Prompt of the Month - May 2021

TAGS: Gnoll, Hyper, Hyper Balls/Cock, Compressed Growth, Ascension/Godlike, Gods

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Zeke had a problem, and he didn’t know how to get rid of it. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many hours he put into trying to solve it, it only felt as if he got further and further away from anything even remotely resembling a solution, not helped by the fact that anything that might help exacerbated the whole thing by design, a devious trick of biology that he had yet to work around. One might wonder how he even managed to function the way that he was, how his mind hadn’t shattered into a million little pieces all vying for control of a body that could not be led anywhere but further downward into the spiral it was trapped in, and to a certain degree, one might be entirely right; were it not for the gnoll’s almost unnatural levels of stamina and self-discipline, he would have just thrown his arms in the air and given up years prior, just like most of everyone else should they have found themselves in the position he was in. But, through a combination of his innate self-control, an intense need to fix the problem in the “right” way, and a near-limitless supply of spite and anger to draw from (mostly directed at the universe at large, but still), he somehow succeeded in keeping a certain semblance of balance, if that word could even be used when it came to him. Like a dozen spinning plates all being precariously kept moving by an overtaxed juggler, his was a wondrous balancing act that could come crashing down spectacularly at the slightest thing going wrong, making it especially noteworthy that it had been kept that way for about five years at that point. Granted, it hadn’t always been as bad as it turned out to be; in fact, Zeke distinctly recalled a time where he simply assumed he needed to find someone with whom he could share a bed properly after years of adventuring on his own, but things very quickly took a turn for the worse once he realized that, no matter how much effort he put into it… he just couldn’t cum. Not for a lack of potency, quite the contrary in fact, nor for an inability to be aroused by… well, at that point, just about anything; it felt as if every single part of the process was there, every fundamental aspect of reaching climax, and yet for some reason he just never managed to take the last step needed to actually break, to throw himself off the edge and achieve orgasm the way he used to. It was a serious medical condition, that much he was certain, and yet even the best healers and alchemists were unable to tell him what might be wrong with him, or if there even was anything wrong at all: no physical condition could explain his seeming inability to achieve release, there were no foreign bodies infecting him, no curse, no brand, no wards, not even trace chemical compounds of some lingering, long-term poison. As far as anyone could tell, he was perfectly fine and healthy, but he just… couldn’t cum. There was plenty of pre to go around, and it only gotten thicker over time as well; long gone were the days where it was clear, slick and got everywhere, seeing as it only got thicker and more potent the longer the gnoll went without a proper climax, almost as if it was building up to something that the rest of him just wasn’t. By the present day, five years after the inexplicably prohibition first started, it was less fluid as it was something beyond syrupy, a thick, viscous, nearly solid substance that more resembled clay after being imbued with just enough water to not be completely inflexible; needless to say, the sensations that came with pushing literal gallons of the stuff through a cock that had only gotten bigger with time as well were hard to ignore, harder to process, and impossible not to use as further fuel for an arousal that, put simply, never found an end to the crescendo it had imposed on itself. Five years of escalating sexual tension that had yet to be resolved, and somehow Zeke successfully held onto whatever was left of his sanity, even if he had to give up most of his personality and general attitude along the way to where he was in the present; there were plenty of memories of the things he tried to do in order to break through the veil and get rid of all the backed-up cum he had stored up in his nuts, ranging from the utterly mundane to the impossibly fantastical. It was almost impressive just what he had accomplished in his desperate attempts at reaching climax, things that others might consider feats genuinely worthy of a royal commendation that, to Zeke, were nothing more than utter failures to add to the growing list of ideas that sounded nice in practice, but turned out to be a complete bust. To date, the worst disappointment had been when he tracked down and imprisoned a dragon that was rumoured to have an extensive collection of… a certain kind of toys; they were known to transform themselves into a humanoid and visit the towns around their lair, making good use of their fortune to attract all sorts of attention that could be directed towards more productive means when behind closed doors. Stories circulated of the sort of implements they had back in their hoard, and after a routine scouting trip revealed that these tales were, if anything, underselling the truth of the matter, Zeke knew he’d found the solution to his issues; how rude, then, the universe turned out to be, when after the gnoll successfully trapped the dragon in their humanoid form and delivered them to the authorities, he found that nothing in his hoard really worked at all. Or rather, it did exactly what it was supposed to do, that being lead him to the brink of climax with an ease that bordered on, and probably was, the supernatural; in fact, plenty of the implements he found hidden away amidst piles of golden phalluses and magically-infused facsimiles of the fairer sex’s genitalia were useful enough that he brought them along even after exhausting all other options… only to then throw them out after they, too, refused to work as intended. Just like before, it was easy for him to climb to the heights of pleasure and find himself just a half-second away from blowing his load, even going so far as to experience that little death, the instant before his body careened off the edge, only for it to… not. Plenty of pre, enough to flood his immediate vicinity, but never anything more than that, no matter what he used, how he used it, or how much enthusiasm he put behind it; an entire hoard, taken from someone who hadn’t hurt anyone, combed through, perused and duly thrown aside when nothing within it did what Zeke expected it to. This had been his lowest moment; never before had the gnoll truly felt despair in the way he did right after walking out of the cave, even if he did bring several toys with him. He believed, firmly believed, that nothing would ever break him out of that curse he knew he had cast on him, and he would just have to find a way to live the rest of his life without any release, and even worse, without any answers. It had been two years since that fateful day, and though Zeke had managed to scrounge up a little extra courage to face his fate with, he still wasn’t any closer to explaining why it was his body refused to work the way it used to; frankly, this alone was enough to leave him on edge, though of an entirely different variety, because if he at least knew the “why”, then he’d have something to work with to figure out the “how”, then move from there onto a solution. Alas, he was just as close to discovering the source of his plight as he had been back when he first found out about it… and, given the nature of his curse, that might legitimately be for the best for the little gnoll, for the truth of the matter was, if nothing else, so petty as to be downright laughable. Above him, far beyond the ken of mere mortal minds, residing within a palace of purest gold and presiding upon a throne of polished celestial marble encrusted with planet-sized gems, all polished to absolute, uttermost perfection, was a very jealous asshole of a god who really, really didn’t like what he saw when he bothered to look down at the planet for once in their entire existence. Being a deity whose sphere was mostly concerned with fertility, virility and both mindless self-indulgence and the very act of sexual congress in and of itself, the lion-like god liked to believe that they were above any and all others when it came to that particular aspect of existence: they were the ones with the biggest dick, the biggest tits, the most productive nuts and milk glands, they were the ones who could quite literally outcompete everyone else at once and still maintain an enormous, practically unfair advantage. Truth be told, they had no real friends amongst the rest of the pantheon, for whom their nominal “boss” was only in that spot because no one could be bothered to challenge them for the position and they mostly kept to themselves, but the feline was nonetheless extremely protective of their station… so much so that, when they looked down and couldn’t help but notice that this thing, this “gnoll” or whatever they were called, was possessed of a virility and potency that far surpassed their own… well, something had to be done about it, surely. There was simply no reason for why this Zeke fellow could be allowed to run around thinking themselves to be better than the gods themselves, even if he was entirely unaware of his own capabilities, they hadn’t awoken yet, and as far as the gnoll cared, he was just a regular member of his species; for the deity up above, the mere thought that there might be a chance for someone, some day, in the indeterminate future, to maybe get close to equalling them was nothing short of heresy, and a heresy that deserved to be stamped out before it infected anyone and rooted too deeply to be pulled out easily. For that reason, and that reason alone, this divine example of hubris decided that the best course of action would be to prohibit the gnoll’s body from ever reaching climax, thus ensuring that they were both never satisfied, always restless, and forever careening closer and closer to a complete mental breakdown. Or, that was the plan at least; never in their wildest, most terrifyingly pessimistic projections could the deity have imagined that Zeke would not only rise to the challenge, but somehow succeed in trudging along for years when the whole point was that they were meant to succumb in mere days! Not only that, but the ways in which the gnoll tried to “fix” a problem that could, by definition, be fixed, only became more and more extreme as time went on, occasionally warranting the intervention of another god whose sphere had been intruded upon. Explanations were always awkward, and more than once the feline had to defend their decision to do something that effectively turned out to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, but if there was one thing this god was not, was a quitter; and only quitters yielded any amount of space in their stated positions, so clearly they had to stand firm by their decision, even when it became clear it had been an objectively terrible one. What else were they supposed to do, admit they were wrong? Preposterous!

The effects this had on Zeke could not possibly be understated, and quite literally so, as it seemed that the gnoll’s mere presence was enough to warp the minds of those around him in such a way that they couldn’t avoid staring at him… though that might very well just be the size or all the resulting consequences of it, ‘twas hard to tell at times. For it wasn’t merely a case of divine intervention keeping him from experiencing climax, but also a matter of his body still functioning the way it was technically supposed to, and it just so happened that he actually wasn’t supposed to work identically to everyone else, nor even when compared to his own kind. Though the lion-like deity was entirely off-base when it came to their motivations, they had actually gotten one thing right, that being that Zeke was destined for far greater things than their previously unassuming self would seem to indicate; if the god hadn’t intervened when they did, then it was likely that the gnoll would probably be a whole lot bigger than they already were, which was saying something considering that a good half of their body weight was focused under his waistline and between his legs. It was nothing short of a wonder that Zeke could even walk at all, seeing as his balls perpetually dragged themselves along whatever surface he was on, to say nothing of the way his shaft was more or less stuck in its turgid state as a result of the endless, mind-melting stimulation that came with having their denial last for as long as it had. The rest of them hadn’t kept up with the package down below, leading to a very lopsided gnoll who looked ready to stop walking, drop to their knees, and then spend the rest of their days worshipping an ever-growing cock until their sense of self finally melted away into nothing. And, to be fair to this hypothetical observer, such thoughts had crossed Zeke’s mind on multiple occasions during the five years of tribulations he had behind him; far more than once, he did genuinely consider the possibility that, rather than eventually being forced to give up after his body ceased being able to resist itself, he should instead gleefully throw himself off the edge of his own sanity and hope that whatever happened when he hit the bottom fixed the problem. Maybe, as he had thought to himself during those dark days, if only he were to surrender himself completely, then that would finally give him what he needed to get some release, seeing as nothing else worked. But there was something, some sort of inner voice, one that spoke with a frankly inordinate amount of authority given the sorry state his body was in, telling him that all he had to do was hold on a little bit longer, just so he could try something new; that all he needed was to hang on for an extra minute, an extra step, so he could be closer to the release he so desperately wanted. How exactly this voice managed to survive amidst the ruins of half a decade’s worth of failed attempts was anyone’s guess, but for Zeke, it was as strong as it had always been: the last remnants of his courage and determination, frayed at the edges and rendered to dust by the constant, unrelenting onslaught of pleasure slamming into the gates of his mind, yet nonetheless holding firm against the invader, keeping the gnoll firmly on the “right” side of cognizance… even if he occasionally wished that weren’t the case. In many respects, it felt as if him being sane wasn’t so much his decision, but the result of some higher-level being intervening in his plight in order to give him what little help they could provide in those trying times… and, in many respects, he was entirely right, albeit for all the wrong reasons. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the lion god intervening in the mortal realm had left things in utter disarray, but unfortunately for the entire pantheon, this wasn’t entirely a negative; though initially they were more than happy to chalk up this odd choice as just the lion being… well, the way they usually were, even the most skeptical among the divines had to admit that something just wasn’t right with the gnoll. They exuded far too much energy, were excessively productive, and despite the fact that they were bombarded with the sort of sensations that would drive minor deities mad with pleasure, they somehow held onto their sense of self, albeit not without some effort on their part; it was easy enough to figure out why that was, but no one involved truly wanted to consider that what they might have on their hands was a nascent god, because the consequences for that conclusion were… less than pleasant. Though birth of a brand new deity might be a momentous occasion on the best of circumstances, those were few and far between; more often than not, such ascensions were incredibly destructive, disruptive of the very fabric of reality, and if not for the fact that the pantheon had plenty of experience dealing with them, they each carried a significant chance of undoing whatever world they took place in, if not the entire plane said world resided in. And if that was already bad enough, that Zeke was able to weather a storm that would’ve sunk the mightiest ship with more or less just a bruised ego and a thick trail of clay-thick pre behind him signalled that the amount of power they wielded was vast, greater perhaps than any of the gods already extant in the upper dimensions. This realization, dreadful as it was, at the very least brought the entire pantheon together; it was one thing to assume that their nominal leader had just gone off the rails again and unilaterally decided to punish a mortal for daring to raise above the rest out of a sense of wounded pride, it was another one altogether for someone like Zeke to turn out to be an incubating deity. Protocols had to be abided by, safety measures put in place, people talked to, priests and clerics warned, all sorts of things that would maximize the odds of the gnoll’s world remaining in one piece if the gods ever faltered in their ability to keep him contained… assuming, that is, that Zeke wouldn’t just ascend on his own anyway. This was not a possibility that any of the pantheon’s many members was willing to even consider, for to do so would be to accept the fact that the disaster they were working to avoid was, ultimately, inevitable, a notion that was as offensive to their sensibilities as it was utterly terrifying; they were gods, they weren’t designed to feel fear of an existential degree, and yet whenever any of them stumbled upon this thought and truly considered it for more than the half-second it took to automatically get rid of it… well, it was hard to hold onto their composure for however long their breakdown took. Perhaps fittingly, the only person to still be entirely certain of their ability to contain Zeke was the one who started it all, the virility and fertility icon that shone bright above all others (in their head, at least), the one who cherished the opportunity to play the part of the brave, gallant commander of the bulwark; this didn’t exactly endear them to the rest of the defenders, for whom the notion that the lion could be anything other than a nuisance was equally as offensive as the unspeakable truth of the matter, but as always, they had to deal with them. It thus didn’t take a very long time before political rifts began appearing within the pantheon, split between those who, though they might not like their current leader, figured that it was better to bet on the devil they knew, and a second group who, though utterly and absolutely terrified at the notion of radical change, believed that Zeke should be allowed to reach his full potential; the latter group had become convinced that the pantheon, as it was, had stagnated to the point of having begun to rot, and that the only way of moving forwards and getting anything done in their crumbling bureaucracy was to get some fresh blood into it… and not literally that time around. From there to an outright divine civil war was only one misplaced comment, or perhaps a joke that flew a bit too close to the truth, leaving the pantheon on edge and deliberately looking for any excuse not to start fighting at a time when they needed unity the most, all while Zeke remained blissfully ignorant of anything to do with his fate, or whatever else was happening in a layer of reality he didn’t even think too much about. The gnoll had never been a religious person; though they recognized the existence of the gods (who didn’t, after all?), it wasn’t something that he spent any amount of time thinking beyond the absolutely necessary: observing rituals when inside temples, sure, maybe even throwing some money into the donations bowl when nobody was looking, that sort of thing. The idea that the gods themselves might take an active and interested role in his life was, to him, self-evidently preposterous, since after all, before he had the curse placed on him, what did he have to his name? A handful of adventuring gear, a few stories left behind of his exploits whenever he was feeling bold enough to do something downright suicidal, and enough money to buy a few month’s worth of rent in a local lord’s manor, if he ever decided to take a break from his itinerant lifestyle. The previous five years had done a number on his finances, with them going on a wild ride full of ups, down, plateaus and valleys that were entirely dependent on what sort of zany scheme he came up with to try and fix a problem that, unbeknownst to him, couldn’t be fixed; it was a testament to how far gone he was that Zeke hadn’t even bothered to go back to the dragon’s hoard that, as far as he knew, no one else was aware had been left abandoned. It wasn’t even a case of considering it a retirement fund of sorts, something to live on after he decided to hang up his boots and take on a more sedentary style of life; the gnoll quite simply lacked the mental capacity to understand that the hoard was there for the taking at all, his brain having been locked into seeing it as nothing more than a literal pile of missed opportunities after none of the jewel-encrusted, solid gold-and-silver toys worked to relieve him. Thus, he’d been travelling from place to place even more aimlessly than before, taking whatever jobs were available to him, occasionally offering his services as a breeder; perhaps the most dramatically ironic aspect of his new state of being was that his precum had long since outstripped the actual seed of just about any male, being fully capable of impregnating just about anyone that was even remotely fertile, a trait that served only to leave him more concerned about the potency of any potential, hypothetical future climax. Would he find himself buried underneath a literal avalanche of cum? Would he even be able to stop at all, or would the release keep going until the whole planet was flooded with his seed? Judging by the density and weight of his nuts, that last thought might not be as ridiculous as it initially sounded when he first formulated it… not that it discouraged him from trying to find out, because frankly, he was just that desperate. The entire planet being coated in his spunk was, as far as Zeke was concerned, an acceptable trade-off for finally finding some semblance of relief.

Baby steps. The end release might very well be so potent as to completely obliterate the dimensional plane he resided upon, but that was only for when he actually did experience some release, which was obviously not going to happen any time soon… or so Zeke assumed, hence why he decided to once more try and force the issue by finding the nearest possible opportunity and throwing himself headfirst into it. This time around, it had been rumours of a brand new house of ill repute that had just opened in one of the coastal cities in the northwestern region of the kingdom, where most of the mercantile contact with both the rest of the Old World and the New was had; there were little more than snippets, small wisps of information that were certainly mangled beyond recognition if compared to what they started off as, but still possessed of just enough of the right elements to justify the gnoll spending a good couple of weeks on the trail getting there, because this brothel was reportedly filled with all manner of magical practitioners who had devoted their lives to learning the most carnal of the dark arts, designed only to maximize pleasure! They were said to be so good at what they did that lesser men would go mad if they attempted to make good use of their services, which obviously created an endless rush of would-be chancers that believed themselves in possession of far greater stamina than they truly did. While this initially sounded like complete poppycock, a few moments of thought were all it took for Zeke to realize it might genuinely be a legitimately good business venture: create an attraction that would, by its very nature, manufacture demand from those with an inflated sense of self-importance, a resource that was sadly never lacking, then potentially join up with an order of healers or clerics who would take care of the infirm when they inevitably stumbled out of the brothel, drained and unable to even so much as stand straight. It was devious in its execution, but it made a disturbing amount of sense, albeit the kind that was wont to attract the wrong sort of attention; while the trade ports were usually afforded more leeway in terms of what happened within their city limits, there would be a point past which the religious authorities would intervene and demand that such a den of iniquity be shut down, or at least move their business elsewhere, to some place where “godless heathens” wouldn’t mind playing host to such a depraved display of indecency. And while there would no doubt be no shortage of locations where such an establishment might make themselves at home at, Zeke himself was in no mood for a long journey to another country, or potentially a whole new continent if he was particularly unlucky; thus, it behooved him to try and rush towards where the rumours were pointing, and hope that he both got there in time and that the stories he’d heard hadn’t been too exaggerated. Meanwhile, far above him, the initial wave of panic that had gripped the pantheon upon learning just what the gnoll was capable of had firmly metamorphosed into open revolt, with the two factions formed out of the divide between the reformist and conservative camps having become… different. The question was no longer whether they should strive to maintain the current order versus the need to change it for the sake of progress, nor had it been for quite a while; it was an unfortunate fact of the gods’ life that time moved far differently in their realm than it did in the mortal plane, it being significantly more malleable and prone to distortions depending on what the general mood around the divine halls happened to be. And given that there was a war brewing between one half and the other, while Zeke had only experienced about five years of this torture, a good couple of decades had gone by in the heavens, enough time for the initial divide to change focus. The main point of contention, the dividing line used to gauge allegiances and loyalty, had become the gnoll himself, and whether or not he deserved to take over as the supreme ruler of the pantheon, dethroning the self-styled “Grand Lion” and becoming the herald of a new golden age for all divinities, great or small; unfortunately for the big cat that started it all, their own “side” was less of a united front and more a motley crew of individuals who, for whatever personal reason they may hold dear, chose to stand with them over a complete unknown… though their loyalty was far from assured. Every day, the lion would wake up and spend hours stressing over whether or not the fragile web of alliances, built to keep the restraints on the gnoll active and structurally sound, would break apart because of some damned foolish thing that no one thought about. Defections from one side to another were rare, but it was cause for concern that, whenever they did take place, it was always their side bleeding support to those who would see the heavens delivered to some upstart who hadn’t even been born into those hallowed halls to begin with. Perhaps, the feline thought to themselves occasionally, if Zeke had been a god by birth, then maybe there would be some consideration as to whether they deserved to be elevated to a position of leadership (there wouldn’t; the lion was far too proud for that), but as a mortal? And a rather unnassuming one as well; they weren’t even aware of their full potential, believing their state to be the result of a curse, rather than a very real blessing that was kept in check purely because their betters knew what they were doing. Alas, few thought along those lines, fewer still with each passing day; the formerly undisputed ruler of the pantheon saw themselves surrounded by “allies” whose sole reason for sticking around was pure self-interest, and in one way or another, they would have to keep these “supporters” on their side by way of concessions, surrendering more and more power each time anyone dared to suggest they might switch sides. By the end, there would be no throne upon which to sit, no might to wield, no authority to reign over others… which raised the question of what the point even was? As the lion looked down at the mortal realms, their eyes narrowing and their mouth twisting into a scowl while they watched their hapless, would-be usurper make their way to their next stop in the grand quest to achieve climax, they could think of everything that had been sacrificed; twenty long years of scheming, backroom politics and occasional skimirshes, all so that most of the pantheon’s members, once so proud to live beneath the resplendent golden marble of the Great Temple, would adjourn to their private realms, themselves embroiled in a great game of influence and favour-trading that could only really end in one way. The only reason why open war hadn’t broken out yet was precisely because the balance simply hadn’t tilted that much to justify doing so, but with each passing day, with every god that switched over to the traitors, with every supposed ally the lion lost, their side drew closer to an open confrontation… and, perhaps worst of all, was the understanding that when it came down to it, when swords were drawn and bolts of lightning conjured, they would ultimately stand alone, for none of their current supporters would even think to risk themselves when they could instead drop them like hot coals and hope that the “reformists” were feeling merciful enough to let them claim neutrality. In the end, all the lion succeeded at doing was surround themselves with traitors-in-the-making, waiting for the right occasion to spring their ultimate disloyalty… all because some damned gnoll couldn’t well keep it in his pants. Maybe if Zeke was aware of this then the blow would be softened, but there was something so inherently infuriating about something as far-reaching as a change in leadership in the heavens themselves taking place because of someone who wasn’t even aware that they were being watched, let alone the fact that they were being considered as a replacement for the position of top god. Every day the lion had to fight back against the desire to simply summon a creature from the outer reaches and throw it downstairs to make sure the gnoll died and stayed firmly dead, with their soul pulled back beyond the veil, but they knew that the moment they even tried, there’d be a flood of revolutionaries attempting to stop them, and then it’d all be over. So they kept going, day after day, for twenty years, hoping beyond hope that the energy put into maintaining the seal would be enough, despite knowing that it… wasn’t. This, on its own, was the worst part of it all, the dreadful knowledge that the very thing holding back their final defeat was, itself, scheduled to stop working sometime in the near future, for with the number of gods contributing with part of their power growing smaller over time, so too did the magic seal grow thinner, allowing more of Zeke’s inner power to shine through; this in turn resulted in far greater releases of pre, higher peaks of pleasure and near-climax that served only to further egg the gnoll on, tiny crumbs that convinced him that, at the very least, he should keep trying. Such was the reason why, in those five years he experienced, the gnoll hadn’t truly laid down their arms, the real reason why the voice in his head telling him to keep going even existed at all; not that Zeke knew it, of course, but then again, he was blissfully ignorant of most things that weren’t how pent-up he felt at any given time. Worst of all, the slow ascension of the gnoll to divinity was no longer paused, and though it was certainly made to progress at a snail’s pace compared to what it should be, every inch lost to the encroaching tide was an inch the pantheon couldn’t get back, no matter how much they tried; it would’ve been slightly more manageable if there weren’t an entire faction of deities deliberately trying to force open the floodgates in order to make things happen at a rate they deemed was “natural” and “fated to happen”, but even under the best of circumstances, the best that anyone could hope for was delaying the inevitable, which only served to highlight the folly of what the lion god was trying to do. They knew, deep down, that they were fighting a war they quite literally couldn’t win, as per the very metaphysical rules of the universe they ruled over, but there was still some part of them that held out hope that, if they just tried hard enough, they could still make it through, they could still win; this was nonsense, pure and simple, but then again the feline deity wasn’t exactly known for their reasoning skills, nor were they tolerated because of their foresight. They were there because they were the devil the loyalists knew, and the moment the one they didn’t became more amenable to their cause, they would immediately jump ship, just like so many others had. In the midst of all this, Zeke carried on being Zeke, focused entirely on getting to that damned brothel just to see if he could finally meet someone who would, if nothing else, be capable of keeping up with his frantic pace; by that point, he wasn’t even expecting a climax, but a partner that didn’t give up past the five minute mark would certainly be an improvement!

As luck would have it, the gnoll successfully dragged himself across the countryside and through the city gate of Nordwell just in time to find out that this supposedly mythical and very magical brothel was not only real, but had indeed been the target of increased scrutiny by local authorities after a spate of high-profile scandals involving the local aristocracy not knowing how to handle their lack of sexual prowess; obviously, it couldn’t be because they weren’t as great a lover as they liked to pretend they were in front of their “friends” during those murderous get-togethers filled with backstabbing and political maneuvering that they called soirées, of course not, it had to be because “those folks” were clearly using some kind of black magic to sap them of their stamina and life force, leaving them unable to even walk straight and in dire need of a healer. Never mind the fact that plenty of peasants walked right in, did their business and came out fully satisfied, there was very obviously something afoot and it was absolutely not their own lack of physical endurance; therefore, this “den of heathens” had to go, and the lords responsible for this borderline smear campaign spared no resources in siccing the local religious authorities on everyone involved in the operation… to variable degrees of success. In between near-constant ridicule and active resistance on the part of the commoners, progress had been slow, hampered at every step by bureaucrats who had, for once, learned where their spines were supposed to be as they subverted every attempt at legally evicting the workers from the premises; and, seeing as the soldiery had made good use of the services as well, it was still up in the air whether or not they would even answer the call to forcefully eject the operation from city limits when it inevitably came down from above. It was an interesting sort of low-level, mostly-passive civil war, with the upper echelons of society very much on the losing side against the combined might of a city’s worth of arousal and pure horniness, and if Zeke were in any fit state to actually pay the slightest amount of attention to it, he might’ve found it entertaining enough to dig into and find out more about how it was going. As it stood, however, there were five years filled with sexual frustration behind him, and the last thing the gnoll wanted to do was waste time trying to pinpoint which of the local lords happened to last the shortest when he could instead direct his attention at this, the last chance for salvation that had been presented to him. There was something in the back of his head, not unlike a voice or mayhaps a presence, a sense of finality to everything that happened after he stepped into the city proper; perhaps it was the way that people looked at him, wide-eyed and clearly surprised that someone with such a prodigiously oversized sack would walk anywhere without some kind of support, or maybe the overwhelming sense of pressure that, for the last couple of weeks, had been far higher than normal. Though Zeke was not particularly keen on accepting this as fact, he knew, at a certain level, that the end was very much nigh, and that if he didn’t do something about this curse of his, then it would resolve the issue itself, presumably in an explosive manner; how little did he know that this change in perspective was the result of shifts in the balance of power several planes above his, where the former top god yet bled support, and the number of reformists wanting to put the gnoll in charge rapidly swelled to the point where they could mount an all-out assault upon their rivals. Truth be told, it was doubtful if Zeke would even be able to bring himself to care if he did know, mostly because his was still a mortal body, constrained by mortal limits, and that meant that, with his body awash with hormones as it was, thinking about anything other than relief was practically, if not outright, impossible. Thus, though he had started to think in ways that were far too “final” for his liking, he still kept walking, dragging his sorry self through the city and occasionally stopping to ask where he might find this “den of iniquity” that everyone was talking about, slowly making his way to what was, in all respects, a surprisingly wealthy part of Nordwell. If the gnoll had learned anything in the past five years, it was that brothels typically didn’t contend with high-class, palatial estates and amphitheaters, nor were they usually built into something that looked to be a manor fit for a king, gardens, fountains and sculptures included. For a short while after he found the address, Zeke wondered whether he actually had it wrong, because clearly there was no chance that this would be the place that would finally set him free from his curse; it looked more like the summer home for some posh capital-dweller who occasionally forgot that they even owned it, nothing like the sort of places he himself had frequented in the past. It was only when the front door opened, revealing a very thinly-dressed, stunningly attractive and perfectly chiseled young man possessed of some truly heavy endowments below the waist, that the gnoll breathed easily for the first time in what felt like months; clearly, even if the owners of this establishment couldn’t help him achieve climax, if this was the man they used to serve the front door, then the people inside were at least likely to last. Oddly enough, the young man’s body seemed to shift and change before Zeke’s eyes the closer they got, each step modifying it in some different, but always unidirectional way: whether it be tightening their muscle tone, adding more mass onto them, or even pushing their entire form up a few inches, that gorgeous hunk was clearly growing right in front of him, and by the time they were right up next to the gnoll… well, suffice it to say that, if Zeke wanted to, he could give someone else’s dick a full-body hug for a change.

“Welcome, friend!” the supposed valet spoke up, “You are Zachariah Strynsson, correct?”

The mention of his last name, and the version of his first that he hadn’t used in years, stunned Zeke to such a degree that it actually managed to snap him out of the constant funk that he found himself in, like he had properly woken up for the first time since the curse was first placed on him. He’d gone to great lengths to forget about that particular part of his life history, and even greater ones to make everyone think that his first name actually was Zeke rather than it being an abbreviation, so for this hot piece of beef to just suddenly drop those two names like it was the most normal thing in the world was… suspicious and worrying enough that, for once, the gnoll was left wondering whether he should actually try what he had in mind. Thankfully, his shock must’ve been so clear that the valet immediately excused himself, stammering his words for a couple of seconds before slowing down enough to be comprehensible again.

“Deepest apologies, but Lady Divalla told us that you’d be coming. She’s our accountant, see, also moonlights as a divinator whenever the house doesn’t need her. She told us about you some time ago, actually, said that you’d be coming in a few weeks and we should be getting ready! Didn’t tell us you’d be that big,” the man added in a more mumbled tone, his eyes diverting to the enormous pair of orbs the gnoll was dragging behind them, “but I’m sure we can figure something out. You can speak to Lady Divalla if you’d like while we get everything ready, come, come!”

The enthusiasm was palpable, but still not enough to get Zeke fully on-board with this oddly mystical nonsense that he was being fed. A divinator, working as a money counter for a brothel, somehow aware that he existed and that he was coming over several weeks in advance? It felt far too convenient to be true without having a dozen or so strings attached, but then again, what didn’t when it came to him? His entire life for the past five years had been one long series of extremely unlikely events taking place one after the other, and frankly, having a fortune teller know about him wasn’t even the most outlandish thing that’d happened to him just in the past month! Plus, maybe this way he could find out more about his condition; maybe this person, this Divalla, would know about the specifics of the curse that afflicted him, and if that much was true, then she could work to get rid of it… surely. Even if that didn’t turn out to be the case, at least he was in a well-run brothel and could probably make good use of the premises, which, at first glance, seemed about as expensive and luxurious as the outside indicated: thick, rich velvets covering most surfaces, gold leaf serving as an accent to pretty much everything, with perfectly polished mahogany making up most of the furniture and ground panelling. There were no lights in there, at least not traditional ones; rather, illumination was handled via a series of floating orbs, a seemingly simple yet deceptively costly piece of conjuration that betrayed just how much money was rolling into the establishment’s vaults to anyone who knew more than just the basics. In fact, the more Zeke looked around him, the more he came to notice little finishing touches like those, tiny extras that, to most of the people in the city, would just look nice, but to someone who had developed an extensive knowledge on a variety of magical subjects (though not necessarily for the most wholesome of reasons), revealed the level of competency clearly on display: heatless flames raging in fireplaces, magical lighting in place of far cheaper candles and lamps, even the occasional wisp floating above his head, carrying a tiny scrap of paper as they were presumably put to work as in-house couriers, among others. All of it combined to give the building an air of mystique that felt entirely out of place when combined with the fact that there were naked people everywhere, people whose bodies had very clearly been modified by some incredibly talented wizard; it felt as if every single one of them was akin to a living sculpture, each possessed of roughly the same attributes, yet moulded in just the right way to make them stand out from one another, even if Zeke’s addled and tired mind couldn’t quite make out why that was. There were folks there from every species in the realm, all of them very big for their respective averages, with the flavours on offer being as varied as one would expect from an establishment that supposedly prided itself on being able to service whomever came knocking; the one thing they all had in common was, put simply, the fact that they were huge, excessively well-endowed, and prone to bouts of self-modification now that the gnoll actually paid attention. Surely, it couldn’t be that they were all skilled practitioners of the shaping arts… but how else would it be possible to explain how they so effortlessly changed their size, their shape, their overall physique? Had he actually stumbled in some kind of wizard’s club in disguise, or had the fashions changed so much during his time in the countryside that it was now considered a good career for a sorcerer to get involved in the business of carnal pleasure? Whatever the case may be, he was clearly in good hands, at least if the outward display of wealth was any indication; plus, there was a divinator in the building, so at least he’d be able to get some answers after five long years.

While the rest of the brothel was brought up to speed on what their latest “group project” was going to be, even if most of them were already aware that the gnoll who’d just walked in would very soon become their most daunting challenge yet, Zeke himself was brought into the divinator’s office; or, more accurately, the same hunk who fetched him at the front door stopped a few steps away and let him know that they weren’t allowed within, and their “esteemed guest” would have to take the final plunge himself. Were he in any better position to actually consider what that meant, Zeke might’ve been slightly concerned, but thirsty for any clarification as he was, he paid no heed to what was clearly a warning, instead opening the door and dragging himself through; he almost instantly regretted it, given that the person waiting for him on the other side had either foreseen that exact moment and prepared for it, or had somehow linked their establishment’s profit margins to their growth ability, because what Zeke saw wasn’t really someone as much as it was parts of someone. With an ass wide enough that it could serve as a large desk all on its own (and indeed it was being put to good use as a couch of all things, the office lacking any chairs), hips wide enough to take up most of the floor space and a bust so ample that it towered over the gnoll, this “divinator” was… something. Mayhaps she had once been a part of the service staff and merely moved up in the ranks, or perhaps their size had served as inspiration for the sort of business that was conducted; whatever the case may be, they utterly dominated the entire room, feeling as if their very presence was powerful enough to weaken the knees of anyone that might walk within eyesight, and for the first time in those five long years, Zeke was finally brought back to the state that he had been in before it all began, out of pure shock. There was a body that was so out of the ordinary, even compared to the ones he’d just seen on the way there, that there was no other way for him to feel other than thoroughly gobsmacked, so much that his brain rebooted and sent him back to all those years back, when he was still a naive little twenty-something with no knowledge of what lay ahead; perhaps the worst aspect of it all was that he didn’t even know if it was intentional, and everything had been set up to kick him back into gear properly, or if the divinator had always been like that and he just happened to be the right kind of fucked up that it would actually fix him to see a body like theirs. All that said, Zeke could already tell the familiar sensations creeping back in, trying to force their way into the forefront of his mind again, that he might revert to a state of mindless pleasure-seeking; he knew, then, that if he wanted to get any answers out of this behemoth, then he’d need to ask them immediately… but what to ask though? It had been at least a good ten seconds since he first walked in, and seeing as how he wasn’t exactly subtle with how harshly he closed the door, there was no way the divinator hadn’t heard him; yet despite this, they asked no questions of him, made no introductions, and indeed didn’t divert their attention from whatever it was they were doing behind that wall of boob they were hiding behind. In fact, Zeke didn’t even know what species they were; there was some fur to their body, at least the parts that were exposed, bulging out from a surprisingly stretchy business suit, but given the size of those obviously-full milktanks, it was impossible to tell for certain. The gnoll thus surmised that he was the one expected to speak up first, probably owing to the fact that this was, ultimately, someone who could see into the future somewhat; mayhaps they knew what he was about to ask (yes, that included), and any variations therein… or, maybe, they just had a really good guess and were trying to pressure him into taking the first step. Either way, Zeke could tell his ability to focus was slowly slipping away from him again, so with uncharacteristic determination, he opened his mouth and spoke, free from pleasure for the first time in years.

“I am Zacharia, son of Stryns,” he began, almost immediately admonishing himself for sounding so formal, “and you are, I presume, Lady Divalla?”

“Please,” the gargantuan woman replied, her soft voice entirely at odds with the sort of body it came out of, “no need for honorifics between us. Divalla will do just fine… or you may call me Elizabeth, as my parents once did.”

Zeke didn’t know how he knew this, but he could tell that there was a smile hidden somewhere behind that wall of tits; it only made him blush harder, though it did give him enough motivation to proceed regardless.

“I was told you knew I would come here,” the gnoll carried, “told that you were expecting me. If that much is true, then you must know the reason.”

“Indeed I do, and indeed I have the answers you seek, for the questions that have been hounding you for the past half a decade. You’ve been a busy little thing, though I’m not sure that little is an appropriate descriptor; not after what Salanis did to you.”

The mention of one of the pantheon’s higher-level gods took Zeke entirely by surprise, enough that he could tell that, even were he stuck in his previously lust-addled state, he would’ve had some sense knocked back into him; gratefully, the same was true of him as he was at that moment, with the shock once again staving off the inevitable descent back into mindless pleasure-seeking.

“I’m surprised you weren’t aware of this, Zeke,” Divalla added, “but yours is not a natural condition, nor is it magical in nature. ‘Tis not a curse that has wracked your frame, nor is it any odd reaction you’ve been having; the gods themselves have seen fit to saddle you with this burden, or, to be more precise perhaps, a god took it upon themselves to leave you unable to think with anything other than your prodigiously-sized dick: Salanis, the Leonine.”

“But… w-what?” - in truth, Zeke wanted to ask why, but his words failed him - “That doesn’t… I’ve not done anything to offend them! Why would they do this to me?!”

“You are a threat, put simply,” the divinator answered, “as much to their station as you are to their very existence! Once more, I’m honestly confused that none of my fellows of the craft have ever stumbled upon you to let you know, but you’re no ordinary gnoll, my good friend. You may have been born a creature of flesh and blood, but within you resides the soul of a being much greater, your physical form naught but a cocoon from which a magnificent butterfly will one day emerge. You, Zachariah, are a god made manifest; just one that hasn’t yet had the opportunity to ascend. Why do you think nothing has worked? Why do you think that no alchemist has found anything wrong with you, no cleric or priest could intercede in your favour, no wizard could lift a curse that wasn’t there? None of them had the power to stop it from happening, though I suspect the second group had somewhat of an inkling of what the real issue might’ve been, but chose to hold onto it for fear of accusations of heresy. None such concerns here though; you, Zeke, are a deity awaiting hatching, and I for one would be happy to help you with what you truly need to realize your potential.”

Divalla snapped her fingers, the sound barely audible from behind her bust; nonetheless, the effects were immediate, with the door behind Zeke being thrown open to reveal what looked to be the entire staff of the brothel waiting for him on the other side. To say that the visual repast was wide and varied would be an understatement, because for every aesthetic that the gnoll could think of that would tickle his fancy, he had at least two people to look at in order to have that itch scratched; better yet, the odd magics at play ensured that no one body remained the same way for more than a few seconds, be it through outright manipulation of the employees’ physical forms or by targeting the gnoll’s ability to perceive them. Regardless of the reason, the intention there was very clear: he had been called for, and was expected to follow this entourage of eager lovers to wherever place had been prepared for his “ascension”, as Divalla called it.

“I understand that this is quite a bit too much for you to take in at once,” the divinator mused, hitting the nail on the end, “so if you wish, consider this to be no different than any other similar situation you might’ve found yourself in. See it not as sacrament, but as a group of… let’s say excited professionals wanting to show you a good time, and one that actually understand the specifics of your needs for once. Free of charge, of course; consider this our gift to you.”

Generosity, it seemed, was the name of the game, and was the one word Zeke had on his mind as he slowly dragged himself out of the office, unable to really process what was going on in front of him and thus choosing to simply… accept it. Perhaps it was a dream, but even if that were so, there was no reason for him not to roll with the punches and make as much use of it as he could; even if that meant waking up caked in his own cum, it would be a good enough trade-off. How little did he know that such a simple act had been enough to trigger a change of such magnificent proportions in a realm beyond his understanding, how little Zeke understood what his acceptance of this gift, and his heading towards his ascension, had done to the balance of power in the divine pantheon; if Salanis had been on the defensive for years, bleeding support to the blasted traitors who would see an upstart mortal replace them as the top god, then after the gnoll walked out of the divinator’s office, the last piece of the proverbial wall keeping the revolution at bay finally crumbled. Within minutes, the lion was duly informed by the few remaining loyalists that they would be seeking refuge in their personal realms, purely for the sake of “preserving the peace” of course, and would be observing the proceedings from afar; before any words could be exchanged, the grand palace that Salanis yet resided in was left empty but for the lion themselves, sitting upon a golden throne that had lost all of its lustre. In those precious few moments before the banging on the door began, before the assembled forces of the traitors who would ascend Zeke to the hallowed halls of the gods broke in, the lion… sighed. At long last, their reign had ended, not by their own design, but because some random critter in the lower realms was blessed by the right combination of stars at their birth that they would take their place as the “rightful” ruler of the heavens. How fitting that this had been their own story as well; as much as Salanis disliked remembering it, there too had been a time where they called the mortal realms their home… a time of strife, anger and desolation that had been ended only through their hard-won victory, their ascension towards a greater state of existence. It was perhaps fitting, then, that the lion failed to recognize what little difference there was in their legitimacy and Zeke’s, but that hardly mattered.

When the doors were broken down, the decision was no longer in their hands.