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Three-Headed Domination - Part 3 (Patreon Commission+ for Cookiechip54)
🕑 Added 2022-02-20 15:38:00 +0000 UTCTAGS: Growth/Expansion, Macro/Macro Growth, Giantess, Goddess/Divine Dominance, Mass Consumption
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Oh, how she cackled, devouring what she could while gathering the rest; how she giggled, seeing all of reality begin collapsing into a singular point from gravitational pull alone. Everything was fuel for her, everything was there for her to use in order to propel herself forward, transforming her already-divine form into something… not greater, actually. Not greater, because to place herself as she was on the same scale as what she was about to become would be a crime against herself, and Trinity had always prided herself on not lying or obfuscating the truth. She was nothing if not honest, to herself most of all, and if she was going to be honest, she was going to have to admit that what she was becoming was different. It was impossible to grade it, if she was going to qualify it in comparison to her puny current self, she’d spend most of eternity trying to understand just what exactly she was meant to be looking at; the truth was, even the tiny glimpse of it that the goddess could already see made her doubt whether or not she even deserved that title, or if she had been using it in complete ignorance, not knowing that the reality of it was that she was about as insignificant compared to her true self as all the little ones she ate were to her. As she devoured what was left of the cosmos and gathered the ghostly remnants into one, singular point of infinity density and heat, preparing for a grand rebirth, Trinity saw a shadow of herself, lurking beyond the edges of reality, as they were: she saw a part of her body, glorious and transcendent, having become something inexplicable even to her. She saw herself as she truly could be, as the real epitome of perfect divinity, not the pale imitation she had been inhabiting so far. And as she chomped down on whatever bits of antimatter were floating around, as the exotic particles that had yet escaped from her grasp were brought to heel, she knew. She knew what had happened, knew what the reality of the situation was, and knew, with a smile on her face, just how alike her it had been to pull that trick on herself. Of course she was seeing herself out there: she had never left. She had been there for so long that time had ceased meaning anything, and she had been the one responsible for the cycle that now permeated the multiverse. She had, at some unfathomably distant point in the past, kickstarted the runarounds that had characterized the giantess’ life, and she had been the one to create the Laws required to make it work in the first place, rather than having it collapse at the first sign of trouble. She, her true self, waited for her minute avatar to come meet her beyond the veil, waiting for the little one to get tired of playing in the proverbial sand box and come join the big girls at the club; she, Trinity, the Triune Goddess, the Overlady of all reality, the one who spun the threads and tugged on the red string, she who decided who lived, who perished, who existed and who did not, cultivating entire universes purely so she could effortlessly snack on them like tiny pieces of candy. The one true her, who had decided to run a little experiment to see if she could start all over again and ascend beyond the bounds of the cosmos, just as she had so long ago. The Trinity within the tiny marble, the one who had just then gotten done gathering all remaining matter in her instance of reality, could only look on in awe, wondering to herself just how often she had seen such a sight and blocked it out; perhaps the reason why the resets happened was precisely because she did know what was waiting for her at the end, and simply wiped it clean from her memory… but no, that didn’t make sense. If she saw it, her first instinct (as it was right then) would be to reach for it, to break through, to become one with herself until the very thought of inhabiting a singular universe became blasphemy. Which could only meant that this time, this cycle was different; whether it be because she had grown powerful enough to shatter through her limits, or some other esoteric reason she was certain would eventually make sense to her once she sat down and actually thought about it, Trinity found herself staring at… well, herself, reaching out with a single fingertip, itself large enough to blot out her entire cosmic domain, reaching out for the little tiny goddess who was just then learning the truth about her origins, the truth about her nature. It was beautiful, and she couldn’t possibly imagine any other scenario in which she could feel such bliss: to know that she was out there, in a much greater form, just waiting for the opportunity to be made whole again… it was life. It was life, and joy, and motivation, for now Trinity was aware of what awaited her, and being so left her feeling like nothing could stand in her way. Clearly, she’d done it once, which only meant she could do it again! Clearly, if she only put her back into it, then everything could repeat itself: she’d ascend, become one with her true form, and then later down the line repeat the whole process, in an eternal recursion that would leave her increasingly more powerful, increasingly more massive, and ever more perfect. No longer would she dine on singular souls; rather, she would grow and nurture whole realities, flocks of quadrillions, quintillions of lives all waiting to be devoured and turned into fuel for a goddess they had no chance of understanding. They would become batteries for her, in her perpetual rise towards a state of absolute dominion, one that would put the concepts thought of by the masters of cycles to shame. They spoke of kalpas? Of measurable infinities? Clearly they didn’t know what she was capable of; she couldn’t be measured, she couldn’t be defined; she simply was. And by being, she alone was the sole arbiter of reality as anyone knew, she alone decided upon all, and she alone exalted herself to beyond the realms of perfection. It was everything she could ever want and more, condensed into an experience of such transcendent beauty that to even begin to try qualifying it would be to do it a disservice. It was something to be felt and lived through, not put down into words, or painted, or even made into a multiversal symphony. She would sing, oh yes, she would sing all reality into being again and again, even after unmaking it and stuffing it inside of her; she would harmonize with herself, three heads in triune unison, singing a new Is into being, one that would eventually, and inevitably, be used to stuff her further, making her bigger, more powerful, more apt to constructing a brand new meta-existence which would, itself, be devoured in time, assuming time even mattered or registered anymore. Such was her life, for a given meaning of the word, and such was her existence going forward; as Trinity, the smaller Trinity, reached out to her true self, her universe began to implode upon itself. Whatever remained of it had been compressed down into a singularity, and though its infinity was much lesser than the one who had started everything to begin with, it would suffice for the purpose of ascending the goddess to her proper state. For her, the process had already begun: the “walls” were closing in, pushing down on her like a plastic bag, a thin film pressing against her form and adapting to her contours, just as he pushed back against it; all she needed was the tiniest opening, the smallest of rips or gashes through which to escape, and her physical avatar could very easily be turned to pure divine energy for just a fraction of a second, enough to vacate her cosmos entirely. So she pushed, struggled, fought against her fate; if she failed, at least all she’d do was reset everything and start over, but she refused to accept this. She refused to accept the possibility of a defeat, and as she kept on shoving, kept on puncturing, kept on piercing, she was emboldened by the sight of herself, smiling warmly down at her, inviting her, egging her on, letting her know that everything was safe and she could keep going. All she had to do was keep trying, and in the end, she would succeed; all she needed to do was not give up, and her reward would be true divinity, distilled and made into mannah for herself, and only herself.
So she roared. A silent growl, heard by none but her three heads, the vibrations coursing through the outer layers of her universal egg. She roared, and the walls came crashing down, a bubble popped, two selves reunited.
She roared, and she was whole again.
The feast would begin anew.
