The Prodigan Woman Ch 10: Second Chance! (Patreon)

She stood in the presence of the Council of Eldoria, a solemn assembly of 12 individuals veiled in white robes, concealing their identities beneath an air of mystery.

Their judgments resonated with authority. "Our verdict is just," declared one judge at the far right, his voice cutting through the silence with a chilling certainty.

Another echoed, "Our judgment is true," emphasizing the gravity of their decisions.

They spoke in unison, a collective force, proclaiming, "We are the ones who lead by example, faces hidden to all but one another."

With a profound resonance, they declared, "We are the Council of 12, the arbiters of Eldoria," their unified voices echoing through the hallowed halls, a testament to their enigmatic power.

"Do you understand why you stand before this Council, Molly Adams?" inquired one of the hooded figures.

"I do," Molly replied, casting a nervous gaze upon the enigmatic council. "I am here because I've misused my power, causing harm to our smaller cousins."

"Indeed," affirmed a council member. "But your transgressions go beyond that, don't they, Molly Adams?"

Confused, Molly questioned, "Huh?"

"This council charges you not only with the misuse of power but also with murder, enslavement, torture, and various acts of savagery."

Shame weighed heavy on Molly as she lowered her head, realizing the depth of her actions.

"You've falsely declared yourself a deity before millions and lived as such. Now, Molly Adams, do you believe you deserve a second chance?" the hooded figures asked, their voices resonating through the chamber.

The weight of the question hung in the air, confronting Molly with the undeniable truth. Did she truly believe she deserved a second chance?

She closed her eyes, revisiting the memories of her time as a self-proclaimed goddess. Images flashed before her, of microscopic cities at her feet, the echoes of swallowed civilizations, and the haunting screams of the innocent broadcasted on her microphones. Shame painted her cheeks red, yet an unyielding determination burned in her eyes, a testament to the transformation she had undergone in prison.

"Yes, your honors, I believe I am," Molly declared, her gaze unwavering. In that moment, beneath the hooded judgment of the Council of Eldoria, she stood not just as a defendant, but as someone who, despite her dark past, sought redemption and a chance for a different future.

The members of the council looked at one another, their faces shrouded beneath the shadow of their hoods. Then, with a solemn tone, one of them declared, "Is that so? Let us test the sincerity of your words, then, Molly Adams."

In a sudden flash of light, a large screen appeared, hovering before Molly. It illuminated the chamber, painting her features with an ominous glow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Molly questioned, taken aback by the sudden display.

"Consider this a glimpse into your past," explained the Council. "You may be the first to stand trial before us, but we have seen countless others like you. Self-proclaimed deities, seeking the power and worship of the masses. You are not unique, Molly Adams. In fact, you are one of many."

The hooded council, in unison, uttered, "Now behold, behold your past actions."

As they spoke, an ethereal projection unfolded before Molly. The scenes of her reign as a self-proclaimed goddess played out like a haunting tapestry. She saw the devastation she had caused, the cities swallowed whole not only by her mouth but also by her love cavern, the microscopic people enslaved, their screams broadcasted on her microphones as their puny lives where crushed into oblivion by the endless depths of her vagina, nanoscopic cities consumed by her tongue and saliva, their inhabitants crushed between her teeth, and smashed against her mountain sized tastebuds, and even swept away by the waves of her saliva, the millions upon millions of people she had swallowed whole, their tiny bodies trapped inside her stomach, where they were slowly dissolved and digested, their final screams and cries of agony filling her ears.

She couldn't help but be embarrassed as the screen zoomed in on her naked asshole, the pink flesh puckered open to reveal the gaping abyss within.

"Huh?" She blinked, confused, her cheeks red as cherries as the camera zoomed in further and deeper, until a small helicopter came into view.

"When did that happen?" She wondered to herself as the camera zoomed in revealing that the helicopter was a microputian news helicopter.

As it came closer, she could just barely see the tiny reporter at the front. The camera zoomed in further, and she could see the microphone in the reporter's hand, the small microputian news reporter speaking into it, her voice muted by the screen.

Molly watched with Embarrassment as the helicopter flew ever closer to her ass. As the camera zoomed in further, a look of surprise crossed the microputian's face as she found herself flying directly into the abyss.

Molly watched as the camera zoomed in to a tight close up of her sphincter as it puckered, the tight ring of pink flesh opening wide until the image began to shake and become unstable as an explosion erupted from the massive asshole.

Molly felt her face burning hotter as she watched the screen zoom back out, revealing a cloud of  yellow dust swirling around the area where the helicopter had disappeared, the clouds cleared as the wind blew away the dust, and there was nothing left, the reporter and her news crew gone, swallowed up in a massive fart that contained enough power to blow away a dozen microputian countries with ease.

Molly felt her heart pounding in her chest, her face turning bright red as she saw herself fart, her embarrassment intensifying as the scene changed, and she saw herself pleasuring herself in front of the cities of Brobdinag. Her moans were loud and deep, her breath hitching as she watched her past self orgasm, her pussy leaking, the juices dripping onto the tiny people below.

Molly bit her lower lip, trying to hold back her emotions, her eyes stinging with tears.

The projection faded, leaving Molly once again facing the council of 12, their hooded figures shrouded in an air of solemn judgment.

"These are but a glimpse of the actions you, the self-proclaimed god, have committed," the hooded figures intoned collectively.

"So, Molly Adams," they questioned again, their voices carrying the weight of deliberation, "do you believe that you are deserving of a second chance?" The fate of redemption hung in the air, awaiting Molly's response.