When worlds collide by delicious Catastrophic collision of fetishes: Gts & feeding I'm not sure when we look and see whether we see what we want to see, or see what we have to see. I grew up believing that you only see what's there, what's really out there, that the world is a cold objective place, not fairy-land. But the harder we look for some things the more likely they are to turn up: the world, as Einstein showed, is not objective, but slanted and distorted by observation. I have been spending most of my time looking at the sky, or at pictures of the sky. We found what we wanted to find. When I wasn't working at the computer, I was surfing or chatting on it, again, in search of what I wanted, and not what might "really" be there in some cold scientific sense. Growing up in a basement of a small house changed what I think about and long for. There I was, as a boy, playing with myself, while listening to the pounding sounds of the house above. I don't think it's too farfetched to connect such experiences with my sexual fantasies, particularly when I tell you what those fantasies are. As I listened to the booming footsteps above, I created an entire fantasy world of gigantic women, whose feet could effortlessly flatten buildings, and crush small people like myself under their huge feet, their enormous bodies, their massive asses. These were not acts of cruelty, but simply the consequence of their sheer size, oblivious and accidental destruction done without a trace of malice nor indeed any awareness of the death and carnage caused by their movements. Face-down, I turned the loud noises of the house into the rumbling footfalls of a giantess, in the ecstasies of adolescent fantasy, imagining ecstatic cave-ins at the moment of climax. I repressed these desires almost completely, marrying a small, but plump woman whom I met at the university while I was studying astrophysics. Gina would never have understood, I felt, coming as she did from such a devout family. I let the fantasies fade away, in the contentment of our marriage. We had no children, but we were both prosperous in our ways: Gina, a mathematics teacher squandering her gift both on her highschool students and me; I, a researcher pursuing an arcane hypothesis, while studiously refusing to finish my doctorate. Gina gave me grief about the unfinished degree, as evidence of childishness, or an inability to complete myself as a person. Perhaps it's a defect that I did not argue, but I never do in such situations, because I think I should face the music rather than run from it. Gina felt there were easier topics I could have pursued for a successful thesis: why did I do this one? Why indeed, I wondered? The worst thing is that I am now vindicated. Would I had never tried to find... Would I had never had such fantasies. My thesis concerns the well-documented possibility of asteroids or comets on collision course with Earth. Of course, now that I have found Shiva--the name for the new planetoid--everything falls into place. I realize now the connection with the fantasies in the basement of my youth: I have sought out a destroyer, coming from above to destroy impartially. Was she there all along, or did we make her, somehow? The point is moot, however, because I, at least, will get what I wished for. Shiva has changed the world, even though her greatest act will be months from now. But her trajectory is so well-known, so inevitable, and so irrefutable that world culture is remade by Shiva. The "destroyer of worlds" is no longer some Hindu myth, but a celebrity whose face graces the pages of the tabloids and magazines. Too bad she is only a spheroid, hurtling through space, and not the bosomy, multi-armed bitch-goddess so many of us long for...the publicity would give her show top ratings. But that hasn't stopped others. Xena is now gigantic, grown huge by some contrived plot twist, as are characters in Star Trek, Friends, and Living Single, which I always saw as a witty black version of Friends anyway. WWF employs a sumo wrestler in the ring with a midget, ritualistically crushing the little wrestler under the giant. The disaster movies are not selling as well as sci-fi and fantasy stories about giants and giantesses, ending the world. But my fantasy has become bitter sweet, because I realize that this is going to hurt. Shiva is still out beyond the orbit of Neptune, almost a year away, but unmistakable. She is so much bigger than the Earth, that when she hits there are many scenarios: but other than the religious fanatics nobody expects more than a handful to survive. These estimates, however are grossly optimistic. Shiva's arrival should not be thought of in terms of impact, because her concussion is only one part of her entourage. If, somehow, miraculously, Shiva were to stop, 100 feet above the ground, after entering the atmosphere, it would be too late, because her arrival will probably strip away most of the air we count on for life. Falling into the inner portion of the solar system, Shiva's energies will be sufficient to vaporize ALL of the world's water supply. The temperatures in the atmosphere--what's left of it-- will scald anyone who is not squashed by a falling planet 8.6 times earth's diameter, or pummeled by a shock wave. The shock wave will be 10,000 times as powerful as the shock wave generated by an atom bomb, and will flatten every building, every tree, and even cave in tunnels. Mine-shafts might be safe from cave-in, but there will be tidal flooding, tsunamis, and of course the effects on the earth. The earth may crack, breaking into pieces, but this will not matter. Just as it is pointless to look for survivors when a big jet falls from the sky in flames, exploding, and then striking the ground, it will be useless to expect survival after this giantess falls from the sky, causing such havoc to the atmosphere, the oceans, and the earth. There will quite likely be nothing whatsoever alive on the planet, although spores and viruses may carry the possibility of future life. The world economy is in chaos, gearing up for a different kind of future. Building is almost non-existent except for those who build shelters, in the hope of surviving the end of the world. Hedonism is now the way of things, as there are fewer and fewer days left to seize. The newest and most shocking religions emulate the celestial events, as goddesses of destruction win a short-lived following. Shiva herself is the biggest star, in more ways than one. The chief ritual of celebrants invokes her power to crush and squish. Catharsis is longed for, in the oblivion of the cataclysm. Of course I have joined such a church, because it also plays out my sexual fantasy. The main priestess of any church of Shiva is a big, strong woman. The celebration could be taken from the pages of DeSade, in a sacred parade. In any of these churches, the celebrant is a big woman, whose congregation lies before her, begging her to walk upon them. While it might not be your cup of tea, and may have caught on because of the strangeness of the times, I love it, and find it a blissful celebration. Our theories about the solar system are now being revised again, pointless as it might seem. The red spot on Jupiter is now understood to be the roiling aftermath of a large strike; the Oort cloud of comets, from whence Shiva came, is in fact unexplored, but likely full of planet sized siblings to the planet-crusher currently zeroing in on our small home. Our observations had only just begun in earnest, and we had seen so many gigantic bodies in irregular paths that our old assumptions about the regularity of the system were all but thrown away; all that was left was to establish the magnitude of risk...if the planet itself had not ventured into the path of the giantess. And now? More and more find meaning under the feet of a woman, who looks down with compassion while delivering them. The celebrant says "I free you from your life I take what is mine, the bounty of this planet Mine to have, because I have the power to take it. Bow to me, feel my power, as I take what is mine. My gravity pulls you, to me, to become part of me. I shall absorb you into me, to become part of my body." the congregation intones "the bodies of men, given for thee" and she slowly walks on them, saying "the bodies of men, taken by me" The congregation says "take us into thy body, goddess, let us be one with your glory", and she replies "I take and absorb what is mine Come to me, my own." The earth is so different, at this moment of truth. Naked eye visible, Shiva hangs above us, first as speck, then a dot, and finally as a rock, growing daily. More and more join in the rituals of Shiva, although they get to be so frenzied that the simulation of death is no longer a simulation. Not only do the celebrants enter into a kind of ecstasy, pressing people with their feet, but they are encouraged to grow. The tallest women are recruited for this task, and then, as in the marriage ritual of certain African tribes, are fed in order that they grow. The women are now virtual giantesses, all over 6', and stuffed well beyond 400, 500, even 600 pounds. The deaths of those in these multitudes are considered good deaths, as the celebrants bless the multitude for each body they "absorb" into the goddess. As so many people share the same vision, is it mass hypnotism, or a collective hysteria that leads many to report the most incredible things: that the women are beginning to absorb the people they step on, through their feet, and are beginning to assume a truly gigantic size. The feet of these women are no longer soft and delicate little feet, warm and blessed in their arrival, but big, and dangerous. The women are achieving a kind of critical mass, suddenly shooting up above their congregations, as they literally absorb every body into them. I have seen two such giantesses meet, each flushed with the nutrients, sensations, the wild coursing blood of hundreds of bodies, flowing into a newly grown giantess. Some small vestige of the minds of each person seems to remain, so that the great ones are alive inside, with all the combined sensations of those absorbed, a consciousness alive with the fantasies of those underfoot. The mind of the giantess is both the great and heavy goddess, and the dreams of oblivion underfoot of those recently crushed and absorbed underfoot: a perfect combination. One was so much bigger than the other, but they met in a kind of reverence for one another, feeling and sensing each other both in the fullness of their new stature, but also in the recalled tininess with which the ones so recently absorbed had looked up at the descending sole of their crusher. They recall that sensation, that helpless passivity, and contemplate, measuring against each other, alive with so much sensitivity. The one, white, stood over 60 feet tall, and was easily 30 feet wide, but only knee high to the other, whose caramel-brown torso was clearly wider than her own height of 250 feet. The smaller giantess bowed, but was not stepped on: rather, the larger one stood over the other as she lay upon her back, and then the titan swift as a falling planet fell forward, inundating her with the bulk of her terrible abdomen. This abdomen was sagging down almost to the knee, and fully 300 feet wide, landing with the finality of a foot upon an insect even though this was a 30 foot tall insect. And then they merged. I saw her rise later, and walk to meet one she would embrace and meld with: an oriental woman of slightly narrower girth, but 3 times the height. I could not tell who was bigger, except that again, there was a sense of religious homage, of meditation upon their perceptions of greatness and tininess. They embraced, and stood together for a long time, blending, knowing one another physically, carnally, in every sense linked, blended and finally, melted into one another. As they stood, there was a distant sound like an earthquake, to which they both turned their heads with a fatalistic smile. And then the sound was repeated, perhaps 20 seconds later, and then, after another pause.... and again,.... and again a few times. They stood, and watched, and finally lay down on their backs, in recognition, a kind of titanic homage to...what? Footsteps. How big is the giantess whose footsteps land twenty seconds apart? But the sound persisted, actually shock waves, not the goddess herself. Finally the creator of that sound and destroyer of this city hove into view on the horizon. She was hard to comprehend. Each leg was at least 2 or three miles in thickness, and her height was surely measured in miles, as her waist was far above the clouds. Her feet were small in comparison to the legs, the way an elephant's feet are the pressed compromise necessary to support tons of weight. So her tiny feet were only miles across, hammering the planet like a bell of doom, with each incomprehensible blow. One dainty foot settled so easily over these two that they vanished as if they never were, and probably made little appreciable difference in the planet sized goddess- mountain, oblivious to their life, or to any building trapped under such unimaginable bulk. While she strode above the clouds, perhaps surveying the approaching planetoid, did she notice whether anything was under such feet? How large would something have to be for her to even feel the ticklish perception of its momentary resistance to her omnipotent downward press? That the Empire State Building was still standing in her path was not anything she was aware of, given that it was one of the crunchy little shapes smaller than her big toe, and that its sound was a whisper compared to the sound of her footfall, a burst of air to break ears a fraction before ears and heads were also broken. It was just another step she took, that pushed it hundreds of feet underground, where bedrock, subways, basements, cringing refugees from looming towers of female destruction, and 100 storey buildings are all, in an instant, just the dirt squished into wrinkles on the bottom of the megatons of one of her toes. All life is given her bargain: invited to join her or hammered into insensible and instantaneous flatness, hammered by her miles of flesh, poised in a jiggling tower ripping the air with sonic booms as the foot descends, preceded by a window-splintering air-blast... then trailed by clouds of dusty debris. Were she walking on eggshells she would not break or crush as many as she now does, a small planet in the making. Were there others like this one, who perhaps could absorb her, or was she the biggest? If she was not the biggest, what contact would crush this mindless paver of cities, unknowingly snuffing millions under her feet? I wondered, and wished to make contact somehow. What would the eye see, as it stepped, what expression express such divine power? I thought of my juvenile fantasy in the basement, and lay myself down, expecting to be part of her, any moment. Somehow I was still alive, a witness. The shock waves would come rolling in. The big fat body, striking the ground with her big fat feet, squashing and breaking and flattening everything was also making the earth shake. The seismic waves changed the earth's rotations, as the entire planet quivered as if in a kind of sexual frenzy. Every gigantic footstep was a local earthquake, another seismic event. Earth and giantesses danced on Richter's Scale, higher and higher numbers, as the earth became more and more aroused, battered and stomped by bigger and bigger feet. How shocking when -- despite calamitous tides and tsunami -- Shiva passed close by, but missed after all. The earth was alive, barely. Had we killed her needlessly? Or had we offered her in sacrifice to the new goddesses dancing on the planet?