The Earth Goddess

You tap at the paper, not actually writing anything down.

"What would I make first?"

In Greek Mythology, the first god Chaos (if it was even sentient) created the primordial gods of darkness, night and the Earth, just to name a few. In Norse Mythology, the first being that came into existence was a giant born from the clashing of fire and ice. In Egyptian Mythology, the creator god masturbated the first gods into existence.

Mythology is weird.

You see the veteran monument in the center of the park. It is a collection of bronze statues dressed in World War I uniforms holding up a flag, symbolizing the soldiers who died in battle. It sat on a large boulder covered in chalk drawings left by children.

You look down, seeing a hand-sized rock in the grass.

Then you get an idea.

• The first god I create shall be born from whatever this rock hits when I throw it.

You put the pen and notebook down and grab the rock. You cock your arm and throw it, the rock landing on the boulder the statue stood on.

You felt an earthquake, something you think might be a shift in the natural order of the universe surrounded you as the boulder suddenly rose like a pillar. The bronze statues began to melt like chocolate as the earth upended beneath it. The spot where the rock had hit the boulder developed a crack, a sound on a divine scale comparable to a hatching egg as the crack traveled downward, ethereal light.

You flinch, the human part of you wanting to duck and cover behind a tree as the rock exploded.

When the dust settled, you walk over to what remained of the transformed boulder, careful to side-step the rubble that resulted as you climbed up to the crater within the heart of what might have been hollow rock.

Standing in the crater, dazed and puzzled by suddenly coming into existence, was a woman.

The woman was the same age as you, if not younger. Her hair was a healthy, earthy shade of brown that grew past her shoulders. Her eyes were the same saturated shade, but you swear that if looked greenish in the light. Her skin was healthy, but you could not help but notice that there were cracks along her thighs and arms. They were not like wounds or scars you would see on a person, but rather like cracks on an old marble statue.

That was another thing: she was completely naked. She was plus-sized, but not in a "morbidly obese" sort of way, but more in the "adorable, mousy childhood friend who still hasn't lost the baby-fat" sort of way. She had large, perky breasts, smooth thighs and no body hair to obstruct her womanhood.

A part of you wanted to avert your eyes, having been taught at a young age that one does not just ogle naked women in person, especially one you did not know. However, when she saw you, she made no effort to cover herself or scream or react in any way to this strange man looking at her naked body.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Um," you said, hesitating slightly. "I'm Michael. Michael Hazelton. And I made you. I guess."

Holy shit, you thought to yourself. I made another person!

"Are you my daddy?" She asked with the sincerity of a child.

You blinked. Suddenly he understood what God told him about how creepy that was.

"Err, just Michael, please."

"Okay," she said. Suddenly, bright-pink flowers of indeterminate species appeared and bloomed in her hair, reflecting her sunny disposition. Then a curious look came across her face as the flowers unbloomed themselves. Apparently they react to her emotions.

"Who am I?" She asked.

<She is the first life you have created. A Goddess of the Earth, born of stone and memories of the fallen and ready to interact with a brave, new world.>

"You're an Earth Goddess, I guess. Come on."

You reach over where you stood, holding out your hand. She reaches for it and you help her climb out of the crater. Her bare-foot slips on a rock at the tip of the crater and she accidentally falls on you. She accidentally rides you like a sled down the pile of rubble.

"Oops. Sorry."

You only barely heard her apology, your head in-between her cleavage and her thighs rubbing against your jeans. You blush madly. You marvel at how soft her breasts are. You fight against the forming of an erection, her naked thighs rubbing against you and your crotch.