In the goddess’s name

by TallSlimTony   

An acolyte who serves a goddess of pleasure seeks to commune with her one on one. Becoming her chosen follower, he gains interesting abilities that transform both himself and his lovers. His temple pursues pleasure and fulfilment in all its forms. How will his growing desire for sex, cum, and satiation affect their efforts?

“You do realise this will take time to accomplish,” her expression was unchanging, but her tone scathing, “and I will need some materials that I cannot gather alone.”

The young man, in long flowing robes of sheer silk nodded hesitantly. “Of course I do.” He paused, waiting for a response, though none came.

“What do you need me to do?”

Gathering the thin fabric of his gown-like robes around his knees, the young acolyte picked his way through the tangled woodlands, avoiding sharp branches that might mark his smooth shins. He murmured to himself as he walked, “Brown stalk with flared gills, green tree bark with thick white sap, holly and mistletoe intertwined, brown stalk with flared gills, green tree…” It was a finder’s mantra to stop him from forgetting the specific instructions the witch has given him before sending him deeper into the woods.

The almost see-through garments he wore did little to protect Cadmus from the cooling weather. The robes, designed both for comfort during temple duties and to highlight the sexual and appealing figures and genitals of the acolytes, allowed the wind to move them with ease, sending occasional shivers over the young man’s pale and almost hairless skin.

He squashed down the regret daring to float up through his toned stomach; he wanted this. He needed this. He had always felt like his goddess’s chosen, but this would prove it. Direct communion with the goddess Satis. Even if he hadn’t been surrendered to the temple as a young man, he would have chosen this life and knew he was destined to serve her as one of the highest in her Order.

He had few memories of his life before the temple, when he was given to the temple in late adolescence, partly because it felt like his life had truly started when he started his novice training, and partly due to the divine magic that the higher priests performed to help novices dedicate themselves fully to their divine calling. He knew only that he had always loved pleasure, and pleasing others. Perhaps he’d been too hedonistic as a young man; too eager to stick his massive cock in any hole willing to try and take him.

Of his fellow acolytes, most of whom he had trained with as a novice, he was the most well-hung. To the extent where, even when meeting other temple clergy of his order, he had never seen a cock larger than his own. It was beautiful too, smooth and plump. In his capacity as an acolyte, he did not use it. In his temple his role was as a Receiver and Receptacle. While his largest asset was clear to see, his role was to extend his pleasure, and bring more pleasure to others. This was made obvious to the temple adherents and worshippers by the impressive cage that encased his cock, a filigree mesh of gold with detailing that resembled the iconography of his temple’s goddess, Satis.

Cadmus was never happier than when enabling an adherent of Satis to worship her; to use his body and his skills to bring them and himself great pleasure. He loved never more than bringing men, women, and more to shuddering orgasm. Especially men. His own tastes, while broad, trended towards larger, muscular, masculine people.

His most potent worship sessions and orgasms had come from people like this. The cage prevented him from orgasming in most encounters, so when an adherent could bring him to climax, it was always spectacular: a quaking and drawn-out orgasm, with his seed spilling out from the cage in copious amounts. The whole temple was often aware when someone had made Cadmus cum, as his shouts of pleasure echoed through the halls of pink-tinted marble.

Cadmus traipsed through the woods, using his sandals to push back fronds of random flora he could not name; he was only a few hours walk from the city, but already these woods were unfamiliar and alien to him. It was the domain of exiles, pagans, and witches. Which is exactly why he was here.

He’d heard rumours of a time when the Deities freely communicated with their worshippers, and came from their high halls to be among them, guide them, and bless them. Those days were long gone, and seemingly the rituals to forge a connection were lost to time. Though there were whispers of how those rituals had been hidden, due to their heretical arcane nature; a dark magic that defied the Deities.

He had spent a lot of his hard-earned money and precious time to follow those whispers, to eventually track down the witch who could help him commune directly with his goddess. He was risking prison time, or goddess-forbid conscription, if he was caught.

Though he was also reminded of the myth of Caeneus, one of the heroes of his order, a man who was treasured fro his unique beauty and attributes. Often depicted as a beautiful man with the genitals of a woman, or sometimes a person neither male nor female but existing across many genders and sexes. He was described as one of Satis’s chosen, a rare and treasured beauty. Cadmus had seen many depictions of him in artworks and statues and icons throughout his training and time in the temple. Perhaps “strange” and “unusual” bodies would be pleasing to his goddess.

As he foraged, he could not help but think back on his work, facilitating the worship of the goddess of pleasure. This had been the longest he had gone without regular stimulation or sex in many years, and he found himself unable to rip his thoughts away from sexual desires.

He felt a stirring in his groin, a tightening inside the golden filigree cage that entrapped his penis, as he reminisced on his temple duties.

Recently, an army general, resting in the city on rotation, had come to the temple to pay his respects to his chosen Goddess. It was not uncommon to see new faces worshipping at the temple, though most merely attended a low mass to achieve the bare minimum of civility and propriety before completing their other, much more interesting, errands.

This general, however, was a true adherent of the Goddess. The acolyte had spied him, and arranged his positioning, and duties so that he could keep catching glimpses of him through the service. He used his training well, angling his body and face to, casually, allow his toned and curved body to peep through the draped fabric of his sheer robes. Ensuring he was always in the general’s eyeline, and on occasion making eye contact.

The general was brutally handsome, and obviously a large and muscular man; his body tough and strong from years of training and hard-fought battles.

The acolyte thanked the Goddess when he overheard the general asking to engage in true worship. He knew he would be selected as the vessel, and relished the opportunity to serve his Goddess through such an attractive adherent.

The worship was a blur, but a highly pleasurable blur that the acolyte thrilled in reliving. The general was gentle, and dedicated, in his worship. While the acolytes were trained to maximise and extend their pleasure, to best serve their Goddess, almost none of it was needed with the general.

Though his hands were large, and rough, he was gentle and soft. His body was muscular, and large. When fully nude he towered over the acolyte, whose head only came up to the middle of his bulging square pectorals. Eye level with the deep cleft of his chest, the acolyte watched as light perspiration moved down the coarse and dark hair that curled over the general’s powerful torso and arms. The acolyte had to crane his neck to look the general in the eye, and everywhere he looked there was a wall of solid muscle. He felt the familiar tightening around his cage, especially as the general knelt to kiss the cage with due deference and ritual, as expected.

The general touched him lightly, and with care, but also with great passion and need. There was an urgency as his strong arms held the acolyte’s toned and lithe body down, administering kisses, sampling and tasting the acolyte’s whole body. He was an expert in finding those erogenous zones, and balancing teasing them with firmly kissing the acolyte; he had the acolyte breathing heavily and his cage twitching.

When exploring around his inner thighs and scrotum, dutifully avoiding the golden cage around the acolyte’s penis, the general looked up and asked,

“Are all acolytes this… gifted?” The general made his point clear by slowly looking the acolyte’s prodigious cage from ring to cap, and back again before making eye contact once more; his handsome face all the more thrilling hovering next to the acolyte’s caged cock.

Cadmus would have blushed, were he not already flushed with arousal. His generous size, on such a slight frame, delighted and aroused men and women alike.

“I am particularly blessed by the Goddess, yes. It was a truly divine gift from her, which marked me from adolescence as one of the Goddess Satis’s chosen.”

The general grinned wickedly, before using his impressive strength to flip the acolyte onto his stomach, then delving between his pert cheeks.

The passion that ensued was truly worthy of the Goddess Satis’s attention. Never before had the acolyte felt such pleasure, at the hands of such a talented and attentive lover. The powerful muscles driving the large and heavy cock pounding his hole and prostate, the solid body holding him down, and the passionate mouth buried in his neck telling him he was beautiful and praising his goddess was overwhelmingly pleasurable for the time acolyte.

The acolyte felt the pleasure build and build until he felt himself approaching orgasm. The general saw the acolyte’s hands grip the bed sheets, felt his body arch up into his pelvis, and took the cues to pound full force into the well-hung, caged, young man. The general felt the acolyte’s hole tighten around his cock and heard him wail in pleasure as an orgasm rocked his body. From the large, golden cage, stuffed with turgid flesh, came a heavy spurting of thick cum, pooling in the bedsheets. Bringing the beautiful acolyte to orgasm through penetration alone, feeling the pulsating squeezing from his hole, brought the general to his own orgasm.

Thrusting heavily, and groaning loudly, as he dumped his hot load into the man’s hole, both of them uttering their goddess’s name in reverence and bliss.

The acolyte felt a dampness on his thigh. It had been a long time since the general’s worship, and the acolyte had not truly orgasmed since. In remembering the ecstasy, his large cock had begun to drool pre-cum onto his legs, leaving cold sticky spots just above his knee where the sweet liquid had escaped his cage.

He had distracted himself, reminiscing about that pleasurable evening and thus pausing in his search for the witch’s ritual’s ingredients. He had facilitated worshippers since the general, but none had brought him anywhere near the powerful orgasm that the powerful man had induced in him.

The acolyte was committed fully to his goddess of pleasure and fulfilment. He knew it was his life’s goal to facilitate, cause, and experience as much pleasure and fulfilment as possible, in honour of his goddess. He had buried himself in the ancient tomes, trained in the mysteries of his order, and sought knowledge in far-off sister-cities across the continent. It made him laugh that the answer was on his own doorstep.

A ritual, banned by his order, to commune directly with the goddess herself. It required strong magic, derived from the arcane, infernal, and natural powers, marking it as heretical magic. The thought of partaking in such occult practices made the acolyte shiver with fear. He knew the dangers of such wild and non-divine magics, and had heard far too many tales of witches corrupting their bodies when their blood markings were drawn askew, growing extra limbs, or shrinking in height when they intended to prolong their youth, or enhance their figures.

In his training they were taught how vanity is a cardinal sin, and they only pursued physical beauty to better facilitate the people’s worship of their goddess, and how none of them were to be prideful and self-serving as they were dedicated to serve their goddess only. Cadmus felt the friction between his own pursuit of elevation in the eyes of his goddess with his oath to never walk a sinful path.

Shaking his head lightly, the acolyte refocused himself on gathering the correct ingredients, pushing away thoughts and fears of his body changing beyond his will; and pushing away the terrifying excitement of his body changing in ways which would arouse him. He tried his best not to think what it would be like to have a body like the general’s, hard curves of muscle that take up more space that two small men combined, or a body like the statues of his goddess Satis, feminine swerves and rounded petite intimate areas.

He could not help but sigh with small pleasure as yet more pre-cum leaked onto his legs.

Once again he began to murmur to himself and he continued to rummage through the woodland floor: “...holly and mistletoe intertwined, brown stalk with flared gills…”

He barely knew the witch who was helping him with the ritual, they had been put into contact through a series of shadowy intermediaries, but he knew that she was powerful. Powerful enough to be considered too dangerous for physical punishment or execution, and merely to be exiled from the city by the High Justiciars for her heretical and sinful practices. The Justiciars are smart enough to allow the strong ones to keep their lives and health, as leaving them with nothing to lose is a bad combination with their ability to hurt and harm others. It only takes visiting the blasted ruins of the Old Court district to learn that lesson.

So here he was, nude, except for the delicate golden cage hanging between his firm and shapely things, in the middle of a clearing as a powerful, exiled, heretical witch daubed the mossy ground with liquid chalk.

He recognised some of the symbols she drew; the half-filled amphora that represented his goddess, Lady Satis, the ouroboros that represented all of the divine beings and their eternal nature, symbols for pleasure, gender, sex, and sexuality. But some he did not recognise, and he feared the seemed like corrupted versions of other divine symbols. He looked away from those, unsure if he was shivering from the cold wind across his nude and lightly muscular frame, or from fear.

The witch was dressed in a series of animal furs, feathered garments, and what seemed to be intricately braided hemp twine which came together in a lively shifting mass that obscured the contours of her body, but highlighted her tattooed face and neck. She was mature, but not yet greying, and her tanned skin showed she had been outdoors for most of the summer.

Cadmus regarded her with a watchful eye. She was clearly very skilled, and he could not help but be impressed by her ability to deftly daub the intricate diagram around him.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” The acolyte attempted to break their silence. The witch did not answer him. “This is forbidden magic, it must have been hard to come by accidentally. Did you have a teacher?”

Again there was no response, and the witch did not pause in her ministrations, nor did she look up at the questioning acolyte.

After an uncomfortable length of time, the acolyte went to ask another question, but was cut off as the witch sharply intoned, “This takes a lot of concentration. Pray to your foul goddess if you must, but do not address me again if you wish to survive this.”

“She is not foul.” Insulted by the witch’s words the acolyte murmured a prayer of forgiveness and joy for the witch, partly for her sake, but largely in the hopes Satis would overlook the slight and continue to bless him.

With the ingredients he had gathered, the witch had made a poultice of some sorts, and decorated the acolyte’s body with yet more intricate detailing. The witch-made paint was oddly warm, and helped halt the shivering.

Eventually the witch gingerly stepped out of the large painted circles and symbols, avoiding ruining the lines and turned back to view her work. Nodding with satisfaction she began to gather her tools, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” called the acolyte. “Aren’t you going to begin the ritual?” his voice raised to reach the distance across the clearing.

Waving her hands in the air as if to waft away his question the witch responded, “My part is done, and I have your coin already.” With this she patted the heavy coin purse now tied to her waist. “Whether or not you can complete the ritual is none of my concern.”

The acolyte stared at her receding back with shock and, raising his voice louder, he called, “What do you mean!? I don’t even know how to begin!”

Chuckling over her shoulder as she reached the tree line. “I’m sure you’re a smart enough boy to figure out what your so-called goddess wants from you. But good luck with that pretty little thing on your nethers!” continuing to chuckle to herself she faded into the woods and out of hearing.

The acolyte stood stock still, mouth agape, dumbfounded and naked in a clearing full of chalk doodles and covered in a sticky moss and tree sap gunk that smelled a bit like old jizz.

He felt like an idiot.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said out loud.

A ritual to commune, one-on-one, with the goddess he’d dedicated his life to, all for the convenient sum of his meagre life’s savings. A con artist’s dream.

Looking down at his painted body, taut, light muscles moving under his skin as he checked the back of his arms, and tried to inspect the backs of his legs. The wit- the con artist had done a surprisingly thorough job. As confidence tricks went, this was certainly thorough…

And what had she meant by good luck with that pretty little thing between your legs? The acolyte looked down at the device that reserved his pleasure for only designated worship, his chastity cage. With it on he could only achieve orgasm through other means, and had never been able to achieve it on his own. He had always needed a talented, and attractive partner to find true climax and release.

Perhaps she wasn’t a fake after all. Indeed this was certainly a lot of trouble to go to, just to rob him. In fact, she could have taken his coin purse while he was gathering ingredients; he’d left it in the clearing. An idea struck the hope-filled acolyte.

The cage was delicate, a fine filigree of soft gold. Strong enough to hold back even Cadmus’ powerful erection, but nowhere near the strength of steel or bronze.

If he removed the cage, there would be a lot of explaining and apologising to do back at the temple. Plus there would be naught to show for his efforts: a con artist heathen convinced me I could have a chat with a goddess if I my myself climax in a cleaning in the woods would not be the best excuse for removing and breaking a temple chastity cage.

But then again, were he to prove himself to Lady Satis and learn more how to please her, his temple would grow in esteem in his Order. Perhaps this would accelerate his path to replacing the High Priest someday, or starting a temple of his own.

He could not allow this chance to pass him, regardless of the risks.

With shaking hands, and the feeling of committing a sin, he reached down to twist and pull at the metal. It was a difficult job, as he wanted to avoid hurting himself. Goddess forbid he cut himself out here, alone, with no one to help him.

But eventually, the gold gave way, and the delicate jewellery twisted under his hand and snapped in several key areas. The more solid base positioned behind his thick shaft and hefty scrotum that had anchored the cage to his body remained, but his large penis was now free for the first time since adolescence.

He had forgotten how large it was, and it did not take long for it to harden and grow. With a tentative hand he gripped the shaft, feeling the warm pulse in response and light pleasure ran through him.

He was an expert at pleasing cocks of all sizes, as was his training, remit, and joy to do, and he quickly found himself to be hard as a rock. His thick cock was pushing his hand open and ty as he might, he was unable to fit his hand around the thick shaft. Gasping at the sensation he had not felt in a very long time, he walked his hands up his solid cock. Starting at the base, he laid hand over hand until he eventually eclipsed the head. It took four goes to do so, four palm lengths of cock.

Breathing heavily he started to slowly caress his member both hands, focusing on the middle of the shaft. He moaned as his wealth of foreskin glided forward and back over the head of his penis, which was huge and swollen. The glans has a broad and flaring curve to it, giving a large ridge to the end of his cock. As his hands brushed against that ridge, electric tingles zipped down his cock to his pelvis, making him involuntarily clench and thrust.

It was a good thing he’d been caged all this time, he thought to himself, otherwise uncountable holes would have been wrecked by this truly massive cock. He preferred his role as Receiver, delighting in the sensations it could bring and the feeling of stretching and fullness, but he knew many would have wanted to try and take his heavy meat.

Wanting to feel as much of it as possible, he pulled his hefty cock up to lie against his torso. It was heavy in his grasp, and scorching hot when it touched his body. He could feel the pulsing of his heartbeat tapped against his body. He was not a tall man, and the tip was far past his navel, reaching for his chest and almost making it.

Stroking faster now, still with both hands, he watched raptly as a large drop of precum flowed from the tip. He let out a low moan as he felt it pulse through his shaft, and then slowly drip to the clearing floor.

More precum began to flow out of the thick head, like a rivulet of hot bronze. Licking his lips, he wondered how he tasted. Were this another man’s cock it would have been deep into his mouth and throat by now.

Acting mostly on instinct, he bent at the waist and guided his fat cockhead to his lips. His flexibility, short body, and truly huge cock made it an easy journey. With almost no stretch he was licking and kissing the tip of his own cock. The head felt truly huge and broad against his lips, and his precum tasted amazingly sexual as his tongue bathed the glans of his cock.

With more of a stretch he took more of himself into his own mouth. He had to stretch wider than ever before to fit the head in his mouth. When he had achieved that, his slow reverie was lost. He devoured the head of his own cock, using his lips to caress the ridge around the head, his tongue to tease and tickle the slit and the glans, and both his hands to aid his foreskin moving back and forth by stroking the wine-bottle-thick shaft.

His groaning and moaning added vibrations through his penis, and his heavy balls began to tighten against his body as his orgasm approached. He lapped hungrily at his cock, eager to taste and swallow his own load, which were useful plentiful.

“Yes! Oh yes, that feels amazing!” A woman’s voice called out, clearly in ecstasy. Had the witch returned for a spot of voyeurism? Was this her plan all along, to watch him pleasure himself?

Flinching with shock, the acolyte’s heavy cock popped out of his mouth and swung downwards towards his knees under its own heft, slinging a line of precum and saliva across the clearing.

The precum and saliva mix splattered the intruder: the figure of a voluptuous and busty woman, wrapped in a delicate rose pink gossamer sheet, about three times the height of a regular woman, and floating far enough of the ground that a small pony could walk beneath her unfettered.

She was clearly in the throes of near-climax. The fingers of her left hand were buried in her crotch, the heel of her hand elegantly rotating around her clitoris. Her right hand explored her body, teasing nipple and breast or helping her other hand achieve its goals.

“No! Don’t stop! We’re so close, and it feels so good.”

The acolyte was dumbfounded. He had been so lost in his own pleasure, he had entirely forgotten the point of the ritual. Communion with his patron goddess.

As his shock faded, he flung himself before her and began to pray,

“My Lady Satis’, commander of pleasure and witness to fulfilment, I prostrate myself before you in worship, may your…”

“No no no,” she interrupted, “your words are sweet, but your pleasure is sweeter. Please don’t stop. I was so close.”

The look in Satis’s eye was pleading and hungry, but also seductive. Whatever hardness the acolyte had lost from shock was reborn in him. Usually women could do little to arouse him, turned on as he was by all things masculine, but being in the presence of Satis, or at the very least her avatar, filled him with the burning desire to climax.

Getting to his knees he began to masturbate his long cock again, one hand reaching forward to work the end of it, and the other at the base, squeezing the monster’s root to increase the sensation.

He could see that Satis felt his own pleasure. As he felt the waves of sensation flow through him, as he slowed and accelerated his stroking, he saw, felt, and heard Satis’s moans and jerks as her eyes rolled back into her head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Oh that’s good, yes my child, even faster.”

The acolyte could wait no longer and was desperate to make himself cum, now he was free from his cage. He hunched over once more and dove onto his waiting cock, sucking it with vigour, feeling the girthy appendage quickly ram into the back of his throat.

He sped up, racing towards the finish line.

“Yes! Oh yes! Almost there!”

WIth the divine moaning of his goddess, his own mouth working his cock, and his hands rapidly stroking the humongous member, the acolyte began to climax.

The goddess screamed in ecstasy: staccato burst of high exclamations. If she used words in languages the acolyte understood, he could not hear them, as he was lost in their conjoined haze of orgasm.

He felt the orgasm rushing through his body, his body clenching and penis tensing and spurts of cum began to flood his mouth. It tasted better than any other cum he had tasted before. He swallowed it down, further aroused by sucking himself to completion and having his own cum in his stomach. The volume was too much, and he reared his head back to breath, and let out his own shuddering moan, making eye contact with his goddess.

His cum lanced through the air, splattering her thighs and feet, somehow missing the floating gossamer sash that tangled itself around her body as a simulacrum of clothing.

He could not feel his climax lessening, it continued on and on. New waves of pleasure pulsed through the duo, and the acolyte’s cock continued to spew thick cum into the air. Through some divine means, the cum did not hit the ground, but remained in the air, orbiting the two in their joint bliss.

In fits, and starts, and with shuddering breaths, the masturbating, orgasming goddess of pleasure spoke to her adherent and acolyte,

“My most dedicated servant… I shall bestow thee a gift. Though… it will mean… the loss of your first blessing.” The goddess paused for a while as a stronger wave of orgasm wracked her body and left her speechless.

The acolyte felt the same wave, and fell to all fours, thrusting uselessly at the air, still pouring cum from his hefty cock.

“You shall be… my chosen one… my conduit on this plane… my most trusted servant, if… you accept this gift.”

Able to stand once again, the acolyte resumed stroking his cock with both bands, grunting with the intense pleasure as an unbelievable amount of cum continued to spurt from his monster.

He replied reverently, “Anything for you, Lady Satis. I accept!”

With a final orgasmic cry the goddess flung back her head and fade, first into transparency, and then into nothingness.

The acolyte’s own impossibly long orgasm ended, and he slumped to the floor of the clearing, panting and smiling widely. It was one of the longest and strangest orgasms he had ever experienced. He chuckled lightly to himself. The ritual had worked! Unless that was some sort of orgasmic delirium he had just spoken to, and perhaps had some strange psychic sex with, the goddess he had dedicated his life to and lived to serve. Tears welled in his eyes at the beauty of the moment, and post orgasmic bliss.

Looking down his body he saw the ritual marking were gone, replaced with some splatterings of his cum. He raised a hand to his lips to lick off some of the remaining cum, but as he did so it floated from his hands, as did the cum from the rest of his body, and it joined the rest of his heavy load orbiting him mid-air above the clearing. Realising he was about to witness one of Lady Satis’s miracles, he rolled from his side to sit up straight, his softening dick flopping over his thigh and the tip brushing against the taller blades of grass.

The acolyte watched as divine magics manipulated the cum in the air. It swirled like the movement of the planets in the night sky. Lonely wanderers of pearly essence. The globules began to move faster around him, until he was captured in a high-speed orbit of white brilliance. The influence of Satis was still obvious, as the whole clearing remained bathed in a pinkish light, like a blushing youth.

From the clearing floor the discarded ornate gold of the now defunct cock cage rose into the air, tinted a rose tone by the hue of the divine light, and began to weave itself into a new shape.As the acolyte panted, still robbed of breath from the intense orgasm, he watched in awe as the gold spun itself into the shape of an amphora, the symbol of his goddess,

The amphora interrupted the high speed orbit of enchanted cum, capturing the spent seed inside its hollow body. A small stopper sealed the half-filled vessel and the excess gold wound itself into a braided chain, which affixed itself snugly around the acolyte’s neck. He flinched slightly at the touch, as it was cold and slightly damp from lying in the grass. The small, golden amphora helped connect the chain, and it sat comfortably against Cadmus’ throat, just his firm pectoral muscles, feeling strangely warm against his chest.

Reaching up to feel it the gold was smooth and well-finished, the warmth of the cum-filled amphora seeping into his body. He found the chain had no clasp, and was too small to lift over his head, not that he wished to do that. What a strange gift from his goddess, a near-choking pendant that sealed away some of his own cum. He chuckled breathlessly at the humour of the situation.

A light dragging sensation across his leg told him his cock was still softening, and shrinking back to its usual, though not by any means small, size. Cadmus began to plot what story he would tell his temple about how his cock cage became lost. Then he felt something odd.

A tightening passed over his now flaccid member, like stepping into a cool pool rather than the baths at the hot spring. He would have assumed it was drying and cooling cum, a sensation he was very familiar with on his body but all of it had been trapped in the amphora. This sensation felt different and new.

He reached down to check, and found his penis felt less… plump than usual. Bending closer to investigate he saw with a mild curiosity that his penis looked smaller than usual, and the thick gold ring that had secured his cage in place was now loose whereas for many years it had been tightly held in position by his unusual girth.. Perhaps the massive orgasm had tired the big fella out, he thought.

But the tightening feeling continued and in fact his penis looked like it was actually getting smaller. No longer did it resemble a hefty shank of meat, but a far more reasonable size. He would have reassured himself that it was ‘still big’ but it continued to shrink. His testes too were dwindling, from resembling decorative stone eggs the nobility loved to purchase from the markets to something more like a hen’s egg, though soon more like a quail’s egg and getting smaller.

He truly began to be concerned he would lose his cock all together when the once snug cock ring fell from his genitals and, with a small thud, hit the clearing floor. He had never used his cock, as bade by his betters at the temple, but it broadcast his virility and desirability to adherents, worshippers, and Satis other patrons.

He stared in a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and mild horror, and his once humongous cock shrank to something most men would commit a sin to have, something most men would be happy to show off in public, to what most men had, through something that would make many men feel (unrightfully, as all sizes are beautiful) shameful about.

His hairless scrotum and testes were undergoing the same process. Shrinking and retreating close to his body. It was not a painful sensation, but but odd to say the least. The tightening and shrinking was somewhat pleasing, like winter air on the face. The acolyte simply watched, regulating his breathing, as surely this was his goddess’s will, as his genitals shrunk into his body, and rearranged themselves into a new form. He tried to reassure himself that Lady Satis’s wisdom was not misplaced in administering this transformation upon him.

He finally understood the end-point of the transformation as his penis vanished almost entirely and he felt his internal organs begin to shift, again not an unpleasant sensation, as a new space was created inside of him. He felt pressure against his organs, and against his prostate, as the new space grew inside of him, and let out a soft moan and the sensation became pleasurable.

As the transformation slowed down, he saw as his former penis shifted and became a clitoris, and his testes vanished as his scrotum became his labia. He had seen, and pleasured his fair share of vulvae and clitorises, and knew that his was quite a large clitoris. Girthy and standing proud from his thick labia, with a light smattering of curled pubic hair.

The transformation was complete.

Mouth agape, the acolyte explored his new form, his soft hands feeling his soft folds of his new area. He felt the familiar sensation of getting an erection, but less localised. With his hand he felt the area swell and grow turgid with blood. He lay back in the grass once again, and with talented fingers opened himself and explored the inviting wetness.

Very soon he reached a shuddering orgasm on the mossy floor of the clearing that ricocheted through his whole body. Though the feeling was somewhat the same, it was also completely different. It felt something akin to the orgasms he achieved through anal sex alone. With slick fingers he took the hand from his new pussy and began to finger his other hole, his other hand replacing them inside his vagina.

Remarkably he still had a prostate. The extra feeling of fullness had him panting and sweating quickly. His fingers continued their work, and he quickly reached orgasm again. And again. And again…

As he brought himself to repeated orgasm, he was again reminded of Caeneus, and his pleasure was redoubled in the realisation that he was now classed alongside that mythically beautiful and erotic hero.

After what felt like hours had passed, the acolyte put his hands to rest and slipped into a blissful slumber in the mossy clearing. Though his wrists were sore, and a great change had been thrust upon him, he was eager to return to the temple after a well earned sleep.

(More to come)

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