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The midday sun shone over the Rainbow City of Caravia, a prosperous, populous and above all colorful burg off the western coast of the Trinian continent. The sunlight poured over the multicolored roofs and windows of the Grand Basilica, over the exquisitely decorated walls, towers and colonnades of the priestly districts, over the cheerful homes of the humble and over the populace itself, gladdening their hearts as they paraded down the cobblestone streets. Caravia had become a carnival: everyone danced, laughed and celebrated, for this was a great festival indeed, a festival held in honor of Milan Maobu, the beautiful, gigantic and all-powerful Goddess who in her benevolence had created Eden, the wondrous and impossible world which they called home. This was, in fact, to be the last day of the month-long celebrations - and what a time it’d been! The Caravians had prayed, feasted, composed odes and hymns, marched in procession, held masques, carnivals and orgies, and engaged in every sort of earthly delight, every sort of hedonistic pleasure, and every sort of praise and exultation, for they knew such things pleased and amused their beloved Milan.

Milan, the Great Mother, was Eden’s sole and supreme deity. She alone was worshiped by every culture and every creed across that world’s vast breadth, and she alone was loved by each and every one of the countless humans who lived upon its ten thousand continents. The Edenians were unified by their faith in Milan: she was their loving Mother, and they were her obedient, devoted and adoring children. And their faith was not some rote tradition or quaint custom, no: it was a burning, yearning zeal, a love deeper and more painful than any wound. Their devotion was so great, so grandiose and so self-sacrificial that it bordered on madness. They would have given anything for her! The humans of Eden didn’t just worship their Goddess, they didn’t just adore her: they lived for her. For them she was the apex of all which was beautiful and good. She gave meaning to their existences: she was their queen, their world, their everything.

Small wonder, then, that the Caravians had spent all their wealth in transforming their city into a living, breathing monument to Milan’s glory! They’d built new shrines and temples to honor her name, as well as parks, fountains and flower gardens to delight her senses; they’d multiplied the city’s already dazzling colors, turning it into an opaline wonder, a kaleidoscopic display of beauty; they’d hired poets, mages and musicians from all over Eden to crowd their walls with art and their air with music; and - in the greatest display of religious squandering the Trinian lands had ever seen - they’d erected a colossal bronze statue of Milan at the mouth of the Caravian harbor, a grand portrayal of her immense beauty which, straddling the waters, reminded everyone who sailed between her legs of the Goddess’ perfection, for the artists had carved every part of her divine anatomy in loving detail, from her bountiful curves to her throbbing and proudly erect cock. The Caravian Colossus now stood as the pride and joy of all Caravians, the jewel in the crown of their faith. And yet, despite all that they’d done, many thought it too little - for they believed that Milan deserved everything and more.

But why was Milan so universally beloved? Why was it that no matter where you went in Eden you’d hear her name praised by all? Well, because she was a being who by her very nature commanded adoration. She was a titaness, a giantess of truly unfathomable size, a deity whose power was beyond compare and whose beauty was beyond belief. The humans knew this to be true: not only were they taught of Milan from birth, not only did they live surrounded by odes, songs, frescoes and statues which praised her size, power and loveliness, but they also dreamed of her. They saw glimpses of her when they slept, vague impressions of her gorgeous body, errant scraps of her lustful voice. Small things, yet big enough to stoke their devotion to even greater heights. The humans, in short, knew for a fact that Milan was infinitely superior to them, as much as they themselves were superior to the bugs who crawled upon the earth. And yet, despite that overwhelming superiority, despite the fact that, were she so inclined, she could’ve erased the whole of humanity with a snap of her fingers, the Goddess was also kind, generous… and loving. She truly loved humans! She loved them so much that, in a display of stunning and sublime generosity, she had created the world of Eden for them to thrive in, an earthly paradise where there was no scarcity, sickness or strife of any kind - though it’d been so long since its creation that few Edenians still understood what those concepts meant. Here humanity could live a truly blessed existence, one of peace, joy, freedom and abundance, cared for and protected by a loving, omnipotent Goddess. What a magnificent gift she’d made for them! And all she’d asked for in return was for their worship, their love…

...and their lives.

For Milan was a kind and loving Goddess, yes, but she had a darkness to her. A cruel, lustful, sadistic and insatiable side which urged her to use Eden and its inhabitants as playthings to be crushed, eaten, killed and tormented at her leisure. And despite how kind she was, she loved to indulge these urges. And so, every now and then, she visited Eden and she unleashed her dark desires. The people of Eden told many tales of these visits, for they had all been carved indelibly upon the world’s flesh and upon humanity’s collective memory. They told of entire continents obliterated, of civilizations destroyed in perverse games, of billions of lives sacrificed to sate Milan’s selfish, monstrous lust. And yet this cruelty didn’t make them love her any less! It didn’t even mean that the humans’ faith was born out of terror or survival. It merely meant that they knew that, for all that their lives were joyous, there may come a time when their Goddess would come and claim them as sacrifices - and they hoped that, if and when that moment came, they would meet their ends as any human should: with a smile on their lips and a prayer in their hearts. For Milan was their Goddess, and as such she was above them. If she wanted to kill them all for her pleasure, who were they to complain, to resist, to flee, to beg? And why would they even do it? After all, they truly believed themselves to be her children, hers to do whatever they wished with, no matter how cruel!

So it was that many strange rites had become the norm in different parts of Eden: rites of propitiation, of bloodshed and debauchery, rites whose aim it was to feed Milan’s dark appetites, to slake her wanton lust - so that her monstrous side was sated, and her generous, benevolent and motherly side could reign in peace. One of these rites was human sacrifice - willing sacrifices, of course! And one of the places where it was practiced was none other than Caravia, the Rainbow City. The faithful Caravians had sent many of their own to meet the Goddess over the years - and today, to conclude their much-vaunted festival, they’d send another sacrifice to her side, spilling their blood and anointing the city’s colorful stones with it.

The people of Caravia poured into the city’s main square amidst much laughter and celebration, brandishing flower garlands and brightly-hued parasols. The square was far too small to hold even a fraction of the city’s 8 million inhabitants, and so they crowded the surrounding streets, clambering atop trees, balconies and roofs to get a better view. Those who couldn’t see the rite could console themselves by staring at the Caravian Colossus instead, which towered over the city even at a distance. Oh, how they loved that statue! They believed it to be as close to Milan’s true majesty as mortal hands could get, and it inspired pride, devotion and desire in equal measure… as well as envy among their neighbors, which for them was just another perk. Faith was seen as a competition by many, and Caravia was in it to win it! The crowd jostled and murmured until they heard the triple tolling of the Grand Basilica’s bells - the sun was high in the sky, the time was right and the ritual was at hand. The Caravians became quiet and expectant as the Basilica’s doors opened. A figure stepped through, a regal, crimson-clad woman whom all knew as Alma, one of the High Priestesses of Caravia - and the most popular by far. Behind her came the chosen sacrifice, clad in pure white, as well as a procession of priests and dignitaries. The priestess climbed atop a raised dais and, raising her hand, prepared to speak.

“My fellow citizens!” - she began, her powerful, magically-enhanced voice carrying all over the city. “We’ve gathered here today to offer the life of one of our own to the great Mother, Milan Maobu, in whose name we have feasted and celebrated for the last month! May her gaze be caught by this humble sacrifice, may her heart be delighted by the blood we will spill in her name, and may her generous soul bless us with everlasting joy!” Alma was a handsome woman, dark-skinned and fierce-eyed, her long black hair dyed with a stripe of opulent purple, and she effortlessly commanded the people’s attention. She spoke of faith and of sacrifice, of what Milan had given to them and what she was owed in return, and the Caravians listened in electrified, rapturous silence - for when Alma spoke, even the smallest among them pictured themself as a paladin of Milan, a champion willing to give it all for the sake of the Great Mother’s pleasure.

“The time has come!” - she said at last, drawing a curved dagger from her jeweled belt. “Oh, chosen sacrifice, step forwards and lay your head upon the stone! May your bravery be an example to us all, and may we all remember that, even though today we offer but one single life to Milan, some day she may come and claims us all as her own - and when that day comes, my friends, we must be steadfast, we must be faithful… and we must die well!”

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the sacrificial lamb stepped beside Alma. He was a young and handsome nobleman, one whose roguish grin and cheerful façade couldn’t quite disguise the fear which coursed through his body - despite the fact that he’d volunteered himself for this. He was human, after all, and humans were afraid of death, no matter how righteous the cause. But, after some encouragement from Alma, he managed to gather his spirits and knelt before the priestess, much to the crowd’s delight - for they knew he would earn himself a truly blessed place in the afterlife. Alma grinned, basking in their faith, and steeled herself in turn for her grisly work. She looked beyond the city, beyond the Colossus, beyond the coasts of the Pellian continent to the east, beyond other continents which, squashed by perspective, followed each other in blurry succession… she looked towards Eden’s horizon, farther than any human could travel in a single lifetime, letting her eyes wander over the beautiful creation which Milan had seen fit to give to humanity, and breathe deeply - feeling at peace with herself and her Goddess. Then, raising her dagger in the air, she prepared to slit the sacrifice’s throat…

…and stopped.

There was something in the sky, something which had appeared suddenly and without warning: an orb of white light, as bright as a second sun. The dagger fell from Alma’s hands, clattering on the ground. Her eyes widened, her mouth hung open, and a chill settled in her heart - for she knew what this was. No living human she knew of had ever witnessed this second sun, but every tale she’d heard and every chronicle she’d read of Milan’s visits to Eden began with its appearance. It was a herald of divinity. The crowd mumbled and milled in confusion, but soon enough they were turning, pointing and shouting, for they had seen it too - alongside every human in the Trinian continent. The second sun floated high in the sky, in full view of dozens of continents and hundreds of billions of humans, and they were all awestruck by it. Few knew what it meant, but they all suspected that, whatever it was, it had to be the Great Mother’s handiwork.

Eden fell into disarray, the cities of humanity boiling with confused zeal and fearful exhilaration. Was this a blessed sight.. or an omen of destruction? No one quite knew what to think or what to feel, but they didn’t have much time to wonder. Suddenly there was a noise, a roaring, ripping thunder, as if reality itself was being torn asunder - the second sun grew in intensity, forcing the humans to cover their eyes, and the very sky became white-hot with its glare. The earth trembled, the air shimmered, and everything was swallowed by that pale and terrible light. The humans crawled on the ground, blind and deaf, praying to Milan amidst wails and tears - many thought by then that this was the end of Eden, and so they begged her for deliverance as the light grew and grew. Soon there was nothing but burning white, trembling earth and maddening noise, and it all felt like the toppling of the pillars of creation… 

…and then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun.

Alma blinked in the sudden clarity, her sight and hearing restored. She alone among all Caravians had remained standing, a rock of faith against a maelström of light and sound. She looked to the horizon once more: the sky was blue, the second sun was gone… and in its place was something much, much bigger. A great behemoth, a gargantuan figure, a giantess as tall as the sky itself, so huge that she seemed to stand on the very horizon. When she saw her, Alma dropped to her knees, her mind blank, her body limp, and soon enough she was joined by everyone else. A trillion souls beheld the titaness, and they all knelt as one, for they all knew perfectly well who it was. She was the main character of their litanies, their paintings, their statues, their tales, their dreams. She’d been their mother and guide since birth, their constant companion, their counsel in sorrow, their lantern of joy, the star of every lurid fantasy, of every hallowed dream, of every nightmare of destruction. 

She was the Goddess, the Great Mother, Milan Maobu in the flesh… and she’d come to visit.

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Milan towered over the world, inescapably vast, looking down at it with a gentle yet mischievous smile. The Edenians looked up at her in turn, craning their necks until they were sore, completely and utterly astonished. How else could they look upon the Goddess herself, the one whom each and every one of them had worshiped from birth? Many thought her a mirage at first, an illusion born of feverish imagination or collective hysteria - but no, she was real. Their brains might have tried to deny it, if only to hold on to what little they knew about the workings of the world - but their bodies, flush with sudden desire, couldn't be fooled. She was real, she was here, and she was even bigger and more beautiful than the stories had told, even greater than most imaginative of them would have dared to dream. She was… heavenly. Divine and overwhelming, so enormous that she completely filled the humans’ struggling minds, leaving space for nothing else. Only now, seeing her for the first time, did they truly understand just how perfect she was - and just how small and insignificant they themselves were.

The Goddess was beyond words, beyond terms like “gigantic”, “colossal” or “gargantuan”. She was planetary in size, and the Edenians completely lacked the means to measure her or to even comprehend her as a whole. The sacred texts told of her size, they used feeble numbers and figures to try and encompass her gargantuan scale: 10 thousand miles, 3400 leagues, 1350 yojana, 50 thousand kapi… but it was pointless, meaningless. Mankind had no frame of reference for her - she simply dwarfed everything. She dwarfed the sky, the lands, the very world she had created. The boundless oceans seemed like puddles next to her immensity, the continents naught but shapeless stains of green and brown. The forests were moss to her, the mountains gravel, and the clouds mere scraps of cotton. The great nations of mankind seemed like buttons, their cities like delicate jewels, small as pinheads… and the humans themselves? They were nothing. Less than nothing. To her, humans were even smaller than the smallest of bacteria - so small that, were it not for her divine sight, they would’ve been completely invisible to her!

The entire continent of Ruzzio had been erased under Milan’s feet when she’d appeared, 3 and a half billion souls gone in a second. But the world hadn’t even noticed, as the Goddess commanded all attention. Ruzzio’s neighboring lands, broken and terrified, couldn’t even see the Goddess’ entire body, no matter how much their inhabitants strained themselves: they tried and failed to look past her ankles, or her knees, or her ballsack, or to catch a glimpse of her face through her enormous cleavage. Caravia, however, had a privileged view, and so its citizens beheld the Great Mother in all her majesty. Had they been able to think straight, they may have noticed how even her pinky toes rose five times the height of the thin, white thread of clouds which coalesced above the horizon, and ten times the height of Mt. Gálvez, the tallest mountain in the whole of Eden. They may have noticed the way her soles sunk into the rock as if it was wet clay, molding and reshaping it with her weight, raising new chains of jagged mountains which now ridged her lovely feet, or the way burning cracks and canyons were spreading all around her in a sort of volcanic spiderweb. They may have noticed the way everything below her knees seemed distant and hazy, and everything above them as clear as the moon at night - for that part of her body went past Eden’s atmosphere, into the aetheric heights which no airship had ever managed to explore. They could have measured, triangulated and compared, noticing how her nipples were thrice as wide as Caravia itself, her breasts the size of moons and her thighs big enough to crush continents under their girth. They could’ve noticed all that, but they didn’t. They were just too stunned… and too enraptured by her beauty.

Because that was the second most striking thing about her, of course: Milan was simply ravishing. Hers was a mature, sensuous and excessive beauty, one which sent the humans’ heart aflutter and put their libidos through the roof. She looked very much like a human woman, though an exceedingly strong and beautiful one: tall, broad, muscular, plump and extremely curvy. Her skin was light, creamy and marvelously smooth, dotted by galaxies of freckles; her hair was long, black and silky, sprinkled about with a few pale strands and tied up in a ponytail; and her gray, heavy-lidded eyes flecked with gold and purple. Her eyebrows were thick and sharp, her lashes long and winged, and her lips pouty and luscious. She had beautiful features, round and somewhat chubby, with charming smile lines and a sort of feline grace - in fact, the only outward mark of her inhumanity were her ears, long and pointed like those of a cat.

Her body, meanwhile, was just as stunning. She had arrived in full, naked glory, proudly displaying it for all to see, and the humans simply couldn’t get enough of it - they were enthralled by her curves, her lines and her unashamed, wondrous womanhood, their animal minds short-circuiting with unmitigated lust. To start with, her tits were enormous, each twice as large as her head, massive and heaving - they rose and fell as she breathed, sagging under their own weight, her areolas bumpy and her nipples hard in the cold of the aetheric reaches. Her pear-shaped waist was soft and inviting, made even prettier by two adorable love-handles; and her limbs were thick and muscular, her milky thighs being specially beefy: as wide as tree trunks, as soft as velvet, and strong enough to crack a planet in two. Her hands and feet, in contrast, were petite and elegant, her long and manicured nails painted an eye-catching blue. Her hips were almost twice as broad as her shoulders, and her ass was straight-up breathtaking, a huge and perfect apple of sheer sexuality, as enticing as the proverbial fruit of sin. Last but not least was her meaty, throbbing cock, a thick rod of power which reached down to her mid-thighs, and whose earth-shattering might was apparent even at half chub. This massive member was but another sign of her divine nature, for who else but Milan could have packed such an impressive schlong in such an undeniably feminine way? 

The Goddess was horny as hell - that much was clear to the humans, not just by growing erection or her already rock-hard nipples, but by the sounds she made. She was both landscape and soundscape, and she greedily demanded the Edenians’ every sense. Her breathing, deep and heavy, was like the bellows of divinity - with every breath she exhaled great storm clouds as if they were smoke from a cigarette, clouds which, crackling with lightning, made her seem like some sort of cosmic dragon. Her heartbeat, quick and fluttery, was like a drum from the depths of the earth, rippling outwards from her body. Eden groaned and cracked under her feet, tortured, struggling and failing to hold up her unfathomable weight - every second more fissures opened and more mountains rose around her, just as her arousal caused goosebumps to appear on her arms, thighs and areolas. She exuded desire, and the humans returned it in full: a trillion cocks stood at attention, a trillion pussies welled with honey. Hers was a beauty which went beyond any thought of preference or sexuality: everyone agreed that she was hot as hell.

Lust wasn’t the only thing the humans felt, though. There was joy, for the Goddess had finally blessed them with her presence, and nervous euphoria, for some still couldn’t quite believe their luck. There was religious ecstasy of every kind, there was thoughtless praise and wordless prayer, there were daydreams, some pious, others featuring every obscene act in mortal imagination… and there was fear, growing and stifling, for many had begun to realize they were about to die.

Alma noticed fear spreading through her congregation  - Milan hadn’t even moved, and already there were hundreds of Caravians debasing themselves, begging and crying for mercy. Others ran around like headless chickens, or futilely tried to hide from her gaze. Alma was scandalized - where was their faith? Were they trying to escape their blessed deaths? Why even try, when Milan’s soles were each as large as an empire? But even she found it hard not to be scared when the Goddess finally moved. First she moaned, a heart-stopping sound which, were she not a deity, would have taken hours to reach Caravia. But a deity she was, and she wished otherwise, and so her moan reached the Caravians’ mortal ears in little more than a minute. They saw it coming, a great wave of sound which, like a sandstorm, shook everything as it passed… and it hit the city like an explosion: walls shook, windows shattered, tiles fell from roofs, and the people fell to the ground in pained, deafened shock. All from a simple moan… a sound so loaded with lust that, even in pain, many Caravians tried to jerk off to it.

Then the Goddess bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, her expression one of complete and utter superiority, of love, tenderness and arrogance in equal parts. I own you - it seemed to say - and you are mine to do whatever I want with.

And then Milan spoke at last. Her lips moved in silence, and the humans knew to brace for the incoming sound. Nothing, however, could have prepared them for the power of her voice. It was a roar of destruction, deep and unintelligible yet undeniably beautiful, a song of Armageddon. Caravia was lucky, as it lay more than 30 thousand miles away from the Goddess - those cities closer to her bore the full brunt of her voice. It tore through them, tearing them apart, toppling walls and towers indiscriminately, and tossing the people around like ragdolls. Some bled and writhed from internal wounds, the vibrations beating on them like a thousand fists, others died, unable to withstand it… but all those who survived heard the Goddess as clearly as if she’d spoken into their minds, for she was undeniable - no deafened ear would be spared from her voice. They heard her as she truly sounded, her voice husky, soft and kind, dripping with desire, seductive by its very nature.

“Hello, little ones! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” - she said, her tone breathy, horny and casual, tinged both with love and with incipient cruelty. “How have y'all been? Have you been good little children? I hope you have, and I hope you have lived your lives to the fullest… because now it’s mommy’s time to have fun~”

Alma had at some point fallen to the ground. She bit her arm, trying both to quell the flame of her desire and to escape from the grasp of terror, and looked into the Great Mother’s face as she spoke, tears of fear and happiness streaming down her face, marveling at the cruel mundanity of her voice, at the way it made it clear she didn’t care one bit about how many people she killed, even by speaking… and marveling at herself, too, for she knew this had only increased love she felt for the Goddess. The priestess had learned a new fact of existence: everyone was a sub for Milan, herself included. 

“My daughters are out, my wife’s at work, and I’ve got the whole evening to myself” - continued the titaness, laying one hand on her massive hips and idly caressing her cock with the other, now almost fully erect. “So we’ll have plenty of time to play. Just remember, though… I play rough~” Then she giggled, a childish laugh that made every human’s heart aflutter with its sheer allure. “Alright, enough chit-chat. I’m gonna start walking now, little ones, so… yeah. Prepare to be squished!~”

And without further ado, the Goddess took her first step upon the world.

---

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Milan moved - and to see a planet-sized giantess in motion was to see a walking apocalypse. She lifted her left foot, the remnants of Ruzzio raining from her sole, and she moved it forwards. Her muscles tensed and flowed under her skin like tectonic plates as she did so, the monolithic mass of her leg leaving a trail of heated steam as it traveled through the air - while her other foot sank even deeper into the ground, the world’s crust shattering and its mantle warping as it struggled to support her full weight. Her movements were as slow as molasses, as if time itself struggled to keep up with her great size - but it was soon clear that she was taking a step.

In front of her lay the continent of Heskar, already battered by her arrival. Milan looked down at it and smiled, letting her eyes wander over all its intricate detail, over all the wonders of humanity which would soon be erased. The shadow of her foot covered the land in darkness, and its inhabitants tethered on the brink of terrified insanity… and then, something very odd happened. There was acceptance. A pall of serenity fell upon the Heskarites. Death was coming, yes, but it was coming at the hands (well, the foot) of their beloved Goddess. Wasn’t her foot beautiful? Weren’t her toes cute? Weren’t they blessed to feel the velvety texture of her pedicured skin, to know the hills and valleys of her perfect, sacred footscape?

Wasn’t this a good fate?

As the shadow’s grew deeper and Milan’s foot came closer, the Heskarites accepted their fate. Few kept on running or panicking - there was no point to it. Instead, they waited. Some prayed to her, whether to thank her for the life they’d had or to beg her for a privileged place in the afterlife. Others simply enjoyed themselves, delighting their eyes on the beauty of her foot, of her calf, of the back of her thigh - and of the massive member which hung above. Some took one last chance to jerk off - stroking and fingering themselves desperately as her foot lowered, as it came to cover the entirety of the sky, as her shadow grew darker, as the pungent yet sweet smell of her sweat replaced their atmosphere, becoming all they could breathe… soon enough they heard a terrible roar of displaced air. The ground began to tremble, and everything seemed to turn upside-down. Terror bore upon the Heskarites again, but most remained stalwart despite their fear, facing their deaths with tears in their eyes and zeal in their hearts. The air grew warmer and warmer, the land turning into a stinking, sweltering jungle, and Heskar quaked in anticipation as her sole neared the peaks of the tallest mountains, the city lights shining on its velvety surface…

And then she let her foot rest upon the continent. She didn’t stomp, she didn’t even step forcefully - hers was a gentle, careful and loving step, for despite the death she brought she was still the tender Mother of humanity. Her foot fell upon Heskar, obliterating it alongside a few dozen island nations. 5 billion people were killed in the blink of an eye, their bodies liquifying alongside their cities, the entire landmass compressed under Milan’s mass, pushed deep into the earth, mixing with magma and ground-up world-crust into a diamond-hard substance.

The whole step had taken the Goddess an entire minute - such was the slowness of her movements - but it’d felt like an eternity to the humans. And it wasn’t over - now Heskar’s neighbors would feel it too. First came the sound, racing before the shockwave…

*BOOOMM*

It deafened, it shattered, it killed - and the worst was yet to come.  Then came two successive waves: one of air, a voracious wall of force which carved the ground like a threshing blade, then one of rock and soil, burying and crushing everything in its path - for Milan’s weight had caused the very ground to ripple like a puddle; and finally there came the earthquakes. And they were truly dreadful! The ground didn’t just shake: it wobbled like pudding, tearing itself into fragments, leaving nothing in place. The wave of death spread outwards, killing a billion humans more - Milan giggled at the realization, wiggling her toes and causing yet another chain of earthquakes.

That had been one single step.

And then her weight settled, her muscles tensed, and she took another one.

*BOOOOMM*

The land of Goromeia was gone, crushed under her right foot.

*BOOOOMMM!*

So too was the southern side of Jiramar, as well as the Lornian archipelago - crushed under her left.

The world fell into terror and disarray - for not everyone was as philosophical when it came to their own deaths as the Heskarites had been. Milan had killed more than 16 billion people with just these three steps, leaving nothing of their proud civilizations, of their lore, their art, their memory - nothing but some smudges on her skin and a few magma-bottomed, mountain-ridged footprints. The Caravians knew she was coming towards them. They knew they were most likely about to die. Their proud Rainbow City with all its colors, all its history, all its wealth and beauty - it too would become nothing more than a stain on Milan’s divine soles. What could they do? What could anyone do but despair? And so they would’ve done… were it not for Alma.

“Have courage!” - yelled the priestess, magnifying her voice as much as her magical arts allowed it. “Don’t despair! We knew this day would come! Stand fast, my friends, and look upon our Goddess! She has come in all her beauty and power to carry us all to the most blessed of afterlives. She’s offered us the sight of her divine form, the touch of her divine flesh. She’s offered us the chance to inflame her heart and loins with passion… and you would reject her? You would act like cowardly rats in the face of true glory?” There was another, even more deafening crunch as Milan pulped the land of the Five Kingdoms under her right heel…

*BROOOOOMMM!!*

…and Alma, holding on for dear life, continued. “Behold the Great Mother!” - she screamed. “She loves us even as she kills us, for every death she causes is for her an iota of pleasure, a tiny fragment of delight! This is why she loves us! We are like dust to her, like germs, like atoms - and yet each and everyone of us is also her dearest child, her most cherished toy! Look upon her and smile, my friends, for this will truly be a glorious death! And as we await our ends, let us relish our Mother’s beauty, her grace, her majesty! Let us enjoy her to the last, for these will be the last and greatest moments of our lives!”

Alma’s words steeled the people's resolve. They were terrified, yes - but what was the point of fearing the end if there was absolutely nothing you could do about it?

Especially if the end came in the form of such lovely feet…

*BBROOOOOOMMM!!!*

As the Empire of Crystal was annihilated under Milan’s right sole, the Caravians slowly regained their courage and, following Alma’s lead, looked to their deity, feasting their eyes on her titanic body. The Goddess in motion was an even sexier sight than she’d been while standing still. She knew how to walk - with a flirty sway of her hips, one supple foot in front of the other, her breasts bouncing in rhythmic delight, her hard cock swaying, shaking and jumping in lust. Every step caused her tits, ass, belly and thighs to jiggle in the most delicious way, great waves of fat coursing under her skin and completely enrapturing those who watched. The shine of her eyes and the mischievous, vaguely sadistic turn of her smile made it clear she was enjoying this - and that she wanted everyone else to do so too… for as long as they lived.

*BBRROOOOOOOMMMM!!!*

Now it was the turn of Kariham and its 300 duchies, smushed like nothing under Milan’s left tread. How many steps separated her now from Caravia? How many minutes did they have left to worship her? It was harder to see her face now, her gigantic tits getting in the way, the perspective elongating her legs and squishing her upper body. But the closer she got, the more her divine beauty enthralled them. The closer death came, the more they fell in love with her. A good portion of Caravia’s population was by now masturbating in full view of their fellows, overwhelmed by desire. Now at last the fables were laid bare, now at last they came to know their Goddess as she truly was: both mother and monster, careless in her power, shameless in her lust, gorgeous and magnificent, selfish and hedonistic, and full of murderous, obsessive love for them. For humans! It was as Alma said: her every step was an act of love, as tender and devoted as that of a blushing maiden. She loved all the millions she killed, all the cities she destroyed, all the lands she crushed, and the beauty and knowledge she erased… she genuinely and whole-heartedly loved all of humanity.

Did she love Caravia too?

*BBRRROOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!*

Harga of the Great Bridge was gone. So were the Silver Land of Leonor and the Islands of Alchemy, blown away by the shockwave… two steps remained, three at most. The Goddess now gazed down at the Pellian continent with that same smile, that same mixture of tenderness, smugness and callousness, that same look of total ownership. Pellias was the land from which Caravia had imported the magically-infused bronze needed to build their Colossus. Now the once-great statue tethered on the edge of collapse, struck time and time again by merciless earthquakes. When Milan took another lazy step with her left foot, exterminating Pellias, the force of its impact tore through Caravia…

*BBBRRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!*

…and the Colossus finally toppled into the sea. “Good riddance” - Alma thought, her teeth chattering and her body hurting from the shock. She’d loved that statue as much as any other Caravian - but it was a child’s scribbling next to Milan’s true grandeur. How could they have been so vain as to believe they could possibly portray even a fraction of her beauty? The priestess laughed, looking up past the Great Mother’s towering toes, past her ankles, her muscular calves, her heavenly thighs… she looked at her womanhood, a symbol of the lust which drove her, as straight as a spear, as powerful as a sword, her glans glistening with precum, and, closing her eyes, she muttered a thank you to Milan and prepared for the end…

But the end did not come.

---

---

*BBBRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!!...BBBRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!!*

Instead of crushing the heart of the Trinian continent, Milan lifted her right foot and stepped a few hundred miles to the south of it, crushing instead the seafaring republic of Sollozzo. Then she moved her left foot to the northwest, destroying a gathering of flying cities in the process - they burst like sparks against the side of her ankle, leaving naught behind but a few stains which burned with magical fire. And then the Goddess knelt before the continent. She knelt, crouching low and laying her hands on the ground, then gracefully and carefully bending her legs and lowering her body, her thighs rippling with strength, her knees crashing into the boundless ocean with cataclysmic force, evaporating a great portion of it by dint of sheer pressure and cracking the ocean floor like dry mud...

*BRRROOOORRRRRORROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!*

The whole process took her around two minutes - she was clearly being extra careful. Then, after finally resting her massive butt on the back of her calves, Milan settled down. Looking down at the Trinian continent, she quickly realized her kneeling had caused a massive tsunami of earth and mud to race towards Caravia, much to its inhabitants’ despair. It’d take quite a while to arrive… but, with a small gesture, the titaness dissipated it. She’d found a new plaything, after all, and she didn’t want a mere geological disaster to spoil her fun. Then she smiled, letting her eyes wander over the continent’s western coasts - and the Caravians, shivering in fear, gasping in devotion, knew by some strange intuition that Milan was looking for them.

Alma moved as if in a dream. Was this really happening? The Goddess had spared them. She had knelt for them. Had they finally earned her attention? Summoning all her courage, the priestess lifted her gaze once more, looking past Milan’s underboob, past her collarbone, her graceful neck, her sensuous lips, her adorable snub-nose, until she finally met her gray, heavy-lidded eyes. To look into those eyes was to look in the face of such love that a mere human like her would never be able to understand it. It was a Goddess’ love, the kind which burned so fiercely that it harmed everything that it touched. A controlling, consuming and selfish kind of love. That was the love Milan felt for humanity, for Caravia… for Alma.

The Goddess smiled as she met Alma’s eyes, for she’d found what she was looking for - and Alma, trembling uncontrollably, tried desperately not to faint from the shock. Many Caravians had died by then, crushed by falling rubble, shredded by powerful shockwaves, but all those who remained were deafened and delighted at once when the titaness spoke once more… to them. 

“Hiya~” - she whispered, her low voice sending shivers of pleasure down the Caravians’ spines. “Is this that city I’ve heard so much about? It certainly looks like it, what with all these pretty colors. Though I can’t see the famous statue… did I break it already? Oh, no matter. You guys are having a little celebration in my honor, right? Well, I love parties, so I thought I could join in, have some fun with you…” She moaned in between phrases, caressing her breasts and squeezing her ballsack, her mind full of love and carnage. Her pupils shrunk to catlike slits as she examined Caravia, and her smile grew even more, becoming predatory.

“How should we start? Shall I sit on you, my children?” Her breathing was heavy, her massive cock pulsated with barely contained lewdness. “No…that’d be too fast. How about I drown you in my cum? You’d get to see me jerking off, and then you’d get to taste my seed, to feel it writhing inside you, to feel its heat boiling your little bodies… wouldn’t that be wonderful?~”

Terrible visions filled the Caravians’ minds. Terrible… and beautiful. Each new end seemed more fitting than the last. Milan had awakened within them the ultimate form of submissiveness: now at last they realized that they wanted this. They wanted her to kill them, and that realization both horrified and aroused them to no end.

“What if I… hng… what if I lick you up? I bet you’ve been serving some good grub at your little festival, and I’ve always loved fried food~” - continued Milan, teasing them, taunting them, seducing them. Without even thinking about it, thousands of Caravians began to cheer for her, then tens of thousands, then hundreds, until all of Caravia’s 7 million surviving citizens found themselves cheering for their own doom. The Great Mother’s eyes sparked with excitement, and her cock throbbed even harder - she liked this.

“Oh? Big fans of my mouth, are you?~” - she said, giggling. “Well, what if I were to… kiss your little city? You’ve worked so hard, children… I think you deserve a few kisses.” Pursing her lips, Milan blew a kiss to Caravia, causing many of its citizens to practically die from excitement. “Or what if… what if I were to eat you all alive?” A terrible cruelty had suffused her voice - it was the voice of a demoness, thirsting for suffering. “What if I left you to melt inside my stomach? Could you withstand that suffering, my faithful little toys? Could you keep loving me even as you die in such terrible pain?”

The cheering died down for a moment as the Caravians grasped what terrible tortures the Goddess had in store for them… but it picked up again, the crowds whipped up by Alma’s screaming: “Keep going! Keep cheering! Whatever she desires for us, she’ll get! She is the Goddess, the Great Mother, creator and destroyer of everything under the stars - and we are *hers*!” Milan’s divine ears easily picked up the priestess’ voice, and her divine eyes swiftly found her among the city’s 7 million surviving inhabitants. Her smile became warm and tender, for there was nothing she loved more than when a human proved to be particularly heroic, devoted or self-sacrificial. Those were the kinds of humans she most loved to kill.

“My, my, what do we have here… what’s your name, little priestess?~”

There was silence as a stunned Alma tried to answer, sweat pouring down her brow. “A… Alma, m-my G-goddess” - she managed at last.

Milan bit her lower lip again. So brave, so pretty… she wanted to toy with her, to make love to her, to torture her to death in the most delightful and pleasurable of ways - her and her whole city. She wanted it more than anything! She caressed her cock, using her thumb to play with her glans, and she brushed her cheeks with the other, noticing a slight warmth spreading over them. The humans had made her blush! They truly had her going, hadn’t they?

“Alma… what a pretty name. Tell me, Alma: what if I were to take your little city and shove it up my butt? What if I left you all to stew inside me, to choke and die deep within my rectum? Would you like that, little one? Would you be even be able to endure it?~”

Milan’s face was alight with sadistic pleasure. Alma’s courage hung from a thread… but, despite it all, she forced herself to answer. “Y-yes, my Goddess” - she said, swallowing her dread. “Any torture, no matter how vile, is worth it if it will cause you pleasure!”

The Great Mother moaned again, a deafening sound which practically drove the Caravians mad with lust, Goddess and mortal alike adrift in a sea of incestuous, religious depravity, losing themselves to the most perverted of pleasures. “Oh, you faithful little cuties. You make me so, so hard…” - she said, moaning again. “Well, no matter what I choose, I’ll make sure to take my time with you lot. It’s the least you deserve for being such obedient and dedicated children…”

And then something happened which neither Milan nor the humans had expected. A terrible, high-pitched sound cut through the air, a tinny, awful piece of repetitive music magnified a thousandfold.

*TI-TIIIIII-RI-RIIIIIIIIII-RI-RAAAAA!!! TI-TIIIIII-RI-RIIIIIIIIII-RI-RI-RI-RAAAAAAA!!!*

The Caravians screamed, clutching their ears and praying to their Goddess as this infernal racket unleashed new suffering on their poor and delicate human ears. Milan, however, merely looked annoyed. With a flourish, she summoned a rounded, rectangular prism of clear material onto her hand, stopping the racket with the press of a button. Then, as the dumbfounded Caravians wiped the blood from their ears and tried to regain their bearings, she lifted the prism to the side of her head and spoke.

“Hi, Jennie! How’s the birthday go- hold on, honey, slow down! What’s the problem?” Her voice had changed completely: now it was kind and motherly, perhaps a bit chiding, bereft of any hint of lust. “Aright… alright… so you left your present at home, is that it? Well, uh… listen, dear… mommy is kind of in the middle of something, here… couldn’t you just give her the present another day? We could organize another party, and… aw, c’mon, honey, don’t get like that! I don’t see why… okay, okay, don’t get your ears in a twist. Mommy will fix it, alright? I’ll bring you the present… yeah, it’s no big deal. I’ll go right now.” Milan was clearly frustrated, even if she tried not to show it through her voice. The humans, meanwhile, had no idea to whom she was talking to through that strange device, or what they were talking about - though it was doubtlessly some matter of great cosmic significance if the Great Mother was willing to put her pleasure aside for it. “It’s in Obscurus Zeta, right? Yeah, in the Gamma cluster! I know it like the back of my hand. You just sit tight and wait for me, alright, honey? Oh, and save some cake for me! Okay, I’m off. Love you! See you soon!”

And then, after pressing on the prism again, Milan sighed and looked back at the city of Caravia, that little bit of life and beauty, smaller even than the width of her foreskin, which she’d been so eager to destroy…

“I’m sorry, little ones” - she said, sounding truly contrite. “Something came up. I really, really wanted to have fun with you… but the mood’s kinda shot now, isn’t it?” Her cock had started to droop and soften, and her breathing had calmed down - her whole vibe was different now, much softer and kinder than before. “I’m tempted to just squish you all before I go… but you don’t deserve that. You’ve worked so hard to honor me! It just wouldn’t be fair to kill you like any other human.” Then she smiled again. “But listen here: I’ll come back in a bit - say… fifty of your human years, and then I’ll kill you all, alright? And I hope your city looks even lovelier and more colorful when I return - make it a pleasure to destroy! What do you say? Do we have a deal?” 

Then she blew another kiss to Caravia. And the Caravians, realizing they’d been spared, erupted into even more enthusiastic cheers, chanting the name of their Goddess as if they were football fans. Alma was at the head of it all, conducting the choir of praise with a beaming smile. Milan had complimented her! She’d teased her! She was so, so happy that she felt as if she was about to fly. “Don’t worry, oh great Milan!” - she yelled. “We’ll do as you ask! We’ll turn Caravia into the greatest, most beautiful city Eden has ever seen, one truly worthy of your divine body! And we’ll fill it with people, too, millions of us, enough for you to truly feel the caress of our tiny bodies!”

”Cuties~” - laughed Milan, her womanhood giving one last parting throb. “You’re gonna make me regret not killing you, heh… alright, I’m gonna get up now! Watch out for the quakes, little ones - and you, Alma, get away from that temple. It looks ready to come down!” 

Then she laid her hands on the ground once more and, groaning, began to get up. Her movements were as slow as usual, and the earth shook terribly as Eden’s mantle reshaped itself under Milan’s feet. Alma was too stunned to follow her Goddess’ instructions, but she felt a hand guiding her away from the crumbling Grand Basilica, a hand which belonged to none other than the man whom she had almost sacrificed, bloodied but alive - and grinning madly, for who would've expected him of all people to still be kicking? The priestess let herself be carried away - and good thing too, since when the Goddess planted her soles back on the ground their impact finally caused the poor, maimed Basilica to finally collapse, crushing all those who had been too slow to escape under a mountain of multicolored rubble.

After getting back to her feet, Milan winked at the city and, smiling flirtatiously, turned around and gave them a first rate view of that which they’d been unable to see thus far: her enormous, perfect ass. A sigh of longing spread over Caravia as the Goddess rubbed her asscheeks, making them wobble like jelly and then, in a fit of sudden horniness, slapped it - softly, as she didn’t want to destroy Caravia with the shockwave, but hard enough to still kill some of the punier Caravians with the sound. Then, giggling one last time, she walked away from the Trinian continent, shaking her booty with purpose, her hips swinging and her cheeks jiggling like no tomorrow. 

*BROOOOOOOMMMMMM… BROOOOOMMMM… BOOOMMM…* 

Thus did Milan Maobu make her way back to where she'd arrived, crushing many more continents and killing hundreds of billions more - but the Caravians no longer cared, and to be fair neither did most of the survivors: they had all fallen under her spell. Once she got there, she turned and waved goodbye to the world. “Bye-bye, little ones! This was brief but fun. See you!” And then, in a flash blinding white, she vanished, leaving the survivors to try and deal with what they’d gone through. In her short stroll through Eden, the Great Mother had crushed no less than 10 continents and destroyed a myriad more with quake and wave, alongside many hundreds of smaller islands. She had exterminated more than 20 different civilizations and killed almost a trillion humans - a trillion souls, young and old, faithful and doubtful, willing and unwilling, brave and scared, a trillion hopes and dreams, all turned to paste under the selfish gait of a beautiful titaness…

But she had spared Caravia!

Alma looked around her all-but-devastated home. The Rainbow City was in an awful state: one out of every three buildings had been destroyed, and one out of every five citizens killed. The opalescent border walls had collapsed, and so had the Grand Basilica and most of the fine palaces. The harbor was choked by the Colossus’ bronze wreckage, and the countryside furrowed by cracks and canyons, some deep enough that magma could be seen at the bottom… but they were alive. The city’s flame was alive - no, it burned brighter than ever, for the Caravians had known the Goddess’ love and lived to tell the tale.

“Alright, everyone, gather up!” - yelled the priestess, now the city’s ruler in all but name. “You folks, go and bring as much food as you can from the warehouses! You three, form a party and tend to the wounded! And you, take a group and clear away the corpses! Hurry up, people, we have much to do - and only fifty years to do it!

---

---

The astute reader may have figured out by now that Milan wasn’t actually a Goddess - at least not in the mythological sense. Despite what the humans of Eden believed, she hadn’t been spawned out of primordial chaos at the beginning of all time, nor had she then separated light and dark or built the foundations of existence out of coalesced thought. She didn’t rule over Eden from a heavenly throne, she didn’t send invisible messengers to collect the humans’ prayers, and she wasn’t the custodian of some sort of blessed afterlife - in fact, she didn’t have the faintest idea where human souls went after death… if they even went anywhere! She didn’t have spheres of divine power or influence, nor did she have any ontological compulsion either to care for humanity or to destroy it. She was, in short, completely mundane - as much as an impossibly huge, unimaginably powerful and indescribably gorgeous titaness could be. She wasn’t a Goddess, even though she loved being treated as one - she was a Thalmian.

The Thalmians were a race of gigantic and beautiful spacefaring aliens who’d come to dominate most of the known universe. To call them “powerful” would’ve been an understatement: not only were they each big enough to conquer a planet single-handedly, but they had both a dazzling array of psionic powers and some of the most advanced technology ever developed by mortal hands. They were truly godlike, and as such it was no surprise that many "lesser" species worshiped them as such, paying them tribute and submitting to their will. The Thalmians welcomed this worship: they were an arrogant and imperious race, one which thirsted for dominance and delighted in lording their power over others. They relished their own might - and few Thalmians were as mighty as Milan Maobu! She stood tall even among her peers, her strength inspiring respect, fear and envy in equal measure. In her youth she’d been an explorer, charting the reaches of the cosmos in behalf of the Thalmian Hegemony, meeting new alien races and doing with them as she willed - but those times were far behind her. Now she was a domestic woman, a happily married, middle-aged mother of two who lived with her family in a cozy Dyson sphere down the southern parts of the Arcturus supercluster - the galactic equivalent to the suburbs.

The Hegemony had come many times to Milan’s doorstep, begging her to rejoin their ranks as an elite soldier. With her on their side, they said, they would’ve surely conquered the rest of the cosmos by now! But Milan wasn’t interested in universal conquest any more: she was a family woman, one who cared above all else for her wife Diane and for Reb and Jen, her two lovely daughters. They were the light of her life, filling her every waking hour with warmth. There was no way she’d leave them behind, not even for a single cycle  - and no amount of bribery. cajoling or promises of glory would’ve convinced her to change her mind. So she remained at her peaceful home, living in peace and happiness among a community of like-minded Thalmians.

But still… sometimes she got bored. And it was for that reason she had created her very own playground inside a pocket dimension: a world of her own, a paradise full of humans where she could roleplay as a Goddess of lust and destruction, unleashing her worst urges upon its tiny, devoted populace. Becoming a wife and a mother hadn’t taken the debauched, domineering bloodlust out of Milan, oh no - if anything, it'd made it even stronger!

Why humans, though? Well, Milan simply adored them. Humanity was widely considered to be the smallest and weakest of all sentient species in the universe yet also, paradoxically, the ones who were most similar to the Thalmians in both mind and body - little separated the weakest and strongest species in the universe save for an unfair distribution of size and power. Most Thalmians didn’t much care for them, perhaps thinking them an uncomfortable reflection of what they could have been… or what they should have been. Milan, however, was obsessed with them. She thought them the cutest thing in the whole universe, the bravest, prettiest and most entertaining beings to ever exist. She truly loved to play with them… even if, like all Thalmians, she always ended up breaking her toys.

She’d first come across humankind during her earlier years as a cosmic explorer, at the tender age of 22 cycles (equivalent to a few human centuries). The first human world she’d come across hadn’t been the best of introductions: it was a lonesome moon orbiting a nameless gas giant, a misshapen, windswept bit of rock, barely bigger than one of her tits, bereft of trees, shade, beauty, or anything which could have made life worth living. A few hundred thousand humans clung to its surface, the descendants of an ancient colony-ship whose remnants dotted the moon’s surface. They were a ragged and brutish lot, barely getting by on recycled water and desert roots, constantly fighting each other for control over their home’s few natural resources. Such sorry sights would have inspired nothing but pity or revulsion among any other Thalmian… but for Milan it’d been love at first sight. These were the smallest thinking creatures she’d ever seen, and yet they were so colorful and varied, so bold and determined despite their insignificance! They were smaller than bacteria… and yet they persevered, showing such resilience and such strength of will and it would’ve put many of her fellow Thalmians to shame. She wanted them for herself: to protect them, to love them… to hurt them.

Needless to say, the humans had started worshiping Milan as a Goddess as soon as they’d seen her - though it’d taken them a while to even comprehend such an enormous being. This first experience had awakened a lifelong fetish in Milan - when those first human praises had reached her ears, she’d become harder and hornier than she’d ever been before. Her arousal would only increase once she decided to “take care” of her tiny worshipers, dividing them into two camps: the innocents and the warmongers. Playing the righteous Goddess, Milan had taken the innocents into her own ship, quickly fixing up a homemade world for them, one with every comfort and every pleasure she could think of. Then she’d set out to punish the warmongers, those who in her opinion had done nothing but make life on that moon even worse for everyone else. She’d carefully taken the moon in her hands… and, moaning, mashed it against her bulge, grinding it into paste against her powerful, throbbing womanhood. Oh, how she’s enjoyed that massacre! That first meeting with humanity had caused her to figure out two things about herself: that she loved humans… and that she loved to kill them. She wanted to care for them, to allow them to live the best lives they possibly could… up until the moment her selfish lust drove her to slaughter them all.

Milan had spent the rest of her 20’s traipsing from galaxy to galaxy, sometimes working for the Hegemony, other times acting on behalf of other alien superpowers, but always in search of more human worlds. She’d kept those first, innocent humans of hers safe and happy, caring for them with such dedication that they’d soon become her own little cadre of fanatics. That was, of course, until the moment where her lust had finally gotten the best of her and she’d licked the entire makeshift world clean, discovering in the process just how incredibly tasty humans were. She’d felt a bit guilty about it afterwards - but she’d consoled herself with the knowledge that she’d given them a chance to experience true happiness while they lived. There would always be more humans, anyhow - the universe brimmed with humanity, world after world packed to the gills with billions of them… and Milan wanted to own them all.

Sometimes she acted as a justiciar, transforming the planets she met into little utopias of her own design, and dealing in creative, perverse ways with those who resisted her rule. Sometimes she was a benevolent mother, turning entire worlds into lands of milk and honey and blessing their inhabitants with the power of her technology. And sometimes lust overtook her and she ended up using human worlds as toys to sate her appetites, as snacks, as fleshlights and anal beads, killing, crushing and tormenting with abandon. This age of careless, thoughtless fun came to an end, however, once she met her true love: Diane.

They’d met in one of the Hegemony’s many pit stops, an Alderson disk where the Thalmians’ star-sized ships could be refueled and repaired, while their pilots got a warm meal and enjoyed the sights. Diane was a mechanic, a pretty, willowy and shy girl whose olive skin, fuzzy hair and adorable mannerisms had instantly caught Milan’s attention. She was already famous back then: a beautiful, dashing and frightfully powerful woman, a voyager who had explored the furthest depths of space, bringing back tales and treasures galore. She had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with humanity, yes… but didn’t everyone have their quirks? And so she’d set to conquer her heart, which proved to be both incredibly easy and incredibly hard. Easy, because Diane had quickly fallen for Milan: she was like putty in her hands, wide eyes as she listened to her stories, clinging to her like a puppy, a wonderful cuddlebug yet and a true dervish in bed, a lioness whom Milan could nevertheless turn into a blushing, submissive mess with just a few teasing words. And hard, too, because Milan realized soon enough that she too was smitten by Diane. They were perfect for each other - and, in their shared happiness, the explorer knew she wanted to spend her life by her side… and she knew that this meant her days of adventuring were over.

Their courtship was brief - neither of them needed much time to decide. Milan and Diane married under the light of a blue giant, kissing fiercely as a motley crew of Thalmians and other aliens cheered them on. There were humans among the guests, too - a whole continent of them set atop a silver tray, filled with hundreds of millions of Milan’s most devoted zealots, which she’d specially picked out from her favorite utopias. The humans were practically mad with ecstasy - they’d been given the honor of seeing and praising their Goddess during the happiest day of her life! They sang, chanted and worshiped harder than any human had ever worshiped before or since, causing Diane to flush as red as a tomato - for their mischievous Goddess had instructed them to worship her too. Once the party was over, a drunk, giggling Milan ended it all by sitting on the tray, crushing all those millions under her ample behind, and staining the posterior of her white wedding dress with a smattering of microscopic red dots.

Thus did the lovebirds tie the knot. After the wedding, Milan and Diane set on a tour of the cosmos, looking for the right Thalmian community to settle in. Thalmians as a rule weren’t the nicest people around, but there were outliers - and the Arcturian coterie soon welcomed them in. Thanks to Milan’s spoils, the loot of a thousand worlds, the Maobus were able to buy an entire Dyson sphere to live in - with enough space both for the couple to stretch their enormous bodies and for any prospective children to have a big courtyard to run around. And the children did indeed come, for Milan truly was enthusiastic on the matter of pounding her wife: Rebecca and Jennifer, her two darlings, the apples of her eye. The Maobus had become a true family, and soon they settled into comfortable domesticity. Milan had no regrets: she and Diane lived in a perpetual honeymoon, their passion for each other never dipping below a salacious sizzling. Reb and Jen, meanwhile, quickly became the most adorable girls in all existence - according to their mothers, at least. Life was easy, a succession of barbecues, friendly gatherings, parties and vacations, and Milan whiled away her cycles in placid routine.

Her obsession burned bright as ever, though. Her wife may have considered it nothing but an odd hobby - some people pruned bonsais, some people built models, and Milan toyed with humans - but for Milan herself it was a part of who she was, a longing, a yearning, so strong that it gave her conniptions. Sometimes she took trips to faraway galaxies, gathering human worlds by the truckload to play with them at home. But she went through them in a flash - it wasn’t enough, it was never enough! She often dreamed of a vast, vast world of her own, one chock-full of humans in all their shapes and forms, a world where humankind would live in harmony, worshiping her at all hours, and always ready and willing to be massacred for her amusement…

And, one day, she decided to make that dream true.

The hardest part was to procure a dimensional generator, a necessary step if she wanted to keep her world safe from any interlopers. These devices had been all but forbidden by the Hegemony - but, luckily for her, Milan remained as resourceful, as seductive and intimidating as ever, and the Hegemony’s bureaucrats quickly fell before her charms. The next steps were a simple matter of terraforming drones, gravity generators, genetic combinators and other such simple Thalmian gadgets. Milan called her world Eden, for she wanted it to be a true paradise - if its inhabitants were to die, it was only fair that they would live blissful lives first. She designed it as a world where food would grow untended in the fields, where the beast of the land would follow the humans’ command, where everything would be plentiful and there would be no need for war or oppression, and where nanobotic ley lines would infuse both ground and air, allowing the humans to practice what they thought of as magic - and, as a bonus, giving her a way to sense their thoughts and feelings. She did all this and more, always thinking of her beloved playthings - and once Eden was ready, it was only a matter of populating it. 

Milan then went into what was ostensibly a “business trip” - in truth she raced through dozens of galaxies, harvesting the population of every human planet she could find and keeping them in stasis inside her hold, always with the pedal to the metal - for despite her love of humanity she also wanted to be back with her family as soon as possible. She prioritized those worlds which were particularly harsh - those like the moon which had been her first and most memorable experience with humanity - for in her alien mind she truly believed she was doing a favor to the humans by allowing them to live on her Eden… and who knows, maybe she was? Then it was a matter of placing all these hundreds of trillions of lives upon the surface of Eden… and watching them thrive.

It only took a few generations for the humans to forget where they’d come from, to become enthralled by this new land of the lotus-eaters, to multiply in endless multitudes and spread to every corner of Eden, to truly come to believe Milan was a Goddess, their Goddess, their creator and destroyer, and to truly begin to live and die for her, full of faith, love and lust… just as she liked it.

Now she could play as much as she wished. And play she did, crushing, blessing, eating, laughing, indulging herself and her desires in every twisted way. Eden was so large that it almost seemed infinite, and no matter how much she destroyed, there always seemed to be more virgin lands - and her industrious worshipers were quick to rebuild and repopulate even the most devastated of territories. Now at last she could feel like a Goddess whenever she wanted, now at last she could wallow in her own hedonism until she was sick of it!

Milan spent time on Eden whenever she had some time to herself - which wasn’t that often. Hers was a busy life: she had to care for her daughters, arrange tutors for them and take them to meet their friends, she had to organize the family’s schedule, share the house’s workload with Diane and take her on dates and she had, of course, to fuck her wife silly. But whenever she wanted to unwind, to relax, to have some private fun or to let out some frustration, she knew where to go. She knew Eden’s inhabitants would be waiting for her to use and abuse them, worshipful and obedient, for she was their Goddess, their Great Mother…

And their lives were hers.

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