Footsday Chrisis

The alarm clock gently set off just as Chris was waking up. Not that he needed an alarm clock, or even going to sleep — perks of being a god — but it was so satisfying to go to bed in nice, warm sheets… and then smash the alarm clock to smithereens in the morning. He drew a comically, cosmically large hammer out of thin air, swung it at the alarm clock with all his might, stopped an atom’s height above it…
Silence set in the whole universe.
He let the hammer go ever so imperceptibly, and the alarm clock was pulverized back into stardust.
“Just five more millenia—” he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes and clutching the starfield blanket. It was a Sunday, after all, a lazy day for a god; though he had never really paid attention to the fact that his partner Rei had turned all days into Sundays… Where was Rei, by the way? His eyes still closed, Chris felt the other side of the bed with his hand. It was empty, which meant…
“Breakfast is ready, sweetie~” Rei whispered in his ear. Chris turned to him and, with a smile, looked at his perfect face. He grabbed Rei by the collar, brought that perfect face close to his, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. He reached with his tongue into Rei’s mouth and stole the fizzy supernova he had been sucking on. “Thank you for the snack, sweetie~” he telepathied. Rei sighed lovingly, teleported another galactic snack into his mouth, and kissed him deeper.

When they broke the kiss, Chris rose to his feet along with Rei. In the flick of a thought, Chris put on his casual clothes and dragged Rei into the living room. They slumped down into the sofa and turned on the TV while breakfast appeared in front of them. Chris squeezed the syrup out of a galaxy onto a floating pile of golden pancakes, which he devoured in seconds, and Rei stirred the ambrosia in his cup before sipping it. Many other things were eaten and drank, with many civilizations and cosmic features ending up as not much more than seasoning on the feast of the gods whose attention was completely taken by the images on the screen.
With their meal finished and the dirty silverware dissolved into cosmic dust for new systems and lifeforms to emerge, Chris stretched his body, reaching behind Rei and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He failed to realize that, in the same motion, his foot had landed on a small blue-green planet, the bare arch of his sole fitting snugly on its curve.

In a matter of weeks, Kwa went from being one of the observatory's low-rank office workers to gaining power over the entire planet as the High Priest of the Church of Chris. While doing some usual computer checks, he had been the first person ever to notice, far in the depths of space, a wall of flesh approaching the Earth at an alarming speed. Thanks to personal experience, he quickly and correctly identified it as a cosmic-sized sole, long before the toes came into view of the instruments.
He seized the opportunity to give many interviews and to organize with his friends into what soon became a cult. Indeed, as a macrophile, the idea of a gigantic sole actually colliding with Earth was awe-inducing. And when the label on the toering was finally decoded — it simply read “Chris is your God”, but over such a vast expanse that it took days just to combine all the telescope pictures —, the horniness far surpassed any feeling of despair. If the end of times was indeed coming, as there was no conceivable way of stopping such a massive menace to humanity, then Kwa would milk the most he could out of it.
People were too numb to react against Kwa's propaganding, and the media was much too keen to print and spread his every word. Backed by a growing community of foot-loving freaks, he toured the country at first, then the world, carried in a sedan chair — by this point, his feet were deemed too pure to touch the filthy ground, and he would bless his high-ranking new recruits by stepping on their faces — warning everyone who listened that the only way forward was worship, and that only the true believers would be spared. The more Chris' sole approached, the more the public became receptive to Kwa's increasingly passionate speeches.
Soon, astronomers were able to gauge the speed of the foot based on the sudden extinction of far-away stars caught in its movement, and predicted a date for the fatal collision. Earth had but a few weeks to live before suffering a fate so atrocious no one dared prepare a plan of action. By then, few resisted the urge not to worship this unannounced God, but believers left them alone, simply thinking that those dumb enough to not see the overwhelming truth right in front of their eyes would go to whatever version of hell Chris had in store for them.
Meanwhile, Kwa prepared for the final push. His cult had grown into a full-blown Church, which had started to seize power in every country. Everywhere he went, he was heralded as a prophet, and his every word was nothing but the sweet truth to the ears of his followers. He didn't even need to rig the vote in order to be unanimously elected High Priest.
There were only a few days left, and the few royals and presidents with still enough power all gathered to make a grand statement in front of the whole world. Nobody would ever know what they intended to say: as soon as the cameras started rolling, a unit of Kwa's most devout followers broke in, with their High Priest in their wake. In front of the whole world, every country leader was humiliatingly forced to kiss and lick Kwa's feet and declare him the one true leader of the planet.
Mere hours before impact, Kwa travelled to the location of first contact, officially to deliver the first speech of a new age, but in truth hoping to be the first one touched by Chris' foot. He believed that would give him, and only him, the closest connection to his god Chris, and thus new exclusive powers, placing him even further above the rest of his brethren. He could already picture himself growing miles tall, rampaging around the globe, putting everyone on Earth at their rightful place under his feet. What he realized far too late, as the wall of flesh pulverized his body into a mush of meat and bones, was that no one should claim power in the name of worshipping Chris…
Once Chris' foot had settled deep into the crust of the Earth and the true followers had gained the power of invincibility, Kwa's unholy remnants were searched and cleaned off the godly sole, without giving him a proper burial. As soon as he had risen to the top of the world, he had been exterminated like a mere bug, and forgotten by the people who he had banded together. The Church of Chris still held, of course, but no one else made the mistake of claiming any more power than strictly necessary to worship Chris.

Chris absent-mindedly rolled the planet under his foot as the episode outro played on the screen. Of course, as an time-free omniscient god of the entire multiverses, he had already seen it, as well as all the next episodes and seasons, but it was always fun to catch up on what these little humans — which he was unaware were currently being oppressed by his foot — were able to create. He had always thought Rei was such a genius for inventing humans: they provided a good deal of entertainment, combing through the infinite possibilities of their universe and producing the finest of things, like an oyster making a pearl out of sea junk. In fact, right now, he wanted to play a game he hadn't tried yet from one of Rei's newest universes.
Said Rei, feeling horny, had something else in mind. He reached through Chris' clothes and gently fondled his muscular torso. Chris tensed in pleasure and, without moving from his seat, grabbed Rei by the hips. The sensation from Rei's hands expertly caressing his skin was so overpowering he failed to notice the slight tickle where his foot still rested on the planet. Gaming would have to wait.

Now that it was a Wriggler, Lartse couldn't be happier with the way its life was going. It had been one of Kwa's first followers, but had been deemed not worthy enough and stayed low in the ranks. After surviving the Great Collision and the ensuring Flood, it had volunteered to be one of the first explorers to go back to the God-Kissed Soils. There, the exploration team found the most fertile lands the Earth had ever born, with Chris' foot sweat providing plenty of nutrient-rich water. The Soils were in complete darkness, but the heat from the foot still allowed life to thrive, and it seemed that the mere touch of Chris' sole made all crops more bountiful than had ever been seen in the history of humanity.
After that, Lartse's job was simple: worship Chris' sole to try and provide Him some pleasure. Being stuck between soil and sole, this mostly took the form of wriggling against the skin, which was thought to be the most efficient use of one's body; but Wrigglers used every option they could: kisses, hand massages, tongue licks… Lartse was very generous in its approach, using to the very last of its strength to perform multiple things at once until it collapsed out of fatigue and laid unconscious before Chris' touch fully rejuvenated it. Then it would simply start again, an endless cycle of complete worship until complete exhaustion. It strived to do its best, even if its efforts were negligible at its size.
It didn't know how long it had been worshipping Chris' sole. There were no days nor nights here, no marks of the passing of time, as if it had been frozen still. From its place, Lartse couldn’t see nor feel any other soul; it was so close to the point of first contact, where the sole pressed the most on the ground, that no one could grow or harvest any crops there. It felt like being a monk in a solitary monastery, working only on its worship to its God, surrounded only by Him and the world He had created for it. A bubble in space and time, where it could relish in the comfort of serving something much bigger than itself.
Lartse had not realized that, under the intense heat and pressure of the sole, it had slowly started to flatten. Its bones imperceptibly bent and squished, completely unable to fight against the sheer power of Chris’ foot doing nothing. Its lungs couldn’t hold as much air now, and its blood trickled rather than flowed; yet, constantly revitalized by Chris’ touch, its energy never dipped. It kept trying — and barely managing — to create the slightest of sensations for Chris’ sole, squirming against the flesh that was turning it into a dirt-flavoured pancake.
Alone, in the dark, Lartse would never see that the Earth was shattering under Chris’ foot. When enough pressure had finally plastered it with its face firmly against the sole in an everlasting kiss, making the most minor of movements impossible at all, Lartse didn’t feel fear, but relief: relief of having been chosen by its God to live almost as part of Him. As the Earth crumbled to stardust, Lartse, being nothing more than the faintest of forever-stains on a galactic foot, had its God truly become its whole world, and it couldn’t be any happier about it.

With heavy, horny breath, Chris stood up, failing to realize he had crushed a planet to paste. Rei, floating at an angle, was straddling his hips, still fondling his chest. Chris reached for his partner’s hair, grabbed it tight, and pulled his head between his pecs. With a second form of himself, he sandwiched the light-haired god between his bodies; Rei responded by kissing both of all of his muscles at once, again and again. If Chris was starting to mess with space, then he was gonna mess with time, and the consequences could wait until they’d had their fill.

“Goodbye, sweetie. I love you.”
Max hugged Leo tight, reluctant to let go. He wanted their last embrace to last longer, but time was running out.
“I love you too. You’re gonna do great up there.”
They kissed a passionate kiss, filled with tears and pride. All those years of studying, crafting, researching, prototyping for the greater good… All of Max’s life culminated into this one moment, this one opportunity.
“For His pleasure.”
They held hands, finding comfort in this last touch.
“To His praise.”
He rubbed a tear off Leo’s face. Oh, how happy and beautiful he looked; oh, how Max would miss waking up to his delicate attentions and the smell of breakfast downstairs… But they didn't have time to share any more second of their lives together. The rocket was ready for launch, waiting for its only passenger.

Max did not remember climbing into the cockpit, fastening himself into the seat, doing last minute checks, giving the signal. He felt out of it all, on auto-pilot. Past this point, his life was not his anymore; he had now abandoned all earthly delights in his quest to worshipping Chris.
As the rocket fired up, Max waved one last time at Leo. Soon, everything was out of view, and the Earth seemed to shrink as he left the atmosphere. He could see the Underplanet, teeming with life; atop it, the Shadowed Ring, shrouded in darkness by the galactic foot looming over it; finally, the God-Kissed Soils, covered by Chris' sole. The moon, caught between two toes, cast a thin shadow over part of the planet. It truly was a sight to behold, and Max took it all in.
Slowly, Chris' leg went upright and his foot shifted, putting more pressure on Earth until the frail planet started to give way. Max could see the cracks and the crumbles, the mountains flattening, the oceans being displaced. He had known the Great Flood, but this disaster would definitely leave no survivors. He thought about Leo being trapped down there, and wished they could have flown together. He was too awestruck to cry.
It was too late when he realized that his trajectory would be cut short by the shift of Chris' toes — not that he had any chance of escaping them, anyway. He could not even plan a new route: the computers could barely simulate a God of this size at rest, much less a moving one. He would have to trust his gut in order to achieve /something/. His exploration mission was a bust, but with a change of plans he could still make this trip useful.

The rocket crashed into an undertoe. Max hadn't even attempted to slow it down; he had hoped that the impact would be felt, even as the slightest of tickles. As the rocket folded into a heap of junk, he was jolted out of his seat and landed on the doughy skin.
After a while, he opened his eyes. He saw that he was in a valley spanning miles and miles in width, and seemingly endless in length. A wrinkle in space. He got to his knees — there was more than enough gravity to keep him on Chris' skin. Now was the moment of truth.
He opened his visor — and breathed in air. That air had a distinct, mind-overwhelming scent to it, but it was air. Max sighed with relief. He was lost in a crevice of his God's foot, but he would live. He let himself drop on the smooth ground, and, for the rest of his life, started to lick.

Chris ignored the small prick on his toe; he was much more concerned with breaking the laws of physics to embrace his partner in new impossible ways. They were Gods, after all, they could — and should — make reality their bitch. And if they destroyed galaxies in the process, well, there were plenty other of those. Maybe even a few universes being snuffed out wouldn't alarm them. It's not like Chris would ever feel the insignificant lifeforms stuck on his sole being stomped against the fabric of space-time, as he walked Rei to the bedroom…