The Empress-Goddess
I sat behind the desk in the Oval Office and frowned. The woman on the other side of the table – an advisor of some sort or another, I couldn’t really keep track – was going on and on about how I was “neglecting the standards of office” and “allowing the world to fall into sexual chaos” or something like that. It was a real buzzkill.
A plan formed in my mind, and I stood up, my nine-foot-tall form grazing the low ceiling. “I think you’re forgetting how it works around here,” I purred, stepping around the table, my enormous bikini-clad breasts bouncing wildly. “If I want it to happen, it’s obviously the right thing to do.” I bent over and engulfed the woman between my cleavage, and could already see her body starting to reshape itself according to my will. Just as easily done from behind the table, but this way was more fun.
“Isn’t that right?”
The newly-blonde and infinitely-sexier woman who pulled herself out from between my tits nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Madam Empress!”
“Great. Now for your reward.” I leaned back against the sturdy desk and spread my legs, and she dove straight in to start eating me out. The first of many toe-clenchingly strong orgasms hit my extremely-sensitive body just moments later.
I suppose I should back up and explain myself.
Two years ago, I was not the Empress of humanity. I wasn’t nine feet tall, and I definitely didn’t have the largest pair of breasts on the planet. Instead, I was mousey little Julia, Ph.D student in experimental physics at the University of Chicago.
The experiment that I was conducting had to do with trying to replicate the exact physical conditions of the early stages of the universe – massive amounts of pressure and energy packed into a very, very small space. The working theory was that under these conditions, specific particles that were absent from the current universe would form, and we’d be able to study their workings in detail.
Well, it worked. I won’t go into the exact details of how, but working alone in the lab one evening I had a breakthrough and ran the experiment myself. The resulting explosion leveled most of the lab, sadly, but I was strangely unharmed on the edge of the debris. After a thorough medical checkup from the campus medical staff and a debrief with the fire fighters that there was no chance of nuclear fallout, I went home to my apartment and dreaded the conversation I was going to have the next day with my advisor after destroying millions of dollars worth of equipment.
That night, I dreamed that the lab was repaired, that my experiment hadn’t leveled an entire building, that my academic career wasn’t in shambles.
The next morning, I was shocked to see – and you can see where this is going, can’t you? – that the lab was indeed still intact from yesterday. Confused, I went inside and found that everything was as it had been, right down to the little desk toys some of the other grad students had at their stations.
I went outside and looked at the building again, picturing it a smoldering pile of rubble as it had been the day before – and suddenly it was! Frantically, I willed it back to its intact state, and reality happily complied.
I might have continued experimenting with the lab building had Margo not walked up at that moment. “Hey Julia, what’cha looking at?”
Margo was a fellow physics student, and one I had a secret crush on. She was a tall, willowy brunette, with surprisingly large breasts that she generally hid away under sports bras and shapeless clothes. On rare occasions she’d wear a button-down shirt, and I always treasured those days for their glimpse into what a beauty she truly was when she wasn’t trying to hide it.
“Did you hear anything about an explosion on campus last night?”
“No, why? Was there?”
“I heard a rumor, but maybe not.” Margo’s arrival was enough to distract me from the immediate problem at hand. She was wearing a big, heavy sweater again, but I was able to watch her hips sway as we walked into the lab together. Our desks faced each other, and as we sat down I wished again that she was wearing a more revealing top.
And then Margo was wearing a blouse. There was no flash of light, no sudden transformation – just one second, a big sweater, the next instant, a light white blouse with a few buttons undone.
“That’s a nice top,” I managed to say, leaping back into experimental mindset mode. Did she know? Would she notice?
“Oh, thanks! I don’t wear this sort of thing all that often, but it seemed nice today.”
I nodded. I could see the outline of her bra through the fabric, and decided it was time to put the little theory in the back of my mind to the test. you aren’t wearing a bra today.
Immediately, her boobs sagged within the shirt, no longer supported by an undergarment. I could clearly see her big fat nipples pressing against the shirt. “Uh, Margo, are you…?” I gestured to my own small rack.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, none of my bras were clean, so I figured I could go without for just one day, right?”
I willed her a bra again, and after seeing that her breasts were once again firmly encased inside a lacy support, I stopped messing with reality and began reviewing my notes to figure out what was going on.
That evening, I stood in my kitchen and stared at an apple that I’d bought on the way home. Still had the receipt: $1.29 for a Golden Delicious.
Granny Smith.
Instantly, with no more fanfare than Margo’s blouse at the lab that morning, the apple was now green. Unnerved, I pulled out the receipt. $1.19 for a Granny Smith.
No apple at all.
The apple vanished, as did the receipt in my hand.
“It’s like I have control over the universe or something…” I muttered. That seemed unlikely, though, since if this really were my dream universe Margo would be lounging around nude, probably.
“What was that, Jules?”
I nearly leapt out of my skin as Margo stuck her head into the kitchen. “Were you calling for me?” She was, as my fantasies had instructed, completely nude, those big firm breasts even better looking nude than I’d imagined.
“Uh, no,” I managed to say, barely keeping my wits around me.
“OK. Well, don’t be too long. I’ll be waiting upstairs.” She winked, and vanished from view.
Shocked, I reviewed my memories and discovered a second set of events for the past six months, in which Margo and I had hooked up after the holiday party and now were clandestine lovers; she was now so comfortable around me that her hidden nudist streak came out and she spend most of her time in my home naked.
“How much of that was true before I dreamed it up?!” I wondered. It might be impossible to know, to set right again, if a simple idle fantasy could change reality so completely. I might already be tripping down some other, unnatural reality, one that I was unconsciously shaping even now, drifting further and further from the ‘truth’, which I was no longer convinced had any real meaning. It was entirely possible that everything around me was already a complete fabrication from my brain, and I would never be able to know the difference.
And then a little voice in the back of my head said: So?
I made wild love to Margo that night, dear reader. It was my first time (that I could remember) that I had been with a woman, and Margo was an excellent partner, her lithe body full of passion and joy. It was blissful. It was transcendent.
By the morning I had decided on my course of action.
The first step was protecting myself. I reached out with my will and began changing things. Immortality, of course, was right off the bat. Although I could probably will away any disease or other obvious misfortune, some accident could always occur that might catch me unawares.
Money as well, although this would seem remarkably silly within a few weeks, when I realized I could literally will any material good into existence when I needed it.
As Margo slumbered beside me I made it so that I owned the house outright, then added on the expansion out back I had always dreamed about, modified the kitchen, added a bathroom, fixed the squeaky floorboards. Again, with hindsight, child’s play.
Next, people. I had debated this with myself in the night, but decided that everything else I was doing was already changing other people, just indirectly, so there wasn’t any real difference to doing it directly. I drooled with arousal as Margo’s breasts, already sizable, began to swell larger and larger on her skinny frame. I’d always been a real size queen and now Margo’d have an impossible time hiding her assets beneath sweaters.
My own body gained a few nice upgrades, too. I inched my height up a few inches to 5′6″, added a cup size to my woefully flat chest, trimmed a few pounds off my waist. Nothing drastic.
I next erased all records and memories of my line of research at school. I still wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but something in that explosion, that last experiment I’d run, must have unleashed this power within me and I didn’t need anyone else accidentally joining me in omnipotence.
And that truly was what I had gained, I realized. I concentrated slightly and tweaked a few minds in war zones around the world. Over the next few days, all conflict would end as warring parties sat down at negotiating tables and hashed out equitable peace agreements. Even the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, although there I had to aggressively rewrite quite a few minds before it really stuck.
And with that, the new goddess of the universe snuggled up against her girlfriend and took the day off work.
It might seem a long walk from “bumping up your lab partner’s breasts a few sizes” to “giant horny Empress of humanity”, but let me tell you, that slope is steep and slippery. It didn’t take long before I started granting myself temporal powers alongside my metaphysical ones; having the only reason people do what you say being rewriting reality gets annoying. It’s much more fun that they do it because they literally worship you.
I considered running for President, but in the end just willed it so. Much easier and less time-consuming. Margo made for a wonderful First Lady, the enormous wedding ring on her finger almost – almost! – distracting gazes from her titanic cleavage. Really, for someone whose breasts literally filled her lap when she sat down, it’s surprising that anyone could look her in the eyes.
By this time, I had grown to be quite the physical specimen myself, nearly 6′6″ and with hefty breasts and a wondrous ass of my own. The extra inches really helped at the negotiating table.
It was after the fourth or fifth international summit I attended, where I was hammering out yet another plank in a series of interminable trade deals, that I just said “fuck it” and consolidated power. Instantly, I was no longer merely “Madam President”, but the Empress of humanity, all nations united under my rule.
And so, sure, absolute power corrupts. But I don’t think humanity has done too badly under my watch. After all, we’ve got the lunar base up and running now, and Mars should be following soon. Unemployment was solved when the churches dedicated to my image started paying wages for belief; the sacramental orgies were just a nice side benefit. And since I willed moderately-intelligent AI into existence, now no one works unless they really want to. Some might say I’ve sapped humanity’s free will. I just say I’ve solved our self-annihilation-impulse problem.
Margo’s still my rock, really. The woman I come home to, the soon-to-be mother of my children, who even now gestate within her beautiful belly thanks to some clever genetics work and a very lifelike strap-on a few months ago. Her breasts have gotten even larger than my supernaturally-enhanced pair, and every time we’re alone – or, heck, whenever I, the Empress of humanity, feel like it – I take great pleasure in driving her to orgasm by simply suckling on her milky nipples.
I will admit, things are getting a little dull. I’m thinking that I might start really playing with physics soon, allow our scientists to invent a faster-than-light drive or something, and see if we’re alone in the universe. If so, well…
…I suppose I could fix that too.