Week three as the unwilling apocalypse.
Current scoreboard:
Tail wags: 214
Continents still standing: 1
Population that would burn their own souls if I yawned: 11.4 billion
Remaining gods: 0 (Michaelus is technically furniture now)
Today I made the mistake of scratching my own stomach in public.
I was bored.
The corpse throne is surprisingly uncomfortable when your armrest is a screaming archangel.
So I scratched my belly.
Just once.
My tail took it as a holy sign.
[Tail Wag Count: 215]
[Mass Suggestion Injected: "The lord desires belly rubs. Provide them or reality will punish you."]
[Instant Global Effect: Every sentient being on the planet experiences overwhelming compulsion to give belly rubs]
Within thirty seconds the world stopped functioning.
Armies dropped weapons and formed orderly queues.
Dragons landed and rolled over.
Vritra herself teleported in, shoved the corpse throne aside, and flipped me onto my back like a professional groomer.
Eleven billion hands reached for my stomach at once.
I tried to protest.
"Stop—wait—no—seriously—"
Too late.
The first belly rub hit.
My tail went supersonic.
[Tail Wag Count: 312 in 11 seconds]
[Random Cataclysm Chain:
- The oceans turn to liquid gold
- Gravity reverses in three regions
- Every star in the sky rearranges into a giant paw print]
Vritra's eyes rolled back in religious ecstasy.
"My lord is pleased.
Continue the Sacred Rubbing."
I'm being mobbed by an entire planet giving me the most aggressive belly rubs in history.
After six straight hours, the System finally pinged.
[New Religion Founded: The Church of Infinite Belly Rubs]
[Core Tenet: The lord's happiness is the only law]
[Holy Scripture: 47 volumes already written by former gods]
[New Title Acquired: The God Who Only Wanted a Nap]
I finally manage to sit up, stomach red and tingling.
The planet is on its knees.
Vritra bows so low her horns scrape the ground.
"Command us, my lord.
What is your next divine desire?"
I open my mouth to say "Leave me alone."
My tail hears the word "desire" again and starts vibrating like a jackhammer.
[Tail Wag Count: 400 and climbing]
[Warning: Reality stability at 9%]
I clamp both hands over the tail.
It slips free and wags once more—slow, deliberate, like it's mocking me.
[Tail Wag Count: 401]
[New Prophecy Recorded: "When the Tail stops wagging, existence will beg for one more rub"]
I look at the golden oceans, the paw-print sky, the eleven billion worshippers waiting for my next accidental command.
I close my eyes.
"Someone… anyone…
just let me sleep."
The tail hears "sleep" and wags twice in approval.
[Tail Wag Count: 403]
[Global Lullaby Event: Every creature on the planet falls into peaceful slumber simultaneously]
For the first time in three weeks, the world is quiet.
I finally get my nap.
On a throne made of gods.
Surrounded by an ocean of gold.
While eleven billion beings dream of giving me belly rubs forever.
I think I'm starting to understand why previous calamities just deleted themselves.
To be continued tomorrow.
**End of Chapter Stats**
Tail Wags this chapter: 189
New religions founded: 1 (with 11.4 billion members in 6 hours)
Reality integrity: 8%
Karna's desire to live: officially negative