I sit upon my skyscraper throne, surveying the kingdom I rule. If I had a name given me by my parents, I have forgotten it centuries ago; my subjects know me as King, sometimes Rat King or Godslayer. My fur is of a middling brown complexion, my flesh of a light pink-brown, and my skin covered all over in scars left by the claws and teeth of my fellow giants; I am a hundred meters tall, roughly, and need wear no cape or crown to signal my royal status.

I was not always royal; when I was a younger rat only fifty meters if even that, I came upon this city in more ways than one. I greatly delighted in watching the tiny people be inconvenienced by the slick and sticky puddles I could leave, trapping, disgusting, or otherwise inconveniencing them as they tried to go about their business; I was not a good person so early in my adult life. For months it was my favorite stomping ground, both literally and figuratively, and I was greatly amused to see one tower I'd kicked over have a new skeleton erected on my next visit.

Having a poor grasp of economics, I didn't understand why the construction workers would be unhappy; did they not appreciate that I'd made more work for them to get paid to do? More mature now, I understand that there was [i]always[/i] more work to do, and all I'd done was undone some of what they'd already done, making them do it again for no reason and in doing so waste time and materials. Never let a vandal think he is doing someone a favor!

One day I came to the city, ready to make a pun of my arrival as my young and virile body was teeming with seed and I then as now had no mate to sow it with. I was surprised to find a fellow giant, himself twice my height, wrecking the city with more fervor and I daresay more malice than I'd ever done. I watched in disgust and horror as he did not merely detour vehicles on the road and flip or vandalize unoccupied ones left parked, but actively stomped on ones trying to get away! His feet were caked in the blood and guts of people, and the smell of that made me as hungry as it did angry.

This other giant would pluck people off the ground or out of vehicles, actively separating families and couples if he could, and do various things like crush them between his fingers or chew them up (and a few things a touch too horrible for me to describe now without making my blood boil). After chewing up people, he wouldn't even swallow - he spat them onto the ground or onto other people and laughed.

I was very cross at all of this wickedness. I saw in him far too much of myself, and worse yet the kind of evil I could become if I continued to behave as I had until then. I cannot recall my parents instilling in me any concepts of virtue or fair play, nor even paying any attention to me, and yet here I was with a conscience nonetheless.

I, timidly at first but quickly growing in confidence, told the other giant he must desist from his wonton cruelty. When he laughed at me, I grew only bolder and told him that this was [i]my[/i] city and I did not appreciate the way he was ruining my toys. He responded that it was his city now, and to him I was only another small person in it for him to do with as he pleased; it took but a moment for me to interpret this as a veiled threat, and it was thus that he learned, all too late, how lethal a rat's incisors to the neck can be.

I was half his size, but after only a quick tackle and a single bite, I had ended his life with little more effort than he had snuffed out scores or hundreds that day. The people of the city didn't know what to think of it, but the main thing on my mind was that I was hungry so I ate my fill of his flesh; I understand this may sound immoral to many of you, but I was and still am as uncultured as any other giant roaming the world and swallowing up hundreds of tiny people.

I left most of him simply lying in the street, and walked out of the city as thundrously as I'd entered, but with a new outlook on life. For months continuing this, I would still inconvenience the little people in various ways since I found it amusing, but would drive off or kill any other giant who would escalate the situation to the point of lethality for the tiny townsfolk. The people found me very perplexing and the giants more so; my playfulness gradually grew less and less perilous and mean-spirited, my lethal zeal for keeping them safe from fellow monsters grew sharper as I grew larger. Not every fight was flawless, but I was never once harmed by a giant less than four times my height no matter how often I fought; were I a normally-sized anthro, likely I would be a hero slaying such giants regardless.

Many giants think themselves gods, particularly those with even the minorest of magical tricks under their belts. These, too, I slew with impunity, their flashy showmanship tending to leave them wide open for a very heavy, very direct physical assault. I do not play fair; I do not let a would-be god get out his entire monolog or give me his backstory. At the soonest opening, I end his life.

My experiences with giantesses are even worse. I am at my core still only a man, and have the urges most men do with regards to women. Some wear their evil goddess status on their sleeve, and I hesitate a little at being required to kill them while repressing my urge to breed them. This is even worse with those who are subtly evil and ply me with nice words or act good in my presence; if under the spell of a seductress I have trouble even accepting video or photo evidence of the misdeeds of a woman I desire. With these it has always been even harder to kill them, but slay them I have - every single one without fail.

Once or twice I've even had a so-called goddess raise herself from the dead; for these, it was easier to kill them the second time. Or the third. Or the fourth. Eventually after being slain by me so many times, they resign themselves to their fates in Hell...or perhaps they run out of magic and are no longer even capable of rising anymore.

Eventually I was truly accepted as guardian of this city; those who saw me as a dangerous menace in my youth having seen me spend much longer dutiously protecting them from worse monsters while gradually becoming less bad myself eventually being replaced by those who'd never known me as anything but their just but very ferocious King. The city officially christened me as such - my job duties not to be cluttered up by administrative tasks I was unequipped with, but merely with serving as a figurehead for people to rally behind, the slayer of fellow giants who threatened their safety, and a ceremonial job of executing criminals condemned to death

This last duty I try to keep a secret that I absolutely revel in. For a second I feel like a child again, able to crush or eat a person (or both) without a twinge of guilt on my conscience over it. I try not to let my enjoyment show on my face, for fear that the government might become a little lax in pursuit of capital punishment to assuage my cravings, condemning more innocents than normal (it happens from time to time even under the best judges and investigators).

I have specific preferences based on the crimes these prisoners are sentenced for. Normal murderers being crushed by my hands, feet, or tail before I lick up their remains; a swift death for one who brought death. For those who took a woman against her will, I like to swallow them whole and alive that they may suffer in my belly for a while before drowning or dissolving; I know nor care not which happens to them first. For those who do perform similar molestations on children...I give them the least-dignified death of all, and one that means their bodies do not even become a part of mine. I shove them where the sun does not shine, crushing and suffocating them in a dark hole with the bits of other criminals my body had no use for.

No sooner was I accepted as king than a throne was commissioned for me to sit on; a huge skyscraper of a building with arm-rests and a shorter building nearby to use as a footstool. It was not sturdy enough and fell apart as soon as I sat on it; another was built shortly thereafter, and I used it for a number of decades until I grew too large for it and could no longer fit myself between the arm rests. A third throne was then built, the second now being very expensive apartments as I never broke it, and this third is the very one I sit in as I recount my life's story.

Cities outside my protection do not prosper as Rat King's City does. As I prevent much destruction, engineers and scientists have much time to spend on improving infrastructure or inventing great marvels that enhance the lives of all citizens. To the bewilderment of the royal council, I have encouraged the running of a weapons program - giving the tiny folk a chance to kill giants for themselves, even if it means they may implicitly be a threat to my royal person. I do not believe I will live forever; a thousand years perhaps, maybe ten thousand, but I am under no delusion that I am immortal. I want my people to prosper even when I am not there to protect them any longer.

Foreign powers have sent propagandists to smear me and incite sedition or revolution; I retort by laughing and pointing to my public record of misdeeds. I do not hide my past, shameful as it is, and allow my actions to speak for themselves; those who do not wish to live under my protection are completely free to move elsewhere, but with those other giants roaming around who would want to? Foreign powers have likewise sent assassins, whom I have eaten to a man; occasionally becoming mildly ill if they loaded themselves with poisons as a back-up plan for doing me in. They've never found a way to fill one person with enough poison to even make me seriously ill without killing the carrier outright before I can eat him, and as I grow larger they likely never will.

After some centuries as the king, my constant tension with giantesses had brought forth the proposal from the royal council that I should take a queen from among my subjects. I accepted this reluctantly for fear that my traincar-sized manhood would surely mean death for any such queen, but I have a longing for companionship even stronger than my drive to sow my seed. Eventually I found a loving queen from among my subjects, and we were happy for a number of years; it felt strange hearing that from her youth she'd always admired me from afar, but this sort of thing was completely natural with my lifespan being so much longer than those of my subjects.

I forget how many years I kept her in my ear, let her lay on my nose and gaze into my amber eyes, or be the only person aside from myself permitted to scratch the royal ballsack...but she said she was nearing the end of her prime childbearing years, and wished to produce for me an heir. Taking the utmost care to gently hold her in one hand and myself in the other, not even letting my member touch the other hand for fear of accidentally smashing her, I sowed my seed and truly enjoyed it as something more than a chore to relieve tension for the first time since I'd ceased doing it as a prank.

My queen...lovely queen Jennifer...she did become pregnant. For about four months it seemed that all was going to go right in our kingdom, but folk as small as her cannot properly mix blood with giants as large as myself. A week into her fourth month pregnant, complications becan to arise and pile up; she had become too heavy to move on her own, as our child was half her size already. At six months, our unborn son weighing half again what his mother did, both perished; she from bodily strain, he too premature to live outside the womb. I cursed the very day I was born that this should befall my queen and our innocent son - he, perhaps, the only innocent giant in the whole world. One who, with the discipline of a proper father to guide him in the right direction, may have become a much better man than I.

I went out into the fields where I keep the impaled heads of the giants I have slain, weeping bitterly and pounding at the ground with my fists for some stretch of time I can't even guesstimate. The only thing to awaken me from this funk was the distinct high-pitched screaming of my subjects, as another giant had wandered into my city, sat on my throne, and made a lethal nuissance of himself. 

My people needed me, mourning or no, so I strutted back into the city, stood behind him, and wrung his neck until he lost life. After I decapitated him, some of my subjects were retrieved - still alive - from his stomach and orifices. With a fresh head for my fields, I set out another pole in the direction this one had come from. His mother came to avenge him a week later and for once I was not distracted by her attractiveness or taken off my guard for even a moment; I simply jumped her, bit out her neck, and then set her head on a pole next to her son's. No other members of their family came to avenge them.

My loins often still stir with that feeling analagous to hunger. I am still a man and not yet even middle-aged at seven or eight centuries old by now. I remember my queen Jennifer and how much she wanted to satisfy me, but that I absolutely could not due to her fragility. She had proposed something very pleasing to my heart, an act I'd seen other giants do upon people her size (though they recklessly and murderously, of course); I had to decline as it was too dangerous but hearing of it only makes my loins stir with another feeling [i]even more[/i] like hunger when I fondly remember my time with her.

Were I to ease up on my discipline and make a decision based on my baser urges, I would take on a harem of a thousand wives - I know the council would allow it and perhaps even encourage it. I would send all of them down my slide to live in my royal chambers, five hundred in each, and it would be the greatest endorphin and oxytocin rush my body could ever experience. But I cannot take another tiny wife even once, much less a thousand times - not when I remember how loving Jennifer was and how her body was destroyed by my sperm. 

While I do not believe it impossible, I do not believe I will ever find a giantess virtuous enough to marry; so far they are to a woman absolutely wicked cunts who are more evil than the already evil fellow men in my size range. Those that pretend otherwise to my face always show their true colors later - their blood not always being red when I spill it, but most often is.

So it is that I will continue to deny myself. I always relieve myself a long walk away from my city, for fear that some of the more impulsive women under my rule might wish to try bearing me wild oats. I never thought of this risk before my marriage, but it is altogether too ghastly to take. Every time I do this I think back on my wife and son, and I weep again.