his wings.

Waltson's eyes glowed at the sight of those things. They are like angel wings, and they are really pretty and beautiful.

Well, thank you, night terrors acknowledged his thought of compliment. Night Terror got dressed while Watson looked away only to see nothing but a magic that changed his clothes and Walt-sons too somehow. Then suddenly the room spun like a spin top, and he noticed that he was his normal size again, but terror was still able to loom over him, and that made him gulp his saliva down his throat.

I'm going to go get a late breakfast. Come down when you are ready.

He walked downstairs, and as he smelled cooking flesh, he stopped in his tracks midway up the stairs. He knows the smell of burning corpses when he burns all the plagued bodies every year back at home. Fear sets in, and he feels like he is going to throw up and that he has imagined the worst of what could be on that table.

He forgot that God had eaten his kind before he was captured for many years by sacrificial warriors or men.
He wanted to throw up, but his stomach turned

Go back. Upstairs and rest for a bit, then we can get some other food similar to your human stuff later. Watson nodded and noticed the smell was good, and his nose was plugged as well. Maybe that is why the smell is gone, but he did not mind. She was glad he did not throw up.

He weakly walked upstairs and went to rest on the bed until he noticed a mirror in the corner of the room.
He looked good in this nice outfit; he liked it. He wore nice white Rome clothes with a purple ribbon around the edges, a nice pretty headband made of gold on his head, and best of all, a necklace on his neckbones. It was like mixed emerald green and all kinds of other greens made into a swirling look. A dot in the middle made it look like a circle eye, for some reason.

He wondered why he was given such pretty clothes, and then he realized, Oh no, I'm his. He blushed at that thought and fell to the floor, realizing that he had lost his freedom.

A god like that can do anything to him, and he just has to accept it no matter if he wants it or not. It scares him terribly.
He also wonders if what happened last night will happen often or not. He blushed a little at the thought of last night.

How could he describe his desire to want that, or was it forced by magic? For all he knows, he could get pregnant, right?

A/N He never does, but he worries about this in the fix a lot, btw.

He can't believe it, but he's skinny to the bone, so maybe he won't. He hoped he wouldn't get pregnant, but that's logically impossible, right? Males can't unless God uses his powers on them. He shivered at the thought and knew he could barely take care of himself. How was he able to take care of a child or two he wanted out of this place. But he was hungry. His stomach growled, and he smelled something nice. It was biscuits.

There was a knock at the door. Watson, my queen? It was an iceberg again. He said come in. He's also guessing he is a queen now.

She came in with a basket full of biscuits that smelled so good, and Iceberg asked, Should I call you something else, my dear, or like sire or maybe my lady or something else? They also whispered I don't know any neutral ways of politely asking you. I wish there was a gender-neutral word for queen and king for them and people like me.

Watson knew they were trans, but the question was: what do they identify as? was beyond him.
I also did not get to introduce myself; my name is Iceberg. It's nice to meet you.
They let a hand out; Watson took it to shake on it, and then the biscuits were handed over.

She was about to leave when Watson asked, What's your preferred way of using your pronouns?

She nodded. I was biologically a man but perfectly fine with him sometimes, but I like her pronouns.

Waltson nodded with the understanding that she would be okay with calling her women; he kind of guessed that was her case.

Mostly because of the maid's dress for crying out loud, but it does fit her; she is more feminine and not very muscular.

She had left Watson eating his biscuits, and they tasted amazing. He had to compliment the chef for sure and maybe get that recipe. Hopefully, then night terror popped in, and that startled Watson.

Gosh, you scared me. Terror looked at the empty basket. Watson worried that maybe the three biscuits were not all his, but it's been a while since he ate, and he can't recall any good food like this lately.

So she ended up Feeding you after all night terror growls, which made him flinch, he got closer, and Watson couldn't move.
She was not supposed to feed you as I asked her to. He was fearful.