Size Matters
Part 1
//Size Matters: A dystopian world where your social status is directly linked to what you're packing. This is the beginning of the story of a very unlucky young man born at the bottom of societies ladder. More to come. Crazier to come.//
Today, January 21st, 2025, I have been found (informally) guilty of "excessive inappropriate looking in a private space." I should've known I was going to be caught. It's not often that a sub-3-er gets to visit the suburbs, let alone unsupervised. Just earlier today I was doing my mundane office job, scanning reports for one of the dozen corporate conglomerates that plague the world.
Things went on as usual that day until my boss sent me on a personal delivery mission into the suburbs, something about an old friend of his that he hadn't spoken to in a while. The demand was so out of nowhere I didn't even have time to think; I took the small, sealed envelope as he held it out to me, took the signed street pass which allowed me to actually go to the suburbs, and was on my way.
I walked briskly towards the office elevator, I hadn't gotten to actually leave the building in god knows how long. I worked on the 62nd floor and my lodgings were on the 74th, everything else I could ever need were on the floors between. It's not that I couldn't leave, it's just that it was a lot of paperwork, and to actually go anywhere in the city as a person with my endowment, it cost a fortune.
The nearer I drew towards the elevator, and my brief taste of the outside world, the quicker I went. By the time I reached the elevator I could barely slow myself down in time to not crash into the far wall. Nonetheless I entered, hit the "Ground Floor" button and waited anxiously.
My understanding of how the world works is this: you play the genetic lottery, then you get born, then the rest is just a result of that lottery. The way that worked out for me, and just about everyone on that damn floor, is that we wake up, work, sleep, repeat. It's all I've really known since I finished my version of high school. Of course, nothing is ever easy in this damn place for someone with a 2.5-inch penis, and my high school was really just an extended training period for my now job.
This was my life; I was born for this. Not that I should really complain, our society can only work in harmony if people fill out the bottom rung, I just happen to be part of those people. It makes sense, or so I tell myself; small dicks are useless. That's all I've been told my whole life, and I can't argue with it. I'm more or less content with where I'm at in life, like everyone knows, it just is how it's meant to be.
The thoughts of my place in the world crashed to a halt as the elevator dinged and opened to the first floor. It was empty save for a man at the front desk. I approached him as calmly as I could and read his badge, he measured in at 4 and a half inches. As his inferior I had to remind myself to use the proper language and etiquette expected of me.
Holding out my slightly trembling arm I handed him the street pass. "Hello Sir, street past approval request from floor 62."
He inspected it thoroughly. "Approved," he stifled through some papers on his desk, "Here are the directions to where the letter is addressed. You are to follow these directions exactly, deliver the letter, and then return at once. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir," I took my street pass back and the directions he gave me. My heart nearly burst through my chest as it was time to enter the outside and see what my journey had to offer. I measured my pace and took to the front door, once again scanning my street pass, and watching as the doors slid open before me. I stepped into the blinding light and stood in awe.
My office building was located in the heart of downtown Miltson, and all around me were towering obelisks of glass and stone. Each one serving similar purpose, and each one housing countless workers just like me. The streets were desolate, just as I had always remembered them being. I opened the directions there on the sidewalk and began my trek.
According to the instructions, it was about a 30 minute walk. First, I take a few blocks east until I'm out of the immediate downtown, then I embark on a number of winding streets that head into the suburbs. Careful to not get too distracted, I start to walk. The weather was nice, warm. The sun glistened off of the reflective glass, casting the city in a holy light shining bright.
As I walked, I glanced into every office building lobby I could, not seeing anything remarkably different than my own. The sheer scale of the city was astounding, especially when seen as it was on foot. Building after building housing thousands of people. Per everything I had been taught, downtown was primarily for sub-3-ers as they're called, pretty much those near the bottom of the food chain. Managers, bosses, and the like were often just above 3, though never above 5.
As I finally walked out of the downtown, I entered areas most common for 5-6ers. Skyscrapers turned to more subdued and relaxed office buildings with cars parked outside, around certain corners I could see convenience stores and even some nicer housing. Here, people lived free, yet restrained lives. They could get married and even procreate in certain situations, not something I had the liberty of.
The offices rarely even saw the sight of a woman, people such as them had no reason to be in a place as lowly as a high-rise. Instead, they resided here, in this pseudo-urban world of 5-6ers, and of course out in the suburbs where their every need could be attended to.
Thinking through the layout of Milston, I realized I hadn't laid eyes on a woman in nearly 4 years since graduating high school. The last had been one of my teachers, Mrs. Dalton. She certainly wasn't a natural beauty, but I remembered her like an angel. Memories of her often visited me at night as I lay alone.
There's one in particular where she leaned close over my shoulder to glance at the work I was doing. I remember that fondly, and intimately. Regardless, with any luck today would be the day out of any that I could lay my eyes on a true beauty, Queens as they are rightfully called. Queens live only in the suburbs, never setting foot in downtown as long as they live. Maybe this letter I was delivering was even for one of them. I could only hope.
The clock ticked down as shortly my legs had carried me to a suburb, "Royal Peaks." The houses within were immaculate. Some were three, even four stories, just for one person. Feeling out of place in this alien land I moved quicker towards my destiny. After only a couple of turns I had arrived at 1621 Wool Road. It was in line with the other mansions I had seen so far, fit for a Queen no doubt.
Taking deep breaths and steeling my nerves as best I could, I knocked on the door, envelope in hand.
The world was still as I waited, but only for a moment. The door swung wide to reveal a tall white man in business attire. His face was grim with purpose as he sized me up. Looking past him, I saw who must've been his wife. She put Mrs. Dalton to shame. She looked to be in her mid-30s with well-kept brunette hair resting on her shoulders. She wore a flowing blue sundress as she laid, book in hand, on a couch. My eyes continued to trace her as I'm sure the man did to me, and I couldn't help but stare in awe. She was fit, slender even, with breasts that perfected her frame. Even from the distance I was at, I could tell she was cut from another cloth as I.
"Eyes up here sissy," the man barked. I shook from my trance immediately and looked up into his eyes. His brows were furrowed as he pierced my soul. "What do you think you're doing?"
