Pascal Zenovich (M), dreaming of dueling hyper-endowed mammocracies in a world where fantasy and sci-fi races collide.

He was pretty sure he had fallen out of the sky. That was why he was laying flat on his back in the middle of the quaint cobblestone street. He wasn't in any pain, though, which struck him as weird. Surely such a fall should at least have come with some debilitating back pain?

As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he was actually a little sore, but it was less the pain of falling thousands of miles out of the stratosphere and more just general lethargy. Pascal was a flabby, heavyset, cripplingly anxious nerd just starting his 30s in terrible shape, so that wasn't unusual.

What was incredibly unusual was his surroundings.

Immediately around him was something out of a high-fantasy game, a sprawling historical town with cobblestone streets, carriages, and buildings that straddled the spectrum of wood, stone, and thatch, fancier towards the center of town and more simple out into the countryside.

And yet, on the horizon, there was something that utterly shattered the fantasy-world hegemony - an azure spire in the center of town reaching up towards the sky, surrounded by other similar structures just floating in the air, orbiting the tower. No - Pascal realized it wasn't just a tower, it looked a lot more like a space elevator.

As if that wasn't shocking enough, Pascal's overstimulated brain finally allowed him to notice the people around him, staring at him with equal parts concern and fascination.

He seemed to be in the middle of a market street, so there was a throng of passersby to gawk at him. And it seemed to be the case that none of them were human. Instead, there was a broad spectrum of fantasy races represented here, ripped straight out of a tabletop RPG handbook - elves, dwarves, orcs, tieflings, goblins, kobolds, centaurs, tabaxi, lizardfolk, you name it.

All female, Pascal realized after a moment. Because they were all FUCKING STACKED.

Every single one of them, bar none, had at the very minimum an hourglass figure with assets as big as their owner's head, while most of them had breasts that could only be described as "massive." As if everyone had been rendered by an artist being paid by a single-minded boob fetishist. As if, when the world was being created, someone had gone through every race's genetic data and turned up the slider on breast size - and hacked the program to allow a higher-than-sane maximum.

Pascal was surrounded by humongous tits of many colors, textures, shapes, and sizes, some covered up with fancy materials, some bound by little more than a strap of cloth wrapped around the midsection. This was a hyper-breast fetishist's dream, and Pascal was definitely, absolutely, 100% a hyper-breast fetishist.

A squeaky voice called out, "By the Goddesses, is that a human? A MALE?!?"

Still sitting stunned on his ass in the middle of the cobblestone market street, Pascal turned his head to the right to see a mega-busty, green-skinned, red-haired goblin woman run up to him, a big sharped-tooth grin on her face. At her height, her nearly floor-bumping green boobs, covered only by tattered brown rags that looked ready to slip off at any moment, were right at Pascal's eye-level sitting down. Even so, her big goldenrod eyes were full of delight and caught his attention for a moment as they studied him.

"Holy shit, I think it is!" the goblin announced as she walked around him. "His chest is smaller than my littlest daughter's!"

That outburst caused the mega-busty crowd around him to start murmuring quietly. "A human...?" "A male...?" "It can't be..." "He's cute...!" Needless to say, the socially anxious target of their attention was soon blushing up a storm.

The goblin woman grinned with all her sharp teeth as she stopped in front of the dazed human, her gaze turning downward. "But there's only one way to find out...!" She started to kneel and reach over her boobs towards the crotch of Pascal's sweatpants.

The wind suddenly picked up, gusting through the street. A harsh light shone down on the spot where Pascal was sitting, and he realized a moment later that something above was descending down on them. The goblin stopped and turned around to look up, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand. "Ah, goddess-damn it!" she cursed.

The light dimmed and Pascal looked up to see... Well, he couldn't believe what he was seeing at first. Above this quaint fantasy street, suddenly there was a futuristic sci-fi sky car floating above them, colored in the same azure as the tower in the center of the city, with a spotlight shining down from the front pointed at him. "STEP AWAY FROM THE ANOMALY," an echoing female voice announced through presumably the sky car's speakers.

"Why SHOULD I, space bitches?!" the goblin shouted back up at the car with a shaking fist. Pascal watched as her boobs jiggled from behind. "You just want him for YOURSELF, is that it?!"

The sky car slowly descended, the backwash from its jet boosters gusting through the market stalls and the gathered crowd as it parked a few yards away from where Pascal was sitting. The doors on each side opened vertically as its passengers stepped out.

On the right from Pascal's perspective, an extremely long pair of legs preceded a very tall, gray-skinned, bald alien woman wearing a diplomatic-looking futuristic outfit emerged. She looked elderly, matriarchal, and official, with big dark eyes that somehow looked soulful and expressive. Pascal was reminded of the Grand Councilwoman character from Lilo & Stitch for some reason. She also had an absolutely immense bust reaching down to her knees, making Pascal wonder how in the world she'd even fit in the sky car. Maybe some kind of space-compression technology?

That question went double for the car's second occupant on the other side. A figure as broad as a barn door stepped out, still busty, but also heavily armored. Her scaly, plated alien face was stern, and she held a sci-fi battle rifle carried by her massive, muscular arms. The rifle looked like it probably weighed about as much as Pascal's heavyset body. It took Pascal a few moments to realize she was some kind of alien turtle-woman, with a massive armored shell on her back. He was reminded of the krogans from Mass Effect, if they'd been redesigned to be slightly more bangable amazonian females instead.

The more diplomatic-looking alien woman looked down from her tall height at the diminutive goblin woman. "We do not mean you or him any harm. We simply wish to-"

"Yeah yeah yeah," the goblin woman interrupted, "buncha fancy talk for 'we want his human cock in OUR tits instead of YOURS.'"

The alien sighed and put up a hand. "No. As much as we all may naturally desire such a thing, the human's comfort and agency is our first priority. We intend to take him to the Mayor's residence - neutral ground where he can be oriented and make his own decisions from there."

The goblin woman put her hands on her hips and scoffed. "Yeah, and while he's there, you'll seduce him with all your comfy space tech, and we'll never see him again! Hey, he landed in OUR part of town, so we oughta get first dibs, right? You can't just swoop in and order us to give up on the first human male in MILLENNIA with your guns 'n' metal voodoo."

The turtle-woman enforcer, who had been carrying her rifle one-handed at her side, lifted it up and put her other hand beneath the barrel in a ready pose. "Try us."

Pascal's head was suddenly cast in shadow as one of the tall elf women in the crowd stepped behind him, her bust clad in sheer white fabric with gold trim. Pascal heard a crackle of electricity as the elf woman raised her hands. "The goblin has a point."

"Please, everyone, calm down!" the diplomatic alien pleaded. "Let us NOT turn this into an incident! We must take the human to the Mayor!"

Nobody else involved seemed to be de-escalating. Pascal, who had been watching gormlessly on his ass, realized that there was a high chance that these stupendously busty and exotic women were about to fight each other, maybe even to the ****, over him. Magic versus technology. Fantasy versus science fiction.

Was this a cruel nightmare, or some kind of weirdly complex dream?