Balance by delicious happy apocalypse Some people believe there's no justice in the world, that nothing is done about the wrongs in the world. Such a belief is a kind of despair, and an insult to the gods that maintain that world. Those who complain the loudest are usually victims of the judgments of these gods. But these gods are not enthroned in some high place, nor in some low place, either. They work through the laws of nature, physics, biology. Life itself, in all its forms, is divine in its powers. * * * * * "You're a creature with a powerful destiny... you will bring down the great, and raise up the small." Lee looked up, from her hand, into the eyes of the gray- haired reader of palms. "You see that? You gotta be kidding!" Pulling her hand away, she rose to leave. "That's such a pile of crap, I need to wash my hands...." Lee could not be stopped, as she left the darkened room. The face of the fortune-teller was smiling calmly at the retreating form. "And she's years away from believing her own powers". * * * * * She was born Libra Justicia, on the 22nd of September, 1977. It had been a painfully short childhood for just plain "Lee". Her adopted mother had split from her abusive father, and then died while Lee was not yet 16. He had been so big, so certain, so unpredictable. Lee kept quiet, trying to please everyone. If only she could make people happy. A quiet hunger burned within her, growing hotter every year. She asked nothing for herself. Her life was service, hoping to find meaning in pleasing others. The restaurant where she had toiled first as a dishwasher, then as an assistant to the cook, and finally, as the cook, was her only solace. In food was a kind of blissful tranquility that reminded her of the time before she was old enough to notice the pain in her life. When she was small she would sit in front of the TV with her mom, eating cookies and ice cream, laughing. At that time she would rub her mom's shoulders, or get her a coffee. Making her mom comfortable was the most wonderful thing she could do. She remembered the contented little sighs that would welcome the first sip. Later, eating became impossible during the chemo... Her mother wasted away, unable to eat, and eventually, to live at home. And Lee hungered. * * * * * Some people think there is a magic in numbers, that probability has a force and a potency beyond our ability to comprehend. Hidden laws govern the seemingly chance movements of molecules and men. Those laws govern our destinies as surely as if they were the strings of the puppets obeying those laws. That we are unable to read those laws does not make them any less true, nor any less compelling. It was 101 days after Lee's 22nd birthday. Lee had never noticed anything about the number 11, because she had not thought of her birthday in many years, as no one had helped her celebrate since her mother's passing. Lee did not know that this day was sacred, and that her power was bursting forth in the fruition of her hopes and desires that day. 101 days after September 22nd was December 31st 1999, and 101 days after the 22nd birthday of one born on the 22nd in 1977. She had made so many wishes. New Year's Eve was typically a busy night. This was no exception, particularly with a millenium's passing to celebrate. There were rumblings of the end of the world, or the beginning of a thousand years of peace... or something. For Lee it meant work. At 2:00 am she had sent the kitchen staff home, staying with only the waitress and the last table of die-hards. She watched from a distance as they kissed, toasted, tasted and re-tasted the champagne, the desserts, the liqueurs... and each other. The wishes she was again making were the same as always. She watched the endless consumption, and wished she could also indulge fearlessly: even though she was afraid to get any bigger. She wished she could eat without stopping, to make the ache go away. She watched the kissing, and wondered what it was like to taste a man, and whether it was like eating. She savoured the power her growth gave her--Lee was 5' 11"-- and 333 pounds, last time she measured, and wished to grow, grow, grow. The cheque was paid, and the guests left, but Lee was oblivious, in the holy-of-holies, examing what was left from the night. Having been unsure of what sort of crowd she'd have, there were still pieces of cake, half a trifle, and a torte. There were ices and fruit salads, some sweets, and even sweet drinks to wash them down. The breasts of chicken, pasta, and other defrosted nyummies that would not survive until she re-opened on January 2nd were doomed, because they had not been frozen, nor refrigerated soon enough. But Lee had somehow expected this. She assembled her friends around her: the cold pesto, the half tureen of chowder, the savoury items, the sauces crying for the baguette--three whole baguettes left, that would be garbage otherwise. They seemed to smile upon her as her face warmed with the radiance of her work. Her work was good, and she continued to re-test and sample everything. She was unaware of her 3 wishes: to eat, to love and to grow, but they throbbed in her belly as she swished baguette in the tart bay sauce of the sauerbraten. She opened her mouth for the white flesh of the bread, thinking of the white flesh of that man at that table, and how that woman's mouth had opened to meet his white throat as if it were succulent. When all that was left were the desserts, Lee did not stop for a moment, for this was a special day, somehow sacred. There was a throbbing inside her something like a choir or the organ of a cathedral singing praises for the almighty gods of nature, uncelebrated until this moment. She was no longer merely grazing, ruminating in tranquility. Her consumption was becoming more of an adventure with every passing moment. She began to eat standing up, stretching herself to accommodate the food clamoring to get into her, like commuters trying to board a rush-hour train. At a certain point her hands stopped grabbing, and seemed to catch food that was voluntarily flying at her mouth, estatically seeking the promised land of her mouth and throat. She heard a truck come to the back door. Strange.... why would there be deliveries on New Year's Eve, much less at such a late hour? Lee went to the door. She wondered..... "wasn't I already standing when I ate?" When she stood up, she was disoriented. The ceiling had somehow collapsed, or something.... all this drinking and eating was making her dizzy, she guessed, and the building is.... Lee crawled down the hall to the receiving door, where she had heard the sound of a truck pull in. She knocked the door off its hinges when she mis-handled the doorknob. Crawling out the door, into the night, she heard distant revellers, as well as the idling engine of the truck. Something was not quite right. Sides of beef were rolling off the truck, on dollies, alright, but no one was really pushing them. She grabbed one, and took a bite. "Cold", she thought. The meat was ice-cold. She crunched her jaw onto the little morsel that was left, and proceeded to the next one. Lee was still on her hands and knees on the loading dock. She found that the little beef nuggets passed themselves into her mouth, bite sized. Bite sized sides of beef. The cold no longer bothered her, as she got the hang of biting at the right angle to crunch those ribs. She was delighted in the sensation of bones giving way, and all that soft white marbling on the meat as well. The slipperiness against the roof of her mouth helped it slide down her throat. She stood, but could not quite fit in the truck: a van? a car? Surely this thing had 18 wheels, because nothing came into the dock under 5 tons. She heard a moaning sound, as she stood. "Was that me?" she asked herself. "I'm still hungry!" She stood, hands on hips defiantly. "I've fed everyone else..... when do I get to eat?" She stepped back from the truck, which was clearly the source of that groaning-moaning sound. The trailer had ripped apart, because of the sudden weight of its load. Lee stepped off the trailer, too late. The loading dock, too, was moaning under her. But there was at least something to eat. It was not as expected, however. The back of the little restaurant was now the food terminal. New York's food supply was dispatched through a network of truck bays and loading areas, stuffed with produce, merchants and teamsters. Only it was deserted, in the wee small hours of New Year's Day, and the loads were coming to her, in homage. Trucks were standing on end, to send their wares to her. Kiosks turned over to feed her. And her nose was being teased by every sort of temptation. Lee sat as rapt as a little child, legs spread, while the world came to her to be eaten. And she grew, in response. But the hunger did not leave, nor could it be assuaged, for it was as bottomless as her pain, as endless as her grief. The city's food supply decided to come worship the goddess Lee. All good things were as offerings to her, drawn by her energies. The good things weren't limited to food. Lee did not question as the food threw itself at her, as her body grew. She had two of her three amazing wishes. Why would she question when her third as well began to come true? Sitting there, with her legs spread wide, Lee was growing at a furious rate. As she ingested tons of produce, meat, bread, dairy, sweets, or fruits, her body was being remade, a fantastic riot of new, babysoft flesh. Her lubricity during the transformation was as miraculous, sending out a silent urgent bulletin to all the men in the neighbourhood. I cannot translate this bulletin, except to say that the message made them weep, made them come naked in midwinter to stand before her in rows, crying as if at the shrine of the blessed Mary, mother of God. They stood, shivering, weeping, pushing forward, some on every side, rubbing their naked bodies against her perfect baby softness. Her thighs like piled up whipped cream, her calves storm clouds, her feet, pink cotton candy, sweet to taste. And each one stepped forward, clamouring to touch her, to kiss her, so far above these tiny men. Her legs spread out describing a vast plaza between the colossal architecture of legs like skyscraper walls on either side. Her belly hung far above, while the portal in front, beckoned, to all. But she did not take what did not belong to her. We gave ourselves to her. At first she used her hands, scooping hundreds at a time, between pudgy hands soft as marshmallow, bringing us to her gaping maw, slurping and inhaling us like rice or macaroni. There was a keening sound in the air, of men coming in waves, like a tiny chorus. Her teeth closed softly, like thighs urging orgasms, and the cries peaked. Each squeeze of her jaw brought another squeal of pleasure. But LEE had another, better way to unify us. The congregation in the vast assembly square between her legs was getting too crowded. Men were milling around, unhappy, moaning wth desire, and prevented from getting closer to our goal. Lee's beautiful face was wracked with the grief of our separation from her. She held out her hands to us, and we felt the attraction, as if she were planet size, and we fell to her, pulled by her gravitational attraction. I moaned at the thought, wishing her to be sufficiently large to pull us all to her, falling into her. As a unit we all thought of unifying with her, joining to her, in her. Lee made the moment of our ecstasies perfect. She opened her mouth, and called out "come to me.... I want you.... you are mine". We all agreed, crying out as one "take us" or "have us" and reached our arms upwards for her as if we could fly up to her. She was so inconceivably beautiful, above us. I could not perceive all of her, but only some of her delicate thigh on one side, where surely some buildings had stood.... We stood, hands up, crying for unification, when the light seemed to fail. Darkness suddenly covered the entire square. Her voice cried out in ecstasy, shattering the air, booming, echoing, rebounding. All she said was "LOOK UP..... LOOK UP..... LOOK UP LOOK UP LOOK UP..... We looked up of course, as one, but only saw darkness. Or was there something to be seen? I looked up, and saw a terribly perfect shape, so far above. I recognized the indentation between two of her sweet pink toes, looking for all the world like two halves of the entire world. The delicate toes were far above, still, but so infinitely, unfathomably huge.... where was the rest of this foot? She held it above us, a soft canopy, coming down, slowly. Looking around, no buildings were standing for hundreds of yards..... as far as we could see. Just men, looking up at this soft roof. The smell was there, oh yes. The smell: and it made me weep, knowing her and the joy of her presence, so close. Suddenly she was there, right there, her toe on us. One moment we were standing up, reaching for it, the next, she had knocked thousands down without realizing how powerful she was. And then she pressed, rubbing that soft flesh on us, and I realized she would absorb us this way. Through her skin, she would squeeze us until we became her footcreme, nourishing her through her pores. She was creaming us, squishing us, slowly, deliciously, under all her soft, squishiness. We'd be pressed until we would no longer know where she ended and we began. Her foot was so obscenely soft already, that it would bend around us all, rather than keep shape. She was as soft as a balloon, a hot inflated girl, hungry to touch us. We were all dizzy for that ecstasy of hers, that desire to push into us, and to be fed on us. Her pressure quickly became firm, as we were all flat on the ground, breathing only her smell, and wondering how swiftly she'd crush. It occured to me that we might be at a place where the pressure was less... not the heel or ball of the foot, where surely her weight would push the pavement down deep into the ground, maybe not all the way to China, but as far as she wanted to press. Surely anyone under her heel would be just a bit of wetness, .... but I did not understand the mystery, the magic. This was, of course, the end of the world, at least as we've known it until now. Life is not over, but exists in a totally different form. Many of the prophecies concerning the apocalypse have come true. Lee has come, and she is a judge, for her name itself means justice. All life exists at this moment for one reason, and one reason only: to sustain her. Some will be reborn, I understand. But I do not claim to understand this judgment day thing. I am only glad I saw her, and was able to run, enraptured to be absorbed into her. Perhaps she walks, and I am a cell in her foot; perhaps she only sits, and then I wish to be in her ass, pressed under miles of softness without ny hope of getting out from under her...infinite softness, weight without scale or measurement. Weight no longer has meaning. She has broken all the scales, not by stepping on them and crushing them under her mass, but by making us all undifferentiated, parts of a shapeless mass, shapeless ourselves, and alive in her body. Our communion is not in eating the body of our lord, but in being eaten, into the body of our lord. She has ended all those old stupid institutions: diets, body- image, vain love, replacing them with the perfect adoration of her. She has achieved her goals, and then some: she is God, and the very form and figure of good in its purest incarnation. She is worshipped, and revered. Mankind's history is over, and so is civilization, crushed under her like an old pair of shoes, and almost as lovable. Actually, I far prefer her old slippers to civilization.