Soaking

I guess it must be mid-morning and I’ve reshaped a mountain range, turning it into the tallest in the world, eaten a large city for breakfast and destroyed a couple other metropolis in different ways. It’s my first day as a 10-miles girl but I’d say that this is more or less representative of the stuff I’ll be doing from now on.

Being a goddess is a taxing matter, though, and I think I deserve a little break. I guess the world will appreciate it too. Being right by the Gulf, the plan is rather obvious.

I take care not to step on my own pee and step on the warm water of the Caribbean instead. It does not even reach to the top of my toes. I take a second step. It’s still incredibly shallow, more like a puddle. I decide to keep going. It’s not as if I have any hopes of water ever getting deep enough for me to completely dive into it, but I’d expect at least something more decent to relax.

By the time water is knee level, I’ve moved farther away from the coast than I had originally planned. I see a rather large island in front of me.

“CAN THIS BE CUBA?” I ask aloud

I’ve always loved the concept of Cuba. Never been there, though. Excited, I wade my way towards it. It’s been kind of lucky that I did not walk straight towards the large city I can see in the north of the island. Apparently, my calm wading has ended up causing one of the worst tsunamis ever. Up from my height, it looks as if I had accidentally splashed some water into a rock and it has advanced a little before filtering and evaporating. As the water recedes, though, I can see that no city, road or forest has survived the motion, no matter how calm it looked from my perspective.

“OOPSIE” I say aloud in a cute tone

I’m more careful as I wade in the waters north of the island; my objective is to stand right in front of the city I’ve mentally decided must be Havana. It takes a lot of patience not to move at the speed I know I could, but I don’t want to finish any more Cubans unwillingly. At least, not yet.

I’m standing at what must be a few miles off the coast of the city when I place my hands on my hips and prepare to address it. Water is again at ankle level, so I’m giving everyone in the island a great view of my shapely body. I think that Cubans, among all people, will appreciate it. Then, I address them.

“DO YOU GUYS SPEAK ENGLISH? I DON’T SPEAK SPANISH, MYSELF. THE TRUTH IS THAT I CAN NOT LISTEN TO YOU, SO, HONESTLY, I DON’T GIVE A DAMN. I’LL TALK AND YOU BETTER FIND SOMEONE TO TRANSLATE FOR YOU”

I clear my throat and go on.

“I HOPE YOU DON’T MAKE A BIG DEAL OF THE PART OF THE ISLAND I RAZED AS I WAS COMING. IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. BELIEVE ME, YOU WOULD HAVE NOTICED IF IT HAD BEEN. I KNOW THAT BEING AN AMERICAN IS NOT THE MOST POPULAR THING AROUND THESE PARTS, BUT I WANTED TO ASSURE YOU THAT I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING PERSONAL AGAINST YOU. I MAKE NO DIFFERENCES WHEN IT COMES TO MICROSCOPIC PEOPLE, AS THE MILLIONS OF AMERICANS I’VE CRUSHED, VAPORIZED OR EATEN WOULD TELL YOU”

I cannot prevent a little girlish giggle as I finish my sentence.

I force my incredible sight to take a closer look at the city. No doubt, my presence has been noted. I can see the crowds packing the streets, reacting in panic, with large vehicles crashing into each other. Fires are erupting all around the city and even if I cannot hear anything of what’s going on in there, I can perfectly imagine the sounds of chaos that must be filling the city.

Up to a point, I’m a little disappointed that a city like that, which is nice enough, is getting destroyed so easily, but I guess it can’t be helped.

I’m still trying to make my mind up about what to do with Havana when my attention gets picked by something else. It’s small, but not small enough to go unnoticed, especially because of its trail. Looking at the large arch it describes in the water, it’s clear that the large (well, at least I guess it must be large to the microscopic people) oil tanker is trying to get away from me, but both the crew and I know that there is no way they will be able to do that.

I don’t want to move my toes too much in front of Havana, knowing perfectly well what may happen to the city if I do. That is no problem, as I lock my sight on the ship, which must be a hundred miles away or so and I scan it under my control. Impossibly wide bluish beams emit from my eyes and close onto the boat, lifting it off the water as if it were a feather.

By now I’m using my tractor vision as easily as I would use any other part of my body, so I only have to naturally guide the ship towards me and gently set it into my extended palm.

It’s not as if I had not been expecting it, but I’m still a little disappointed at the real size of the ship once I’m holding it. It’s probably about the length of my pinkie finger, making it too small for what I had in mind. Have you ever tried fingering yourself with your pinkie? You are not going to get too much out of it, believe me. I doubt I would even feel it.

“YOU GUYS SHOULD BUILD LARGER SHIPS” I complain aloud.

It’s not that I blame them, of course. I’m not so naïve. In a world where I’m the only creature alive with the ability to change my size at will, it would be cynical to blame anyone or anything for being too small. I’m actually the only one with the power to fix any situation where size difference is an issue.

I could actually fix the current situation. It would only take me a little bit of self-shrinking, and not even that much. I guess that if I were “merely” a couple miles tall rather than 10, the tanker would become a convenient enough dildo. And I’m positive that this would not make me any less impressive or powerful.

It’s just that… I don’t feel like it. My current size makes me feel regal. It makes me feel godly. And I want to keep it for a while. Deep inside I know that sooner or later I will need to shrink, even if for a while. Eventually I’ll need to interact with someone… or I will need to please myself. I guess I cannot eat a city for each meal either. There cannot be that many cities in the world to sustain this pace I guess. But going down feels less natural than going up.

Hell, I want to stay like this for a few days. I want to try getting even bigger before I actually think on getting smaller. And if I need to eat a few cities or walk all the way to the Himalayas to reach an orgasm, then so be it.

This leaves me with a pretty useless boat in my palm. I doubt I would even feel it in there… Which is the thought that triggers my next idea.

Smirking evilly, I pick the boat with care with two fingers of my left palm and I raise it to my face only to whisper:

“BUCKLE UP. YOU ARE IN FOR AN INTERESTING TRIP”

It’s all I do before moving the oil tanker down and to the back. One moment the boat was in front of my face and the next it’s facing the valley between my amazing and hard ass cheeks. My ass would be my most remarkable feature if my tits were not so awesome.

I guess that by now the crew must have learned what awaits them. I don’t know how they are reacting, though. After all, I cannot see with my third eye!

I just shove the little boat in, pushing it with care with my middle finger after I fit it in my asshole. Well… it’s still small. But at least, in here, I can feel it!

I remove my hand and focus on feeling the supposedly large construct I’ve fit into myself. It becomes uninteresting after a too short while. Yes, I can feel it. No, it’s not noticeable enough. And no, there’s no way it will give me any pleasure.

Bored and kind of frustrated with my short-lived toy, I just tighten my ass, compacting the tanker flatter than a car in the junkyard.

I am frustrated. I want to get off and I want it now. The little experiment with the tanker has proven this to me. I look back towards the island, frowning. Then, I have an idea.

“YOU CUBANS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE GREAT LOVERS, AREN’T YOU?”

I don’t know if they know what’s coming to them. I don’t care. I smirk as I advanced towards the island very, very carefully. I don’t want it broken. Widening my stance so that any consequences of my feet landing on the ocean bed are going to be felt in other areas of the island and not in the large city in front of me, I squat and get lower.

My naked, clean shaven pussy looms over the city, as if it were going to swallow it. And, somehow, that’s actually what’s going to happen. Not the entire city, mind you. I’m not big enough for that. But I’m strong enough to rip a section of it from the Earth’s crust, which is what I’m about to do.

Reaching down, I dig my fingers deep into the ground and stop pushing the moment I feel some heat. Moving them forward like an excavator, I bring them up again, lifting a few neighborhoods in my palm. I straighten back up as I admire my catch.

Down in the island, a pool of lava is forming in the spot where I removed a part of the city, quickly spreading into the sections of it that are still standing. I don’t mind having created my second volcano in a few hours and I just focus on the hundreds of thousands of people, along with their vehicles and buildings, that I’ve snatched in my hand.

“TO BE HONEST, I DOUBT YOU’LL BE OF ANY USE. BUT I GUESS IT’S WORTH A TRY!” I say and then move the city section down into my womanhood.

Chunks of it break against my lips and rain down in the sea, but I don’t mind. A few tens of thousands more or less are not going to make a difference.

When most of it is inside me, I stop and try to feel the population of Havana. Sadly, but as expected, there is nothing. I’m afraid that I’m beyond the ability of people, even in large quantities, to satisfy me.

I’m upset, but there is nothing that I can do about it now, which is even more upsetting. I manage to contain the temper tantrum that was building up, though. I’m sure I’ll find a solution. In the meantime… I’m in the Caribbean. I may as well get a tan.

Without warning, I let myself drop backwards, my lazy gesture being felt all the way to Atlanta. Spreading my arms and legs, I close my eyes as the sun makes my skin glow and I think on what to do next.