Just let Alt-Sophie feel the effects

The thought crosses your mind that you should interfere and let torrential torment pour onto her skin from your divinely deft fingers, but you have a hunch that pleasure like that might just collapse the universe or something stupid like that. Instead you elect to just watch from afar as Alt-Sophie suffers a tantric eschatological event.

By now you're starting to believe that you're being too demanding of Goddess Sophie, constantly bothering her for more powers. However, your Divine brains are simply bursting with fun ideas that require even more. So you ask for one more thing:

Sophie: "Can you... make me able to grant these powers myself?"

Goddess Sophie: "Oh, you silly little one..."

She tenderly kisses you on the lips. You almost explode with pleasure - only a microscopic taste of what it'd be like to have sex with her. You're shaking like a reed against the divine wind, as she hugs you, pressing your face into her beachball-boobs.

Goddess Sophie: "...You've always had the ability to do that!"

Sophie: "A...a-always? E-even before meeting you?"

Goddess Sophie: "Yes! Remember darling, you're a Goddess with a big G. You can have, and have always had any and all superpowers you could think of. They're all locked away in that magnificent mind of yours..."

Sophie: "But... how do I unlock them?"

Goddess Sophie: "You need to discard your humility and reason. Be brash, foolish and megalomanic! Believe that the universe owes these powers to you. Believe even if it makes you feel selfish, even if it makes you feel like a villain, even if it makes you hate yourself for even wanting it. Tear your powers from the flimsy grips of life and conquer the universe, you sunstorm, you black hole, you perfection on two toe-beaned legs!"

These words nearly flay your mind. It is said that supernatural vision is granted by the third eye: now you feel billions upon billions of eyes opening within your brains. Each one skyrockets your abilities to the combinatoric heavens. Each one, in turn, fucks your soul like a gentle lover.

With a mere stray passing thought, you duplicate clones of yourself to carry out the rest of your tasks, so you can remain writhing in the throes of this orgasmic revelation.

The first clone heads for Christie's dressing room, passing through the door with intangibility. A few words, sprinkled with the power of hypnotic suggestion, are enough to bring her under your will. Your clone orders her to go and masturbate in front of the rest of the film crew, which she gleefully agrees to. That's the first task complete: humiliate Christie.

Second task: sabotage the director as well. Another one of your clones restarts timeflow in the director's dressing room. This second clone then transforms herself into the opposite sex, becoming an extremely sexxed up catboy. Using this monumentously sexy body, he seduces and fucks the director so hard that he loses the will to direct anything besides gay furry porn anymore. The director throws the Powergirl film script in the trash and happily begins writing his magnum opus: 'Feisty Furs Floodgate Fuckfest Fapboree I-XII', a sensational success that would rake in more money than any generic Powergirl flick ever could.

Lastly: seduce and fuck both Christie and Alt-Sophie. That's easy - Christie is already masturbating in trance, and Alt-Sophie is on the cusp of such a ginormous orgasm that the universe around her is practically blinking in and out of existence. You employ a third clone to turn herself into an enormous malleable wad of Sophie-colored goo, which entangles both Christie and Alt-Sophie and ravages their every orifice.

When Christie and Alt-Sophie cum, you can sort of feel a checkmark of reality pinging in the corner of your mind. You've achieved your grandiose goal, and as such are entitled to a little reward.

Goddess Sophie: "My innocent little mortal duplicate has all grown up... What better introduction to Divinity than a lil' bit of lovemaking."

Whatever happens next, feels to you like an insane fever dream in retrospect. You have only faint recollections of it. The feeling of reality becoming sort of two-dimensional, as if the universe were fabric colouring tie-dyed onto a t-shirt. The forms of unmentionable beasts raging behind this faint cowl of reality, groping and licking, taking whatever they like. The universe heaving with every breath that Goddess Sophie takes, and tearing itself open as she opens herself for you. A maelstorm of every sexual favor imaginable, spinning around you wildly as you try to desperately grab all of them.

There's no telling what sort of timeframes occur between you starting to have sex with Goddess Sophie, and you coming to.

You wake up back at your house, trembling with pleasure. As you raise your hand, it seems to leave an empty hole into the background of reality. There are pulsing veins on the walls and across the furniture. There are dildos and onaholes strewn everywhere - a close look would reveal that the tiny glistening dots inside of them are galaxy clusters. On the floor you find a furry skinsuit that looks like yourself. A butt plug falls out from... somewhere. Upon contact with the ground, it evaporates and turns to jet black snakes. Somehow these thing aren't mutually exclusive.

You go to the kitchen for a glass of water. You don't walk there, or fly or teleport. You just sort of... start existing there. Maybe you created the kitchen just now. Maybe kitchens didn't exist before. The tap water turns to liquid gold in your glass, and the ice is diamonds. You drink it heartily down anyways.

Sophie: "That... was a lot wilder than I expected."

Gradually, as you regain your mental faculties back, your house and all the reality outside of it begin to transform back to normalcy. Thoughts about Divinity, omnipotence, personality and your relation and similarities to Goddess Sophie occupy your mind all through the day.

Despite apparently now rivaling Goddess Sophie in power, there's a long road ahead of you before you can get into a similar headspace as her.

ENDING 62 -Fuck Time-