Letter from Sami


Dear David,

You’re probably wondering why you woke up alone this morning, instead of next to me. The short answer is that I am no longer the person who you fell for, and we should no longer associate with each other. Yes, that means I’m breaking up with you. I know this will be hard for you to take, but try not to feel bad about it. You were not a bad boyfriend, as far as boyfriends go.

Now for the long answer. At 6:24 AM, I awoke with the knowledge that I possessed perfect and absolute control over all aspects of reality. Space, time, ideas, and fundamental laws all bent for me as easily as bending a finger. Easier, in fact, as I almost levelled the city while reaching for the alarm clock. My first thought was “how did I get this power?”, and the answer formed in my mind instantly.

In a parallel universe, I happened to defeat the Creator Being in a game of wits, and subsumed its power as my own, becoming well and truly all-knowing and all-powerful. Naturally, omnipotence transcends dimensional boundaries, so I was able to share it with my alternate selves. All of us – all of me – became a single being, with infinite lives and histories, and infinite universes to play with.

And play I did. You know how I used to ask if my cheeks were too wide, or if I was a bit too chubby? You always said something like “No, baby, you’re perfect,” which was sweet and all, but even then I knew it wasn’t true. Well, the first thing I really wanted was a perfect body, and so, I simply had it. It’s laughable now, to think how casually I threw around the term “perfect” in that little errant desire. If I knew just how unbelievably powerful, how tantalizingly carnal, and how explosively divine the idea of “perfect” was at the time, I may have wanted to ease myself into it, instead of taking the headfirst dive into the ever-increasing unstoppable pleasure of true, infinite fucking perfection.

I regarded myself in the bathroom mirror, and fell in love. My every curve and contour felt like the universe itself was made just to facilitate this beauty (which it technically was). I could have spent years doing nothing but admiring my own beauty, but in that instant I felt a more explosive pleasure than I had ever felt, or indeed that anyone could ever feel. A trillion trillion molecules in the air around me danced against my impenetrable skin, and each and every one sent a wave of pleasure through me that, yesterday, would have reduced me to a quivering mess.

I thought the sensation would overwhelm me, as my title of “all-powerful goddess” hadn’t sunk in yet. I maintained my faculties, but I was filled with a burning desire for more. In less than a nanosecond, that desire of mine manifested, and I disappeared from our bathroom and appeared in the middle of France, nearly 1200 kilometers tall. A trillion trillion dots of pleasure on my naked form became a trillion trillion trillion, bolstered by the ecstasy of the occasional passenger aircraft colliding with my ankle. I was amazed at the godly sensations I was capable of withstanding, but they still failed to topple a me, a true God.

They must be panicking,” I thought, looking at the country beneath me. But a bit of mind reading told me that they weren’t: they were worshipping. For miles and miles, even in distant countries, a single idea was shared by them all: Such unblemished beauty could only be an angel of death, come to cleanse the world!” I snickered at how wrong they all were. An angel, sent by God? Hah! Their God was right here! Not to save them, but simply to feel the unending ecstasy of divine existence. I let the whole planet watch as my hand inched closer to my perfect little kitty…

And I gasped.

I, the divine and perfect deity, gasped.

Imagine, if you will, that a regular mortal orgasm has a “pleasure score” of 1. An atom touching my divine body measured about a hundred, so my five-foot body experienced 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, and my France-sized body got 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.

Running a single finger along my pussy resulted in a number that couldn’t fit on all the paper ever printed.

As prepared as I thought I was, I still gasped. My hand recoiled from my divine slit, and I looked down to check just how much damage that gasp caused. All I saw were my feet (now hovering over the space France used to be) and a few constellations where the planet should have been. My little accidental outcry of pleasure had, it seemed, split the planet in half. If you turn on the news, it should be the top story, in case you thought this whole letter was fake.

In short, I have answered the age-old question, “Can the Goddess Samantha give herself such a strong orgasm that even She could not contain it?” The answer is yes. Just by considering the question, I am keenly aware that I could change the answer to “no” with a thought. There is an appeal in being overcome by my own powers, and there is a different appeal in being more invulnerable than omnipotence. Perhaps I will change this answer in the future, if I desire a change of pace.

Since then, I have spent a good number of millennia (remember, I can bend time) exploring further pleasures: crushing suns in my hands, teasing my nipples with black holes, and eating galaxies, among billions more. (It goes without saying that my own physical size is just another number for me to play with.) To properly express the level of pleasure these acts give me would require the use of mathematical paradigms that do not yet exist, and which would take a hundred years to teach you.

My time as a galaxy-devouring celestial pleasure machine was, though enjoyable, a bit lonely. Call it an attachment to my defunct human needs, but some part of me desired the comfort of a partner. Someone to touch, and hold, and play with, and who could do the same to me. Of course, as ruler over all creation, any lesser being would prove incapable of moving my utterly invincible body by even a single nanometer, so this desire of mine instead created my perfect lover: me.

Being two people at once was a trivial affair, but a double dose of godly bliss was quite the unexpected high. I wasted no time in exploring my two celestial bodies, each measuring well over four million light years tall. Our hands ran all over each other, gripping and squeezing all the right parts. Every pinch of the nipple, kiss on the neck, and smack on the ass yielded infinite pleasure coursing through the both of us. We cooed, giggled, and moaned, and trillions of distant stars were obliterated by the pent-up energy that our foreplay so casually released. When we parted each other’s legs and blessed each other’s kitties with our tongues, our infinite pleasure compounded infinitely, and we shared the most powerful orgasm that the current laws of physics allow. The two of us quite naturally became three, then four, then so many more. By the time you read this, there will be at least nine hundred octillion of me out in space, of all shapes and sizes, effortlessly pushing past the boundaries of the universe, all deriving pleasure from each other that would crush the human mind to even consider considering.

So yeah, that’s the full story. I would like to say something like “I’m sure you’ll find a great girlfriend to settle down with”, but I have no desire to lie to you. I was the best girlfriend you will ever get, even before becoming Godhead, and you’ll just have to live with that knowledge. That said, try not to lose hope. As aforementioned, my power can defy itself or be defied by itself, according to my will. If I ever change the course of the future beyond even my own all-knowingness, then your love life will still be salvageable. I could make sure that change happens, but I am too busy literally fucking myself silly far beyond the edges of the known universe to care.

With the Infinite Benevolence of a Newly Crowned God,



David dropped the letter, unsure of what to think any more.

Four seconds later, all matter in the universe was crushed into nothing between Samantha’s thumb and forefinger.


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