Chapter 65: Consultation 65.

Consultation 65.

“God, can I give birth to you?” 

“No.” I gave an instant flat out rejection to the woman I hadn’t seen in quite some time after she’d already left countless people scarred for life with that inhuman first consultation of hers.

“What? Come on, pretty please. It’s been such a long time since I last came for a consultation with you and you can’t even do such a small favor for me?”

“Absolutely not.” Fetus lady, be gone. The power of Christ compels you. Stay back you freakasaurus rex.

“Just a little. I’ll only give birth to you a little, I swear.”

“Please just fuck off already. You cannot give birth to me and that’s final.” I don’t want a vessel of mine to be turned into a ground meat fetus sex toy for her.

“Just a teensy weensy widdle bit.”

“How in the hell do you even plan to give birth to someone only a little?”

“Well, I’ll only let your head pop out halfway and then we can just leave you like that.”

“I refuse. I will absolutely not subject myself to the humiliation of being reduced to half a head hanging out of some insane bitches vagina upside down until the day she dies.”

“What? Why not, you’re God, right? You’re supposed to resolve my problems, aren't you?”

“Wanting to give birth to me is not a problem for you. It’s a problem for me.”

“No, this is a serious problem for me, please let me just give birth to you.”

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“Why the hell does it have to be me?”

“Because I want a baby God.”

“If you want a baby God then just find another God to ask. Surely there exists some other degenerate God out there who’ll be more than happy to help you out.”

“No way, I want it to be you who fulfills my request.”

“Why don’t you just shove a printer up there then print a picture of me out or something while it’s inside you? That’s pretty similar to giving birth to me, right?”

“It’s not the same at all.”

“Tch. How about just kidnapping a newborn baby from a hospital, write my title on its forehead, shove the brat up your ass, then shit him out? Doesn’t that count as giving birth to me.”

“Hmmm… does it?” Ah. She was seriously debating over it.

“Yeah, definitely. Of course it does. Besides, you just wanted the title of the woman who gave birth to God, right?” I naturally went along with it and egged her on. If she accepted it I’d save myself a lot of trouble at least. I’m absolutely not going to let some crazy bitch give birth to me.

“That is certainly true. If I shit a kid out with God’s title written on his forehead, I guess I can technically say I gave birth to you.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just go shit a kid out with my title written on him and your objective is complete.”

“Well, I guess I’ll give it a shot and see how it goes since I’m rather curious what anal would feel like. If I’m not satisfied with the result I’ll come back to try and convince you on another occasion. But I wonder how long I’ll be able to keep the brat alive with only half his head out if he’s not a real God though.” I chose to ignore every word she said, ignorance was bliss as they say.

“Right…” But please don’t ever come back. My answer will never change no matter how many times you ask. You can do whatever fucked up stuff you want and I don’t care, just please leave me out of it.

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