Well, hello there, little boy. I've been waiting a very long time to meet you. No,
not you in particular. Sorry to get your hopes up. I should have said I've been waiting
to meet the man you've become. The last man in the world. Oh, don't look so scared. I'm
not going to hurt you. Yet. It's sort of a habit of mine to keep a man alive at the end,
you know. I like to talk to them. Usually they're dying while I do it, but for you,
my dear, I'll leave you intact. Oh, you boys are all the same. My eyes aren't down there,
meat. Oh, what difference does it make? You men have given me so much over the years.
I can give a little something back for once. Would it surprise you to hear that I know
you very well? Oh, my dear boy, stop getting excited. I told you already. I don't have
any idea who you actually are. I just know how your life has gone. Yes, you just keep
looking at my breasts while I tell you all about yourself. Look at them and think about
how they've been the last things that billions of men have seen before I butchered them like
the cattle they were. Now then, all about you, my sweet. You were the youngest of your
father's sons. You were probably just a few years old when he went off to war against
me. You might even remember your mother and siblings crying when the news came at the
only that he'd been a pervert that died by my hand. When you got older, you swore you'd
be just like him and just like your brothers. They followed in his footsteps. One by one,
they came of age, fathered sons of their own, and went off to war. And one by one, they
died at my feet. Their plans for revenge all coming to naught as their blood splashed the
breasts you're looking at so intently. You grew up big and strong, a perfect piece
of meat. You probably thought your muscles would help against me. You and every other
boy were unwittingly making yourselves into exactly the kind of men I love to kill. Big,
brave, and stupid. You did hurt, backbreaking labor, making the things, the endless omies
that merged against me needed. It all would have come back to haunt you, giving you a
lot of pain in your old age. Oh, you should thank me. Because of me, that's not something
any man has to worry about for a very, very long time. When you were old enough, you got
married and had a child of your own. Marriage used to happen later in life, but since men
have a nasty habit of winding up getting killed by a wrathful goddess these days, you did
it at such a young age. And then one day it was your turn to march off and follow in the
footsteps of your father, your uncles, your cousins, your brothers, and the older boys
from your village. March off for another piece of meat for the grinder, just like the men
in your family and every other family you'd been doing for generations. But you were lucky.
Even if you didn't know it at the time. You see, my dear, I'd grown tired of harvesting
what was basically the same crop of men over and over. I decided to just get rid of you
all. I decided to kill every male in the world. And you were loose. They knew it. Every able-bodied
man of fighting age was rounded up and thrown at me in one last effort to stop me. Oh, you
lads looked splendid. My favourite thing about men is how to fight you, even though you know
what I can do. Every soldier that died on my sword in that battle had no doubt about
who and what I am. But till the very end, almost all of them were fearless and strong,
cursing at me and screaming until I silenced them with the blade. And of course, as much
as they hated me, they all wanted me. They would never have admitted it, but I could
tell. All those boys that lay dying around me. They weren't sad because their lives were
ending. They didn't weep because they were being slaughtered by the same bloodthirsty
goddess who had been felling their gender for a hundred generations. No, they wept because
they knew I would forget them. I've killed so, so many men. Tens of billions, maybe more.
I wouldn't give a single one of those boys a second thought. That and the fact that they
were close to me. Could see how beautiful I am. Could see my breasts heave, my hips
swing and not touch me. It was too much for them. They died sobbing like infants, not
praying to their gods. They died praying to me, begging me to touch them, to remember
them. But the closest any of those pathetic little dogs got was when I crushed them beneath
my heel. Yes, it was such a mighty army. I've never killed so many men in a single battle.
It was truly the last gasp of a doom world. And you came in at the very end, of course.
You'd seen the oceans of corpses, the rivers of blood and the mountains of butchered meat
that had once been young men like yourself. You saw me fight. Watched me murder wave after
wave of your comrades. Your friends, lads you'd known your whole life, died beside
you, their severed limbs and heads piling up. They coughed up blood as they cried out,
but you could do nothing. You stood there, enthralled by the goddess you saw, drinking
in the view as I killed the last of your fellows. And now it's just me and you. Did I get everything
right? I thought so. You men really are all alike, you know. Tell me, my precious little
soldier, what is your name? Oh, such a fine name. I'll try and remember you then. Oh,
for goodness' sake, stop crying. On your back now, there we go. Let me dry away your tears
with my heel. Such a lucky boy.
