Birth of a Goddess
by Seldom (seldomlasts@yahoo.com)
Jonathon's faith is put to the test and remains strong.


***** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

Somewhat different than my usual stories, but still violent. Fair
warning: fantasy. Feedback desired.

* * * * *

Jonathon Smith was unremarkable. Neither intelligent nor dumb, neither
tall nor short, neither too fat nor too slim, neither attractive nor
unattractive. In fact, the only extraordinary thing about Jonathon Smith
was his unshakeable faith that the world is a good and just place, and
that if you are good and just to people you will lead a happy and
fulfilled life. You might think this an admirable quality in the
abstract. You might think him hopelessly naive. Nothing could rid him of
his conviction, not being mugged, nor taken advantage of by his friends,
nor cheated on by the girls who called him a sweet guy, nor being laid
off after ten years of faithful service to a faceless corporation. Nor
having all the above happen on the same day. Today. The last day of his
life.

Another man might have felt a little bitter about coming home after
receiving his two weeks notice to find his girlfriend in the arms of
their best friend. Then he might have suspected fate had it out for him
when two men brandishing knives had demanded all his money.

And, indeed, Jonathon knew this was the worst day of his life. The pain
and betrayal he felt washed up in unspeakable grief, a torrent of guilt
and sadness that could find no outlet in mere speech, in empty
utterances. Jonathon thought maybe he could find his salvation at the
bottom of a whiskey glass. He drained his drink and checked. It looked
suspiciously like the bottom of an empty whiskey glass.

Jonathon sighed and got up to pee. Returning from the bathroom he heard
a muffled sob of anguish, the cry of a fellow soul in pain. Curious and
compassionate, he turned to look. A huge shapeless mass covered in great
reams of cloth sat at a dark table in an unlit corner. Twelve shot
glasses were arranged in front of it, all empty.

"Looks like you're in pretty bad shape. Would you like some company?" he
asked sympathetically, his own plight forgotten. Even sitting the dark
creature towered over him.

The behemoth shifted and turned to look down at him and he could see its
face through the cowl. Jonathon was startled to find himself looking
into the bloodshot, tearful eyes of a stunning young woman. He quickly
checked the rest of her to make sure he wasn't seeing things. What could
be hiding under that huge bundle of fabric? Considering the quantity of
alcohol she had obviously consumed, she didn't look in the least bit
inebriated.

"Yeah, sure, I mean, if you want," the girl said shyly. Her voice was
soft, warm, and thrilling. There was barely enough room at the table for
him. Jonathon slipped into the bench opposite and signaled the bartender
for two waters.

"What's wrong?" Jonathon asked as their drinks arrived. The bartender
cleared the empty shot glasses and looked at the woman apprehensively,
as if afraid she might suddenly fall over dead, before lumbering back
behind the bar.

"Today is the worst day of my life!" the girl moaned in self-pity, tears
falling down her cheeks again.

"Tell me about it," Jonathon replied with a chuckle. He held out his
hand. "Jonathon," he said.

The girl hesitated a moment before bringing a cloaked arm the size of a
barrel onto the table. Her hand was the size of a ham, the fingers
thick, veiny, and hard, not the chubby fat he was expecting from this
mountain of a woman. Jonathon clasped it gently and was rewarded with
the tiniest of squeezes. "Sylvia," the girl said, bravely attempting a
smile.

"Beautiful name," Jonathon said. The girl blushed. "Care to talk about
what happened? Must have been terrible," he said.

Sylvia looked around fearfully, as if afraid the bar's few other
customers might be listening. "I, I don't really want to talk about it
here," she whispered.

"Okay," Jonathon said agreeably. Not everyone wanted to talk about their
sorrows.

Sylvia's gorgeous brown eyes were wide open. "Do you really want to
know? Or are you just being nice?" she asked.

"Both," Jonathon replied. "Only if you want to tell me."

She smiled again. It lit up her pretty oversized face delightfully.
"You're so sweet," she said, eyeing him appraisingly. "Can we go
somewhere else to talk? I mean, if you don't mind," she amended hastily.

Jonathon found himself captivated by this monstrously large woman,
wondering what she kept hidden under the folds of fabric. From her
muscular fingers he didn't think she was fat, but he wasn't sure. Her
smile was delightful, her face pretty, and her demeanor shy and sweet.
"I wouldn't mind at all," he said, smiling. "In fact, I'd be honored.
Where?"

Sylvia thought a second. "How about...um, how about my place?" she
suggested shyly.

Jonathon could hardly believe what was happening. He met a pretty woman
at a bar and she was asking him to her place! He had always been
attracted to taller, stronger women, but the reverse was not true. He
wanted to help her, soothe her pain, and hopefully his own.

"Okay," he said. She looked apprehensive. "Don't worry, I don't want to
hurt you," he said, trying to reassure her.

She looked slightly amused for a moment, then a terrible anguish crossed
her face. "You can't," she said.

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed.

She looked at him seriously, her eyes glittering coldly. Her hand
clasped his again and squeezed, more firmly this time. Bones ground
painfully in his wrist. He yelped and tried to pull away but found he
couldn't. Her squeeze continued until he thought a bone would snap.
"No," she said bitterly, "I mean you can't. I would rip your arms off
before you tried." She released his hand and he rubbed it tenderly.
"Sorry," she muttered. She looked embarrassed. She bit her lip and cast
her eyes down shyly. "I won't hurt you, but if you don't want to come, I
understand."

He was frightened and awed, but above all curious. He wanted to know
what could hurt such a magnificent creature. He leaned forward and said
earnestly, "I've had a shitty day too. Meeting a pretty girl like you is
the best thing that's happened to me."

"I'm hideous," she whispered.

"You're beautiful," he insisted. He reached out to stroke her cheek.
Instantly her hand whipped up and crushed his wrist. "Ow!" he yelled.
Sylvia looked startled and quickly released him. He snatched back his
wrist and checked for anything broken. A purple bruise slowly spread
across his flesh.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I thought you were going to slap me," Sylvia
said, her eyes brimming with tears. "I just reacted without thinking...I
should go." She slid away from the table and stood up...and up. She was
at least eight feet tall and almost as broad. With a speed and grace
that belied her huge size, she strode over to the bar, threw a generous
amount of money down, and started for the door.

"Sylvia," a voice called after her. She turned to see the sweet little
man looking up at her. He suddenly looked down, shy himself. "Am I still
invited?" he stammered out.

"Maybe it would be best if you didn't come," Sylvia said. Jonathon
looked crestfallen. "I could really hurt you accidentally," she said.

Jonathon didn't want to press harder than was polite, but he saw the
gorgeous woman of his fantasies about to walk out of his life forever on
what was already a rotten day. That gave him rare courage. "We can just
talk. It's obvious you're in pain, and I...I just want to help you. If I
can," he said.

Sylvia considered for a moment. Finally she nodded. "Okay. I'd really
like someone to talk to." She shut her eyes tight. "Jonathon," she said
in a strangled voice, "I don't know what's happening to me!"

The huge cloaked figure had already raised eyebrows. As it became
increasingly obvious she was a woman, she was attracting unwelcome
attention from the bar patrons. "Stop looking at me!" she shouted.
Instantly all heads turned away from her. She looked puzzled and
frightened. "Jonathon?" she asked in a small voice, noticing even he was
looking away.

He shook himself as if from a trance. "Wow," he breathed in awe.
Remembering what happened the last time he tried to touch her, he
shakily reached his hand out, very slowly and unthreateningly. She
enveloped it in her gigantic fist and ducked out the door, turning
sideways to fit her massive shoulders through. She didn't quite turn far
enough and knocked chunks out of the doorframe. She didn't seem to
notice.

"Should I get us a cab?" Jonathon asked, spying one coming down the
street.

Sylvia shook her head. "I don't fit in one. When I tried I broke the
poor thing."

"Broke?" Jonathon asked.

Sylvia sighed. "When I tried to force myself in, I tore the ceiling,
broke the windows, and crushed the passenger seat. Two of the tires
blew. The cabbie started screaming and drove away while I was still
clutching the door and I ripped it off. Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
scare you. I'm still not used to what happened to me."

Jonathon quivered in her grasp but resisted the urge to run away. "How
do we get to your house then?" he asked.

"On foot. My feet, I mean," she said, scooping him up and putting him
onto her broad shoulders to straddle her thick neck. She pulled her cowl
back, revealing long, luxurious black hair. "Hold on tight. Don't worry,
you can't hurt me," she said. She took off into the night in a
breathtakingly fast run, easily accelerating up to forty miles an hour
with long, powerful strides. Her shoulders remained level as she
smoothly slid along with seemingly impossible grace, giving Jonathon a
gently rocking ride.

"Oh my God," he gasped as the city whipped by around them. A car
barreled down on the intersection they were crossing. Sylvia ducked low,
tensing her legs, and sprang off the ground, easily leaping over the car
and landing smoothly on the other side. Before long they came upon a
classier section of town. Sylvia pulled to a stop in front of a large,
rich-looking building.

"Hi Sam," Sylvia said to the doorman.

"Lovely evening, Miss Powers," Sam replied, opening the door for her.

Sylvia hunched down and let Jonathon crawl off her back. His legs shook
and he nearly collapsed. Sylvia gathered him up in her arms and carried
him up to her room. She had to squeeze through the doorframe before
depositing him on a leather couch. She went into the kitchen to fetch a
couple of drinks.

Jonathon looked around the spacious apartment. Gold leaf and glass
adorned most of the furnishings. Several photos showed a tall, slender
young woman, unmistakably Sylvia, and a taller, muscular, handsome young
man. Jonathon felt a stab of jealousy. Some of the photos showed Sylvia
dancing in various costumes. She had a pale unearthly beauty that
contrasted with her flowing black hair and soft brown eyes.

"You're a dancer?" he asked.

Sylvia nodded. "I work on Broadway...um, I mean, I did," she said,
looking down at herself. Her eyes were moist. "I suppose I can't do that
anymore, though," she said quietly. "This isn't exactly a dancer's
build." She quietly handed him a cup of tea. He sipped it gratefully.

"Who's the guy? Your boyfriend?" he asked.

Sylvia choked on her tea. "He was," she said. Tears spilled down her
cheeks again.

"What happened?"

"I killed him," she whispered. "I didn't mean to. Maybe I should start
from the beginning."

Jonathon put down his tea and embraced her giant frame. His arms barely
reached to her sides. Sylvia looked startled, then slowly patted his
back. He withdrew after a moment. "Thanks," she said sincerely.

"You looked like you needed one," he said.

She nodded. "I suppose I did. I doubt I'll get another one after what I
have to tell you."

"You can have as many as you want," he said.

She smiled sadly. "Once I'm done, you'll only hug me if I force you, and
if I did that, you wouldn't survive," she said regretfully.

"Try me."

"Okay. It sounds so crazy, and if I were you I wouldn't believe me, but
it's what happened. And besides, how else would you explain how I got
from there," she gestured vaguely at the pictures, "to here?" Jonathon
just smiled and touched her shoulder reassuringly.

"About two weeks ago I was kidnapped. I felt a little prick and next
thing I knew I was lying on a table with a mad scientist leaning over
me. See, I told you you wouldn't believe me."

"I believe you," Jonathon said.

"Hah. I wouldn't. Anyway, he started raving about me reaching the next
stage in human evolution. Said he spent the last five years looking for
someone with the right background, the right education, the right
physicality, the right genes. Among other things. He ranted a lot. Said
humans were worthless scum, and he would be the one to raise us above
the beasts. He had this assistant, a vile little man, who kept pawing my
legs and drooling over them." She paused a moment. "I had beautiful
legs," she said wistfully, staring at the long smoothly muscular legs of
the woman in the picture.

"Anyway, to make a long story short, whatever he did, I woke up later to
find myself looking like this," she said. She stood up and swept off her
cloak.

Jonathon gasped. Sylvia stood naked, a gigantic, seething, roiling mass
of veiny muscle, an enormous tank bubbling up with huge ridges and deep
valleys at the slightest movement. She held her arms out, flexed, and
slowly twirled around in a graceful dancer's movement. Her pecs had
completely consumed her originally small breasts, so only sheets of
corded pectoral muscle remained with hard little nipples jutting out.
Her deep cleavage was entirely formed by striated muscle. Her shoulders
were impossibly broad and muscular, tapering to a washboard of huge
abdominals, then flaring slightly to comparatively narrow hips. Her legs
matched her arms, gigantic columns of rippling power. Angrily pulsing
veins stretched across every inch of exposed thin skin as she worked a
full-body flex. Muscles jumped to prominence with each shrug, each tiny
shift of her vast bulk. Her thick neck bulged up to support her huge
skull, her beautiful severe face larger and even sharper-edged than in
the photos.

Sylvia smiled wistfully. "I used to be so beautiful," she said.

Jonathon licked his dry lips. "You're gorgeous," he said.

She looked at him quizically. "You...you like this?" she asked,
gesturing at herself, making each pumped muscle jump.

"I love it," he said. "My God, you're the most beautiful creature...can
I, may I touch?" he asked hesitantly.

Sylvia looked suddenly insecure. "I, I guess. This wasn't the reaction I
was expecting. When my boyfriend saw me..." Tears choked her up and she
couldn't finish.

"I'm sorry," Jonathon said automatically. Sylvia settled onto the couch
beside him, her bulk taking up nearly the whole width. Jonathon slowly
moved his hand to her hot skin, and when she showed no objection, he
stroked her enormous bicep tenderly, tracing his fingers over the
powerfully pulsing blue veins. "You're terrific," he said in awe.

Sylvia turned to him and suddenly scooped him onto her lap, then rested
her head on his shoulder and wrapped him in a hug that nearly broke his
ribs. He ran his fingers through her fine silky hair and caressed her
huge muscular neck. "I'm not finished," she finally whispered.

"I woke up in a square room. A tiny naked little man was in there with
me. Well, I guess he wasn't really tiny, only a little smaller than you,
but to me he looked so small! I hadn't gotten used to my size yet. I
still haven't really. I just thought he looked so puny and pathetic. He
was shaking in miserable fright, looking up at me with huge terrified
eyes. 'What's going on?' I asked.

"'Th-they want you to k-kill me,' the tiny little man squeaked. I looked
around. There was a one-way mirror on one of the walls. A
dangerous-looking metal thing hung from the ceiling. Two nozzles tracked
our movements around the room. When the evil scientist saw I was awake,
he laughed into the PA system. He told me to squash the little man, to
feel my true power, to know that I was now a Goddess, and so on. The
little man started crying. I just wanted to hug him and make him feel
better. I tried to reassure him but he kept backing away from me."
Sylvia paused again.

"What did you do?" Jonathon asked, completely absorbed in her story. He
sat on her lap looking up at her, trembling in fear.

"I refused to kill him, of course," Sylvia said, slightly offended. "The
scientist got angry and said that if I didn't kill him, he would destroy
both of us and find someone more suitable. I told him to stop picking on
us! He shouted angrily and somehow I could sense that he was about to do
something terrible. I threw myself over the little man just as two beams
of light shot at us. I felt a mild discomfort. I looked up at the
nozzles and wished they would just stop working. And then they did! I
stared at them in hate and they started melting! I scared myself.

"I must have scared the scientist too, because he said 'Oh shit' and
tried to leave. I jumped up and punched through the one-way mirror. He
was trying to unlock the door and shaking. The twirpy little assistant
was staring at me and drooling again. I just wanted to smash him! I
walked over to the scientist and picked him up with one hand. He begged
me not to kill him. 'I didn't kill that other man,' I said, annoyed,
'what makes you think I'll kill you?'

"'Y-yes you did,' he stammered, pointing. I looked over and saw a red
puddle spreading out from under the poor little guy. I had accidentally
crushed him to death with my freak body! I got so furious. 'You
murdering little shit!' I screamed at him. I guess I screamed too loud
because his head exploded.

"The assistant tried to attack me when I dropped the scientist. I
grabbed one of his arms in each hand and pulled them off. It was easier
than pulling taffy. I was so mad I stomped on his head and my foot
crunched down through the concrete floor. His brains and stuff were all
over the place. It was icky. I was all bloody.

"I walked over to the man I had crushed. I could see he was still
breathing. I was really relieved, but now I felt a bit guilty over
killing the scientist. Not too guilty though. I gently rolled the little
guy over and examined him. It looked like my muscles had crushed his
legs, but otherwise he was all right. I started feeling better. I had
saved him! I had no doubt that beam the scientist shot would have killed
him."

Jonathon was shaking violently. She stroked him soothingly and gently
kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you," she said again.

"I know," Jonathon said. "But your story, it's so horrible!"

"It gets worse. I took the little man to the hospital. The doctors and
police wanted to know why I was naked, why I was covered in blood and
little bits of bone and brain and other gooey stuff, and what had
happened. I didn't feel like talking to them so I left. The police tried
to stop me, but I didn't want to listen to them, and now that I'm a
Goddess or something, I didn't have to. I told them to shut up and they
did. I guess they were okay though, cause I heard them talking about me
a few minutes later after I left the hospital. I think I can pick up
radio waves when I want to now.

"I wanted to talk to Kurt. He can get a little rough sometimes, but he
is...was...my boyfriend and I needed to talk to somebody. I went over to
his apartment and he was fucking some little blonde slut. I had
disappeared without a trace for two weeks...two weeks!...and the little
shit was fucking somebody else. I got really mad and told her to leave.
She looked really scared and ran screaming out of the apartment.

"Kurt recognized me and demanded to know what happened. When I tried to
explain it to him he got really upset and yelled at me not to lie to
him. He called me bitch and some other things he usually calls me. I
told him he shouldn't say those things to me anymore, I'm a lot stronger
now. He tried to slap me like he usually does when I talk too much, and
I grabbed his arm. I squeezed harder than I intended to and sorta yanked
his arm off. He wouldn't stop screaming so I tried to shut him up, but
when I slapped him his head just sort of collapsed and his brains flew
everywhere. It was really disgusting." Sylvia was crying. "Poor Kurt."

Jonathon scrambled out of Sylvia's lap. She didn't try to stop him. She
just started sobbing. To her surprise he didn't run out of her
apartment. She felt his arms wrap around her neck from behind and his
lips pushed into her ear. He kissed her tenderly. "Kurt sounds like he
was an asshole," he said.

Sylvia stopped sobbing momentarily. "Well, maybe, I guess he was," she
said doubtfully. "I dunno, I am kind of a stupid bitch though, and I am
all freaky now, I can see why he was angry. Killing him was an accident.
I wish I hadn't."

Jonathon hugged her tightly. "You're a beautiful woman, before and
after. Have all your boyfriends been abusive?"

"No, no, they're not abusive," Sylvia protested. "They just get a little
rough sometimes, and I'm not smart enough to know when to shut up! It's
my fault, really. And now Kurt's dead because of me."

"He's dead because he tried to hit you. You don't deserve that, you
never did," Jonathon said angrily. "You deserve so much better than an
abusive asshole."

Sylvia reached behind her and plucked Jonathon off the ground, bringing
him in front of her. She looked into his eyes and saw his care. She was
startled to find she could feel his care, like it was coming off him in
warm, soothing waves.

"Someone better like you, you mean?" she asked, gazing at him lovingly.

"Um, well, I mean, better than me, you know, I'm nobody, and you're a
Goddess," he stammered.

"You're sweet," she said for the second time that evening. She brought
his body to her, ignoring his pitiful attempts to squirm away, and
kissed him. He instantly melted into her embrace. Her tongue forced his
lips apart and she dominantly raped his mouth. She wasn't used to being
the aggressor, but she found she liked it. She wished he was naked. When
she looked down she was surprised to see his clothes had disappeared.

She stroked his rapidly stiffening cock with one long thick finger. He
started to faint and she realized she had sucked all the air from his
lungs. "Oops," she said, releasing him. He gasped in a few breaths and
looked up at her adoringly.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she sat him on the couch and knelt
in front of him.

She looked down at him and smiled fondly. "You've been so wonderful to
me. I've never known a man as sweet and caring as you. I want to do
something for you."

"Y-you don't have to do that," he whispered.

Her eyes hardened. In a voice like thunder she roared, "Your Goddess
wants to give you a blowjob, and you will not resist!" She smiled
sheepishly at his awed expression. "Pretty good, huh?" she said. She
stroked his dick again. "You don't really want me to stop, do you?" she
asked, concerned.

"Of course not," he said shakily. "After all, my Goddess wants to give
me a blowjob, and I will not resist."

Sylvia laughed. "You silly little man," she said affectionately. She
ducked her head and ran her tongue the length of his throbbing dick.
"I've been told I'm pretty good at this," she purred. "I hope you enjoy
it." Moments later his enjoyment was made stickily obvious all over her
vascular forearm.

"Oh God," he groaned.

"Goddess!" she corrected in her thunder voice. He jumped.

"Oh Goddess!" he said instantly.

Sylvia laughed again. "Become erect, now!" she snapped her fingers and
his dick sprang to attention.

"Wow," he breathed as she went down on him again. This time she let him
cum in her mouth and swallowed every last drop, then licked her lips
hungrily.

"My boyfriends used to call me their sex kitten," she said happily. "Now
I'm your sex kitten!"

Jonathon smiled. "I could get used to having a Goddess for a
girlfriend," he said.

"Good," Sylvia purred.

"And to think, I thought this was going to be the worst day of my life,"
he said.

"I did too." Sylvia looked concerned suddenly. "You won't let all this
power go to my head, will you?"

"How can I stop you?" Jonathon asked.

"Don't," she said. "Don't tease right now, please. I'm being serious.
That scientist, he created me to be evil. You won't let me become like
that, will you?"

Jonathon looked at her seriously. He cupped her cheek in his hand. "Of
course not," he said. "If you are good and just, nothing bad can taint
you."

Sylvia grinned happily. "Good!"

Jonathon stood up. Sylvia looked at him curiously. "Can we go to your
bedroom?" he asked.

"Of course, darling," Sylvia said. She took his hand and led him to her
room. He had her lay on the bed, her enormous feet planted on the floor.
He snuggled himself between her legs and spread her gigantic thighs
apart. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"What do you think?" he replied.

"Oooh," she said, and said very little else for the next ten minutes.
When her orgasm hit, it was long and powerful. She thrashed about
violently, destroyed the bed, flexed every muscle in her glorious body,
and howled so loudly it shattered her windows and woke up everyone in
the apartment building.

"Jonathon?" Sylvia whimpered, looking down at the gory mess of crushed
flesh, bones, and blood between her vast oaken thighs. "Oh Jonathon!"
she wailed.

Shh, darling, I'm right here, a ghostly voice whispered.

"What? Who's there?" Sylvia asked, frightened, her head whipping about.

It's me, Jonathon. Here, in your mind.

"H-how is that possible?" Sylvia whimpered.

I don't know, my darling, I don't know. Perhaps it's a side-effect of
your transformation. You love me, and I live. The voice paused a moment
before continuing. I feel so much more alive than I did while I was
alive, more intelligent, more free.

"Are you locked inside me?" Sylvia whispered. The thought of her darling
Jonathon, trapped inside her mind because she had killed him, almost
started her wailing again.

I am inside you, love, but not locked. I am happier than I've ever been.
I can feel your strength, your emotions, your thoughts. Your power is
amazing; you have only begun to tap the depths of your potential. I
could feel your pleasure as you climaxed, and it overrode my pain.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to," Sylvia said.

I know. I'm glad you didn't know what you were doing. The wild pleasure
of your unrestrained orgasm sustained me. I could feel every shudder,
every bit of pleasure as you squeezed me. I want to feel it again.

"So do I, darling. But, but I don't want to hurt anyone," Sylvia
whispered.

The voice chuckled. You don't have to kill if you don't want to, my
love. The potential is here, in your mind. You can feel another's
pleasure and use it to enhance yours.

"Really?" Sylvia asked hopefully. She could feel her lover's pleasure in
addition to her own? Without having to kill anybody? Pretty cool! The
thought was intensely arousing.

Yesss, the voice hissed, sounding pleased. Suddenly she felt Jonathon's
own arousal, enhanced by and enhancing her own. His thoughts and
emotions swirled with hers, a gently morphing consciousness, the perfect
commingling of two lovers.

Goddess opened her eyes, shining with tears of beautiful joy.