Degenerate Masochist’s Reincarnation as A Goddess

I was with a ginger female researcher, when the enclosure door swung open and a swarm of tiny creatures engulfed us. Black and shiny, the snake-like things had the consistency of rubber and slathered all they touched in dark mucous that hardened almost instantly.

Already bound, hobbled by ankle shackles, and ditzy from the tentacle goddess squirming inside my womb, they captured me without a fight. Like iron bands, the snakes wrapped around me, constricting as they crawled. Thin membrane spread over my pregnant curves, as tight and restrictive as the rest of my durlatex slave outfit, only this one encased me whole.

The researcher beside me shouted for help, breaking a small button-like artifact seconds before snakes wrestled her arms against her chest and wrapped her head in a stretchy black hood. 

A second later, my vision went black as the snakes wrapped around my eyes, and imprisoned me in a wonderful world of ever tightening restraints. Slimy crawly gropy snakes squirmed and squeezed my body, blanking my thoughts in spasms of masochistic pleasure and quickly intensifying asphyxiation from having my nose and mouth sealed. Snakes slithered into my holes as another entity left my womb, and started filling me up. Even as the edges of my vision blackened, as my consciousness waned, the only thought thoughts firing through my dumb bitch brain was joy of serving yet another monster. Breed me, breed me, breed me please, I moaned against a thick rubbery thing forcing its way down my throat.

 When a sudden explosion of magic ruined my climax and ripped the hood and snakes off of me, I moaned in frustration.

Footsteps and orders sounded above me. A group of researchers, arcanists all of them, wielded panels of force and a variety of spells from cages and lances to outright manipulating the flow of time within the corridor. Slowed and outmatched, the snakes were annihilated. Wards and doors slammed down. Klaxons blared. 

“Facility wide lockdown,” said the artificial voice booming through the arcane speakers. “Remain at your stations.”

Security team began peeling us out of the insanely durable sleepsacks the snakes had wrapped us in. I groaned, obediently following the instructions of the researcher poking at my mouth and pussy to check on me.

“Good thing more cells weren’t opened or we’d have been doomed,” said one of the arcanists as the scene calmed down, courting irony.

The one above me squinted at my relatively flat, if a little fat, tummy. “Hey, wasn’t this one supposed to be carrying?”

She’d asked the right question, but a little too late for it to matter.

Click, click, click went the locks.

A beat of silent dread fell upon the arcanists as they turned to watch twenty-something doors of the ‘black section’ open wide. Out of the enclosures crept magical beasts and monstergirls. The sight and scent of the horrifying menagerie crawling out onto the hallway made my pussy throb in anticipation. 

Long scrapes were left in the ceiling by the shoulder scales of a black dragongirl. Air froze around the leizure steps of a pale, long haired woman of ethereal beauty — a red-eyed vampire dressed in lace and chains. Shadows deepened unnaturally, warping around a ghostly form of a fuzzy woman with wispy moth-antennae. An entire jungle spilled into the hallway, vines and branches of green writhing, dragging behind a motherly woman of leaf-like skin, leafen hair, and pitch-black eyes. Pulsing pink flesh oozed onto the floor from an open door, swelling into shapes reminiscent of humanoids. But before snaps and snarls and angry growls could erupt into an animalistic brawl, a woman in the shape of a slender futa of woven tentacles appeared in a swarm of tentacles, radiating such power that all fell silent.

Cstabath did not speak, she was far too shy to give a good speech and awkward besides. What she did was share a vision.

World made of dark dungeons and burrows in hidden places.

Slaves as far as the eye can see. Bound in steel and rope and flesh and magic and broken will, their heads full of lust and zeal, they worship their captors, grateful to be bred and ravaged. 

Creatures of the night and dark ravishing and dominating the willful cattle, capturing and converting new slaves. 

A cult of monsters founded on lust.

A vision of breeding.

Staggering, I blinked and was back in the hallway, vision of the fledgling fertility goddess fading from my mind. Arcanists’ expressions went from confusion to realization to fear as they watched the monsters one by one bow, embracing the divine destiny Cstabath bestowed upon them. 

While, as you know, such interference in mortal affairs is usually frowned upon by the boys and girls upstairs (I’m referring to the higher deities here), no force came down to smite Cstabath for her actions. She was a mortal-born goddess, a young god still possessing a body of flesh — technically still in the process of ascending. As such, she could perform miracles, bestow blessings, and grant boons rather liberally without the fear of destabilizing the fabric of Creation. 

Air cracked like under a whip, as great metaphysical weight fell upon the kneeling monstergirls. The dragon’s body twisted and her tail and wings unfurled into masses of tentacles, upon the brow of the vampire coalesced a crown of tendrils, and deep within the darkness surrounding the moth girl, dark shapes began to shift. Cstabath’s avatar vanished, its power shifting to the shoulders of the three apostles of breeding and enslavement.

The humans never had a chance.

Oh, by the way, most of this is commentary by my auxiliary consciousness. The real me at the time was writhing on the ground, drooling, and begging for a hard dicking. Which I got. I did get dick. A lot of dick, and it was some grade-A cock, but honestly the events following were a blur of forced pleasure and monstercock.

So, back to the revolt.

With the wards and doors putting the entire facility in lock-down, Cstabath’s followers overpowered it within hours. Slurp’s control collar, as well as those of the other enslaved creatures, were broken. Instead, the staff — arcane cyborgs and alchemically enhanced humans — were stripped of their white cloaks and magical items and set upon by the monsters.

Us cattle slaves, restrained to the pen under the walkways, watched in jealous fascination as scientists and arcanists that had tormented us were fucked silly, impregnated, and outright lewdly mutated by the monster gangbang. Scent of the sexual fluids dribbling down through the grid overhead, combined with the sight and moans drove us mad. 

Several days passed with us being denied the monster raping we deserved! Every womb with a girldick or a good tongue-slut (that’s me!) got piled up on by a small army of horny slaves.

After those days, an event that later came to be known as the Great Cuckening by us wombs, surprisingly little changed in the daily life of us sentient cattle.

Most of the former human staff was squeezed into restraint bitch-suits like ours, forced to crawl on their elbows and knees in the crawl-space with the rest of us. Factions formed among the original slaves and staff, kinda like prison gangs, except with shanking replaced by futa dicking.

Some of the higher up staff were taken directly to Cstabath, whose goblin worshipers and apostles fucked their brains into mush and converted them into loyal agents. Fucked into a drooling bimbo, Dr. Murchvoch continued to act as the facility’s public image, while monsters lived within, forming a cozy little community amongst themselves. 

Slurp and a few other academically minded monsters continued the research to keep the lie alive so they received funding and new volunteers. Behind that veneer, the place became the first true temple of Cstabath. 

It was pretty lit, not gonna lie. I’d been sorta indecisive about taking an active role in reforming my own religion, not just ‘cos of the dangers of interfering, but because that kinda stuff can affect your divine portfolio and despite my kinks, I do love having OP magics that let me live this lifestyle. If I were to lose my mantle as a goddess of magic and replace it with that of submission or lewdness… Well, yeah, you know.

So, after Cstabath took over, I stayed for a bit.

Monster cum and prayer transformed our flesh, accelerated by the rapidly reforming religion of Cstabath turning into one of corruption and fertility. By the end, she was a lesser deity like us, a weak one mind you, one unsure of her power with thousands of years of catchup to do, but a lesser deity nonetheless. I gave her the divine address, so she can comment here and join Lesser Deity Afternoon Club if she wants to.

Mostly, I got my brain banged into incoherent mush. Gotta say, getting your consciousness reduced to a drooling pussy, while relaxing, was surprisingly… empty?

Like, sure, I loved the pounding as much as next womb, lllloved getting bred (still do), but after a couple of years I wasn’t embarrassed about any of it anymore. I didn’t blush over inserting my anus into the cleaning tentacle, or throatfucking myself to get my morning cum-load, or even about being bullied and fucked by other cattle-girls.

That said, I do like how we ended up. Me and Dynja that is.

By the end of our ten years (she got given a few extra years), we, like other slaves, were allowed to rejoin that fancy ass magitech kingdom. Quite a number of former cattle willingly became spies and covert preachers of Cstabath, and demanded to keep their body mods. Others, with the mutations of their flesh healed through divine restoration and memories fogged, became regular citizens.

As for me and Dynja, I’d asked Cstabath to not heal us.

I really wanted to see where two room temperature IQ perma-horny gals with monster-ruined bodies would end up, when released into the wilds.

We were drooling messes, both of us. Our curves were on the extra side of thick, bloated by dozens of monster pregnancies. Our skins were tapestries of degrading tattoos and brand-marks. We had our nips, tongues, noses, clits, and pussies pierced with some kinda self-vibrating metal that also stretched our bits out painfully. Our assholes and cunts were so loose from gigantic monstergirl cocks and tentacles that regular humans could’ve fisted us and still we’d felt nothing. 

And the mutations… I was secreting enough happy hormones to knock out a small village. My milk, pussy juice, saliva, and ass liquids were so thick and sexually dangerous that the magics within could’ve gotten us both arrested for illegal alchemy in that country.

So, there we were, two total dinguses cumming our assess off from merely existing, exchanging sweet hot with our tentacle tongues right in the middle of whatever station Slurp had dumped us on.

Didn’t take longer than a couple of hours until some shady types came along and picked us up in their carriage. The local mafioso deemed us too disgusting to fuck by any but the most depraved customers, and immediately forced us to sign our freedoms up to what was essentially workslavery in a brothel.

Last I checked with Dynja, she got sold to a mercenary band looking for a relief toy for their shapeshifter squad. 

I bounced around a few ‘owners’, before eventually being sold to a hot young entrepreneur girl. She tinkered with my body a bit more, before shackling and entombing me inside a magical milking, which turned me into the living cog of an automated ice-cream dispenser. Three squirts for a copper dollar!

Force-fed, blinded, permanently fixed in bondage, pumped full of pleasure enhancing mind-numbing drugs, I existed in a haze of highs and highs, never far from orgasm. 

I had like three brain-cells left by the time Shadada bought the last cone of my tit-ice-cream and got me out. 

Being my paladin, she could contact me via prayer and have me activate my divaslab, though before she did, she fucked me furiously couple of times. Once I regained my senses, I took us back to my realm for some R&R and to ride out my post-fuck-slavery high with kissing, hand holding, soft touching, and wine. I’d squeezed my now petite non-ruined bod into a tight miniskirt with strategically placed holes than actual fabric, while my hot elf pally rocked a topless look with tightest white pants I’d ever seen.

“Mnnah. Actually, Ion, I do have something to ask you,” Shadada said couple hours into a hot makeout sesh. 

“The tail and hooves are optional. Dome drae have them, others don’t. I like to switch it up every now and then.”

Shadada snorted, twisting my nipple until I whined. “Stupid godslut. No, it’s about the reform.”

“Oh! Let’s hear it! I’ve been keeping my mind shut to prevent spoilers, but some prayers are trickling in, and they are juicy.”

The gorgeous tanned elven warrior leaned back on my divine realm’s couch, showing off her perfect scar-riddled abs and toned legs. “Can’t believe you ignored your believers for forty years to live out the dream as an ice cream dispenser, and you still keep ignoring them. I like you, Ion, really do, but… damn if I wasn’t an elf I might be pissed you ignored me for so long.”

“Hey, I’m making up for it aren’t I?” I asked, which she acquiesced with a nod. “And in my defense, most of the other gods are lazy fucks. At least I’m passionate where it counts.” I poked out my tongue, earning myself another nipple twist as punishment for my brattiness.

“We need a real dom here soon, I’m not sure I can suffer you like this much longer.”

“Oh, no, no, please bully me a bit more!” With a thought, I cuffed my arms behind my back, frog-tied my legs with cuffs, and muffled myself with a ballgag. “Ahhhll bhwee qhuuuheet,” I promised.

“You cheat…” Shadada’s breasts quivered with a horny exhale. She leapt up, molesting me mercilessly, turning me into a squirming moaning nugget of helpless delight. “You think you can trick me into topping you without consequences! I demand equal bondage! Truss me up or I won’t tell you nothing, you lazy fuck-toy!”

One thing led to another and before long, Shadada was naked, tied up, and riding my face towards orgasm.

“Nhaahh… Thing ish… Mngh, about the reform. Lots of folks questioned the point of adding a lewd element to a goddess of knowledge and magic, even if it’s only a ritual aspect and not a core tenet. I managed to seduce some of the hornier clergy of the merits, but there are stubborn holdouts, so I came to ask you for help.”

Conversation was put on hold, as her thighs clenched around my head and girl-cum drenched my face. I continued to lick her after.

“Thahz good… Good licking my godslut… So, about help. I’m honestly at a loss and was hoping you could come up with something.”

I did, a bit later, during a furious selfcest session. Also, for all ya folks at Lesser Deity Afternoon Club experiencing updating delays on this blog, that's totally normal and there's an easy fix. Time moves funny on higher realms. Simply contact one of the time deities for a boost to get a bit ahead!