“I swear by the light of the Five,” Auditor Bly ground out behind clenched teeth, “if you say ‘that’s not how we do things around here’ one more time…”

He did his best to calm himself after the words left his lips. Auditors generally did not succeed if they had a violent temper. They were the King’s eyes, ears, and hand when it came to addressing issues in the provinces far removed from the capital. But after three days of fruitless inquiry (in more ways than one), he was close to breaking point.

It showed in his physical appearance, too. His tangerine-coloured robes of authority had not been laundered since he arrived, the hem and sleeves fringed with the dry mud of a stumble he’d taken in pursuit of one of these illusive townsfolk. His dark red hair, normally styled with beeswax and scented, was a wild mop and bunched where he’d grasped it in frustration more than once. And without time or intention, he had a nasty patch of stubble. He hated his facial hair, and its grating presence was a constant reminder that he was not in his comfortable office, thousands of marks from this dreary hovel.

But if Bly was practically radiating with contempt, the target of his ire didn’t appear to notice. He didn’t demure, or look away, or even break eye contact. Instead, he stared back with perfect, genial confidence, replying in a tone akin to addressing a child.

“You simply request things that are not done,” Barnathus replied, stretching out his arms before placing them behind his head. He then pushed back in his rocking chair, putting it back in motion. “I assure you we hide nothing from the King’s tithe.”

It had been days since Bly had arrived in the small community of Ardent Vale, and he was no closer to finding the answers to his questions. That the hamlet’s inhabitants were so friendly while completely deflecting his every inquiry was more infuriating than outright defiance.

Of course, even these backward peasants knew what happened when you tried to overtly obstruct the intentions of an Auditor. The crooked staff in his hands was not just a symbol of their Lord’s authority. The lifebenders had grown it into its current shape from a carefully modified Alban Oak sapling grown in the Kingsgarden itself. Even now it crackled with frustrated power, seeking terrifying release. It glowed warm in his hands, sensing his frustration and begging to be set loose.

But he was no petty tyrant. The strength that made him so formidable was only given to those who could wield it responsibly. So instead, he centred himself with a brief litany, and returned to his vexing conversation.

“By the authority of His Majesty Archibald II, I demand you hand over the key to that granary.” To emphasize his point, Bly thrust his staff in the direction of the elevated structure. Veins of crackling lightning slid down the staff, glowing briefly before disappearing once more into the wood. One angered an Auditor of the crown at their own peril…but you rarely were given the opportunity to do so twice.

“Well,” the middle aged man without a care in the world said with a sigh. “I suppose if you put it like that. Sheena! Come here and show the good Auditor around the granary, would you kindly?”

The twinge of anger at being deflected to yet another person appeared, then vanished when Bly got a look at the woman in question. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Tall, almost as tall as he was, with hair like silk the colour of wheat in summer. Eyes as green as polished emeralds, the peculiar local hue he’d first noticed when arriving days before, were bright and creased with an inviting smile. Though she wore the plain dress of a woman at work, they offered no confusion as to her proportions, which put the bawdiest of bards to shame for a lack of imagination.

Still gesturing with his staff, he sheepishly gathered himself, straightening out his robe as best he could with a few seconds of effort. “Ah. Ehm. Hello!”

She giggled, and he was briefly grateful for the stubble, allowing to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. Though not a blushing virgin by any means, his work had kept him from the pleasures of female company. And as someone bound to the King’s service, all potential marriages were subject to the crown’s sufferance. After such a long absence, the laughter of such a comely young woman left him hot under the collar.

“You’d like to see the granary, mister…?”

“Bly,” he replied, then a little too quickly. “Auditor Bly.”

She led him down the little path that linked her family’s large cottage to the granary near the trade road the farm abutted against. Along the way they passed by one of her brothers, who was feeding the farm’s trio of horses. He gave them both a wave, smiling back with those same uncanny green eyes.

“May I ask why you’d like to see inside our granary?” Sheena asked. “I can’t imagine it’s all that exciting for someone from the big city.”

“You’d be surprised what fascinates me, miss. But as a matter of fact, I’ll be looking for what is not there. For ten years, Ardent Vale has yielded the highest amount of agricultural produce in this part of the kingdom. Then, as of last year, your shipments have dwindled to almost nothing. And yet I find not a wasteland of salted earth swept clean by locust, but a verdant paradise.”

“That’s the way of a farmer’s lot, I’m afraid. Some seasons are sparse, some seasons are bountiful.”

Bly shook his head. “You’re missing the point, my dear. I’m trying to find out why this particular season was so sparse. Neighbouring regions with similar sunlight and precipitation saw no decline, nor did they report any blights that might have bled over into their crops from here.”

They reached the granary that he’d menaced briefly with his staff. The structure was taller than it was wide, an unusual thing this far from a city. A small ground floor portion held a ladder that led up to the place where the grain was actually stored. The hatch that both allowed access and could serve as a port to shovel grain down onto a waiting cart remained locked tight. Sheena wordlessly ascended the ladder and, with a key pulled from around her neck, opened the trapdoor. While she worked, Bly tried and failed to avoid looking at her well shaped rear end as it had raised itself to eye level. At the very least, his eyes didn’t linger long.

Entering the granary, he found answers. Unfortunately, not to the question he was investigating. The granary contained roughly what the account statements said they would, give or take a few bushels.

“Disappointed?” she asked, having somehow slid up next to him in silence.

“Sorry?” he asked, trying not to look like she’d startled him.

“That there’s no secret hoard of food, I mean. That’s why you wanted to see this, right?”

He wanted to lie to her. To say that that wasn’t his working theory, but something about the playfulness of her question disarmed him.

“Yes. I’ve been to several granaries in this ‘vale’ and they’re all above board. If you and your people are hiding some secret store from the books, you’re much better at it than I anticipated.”

Rather than be offended, she gave another titter, which made his heart swim. “I’m glad we’ve found a way to surprise you. The Renewal festival is tomorrow night. Would you like to come with me? Perhaps we can find more ways to surprise you?”

The invitation was clear. As was the look in her eyes. He’d no idea a similar expression wasn’t playing across his face. Perhaps it had really been too long since he’d had female company…

But he caught himself. No, no! He couldn’t get distracted. His job was everything to him, and some farmhouse floozy wasn’t going to distract his inquiry. For all he knew, she’d been sent to do just that.

“I’m afraid I’ll be working on my report tonight and heading out in the morning,” he replied. “The carriage I commissioned is expecting me. I’ll not have time to attend the festivities.”

Her smile flickered like a candle, but returned to full brightness after a moment. “I understand. Well, I’d love to see you there, regardless! May I at least walk you back into town? I could use the time away from my Father’s chores.”

Bly’s will was iron. But even iron yielded under enough heat.

***

They chatted during their leisurely stroll down the road, joining the main trade thoroughfare and keeping to the side to allow the traffic of horsedrawn wagons to pass by. Harvest was wrapping up, and farmers were getting their crops in before anything could be stolen by the first frost of winter. He’d thought it the perfect time to find the culprit behind the lacklustre tithe, but it had given him nothing but a comprehensive tale as to just how well these people worked.

Perhaps it was the error of every city-dweller who grew up believing that the farmers of the land were simple folk. While their lives were ones of hard work and long hours of toil, it didn’t mean their minds were less sharp. Or that they didn’t have time for other passions. He’d heard almost continuously since he’d arrived, either on the lips of field workers or in the hands of the town’s tavern band.

One curiosity separated this community from the others he’d visited in his time as an Auditor: their choice of worship. Though it was often a touchy subject, his natural curiosity got the better of him as they passed by one of the seemingly endless sculptures of faceless, feminine shapes. Some are of a young bride, clad in a wedding dress and holding a bouquet. Others were of a mother in full, her belly and breasts full. And occasionally, there was one that was the strangest of all: a being who featured exaggerated feminine traits and shape, complimented by a large, engorged phallus.

“Forgive my intrusion, but…I couldn’t help but notice,” he said, pointing to the carved wooden statue of the maiden shape that stood at the foot of a dwelling as they passed by. “I keep seeing those statues of faceless women. Are they significant? Is she an aspect of the Five Who Are One?”

Sheena laughed. “I’m afraid not. Some of the older people still worship the Hand, but most don’t. We prefer the Goddess in Green. Those are her images you see in town.”

Bly frowned. Only the heretical called the Five Who Are One ‘the Hand’. That was an epithet from before they were the primary pantheon to whom all, including the state, owed their fealty and devotion. They’d gobbled up the lesser cults into their endless aspects and mystery cults, leaving only a few faiths that were considered too incompatible to subrogate. He’d believed the faceless women were some form of Zyria, the Goddess of the Hearth. To hear that they were for some pagan hedge god was unsettling, to say the least.

But he did not want to upset such a lovely young woman. He wasn’t a zealot, nor was it his purview to instruct on religious matters. At most, he would turn the attention to one of the temples back in the capital. Perhaps they could send some Oblates this way to get these simple folk back on track.

“I’ll admit, I haven’t heard of the Goddess in Green,” he said, his tone holding polite interest and nothing more. “Could you tell me a little about her?”

“Of course! She is the one whom we rely on to return fertility to our fields after every harvest. She is The Bride, who represents Spring and all its wondrous possibilities. There is The Mother, who embodies the giving and caring for new life. And there’s The Matriarch. In fact, She is who we celebrate in our festival tomorrow!”

“Less to celebrate this year,” he noted, lifting his ledger for emphasis. “Or last year, for that matter.”

But the point of fact bounced off her faith like a glancing strike to armour. “Of course, silly! That’s why we must ask of her boons and make offerings to her glory! We can’t just expect her to give us the bounties of the land without a display of devotion.”

Bly nodded, not willing to press the matter further. The idea that a random hedge-god was angry at them and withheld her boons was as close to an answer as he’d found in his investigation so far.

Approaching the village’s tavern, he took his leave of the wonderful young woman. Once again she invited him to the festival tomorrow, and again he turned her down. It was getting harder to say no to her each time, as she seemed so enthused to show off the heart of her little community. But as an Auditor, maintaining dispassionate distance between himself and his subjects was paramount.

Another challenge to that purposefully divide occurred when he passed through the threshold of the tavern. Though the work of the day was not finished for most, the interior had still gathered several of the village’s inhabitants who’d called it early or had started well before dawn. Tankards of ale clinked, stories were told, and the laughter was boisterous.

“Why, if it isn’t the young Mister Bly!” said a plump woman, waving dramatically from behind the bar.

“Madam Nellie,” he replied, waving back gently before sitting at the bar, letting his staff rest on the edge and bringing his ledger to a rest on the worn maple bartop. Sitting on a stool, he was right at eye level with her. Copious cleavage was only barely contained beneath a pleated dress that likely cost more than a month’s stay in the loft apartment above. Today she’d braided her hair into pigtails, giving her rounded face a youthful flair. But she’d worn her long, golden locks in a different fashion every day he’d seen her. That kind of energy in the early morning hours was completely foreign to Bly, doubly so given she seemingly hadn’t lost any of that spark here in the dregs of the afternoon.

“Still haven’t solved the mystery of the Vale, have ya?” she asked, pouring him an ale and a hearty bowl of soup from a cauldron on the hearthfire. He moved his book out of the way and slid a silver across the table, which she pushed back his way with the bottom of the soup bowl. “Now I told you that your stay would be provided for, and that included the meals. But I might take your coin if you start asking for the hard stuff!”

He smiled, quenching his thirst with half of the ale before replying. “As a matter of fact, I have not. There must be some factor that I’m missing…”

“Or one you’ve not accounted for in your ledger,” she said, tapping the small icon of an aspect of the Goddess in Green on the bar’s top. The Mother, if he didn’t miss his guess.

“Indeed,” he acknowledged, but then added, “though it’d be difficult for my superiors to buy ‘worship of an unsanctioned goddess’ as a satisfactory explanation.”

“Aye, that’s true as well. I suppose that’s a matter of faith. If they come to Ardent Vale, they’ll learn all about Her bounty. Speaking of which: you’ll stay for the festival tomorrow, won’t you?”

He shook his head, repeating his excuse. Despite his frustrations at their evasiveness, these townsfolk were effusively polite. It didn’t allay his suspicions, but it made it hard to hold onto his anger.

After another ale, he departed to the room up the stairs. The noise grew louder from beneath him, but as a city dweller, he was used to sleeping through a ruckus. He drifted off that night to the sound of insects and the joyous cords of a song about returning from far away.

***

The world was dark, and cold, and barren. Skeletal trees clawed at a grey sky. Dull earth, parched and cracking, revealed tangles of gnarled, rotting roots. The husks of a stunted crop of grain left to rot, a crate of apples lay smashed open. The produce within festered with flies. Death. Decay. Rot.

Bly was there. And he was not. He watched the dreary image recede until it was merely out the window of the tavern. Here, sitting at a table opposite him, was Sheena. His eyes tried not to notice her gorgeous body, which this time was most difficult seeing as she was naked.

“We give of ourselves,” she told him, voice spritely and seemingly unaware of her state of undress, “so that the Goddess may grace us once more.”

His mouth moved as if forming questions, but nothing came out but babbled noises. Like he was underwater. She shook her head to show she didn’t understand. Then, with another heartmelting smile, she slid through the table between them. It disappeared (had it ever been there at all), and she was left to kneel before him. A pantomime of prayer, yet it put her within a breath of his cock.

The moment that thought entered his head, he was naked too. The clothing in the way between them poured down his body, washed away like amber ale. They waited there, heart pounding seconds passing, as he waited for her next move. He was unused to being the receiver of physical affection like this. His awkward fumblings during his youth had not prepared him for a woman who went after exactly what she wanted.

But what Sheena wanted was not what he expected. She lifted her breasts and then, leaning forward, pressed them together around his cock. A long dollop of drool slid from her mouth, which she rubbed along his cock. Then, with confident strokes, she began to masturbate him between her breasts.

“Her demands are many, but Her gifts are equal. She asks of our bodies, so that we may plow Her soil.”

The barren scene outside the window began to shift. The sun exploded the clouds away, making him squint until the glare faded. When his vision returned, the dead wheat was gone, the apples and crate both pulled before his eyes into the ground by hands of earth.

“She asks of our hearts,” she continued, “so that we may care for each other as we care for Her.”

The dead trees blossomed with new life, their naked boughs filling and filling until they exploded into a new canopy. People appeared to dance beneath the trees. All naked, all in a carefree state.

“And finally, she asks for our seed. To renew the cycle of life, and to cement our bond with Her in perfect rapture.”

But the scene outside didn’t change. The dancing figures all stopped, turning to look into the window. To look at him. He knew what they wanted from him. The beautiful woman using her body to give him pleasure made him moan aloud. He could feel his offering building. He thrust himself forward, fucking her tits until it was all that mattered in the world.

As the first bolt shot from his staff, the world bloomed before them. Green shoots pushed out from the fallow ground, each rope of seed he shot coinciding with another spurt of growth. The fields became awash with a tidal wave of grain as the cream coated her breasts. Trees fertilized by his act of devotion fruited in abundance, their limbs bent with fruit of every kind. The image of agricultural plenty linked itself with his climax, and all he could hear was Sheena’s voice in religious ecstasy.

“Glory to the Goddess!” the woman declared. And when the last dregs slithered from his tip, he looked down at her to see eyes that were totally featureless. No iris. No pupil. Just perfect, verdant, green. “Glory to the Goddess! Glory to-”

***

He awoke to the sound of knocking at his door. Clammy sweat clung to his body, and his eyes were bleary with incomplete rest. A dream. But what manner of dream was that? His mind spun down as the images faded. As he rose to a seated position on the bed, however, memories were not the only thing that lingered from the dream. To his embarrassment, his orgasm had been all too real.

“Auditor?” a voice from the door called, followed by the handle turning. It was the inn’s owner, Nellie! He snatched up the blanket that had fallen to the floor to cover the obvious stain in his garments. The moment he did so, the buxom proprietress entered, carrying a platter of breakfast staples in one hand.

“Madam Nellie, good morning,” he said, sheepishly rubbing his eyes to distract from his blush. “You didn’t have to bring breakfast to me.”

“But I wanted to! It’ll be your last day here. Besides, I’ll be quite distracted for most of the day. You’d best get a move on too if you’re not staying for the festival. Things can get a bit…rowdy.”

She gave him another winning smile and left the food at his bedside. Once the door was safely closed, he examined the damage to his underclothes. He hadn’t had a nocturnal emission in his adult life. And while his memory of those had marked them as rather feeble affairs, this had been…complete. Mopping the mess up with his soiled garment, he still smelled the release on himself. All the reek of sex without any of the fun of experiencing it in reality.

The public bathhouse would be his first decision, he decided. Even towns this far from the city had them, as a natural result of the Five’s prohibition on filth and dirt. These Green Goddess worshippers may have forsaken the Truth Faith, but they at least had maintained those facilities.

After breaking his fast, he cleaned himself as best he could and packed up his things, save for the clothes he’d be wearing out of the village. Wearing a fresh set of underthings and his bathing robe, he’d descended the stairs to look for the proprietress to deliver his thanks for lodging and to provide a modest gratuity, lest he miss her on his way out. To his confusion, she could not be found in the tavern itself, not in the kitchen adjacent.

He was about to give up when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, those golden locks in motion. A roughly bound ponytail bouncing up and down from behind the half-ajar door to the tavern owner’s bedroom. Was she in prayer? He finally arrested his curiosity when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sucking, slurping mouth.

It seemed Madam Nellie had her own meal to attend to this morning!

He left the tip in silver on the bartop and left with all haste. Chastising himself for the intrusion he nevertheless felt that maybe they could have been a little more discrete. After all, they did have a guest. But privacy was not what it was in the city, he supposed. And she’d been so kind to him during his stay. A moment of impropriety was easily overlooked.

The bathhouse was a short walk from the tavern, and the morning air was brisk. He hurried along the nearly empty street guided by the pale shadows of a lethargic dusk. The boiler was already lit, as seen by the pile of warm coals nestled around it. He entered sheepishly and threw himself into the hot water not a moment before removing the last of his clothes. Then, surfacing, he slid his arms to the edge of the pool of heated water and relaxed…

…or, at least, he tried to relax. Being alone in a public bath was a rare thing indeed, so the presence of several others was not otherwise remarkable. But while public nudity in the baths was normal, public sex was not. Or at least, not in the baths he’d visited in the city.

On the opposite side of the water were three figures. Two were for male, and he recognized the largest one immediately. It was the carriage driver who had driven him to the Vale! Presumably, also the man who was supposed to take him away this morning. He was also the most well-endowed man that Bly had ever seen in his life. The second man was shorter, in more ways than one, but more muscular in the way that a hard life on a farm often bred. Otherwise, an unremarkable specimen.

The third figure of their triumvirate, however, was indeed worthy of note. They were visible from the shoulders up, yet their features betrayed no gender. Neither did their voice, which was audible through the pops and slurps of eager oral affection. Their face was as obscured as their waist, pressed up against the well-endowed driver and leaving trails of moisture behind that didn’t look to be entirely water. The man with the enormous cock was stroking them affectionately, while his partner contented himself with some distracted masturbation.

“-hope she brings one of those splendid apple pies,” the man with the huge cock said with a wistful air. “The Goddess knows I’ve longed to taste them again.”

“That’s not all you’ve wanted to taste,” his verbal companion chuckled, then reclined his head as he neared a peak. But instead of pursuing orgasm, he restrained himself. When he returned to sitting up straight, he noticed Bly, whose mouth hung agape at this display of public fornication. “Hey! It’s the outsider!”

The driver noticed him too. “Oh! It’s the Auditor! Bly, was it? Staying for the Festival?”

It took a minor miracle of willpower to gather enough wits to shake his head.

“I…I’m scheduled to leave…later today,” he said, fumbling to pull himself out of the water. “I presume you are still able to take me?”

The driver shook his head. “Sorry, sir. The Festival! You’ll have to find your own way back home.”

But his friend gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “We can’t leave poor Bly here on his ownsome, all frustrated like. Izzy dear, why don’t you swim over there and kiss our dear Auditor goodbye.”

The head that had been servicing the driver disappeared beneath the frothing water, only to reappear moments later in front of Bly. The Auditor was frozen as the lithe figure emerged from the bath, their gender still ambiguous even after the water’s surface parted to reveal a small, soft penis between their legs.

“Like what you see?” Izzy said, voice a purr of barely restrained lust. “Don’t worry—you can treat me however you like. So long as you scream my name when you finish~”

Izzy slid in between his legs, something he realized he could have closed…but hadn’t. Heart pounding, unsure as to what to do, he let Izzy’s mouth find his. The kiss was brief, but Bly responded to it. Perhaps the libidinous atmosphere of the village was getting to him, but he did not outright reject the affections of someone he’d only barely met.

As Izzy pulled back, Bly’s tongue tasted something on their lips. Something he’d never tasted before, and never thought he would in a million years. Bitter. Salt. He knew what it was, instantly, and it seemed like the whole universe agreed. The world flashed the same green as Izzy’s eyes, and his whole body shuddered as something took hold of it.

Spreading from his mouth outward, an unnatural, overwhelming heat filled Bly’s body. It was like a fever, but instead of making him feel cold, he broiled from within. He’d just had a wet dream an hour before, but his cock had shot to life and ached to be touched like he’d spent a life in chaste contemplation.

“Oh my goodness,” Izzy gasped, looking down to see the throbbing erection they’d inspired. “I think he is this season’s Gift!”

“What?” both men on the other side of the bath said at once.

“An outsider chosen as the Gift? That’s never happened before,” said one of the men.

“Let alone an unbeliever!” chorused the other.

Bly’s gaze bounced between speakers, still trying to get a hold of the sensation wracking his body. They spoke of something that he had no understanding of, yet his body reeled with alien sensation.

“I don’t understand. What Gift?” he asked.

“A Gift for our Goddess, of course,” Izzy said, their dainty fingers wrapping around Bly’s wrist. “But first…you must come with us. We must help you Become.”

“Yes,” the driver said, standing to his full height. “We must show the others the Gift.” He was a towering presence, and his companion was doubly so. With arms like tree trunks and a body honed over a lifetime of hard labour, Bly knew he’d have no chance to beat both of them off. Not without his staff…

The thought of beating men off, and of needing his ‘staff’ brought his attention back to the naked presences before him. He’d never thought of himself attracted to men, but there was something compelling about the strong figures that approached him now. To his continued confusion, it became clear that it was not their whole bodies he had interest in…it was their cocks.

I wonder whose cum was it that I tasted, he thought to himself, and if I could tell if I got another sample.

The thought was shockingly depraved, and its alien presence in his mind forced him into action. He freed himself from Izzy’s grasp, ignoring their pleas to not resist. Something was wrong here. The tainted faith of this Goddess in Green was affecting his mind somehow. A curse of the old kind, or a spell he couldn’t detect? He barely got his robe on his body before he left, dashing out into the street and back toward his room in the tavern’s loft. He needed his staff…and he needed to get out of here!

As he ran down the town’s main thoroughfare, his peripheral vision beheld a parade of lurid tableaus. Fornication of the most flagrant variety taking place in broad daylight. All genders of partner were on offer, and seemingly no thought for common decency was given. His attention was drawn to the groups with the most amount of phalluses on display or in motion. One scene had two women engaging in coitus, and he actually felt disappointment when their phallus turned out to be a sex toy and not the real thing!

“He’s the Gift!” came the voice of the men from the public bath. “Grab him and help him Become!”

“It’s true!” Izzy chimed in. “I saw his eyes when he tasted seed. I bet he’s turning already~”

As he reached the stairs up to his rented room, he was caught by a surprisingly powerful hand. He turned to see the smiling face of Madam Nellie. But there was something else on her lovely visage.

Cum.

Her face was covered in cum.

His heart thundered. The heat in his body burned like wildfire. His mouth felt so dry. His stomach so empty, like he hadn’t even eaten breakfast. He wanted to…he needed to…

“Is it true?” the tavernkeeper asked. “Are you the Gift?”

His mouth struggled to form words, to ask what this all meant. Why the town had gone mad. Or more pressingly, what was happening to his body. But his flapping lips must have seemed like he was requesting something other than answers, because the next thing he knew, she was scraping a dollop of semen off her cheeks and pressing it into his mouth.

Where the mere taste of seed was like being taken by a sudden fever, a finger covered in cream from a stranger ripped Bly’s mind asunder. Deep, penetrating pleasure the likes of which he’d never felt enthralled him, and he fell to his knees.

“Oh dear. You might be our most receptive Gift yet,” she said, offering his agape mouth a few more tastes of cum as he shuddered on the ground. His robe spilling open, there was nothing to prevent his cock from spraying out in spontaneous, touchless orgasm onto the floor. But the meagre joy of release was dwarfed utterly by the joy of being fed those few perverse fingerfuls. That was pure bliss. He’d never tried the addictive root Dreamsnare that had ravaged through the community he’d grown up in. But he began to understand just why people neglected their real lives to become lost in its power.

This couldn’t be happening, he told himself. He was an intelligent man! An agent of the Crown. An Auditor for the Gods’ sake! But there on the floor of the tavern, even those seemingly indelible parts of his identity were changing. The warmth in his body settled into particular parts of his anatomy one might associate with the feminine form. In particular, his chest. With his robe hanging open, he watched with helpless confusion as something within him pushed his flesh outward, growing a pair of bounds around his nipples. There was no denying it. By the time the changes stopped, he had breasts. A pair of small, but undeniable, breasts. Similar changes happened to his waist, his hips, and his thighs. The flesh bowed outward, even as his muscles disappeared beneath a new layer of soft fat. His body hair changed too, becoming thinner in places, and vanishing altogether in others.

He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how, or why. But he’d been cursed by some kind of hex that was turning him into a woman…and it was triggered by ingesting semen.

“I…I must be going,” he stammered, standing back on shaky legs as his cock drooled against his thigh. “I have to leave…get help…”

“There’s nothing to help, sweetheart! But I understand. This must be so strange for you! Why don’t you go up to your room and gather yourself? The Festival will last all day. We can wait for you.”

***

His back pressed against the door, slamming it shut. His drooling dick was on display as uncomfortable proof that it hadn’t been some profane hallucination. This town was taken over by a malign force…and its taint had seeped onto him as well.

He took stock of the changes forced upon his body. The King’s lifebenders he knew could do similar things, and did so as a part of their service to the crossborn and the soulsick. But it was reportedly a painful, invasive art as they shaped skin and bone, and it could only be performed on willing participants. These changes were accompanied by impossible, alien pleasure.

A part of him was horrified by the result. He’d been changed by magic from a whip-thin man into a softer creature of increasingly indeterminate gender. Just like Izzy at the bathhouse, he couldn’t help but notice. A little longer, a few more fingerfuls of seed, and people won’t know just by looking at him that he was male...

But he WAS a man! He threw off the bathrobe and gathered the symbols of his identity. The Orange Robe of his station, a symbol of his authority as much as his vocation. The Black Sash of Tera-Kos, earned for mastering the Nine Schools of Magic. The Alban Staff, grown for him personally and the focus for his power. He awoke his strength through the white wooden stave, feeling the power to level buildings return to his hands.

No garden god would compromise his identity!

No peasant magic would taint his mind!

He was an Auditor, and he would not go down without a fight.

***

He exploded out of the room, staff in hand, ready to unleash fury in a righteous maelstrom of destruction. But he found nobody waiting for him outside the door. He dashed down the stairs to do the same to anyone who lingered in the tavern below, but it was empty as well. Perhaps they’d left him alone. Perhaps he could escape!

As he walked through the town, his eyes kept finding the little statuettes of the Goddess that adorned the streets. He could feel some kind of presence watching him. Stalking him. But it was only the faceless gazes of the Goddess in Green that he could find. It was all so strange, but he was already planning for what he’d say when he got back to the capital. This would make some report to his superiors, and he’d have to recommend the whole Inquisition come down on Ardent Vale, not just some well-meaning Oblate.

The carriage that was to take him out of the village was still there at the edge of the village, near the town’s livery. The horses waited patiently for their master, but the Gods only knew where he’d gone. Asserting an Auditor’s prerogative, he procured a saddle from the building and removed one of the two horses from the carriage’s harness. He needed celerity more than he needed luxury. Besides, it would be good to stretch his riding skills.

With a final look back down the deserted road, he spurred the beast forward. It took off down the road he’d walked with Sheena the day before, heading out of the village. But contrary to the bright and sunny mood of the early morning, as he travelled down the empty road, clouds rolled in to smother the light. Bly tried to ignore the feeling of something pressing in on him, pressing the horse from a canter to a gallop. But against what he believed possible, the weather seemed to respond.

A mist rolled in across the horizon of cleared fields. It surged toward him like a curtain, faster than his steed could travel. It swept him up in its grasp, and he slowed the beast to a halt. He could barely see a few yards in front of him. One blast from his staff would clear a tunnel through this fog, but only for as long as it took for the fog to swallow the path again. He’d have to move slowly, or risk injuring his horse or himself.

Without the passage of the sun, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It had to have been over an hour, but that could have just been his anxiety playing tricks. The open fields gave way to a narrow path cut into the forest. He was pretty sure this had been here when he’d arrived, though he could remember specifically. The horse knew this route, he was pretty sure. Any divots in the road it avoided on its own. He’d have to trust that it would carry him to safety, as with the foliage and fog both, he couldn’t even tell which direction he’d come from, let alone where he was going.

When Bly first heard the noise, he thought it might be distant bird song. But as the trail through the forest twisted and turned, far more than he remembered, he realized it was singing. It was one of the songs that he’d heard in his time in the village. A paean for the Spring. A melody of praise for the Goddess in Green.

He yanked on the horse’s reins, but it refused his commands. It was all he could to get his staff disentangled from the straps he’d mounted it on and leap off the beast while it was in motion. It looked back at him, snorted once, then took off down the path it had been travelling without him. Only when it had vanished from the fog did he remember his belongings were still in its saddlebags.

“Damned beast! Everything in his forsaken Vale is possessed!”

Bly was shaken. How did this happen? How had he gotten so hopelessly captured by this fell power? The singing called to him. Pulled at his limbs like the strings of a marionette. He pushed himself into a run in the opposite direction. Away from the song. Away from whatever cruel fate he could only guess awaited him. His feet beat a path through a dense, gnarled wood. Prickly branches pulled at him like a thousand sharp fingernails, tearing at his robes and trying to keep him from escaping. Once or twice the fog parted to reveal what at first had looked like a city wall. As he got closer, he realized it was the trunk of a tree too tall to comprehend. When it had collapsed, it had crushed everything in its path. The sheer scale of the thing made him feel small and pathetic. Like a bug in the hand of a giant.

Again, his staff could have torn a hole through that great wooden colossus, but not without burning out most of his power. And what if he should start a forest fire? Did he condemn this entire wood and the region around it to a choking death just for his convenience? No. He would go around. Even if the path he took made the singing grow louder.

At last, Bly emerged from the forest. But not to safety, or even the old road. He stumbled out into a clearing, the fog disappearing just as swiftly as it had appeared, and was met by the source of the music that had haunted him so. The entire adult population of the village had gathered there, wearing not a stitch of clothing between them. All were smiling, apparently happy to see him. Yet instead of acknowledging his presence, they continued to sing. He raised his staff to aim at the centre of the chanting villagers.

“I don’t know what sorcery you’ve used to bring me here,” he declared, trying to make his voice rise above the chorus, “But by the Light of the Five, I demand you allow me to leave!”

The song stopped at once. Those closest to him turned and began to walk toward him. Two figures emerged from the wave of smiling, naked villagers. He recognised them instantly. On the left was the tavern keeper Nellie, seemingly eager to keep the promise she’d made to him earlier that day. And on the right was Sheena, the gorgeous young farmgirl who’d taken his breath away.

“There’s no reason to fight us,” Sheena said, her voice just as pleasant as it had been when she was talking about the mundanities of her family’s crops. “You wanted to know about us, didn’t you? Why our crops failed last season? You can help us fix it.”

“NO!” he shot back, looking for some sign of recognition of their ill deeds but finding only placid indifference. “This has gone too far to be some wayward souls looking for answers in the wrong place. This is…this is heresy of the highest order! And you won’t make me a part of it!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, Bly. The farthest thing from it,” Sheena replied.

“You are chosen to be the Gift,” Nellie finished. “You are important to us. We want you to feel good.” They approached without heed for his power, and though he didn’t want to hurt either woman, he needed to show that he was not helpless.

“Stay back!” Bly warned, charging his magical affinity through the staff in his hands. “I’m warning you all…I have great power at my disposal.”

“Oh you silly boy,” Nellie replied, pointing at the object in his hands. “The real power in this world is Hers and Hers alone. All that is grown comes from Her bosom. In the Vale, under Her eyes, you are impotent.”

A spark of anger. Several days of frustration boiled up within, and he bit back a scathing retort. No. No more words. He’d show them, finally, the true strength of an Auditor! He aimed it at the ground, fearing a straight shot would kill anyone in its path, and focused. Energy built in his staff, the shaft throbbing with power. Electricity bubbling to the surface, and then…and then…

Nothing.

Power ebbed away, draining as if a plug had been pulled on a bathtub.

“What?!” he asked, staring dumbly at the staff in his hands. He could no longer feel its hum, his pent up energy lingered in his body in a stagnant pool. Where moments before it had been as vital as any part of his actual body, the focus of his magical power was no more than driftwood. More infuriating laughter. This time from both women, and it was all the more embarrassing to hear come from Sheena.

“Having trouble performing?” Nellie asked. “All that build up and no release. Happens to lots of boys I hear. A dreadful shame when your wood refuses to cooperate in front of others, hmm?”

“What Nellie means,” Sheena clarified as the smile faded from her face, “is that it is made of the trunk of a tree, Mister Bly. A product of the Goddess’ garden. It will not harm Her servants.”

He stood, frozen in place, as the crowd bore down on him. He didn’t put up a fight when they relieved him of his staff. It disappeared into the crowd, not to be seen again that night. There were too many, and he was but one man. A man. He forced himself to hone in on that idea. He was a man. Whatever else happened, no matter what they did to him, he was a man.

They removed his garments, his badges of rank and status. It felt like the unburdening of a soul. Like they were peeling away all that he was and had been until he was naked before a crowd of strangers.

“This man is the Goddess’ chosen!” came another voice. The voice of Sheena’s father, Barnathus. In a field of naked bodies, he alone wore a twisting garland of flowers. Their leader? Or just the master of these profane ceremonies? His cock was out, hanging flaccid and unattended to for the moment. Bly’s attention must have lingered too long on the man’s nethers, because before he could snap his eyes away, “See how the Gift’s body hungers for seed? See how it has already changed his body with but a taste of our community’s devotion to Her? A more potent offering I’ve never seen in my life! But first, he must be adored properly. Izzy, would you do the honours?”

The minx from the bathhouse emerged from the crowd with several pots in their arms. They gave his arm a squeeze before they opened each to reveal coloured paste in each pot. Greens, reds, even his beloved orange…all the hues of Autumn.

“Try to stay still,” they purred, going to work on his body with fingers of the paste. He couldn’t see himself, but Bly could feel the forming of curling patterns on his flesh. Arcing, swirling shapes on his nude, now nearly hairless body that marked him for this position as a gift. As Izzy worked, he had some time to get to the bottom of this. In his last moments, by the Five he would have answers!

“What will become of me? Am I to die for this forsaken little cult?”

The crowd laughed again, making the rage return to him. He hated feeling like the only one not in on the joke at his expense. Reminded him too often of his days at school.

“You truly know nothing of our ways,” Barnathus said with a shake of his head. “No, Mister Bly. You are the conduit through which we receive the Goddess in Green’s blessing. A sacrifice must be made, but She gives life, she does not take it from us. No, we give her what she needs to be fruitful. And when that season comes, the Vale chooses a man to give of himself for the whole community. It’s never been an outsider before, but Her choice is unerring.”

Izzy’s fingers finished tracing the designs of a long spiral on his back. Bly felt something click into place, but he knew not what. This kind of magic was far outside his experience. He knew he should be fighting against it, but without his powers, without his rank and status, who was he?

A sound poured into the Auditor’s mind. Incomprehensible noise, but like hot water poured onto ice, it slid down his crystalized sense of self, diluting and melting it until the two joined in a rushing stream of meltwater.

YOU ARE MINE.

Energy lanced through him, at once like being struck by a bolt of lightning and being impaled by a spear. He’d channelled power, but nothing like this. It felt like he was going to explode! The symbols on his body erupted into bright, colourful light before fading to a slow, dulcet pulse. He fell to his knees, lips trembling as something else overwhelmed him. His cock sprang up, painfully hard, and the lingering desire he’d felt became a painful hunger. He wanted more cum. No, he needed it. More than water. More than air.

“He’s ready,” Izzy declared, then repeated it louder for the crowd. Then, after an expectant pause, “May I be the first?”

Barnathus nodded, running a hand through their hair. “Of course, sweetie. You’ve done such wonderful work. You deserve a reward.”

Izzy squealed with excitement, wrapping their hands behind Bly’s head and cradling it gently.

“I don’t have a lot to give,” they said, rocking their thin, half-hard erection back and forth before the Auditor’s lips, “But everything I have is yours to take~”

Drool pooled in Bly’s mouth. He had to swallow, and swallow again. His soul ached to drain poor Izzy dry, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the first move. To his rescue, or his damnation, rode Nellie and Sheena. They knelt on either side of him, and together they faced the rest of the village.

“Don’t worry dear,” Nellie said, pulling his chin close to her before giving him and open-mouthed kiss. “We’ll help you through this. Just relax and let your jaw hang open.”

“Mind your teeth too,” Sheena added. “You don’t want to skin their carrots, you just want the juice~” She pushed his lips apart with her thumb and forefinger, and Izzy took that as a cue to thrust forward.

“Aaah! Careful!” Izzy cried, and Bly realized the suction he’d put was a little too fierce. He tried to control himself, but the new urges were hard to wrangle. He took pointers from the two women at his sides, and soon the cock in his mouth was close to popping.

“They’re getting close, Mister Bly,” Sheena told him. “You can tell by the way they shiver. Feel their thrusts get needy? Expectant? All that cream they’ve been saving for a special occasion is yours, cutie.”

Bly knew that this would be different. That taking a full load would be some kind of step over a threshold. But he didn’t stop sucking. No, his tongue went into overdrive. His lips latched on and wouldn’t let go until Izzy stiffened and cried out and shot a few weak jets of perfect bliss onto his tongue. Bly swallowed greedily, barely tasting the seed before it disappeared down his throat. The changes from before, the ones that were turning him into something he could never be, they returned in full force. Whatever body hair left below his shoulders vanished in wisps. His breasts grew, that name undeniable now. And yet his cock stayed the same size. If anything, it looked even bigger.

“What…am I…becoming?” Bly asked, unsure who he was asking. Barnathus? Nellie? The Goddess in Green?

“Remember I told you about Her three aspects? The Bride, the Mother, and the Matriarch?” He nodded. “Well, when our crops fail, and the Vale needs replenishment, the Goddess asks of us three sacrifices. One in Spring, one in Summer, and one in Autumn. Each corresponding to Her three forms.”

“Sheena was our Spring Bride,” Barnathus said, beaming with pride as he spoke. “She was once such a troubled boy. Eager to leave the Vale behind. But now? She’s my daughter, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Bly turned to Sheena and saw again that picture of femininity in full bloom. She gave him a flirty wink.

“I was a little scared at first, but I’ve never felt better!”

“Our Summer Mother was the gorgeous Nellie here. So lonely, so bookish after his wife passed. Now look at her! A woman of the community in full bloom.”

Nellie batted away the compliment. “A woman of the community is a polite way of saying that I sleep around so much the mailman doesn’t know where to deliver. But I do my part for the Vale.”

The community’s presumptive leader threw back his hands. “Two Gifts, two individuals who sacrificed for the community-”

“But what? What did they sacrifice?” Bly asked, patience wearing thin.

“Our masculinity, my dear,” Nellie answered before giving him another long, languid kiss. When they broke free, she continued, “We gave of our bodies, of our hearts, and our seed. And in return, the Goddess filled us again with love, and life, and hope.”

Sheena took over, her tongue searching him for any taste of Izzy he’d left behind. Bly knew he should try to pull away, resist this transformation. But…

“Don’t focus on the worries,” Sheena told him. “We’re here to help you Become. But you’ll need more tinder to spark your transformation. Much more.”

Another cock was in his face in moments. Hard. Throbbing. He didn’t even know the owner’s name. He took it into his mouth while the women cooed and brushed back his lengthening hair. One of them, he could not see which, wrapped a hand around his own length. When he bobbed on the shaft in his mouth, the stroking reciprocated. They were training him. Coaxing him. Showing him what it meant to truly serve a cock.

Another fat, thick load slid down the back of his throat. More changes, and he could feel himself Becoming. New thoughts. New beliefs. Even a new gender.

“She’ll need a new name,” Nellie said.

“Just like we did,” Sheena agreed. Just as she finished, something from beyond animated the Auditor’s mouth.

“Gaya,” the new woman said. First quietly, then aloud. Then, she looked up at the next man in line, “My name is Gaya. How…how may I serve you?”

He smiled. It was the carriage driver. The one who was supposed to take Bly away from all this. He had betrayed her. Taken her to this village and trapped her to her fate.

“I offer my seed to you, Gift. You may drain it for me.”

“O-of course,” Gaya agreed, and got to work. He was so much bigger than Izzy. Her jaw strained to take him all inside, but once he’d slid into her throat, it all came naturally. In short order, he was using her throat for his own pleasure, and she could not have been happier to feel him erupt into her stomach.

But the village’s population would no longer wait. Two more lines formed, one in front of Sheena and Nellie each. They worked to drain the men who approached them with as much vigour as Gaya did, but when the cocks were about to spurt, they saved the loads for her. When her mouth and throat was busy, they sprayed their seed onto her face, her blooming breasts, any exposed part of her with enough surface area to be targeted. Each caused her to become more like the women beside her, more the pinnacle of feminine beauty. All save the cock between her legs, which ached and throbbed yet refused to reach climax. Gaya was growing increasingly frustrated, but she turned that need onto draining the next cock. And the next. And the next.

Time lost all meaning, drained away in a waterfall of seed. The pace of changes slowed, but her desire grew to a peak that she could no longer tolerate. Her cock was double the size it had been when she’d set out to Ardent Vale, drooling clear need from its tip.

“Please,” she cried out, collapsing onto all fours. “I cannot…I must…I need release!”

“She’s almost ready,” Nellie declared to the crowd, helping Gaya back to her knees. Sheena moved too, but presented herself in front of the Gift with her ass thrust into the air, her pussy dripping with clearly pent-up desire.

“As the Spring Bride,” Sheena began, “I offer myself to Autumn’s promise. For new life to bloom, the cycle must continue!”

Nellie leaned in to whisper into Gaya’s ear: “This is your moment. You are the Gift. Your body has turned not just our fertility, but your own, into a component of the ritual. Your masculinity, your responsibilities, your old name, it has all turned to the seed that boils inside you. And the only place you can release it…is inside her.”

Gaya felt the impossible urges propel her forward. She needed to plunge herself into Sheena. She needed to vent it all away, complete the magic, renew the Vale. But as she gripped Sheena’s waist, she looked up and saw a village of eyes all staring at her.

She froze. What was she doing? What had she become? Her body trembled as the finality of the act dawned on her. She had been a man of power. Of control. She had believed in the Five all her life. Would she really abandon them so?

The world blurred. First as if awaking from sleep, then in the same mist that had vexed Bly’s escape through the forest. Everyone vanished into the fog, or so she thought. For when Gaya looked down again, Sheena was still there, awaiting his seed…but it was not just Sheena.

Her skin was the colour of the first shoots of Spring. Her hair was not hair at all, but long strands of braided vine that spilled down her body. Her eyes burned with a verdant light so bright it hurt to look at.

It was Her.

“Goddess,” Gaya gasped. She’d never been in the presence of divinity before. She did nothing when a powerful hand pushed her onto her back. Her needy cock stood as solid as oak, and the Goddess made no secret as to what her mission was.

“YOU ARE MINE,” she repeated, though this time the words came from Sheena’s lips. Gaya nodded so hard she became woozy, and almost missed the moment she was mounted.

“I am yours, Goddess!” Gaya screamed. The glorious figure disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived. Once again Gaya was a nude, servile creature in a field of eager faces. But that no longer mattered. To be touched by a Goddess was more confirmation than she could ever ask for. This was good. This was right

She didn’t last long. Why would she? The whole town watched as she shot a town’s worth of fertility into Sheena’s waiting womb. Along with it, the gift of masculinity freely offered as sacrifice. Ecstasy both religious and carnal tore through Gaya’s frail, human body, gouts of divinity pouring from her cock to the point they sprayed back down onto her own body. But they did not stop. More spurted forth. Impossible amounts. Divine quantities. A living fountain of fertility, magically seeding the Vale just as she seeded Sheena’s womb. The crowd watched in awed rapture as the ceremony completed and, in perfect harmony, the pact with the Goddess was sealed anew.

Gaya didn’t remember much after that, but when she dreamt, it was of verdant green fields…and of voices raised in that wonderful song.

***

A man in the orange robes of an Auditor walked up the dirt road toward the farmhouse at the very edge of the village. It was an impossibly pleasant day, as had every day since Nolan first moseyed into the strange environs of Ardent Vale. Delightful Spring weather if he’d ever seen it. This was the last stop in his investigation, and part of him was sad to leave.

He knocked on the door, only to hear the distinct sound of moaning greet him. He blushed a little, blushing more when the door opened anyway, and the source of the noise was confirmed.

A beautiful woman with gorgeous green eyes met him at the door. She was stupendously pregnant, belly bloated out beyond what any dress could conceal. But she wasn’t the source of the moans. Behind her, on a cushioned seat, an older woman was riding on a remarkably large erection. Nolan did his best to look away, but failed to maintain discretion when the woman bent over and revealed that the cock in question belonged to a third woman with a gorgeous head of dark red hair.

“May I help you, or have you come for the show?” the lady at the door asked.

Nolan coughed, turning his eyes, somewhat reluctantly, to the woman who had spoken. “Apologies. I’m looking for an Auditor who was supposed to pass through here last Autumn. Man by the name of Bly.”

Giggles filled the room from the three women, though they were replaced by moans again in short order. The sex ended with the woman in the riding position hilting herself hard, sending visible trails of ejaculate from her well-used hole and down her leg.

“I think I remember a man with that name, though he’s not here anymore,” the pregnant woman replied, then turned to the pair finishing coitus. “You know of anyone named Bly, Gaya dear?”

“Can’t say that I do,” the hung woman replied, easing her partner off of her and helping her recline on the seat. “Let it rest inside you for at least half an hour, then wash as normal. Or if you ask nicely, Sheena will help clean you. She’s a little seed-thirsty these days.”

Nolan’s face could not have been redder. “I…ehm…I didn’t know marriage with three partners was so common in this area.”

“Oh, she’s not married to us!” the woman at the door said with a laugh. “She’s just trying to have children, and Gaya’s seed is more potent than most. A blessing from the Goddess in Green.”

“Praise the Goddess,” Gaya chanted, then reached for a loose-fitting robe to cover herself. “Anything else we can do for you, Mr. Nolan?”

He shook his head. “Fraid not. Thank you for your time and your…indulgence of my curiosity.”

“Y’know,” Sheena tapped her chin, “it’s going to be the Spring Festival in a few days. Lots of opportunities to learn more about our way of life there. Perhaps you’ll stay with us til then?”

Nolan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Perhaps. My schedule’s quite demanding, and I’ve seen no evidence that the man I’m looking for is still here.”

“A shame. Please take your time. Wouldn’t want to miss anything right in front of you~” Gaya purred, then pulled the pregnant woman in for a deep kiss, the kind that told you the universe had vanished for the both of them. Nolan took that as a cue to leave, shutting the door behind him as he did. He hadn’t even made it back to the main road when the moaning began again, this time from a new pairing.

Perhaps he would stay a little while longer. There could really be something worth investigating about this queer little Vale…and its peculiar Goddess.