"I would like to know," Rachel said as we got ready for bed, "what, precisely, the fuck, you were doing."

"Negotiating," I said, vanishing my boots, jacket, and hat right off my body and into my void space, before hopping into my side of the bed. "Seems like it worked."

We'd retired to her bedchamber once more, and I now got to explain the stunt I'd pulled in the Grand Hall. Which I did not regret even slightly, and which Duke Nukem herself seemed to approve of. Rachel had undone the (fairly minor) biosculpting that she put on for the event, but I hadn't, and was still wearing the dress and the thigh-highs as I laid in bed patiently waiting for her to join me, having already put all of my less-sleep-friendly accoutrements away in my void space.

"Lucy, negotiating does not require the absolute grandstanding spectacle you made in there," Rachel said, carefully drying off her freshly-cleaned shirt and hanging it in her wardrobe. "Neither of us is noble-born, Lucy. We do not know the rules nearly so intimately as the people who made them. What you did was incredibly risky!"

"And it worked," I said, nodding. "Now, I'm going to admit, all of this-" I gestured sweepingly at my still impossibly curvy form, with my hips cocked even while I was lying flat on my side. "-wasn't completely theater. In fact, a big part of it was because I just... want to look like this. So, I did it, and I told myself that those who mind don't matter, and those who matter won't mind."

"I certainly minded," Rachel said.

"As you can see, I do still retain the ability to be wrong," I said.

"Why do you want to look like that, anyway?" Rachel asked. "You were fitting in perfectly as an alpha with minimal adjustments."

"Because I come from a world with a completely different idea of gender," I said. "I can learn what alphas, betas, and omegas are, what their expected social roles are, and what they generally look like, but I can't just completely replace my upbringing and my own sensibilities. Where I'm from, the commonly-accepted genders were just 'woman' and 'man,' and I was born looking like the latter, despite being the former."

"So why didn't you arrive looking how you wanted?" Rachel asked. "Looking like the woman you wanted to be?"

"Because I couldn't look like that back home," I said. "We don't have magic, remember? We don't have biosculpting to magically fix anything and everything that might be wrong with your body. We have to rely on pills, injections, and steady hands holding sharp knives. Oh, sure, I could have- and did, in fact- take some pills that fixed my hormone balance, and grown some pretty modest boobs, but I didn't and still don't want pretty modest boobs. I wanted to be undeniably a woman, just incredibly obviously a woman to anyone who looked in my direction, so the moment I got my hands on shapeshifting magic..." I shrugged. "Well, I grew up without it and desperately wanting it, being told I was a man. What, were you expecting me to not give myself the biggest mommy milkers I could carry without falling over?" I tilted my head, considering things carefully. "Well. Okay these aren't actually the biggest I could make them, and with wind magic I could carry a hell of a lot more. But they are as big as I want to make them; noticeably bigger, and they'd start looking wrong and ridiculous to my sensibilities."

"Lucy," Rachel said patiently. "Just one of your breasts is bigger than your head. And you are not a particularly small individual to begin with!"

"Exactly, I'm big," I said, nodding. "And therefore, I should have big honkers, too."

"You and I clearly have very different ideas of what constitutes 'big,'" Rachel said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Look, as someone who's spent the past month turning wool into fabric, and talking to people who do the same thing, I've met rather a lot of omegas," I said. "And yes, there is diversity in what omegas look like- some of them are taller than five foot two, some of them aren't very curvy, and some of them roll up their sleeves to reveal thick arms corded with muscle. But! I have also met omegas who do live up to the stereotype, and I have seen, with my own two eyes, a five foot tall woman whose breastesses were as proportionately big as mine are."

"...Proportionate," Rachel repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth.

"Yes, proportions," I said, nodding. "Because unless it turns out everyone else can just see objective measurements with their eyes, even without a ruler present-" I had spent enough time around Rebecca Cartwright, a professional woodworker who made big, complicated stuff with a lot of moving parts, to confirm that no, this was not a thing people could do, and woodworkers like her all had a big collection of rulers, measuring ropes, and other tools for accurately gauging how long a piece of wood was from end to end. "-what people do see is relative proportions. So when people saw me walking down the nave-"

"The what?" Rachel asked.

"The nave is the central, wide-open space of a cathedral or cathedral-style building, such as Nukem's Grand Hall," I explained. "On either side, each separated by a row of columns called a colonnade, are the aisles. After the nave, if there's a sort of big corridor-looking space running across the space, that's called the transept, and at the end of the building, across the transept from the nave if there is a transept, is the chancel, which is where you put anything that is particularly valuable, honorable, or relevant to the purposes of the gathering. Such as, in Nukem's Grand Hall, the Duke and her immediate family."

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"So that's what they're called..." Rachel murmured.

"You didn't know?" I asked.

"The Duke informed me that, if I did not have a particular interest in architecture, then I shouldn't waste my time studying it," Rachel explained. "As I am, after all, a knight and a void user who has to be taught spells by others, I have rather more important things to focus on. Besides, my duties never called for helping to plan events in the Grand Hall."

"Huh, fair enough," I said.

"You were saying about proportions?" Rachel prompted.

"Ah, right. Okay, so when everyone saw me walking down the nave, they didn't immediately know that I was carrying precisely... I actually don't know any objective measurements for these things," I said. "But! They did look at me, and the shape of me, and it put them in mind of the curviest omegas they'd ever seen."

"I see," Rachel said. "However, once someone realizes that you are, in fact, a reasonably tall alpha who further inflated your height with those boots-"

"How do you like those, by the way?" I asked.

"I want you to wear them as you step on me," Rachel said. "Let me finish. When someone realizes how tall you are, they can realize that, for your chest to look that big, it must be at least... my mental math fails me, but they must be absurdly enormous."

"So- let's assume the typical average omega is, what, five feet tall?" I said. "Well, I stood about six foot eight in there, so from a linear measurement standpoint, I was about... oh, one and a third times as big as the typical omega, I think. That's linear, though, and now we've got to contend with the square-cube law. See, in terms of surface area, I'm bigger by a factor of one and a third times one and a third. But that doesn't matter except for yardage requirements in clothing, so let's ignore that and move on. When we consider volume, which is directly proportionate to weight, mass, and just generally how much of a three-dimensional substance there actually is present, we have to multiply one and a third by one and a third and again one and a third- cubing it, really. Whiiiiiich issss... okay, four thirds, cubed is... four time four is sixteen, times four is sixty four... Sixty four over twenty seven, which itself simplifies out to two and ten twenty sevenths- which is slightly more than two and a third. So, that's how much bigger my tits have to be, objectively, just to look as big as those you'd find on an omega: a little more than two and a third times what she's packin'."

"That was," Rachel said, "a lot of talking and effort, in service of the most objectively pointless thing I have seen this week."

"You say that almost as though you don't know me," I said. "Which you clearly do, because you had to specify 'this week,' on account you remembered the time I reinvented wood pulp paper and then used it to make a very shitty hand-drawn zoetrope. Or that time I made a pair of chopsticks so I could eat my noodles- which I also introduced to the chefs- more authentically, and then I kept dropping hot noodles on myself because I suck at using chopsticks."

"It is endearing," Rachel admitted. "Mostly exasperating in the moment, but it does make you who you are, and I will admit, I do, in general, rather like who you are."

"What a shock, to hear such a sentiment from the woman I kiss every night and share a bed with," I said.

"Speaking of which," Rachel said, glancing down at my body. "Is that... your new normal, or..."

"Mostly," I said, nodding. "I mean, when it comes time to actually use my dick, for things like taking a piss, or having sex if that ever happens, then yeah, I'll shrink it down to a much more reasonable and manageable size. But otherwise..." I folded my arms behind my head, carefully avoiding elbowing Rachel in the face. "I mean, sure, I designed this body with aristocratic standards in mind. But it is, first and foremost, my ideal body. And I am very happy to stay like this." I sighed contentedly. "...Well, for now, at least. I'm sure that, as time goes on, I'll find new things I don't like about having these giant honkers, and make tweaks as I go along, but tonight, you get to cuddle with a tittymonster."

"I... see," Rachel said. Ah, right, she's a gay alpha, who has told me before that she is, in fact, primarily attracted to other alphas, and right now I have stopped looking like an alpha.

"Oooor," I continued. "If you're not feelin' that, you could always scoot down in the bed and rest your head on my stomach. Use my dick as a pillow."

After all, alphas had the largest dicks among humanity, on this world. That right there should feel incredibly masculine- for lack of a better word- to her sensibilities, and therefore be acceptable.

"Fair enough," Rachel said, before sitting up and moving to do precisely that. "Mmn. There we go."

"You ready to sleep?" I asked.

"Not quite," Rachel said, nestling down a little.

I shrugged, and reached down, past my tits- which almost completely obscured my view of my girlfriend, because of course- and started playing with her hair and massaging her scalp.

"Mmmn," Rachel murmured. "...You plan to look like this forever, yes?"

"Pretty much, yeah," I said, nodding.

"...I'd better get used to it, then," she said, before lifting her head- and my hand- and shifting up along my body, until, finally, she dropped her head onto one of my boobs like a big ol' pillow... stuffed with something gelatinous and also warm. "...What is this- is there metal in your breast?"

"Oh shit, right, my piercings," I said. "They uncomfortable?"

"A touch," Rachel said.

I vanished them out of their holes, which I then filled back in- I knew exactly where the holes went, so I could put them back whenever I wanted. "Better? You comfortable?"

"To my surprise, yes," Rachel said.

"Tits make amazing pillows, so I'm not sure why you're so surprised," I said. "Alright, now are you ready to sleep?"

"I am," Rachel said, nodding.

I closed my eyes, reaching out to touch the lamp's enchantment with my will, and turned out the lights.

"Good night, my sweet knight."

"Good night, my strange tittymonster."