2: On The Altar (18++)
The blinding navy light that filled the cold, unwelcoming room subsided, returning to its origin in the center of the oval room, where a stone altar was placed on a pedestal. About two dozen hooded figures in blue robes were on their knees in a circle around the altar.
With the disappearance of the otherworldly light, the room returned to the dark, lit only by a dozen torches upon the granite walls. The men and women inside the room waited for their eyes to readjust to the dark after the sudden miracle of their ritual.
One of the men adjusted quicker than the others. Garbed in gold and purple, with a long, twisted staff in his hand. The topper of the staff was a cracked skull of some small, misshapen creature. That man was the first to see the shape of a girl's naked body, laying on the altar.
“SUCCEEEEESSS!!!” the man in purple shouted as he jumped up from his knees. “The hero that has been promised is finally here!”
It was this screeching voice—bouncing from wall to wall—that awoke the girl. She opened her eyes and sat up, startled, and overwhelmed by her returning sensations.
Last time she was alive, she felt very little besides pain and cold. Her eyesight was almost gone and all her hearing did was subject her to that unending, one-note ringing noise.
In hindsight, she should have realized that she also felt very little in Luluna’s realm. Certainly, no cold. But no warmth either. At least, her insides weren’t continuously ripping themselves to pieces. But how could she not notice that the tea had no flavor or consistency?
It all contributed to the surreal experience of suddenly inhabiting a living, breathing, healthy, youthful body. Her sharp hearing was assaulted by the unbearable echoing of the shouting madman. Her keen eyesight quickly adapted to the dark. She saw the hooded figures surrounding her better than she ever could for the last five years of her previous life, though she did not know what to make of the strange gold symbols all over one of the men’s layered robes. She felt the cold of the hard slab she was resting on. Even the strange aching, rising heat just below her abdomen.
“She’s alive!” the same man in purple shouted again when he saw the naked girl sit upon the altar. But then he froze and just stared at the girl, mesmerized. It took him several seconds to snap out of it. “Ah, Forgive me!”
The man in purple dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before the girl on the altar. The other figures followed suit—prostrating themselves as if before a deity. There was little doubt that the girl was not human. Her beauty alone would be enough for some to deem her divine. However, the small leather-like wings on her back and a thin, long tail with a heart shape at the end, suggested a more sinister origin. The color of the girl's hair that reached her shoulder blades was also unnatural. A color that some had seen in the lakes of the Forbidden Valley.
Ah! Could it be? The girl’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment her excitement managed to override the barrage of sensations. Did that goddess really do it? A wish-fulfillment fantasy world with a system? Only one way to find out!
The girl extended her slender hand and shouted, “Status!”
Before the girl’s eyes a semi-translucent, square window appeared, a variation on countless games, novels, and tv shows. The girl grinned from ear to ear as she studied her own status tab. She wiped her eyes when the window got blurry from tears.
“Beatrice,” the girl read quietly. “I like that name.”
“You heard that!?” the man in purple raised his head and shouted to the others. “Our savior just revealed her name! Beatrice! What a splendid name! Etch it into your minds! Spread it across the land! The name “Beatrice”! Praise our Savior, Beatrice!”
“Praise!” all in the room—except for Beatrice—repeated in unison.
Beatrice was still unsure of what was going on. She was sweating and breathing heavily, though she clearly understood it was not even warm in this room. Even though she was sitting, she felt light and heavy at the same time, somehow off-balance. An imposter in a stranger’s body.
Beatrice tried adjusting and shifting her weight just slightly. As she did so, she felt a weight around her chest she never felt before. She looked down and saw a pair of natural splendor. Something that she never got to see in such shape and volume. Not in real life, anyway. And so close! On full display, though from an unusual angle.
Beatrice’s hands reached all on their own. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was already breathing hard and massaging her soft breasts with both hands. The aching, pulsating heat below her abdomen, grew only stronger, demanding immediate attention.
Beatrice looked to the source of the heat. She gasped when her eyes fell on a thick, throbbing cock between her legs. By all indications, she was clearly in a developed woman’s body—thin waist, wide hips, slender arms and fingers, large breasts as soft as her thighs. And yet, there was this thing that at first glance did not belong on a woman’s body at all. But if that erect, veiny penis did not belong on Beatrice’s body, why did she feel so good stroking it?
“Ahn!” Beatrice moaned. That’s right! This is what it felt like! Oh, God, how long has it been!?
“Ooooh!” The futa girl increased the pace of her hand, tightening the grip around her pulsating member. She could think of nothing else except the increasing, trembling build-up at the base of her cock. Something forgotten and yet familiar was approaching fast. And she wanted nothing else but to experience it as soon as possible! With her free hand, Beatrice kept massaging her soft breasts. She felt her cock trembling and tried pinching her pink, hard nipple with two fingers.
“Haahhn!” Beatrice cried out and arched her back as if a bolt of electricity ran through her spine. The rapidly growing pressure in her throbbing shaft burst, unleashing waves of pleasure through the girl’s body. Beatrice moaned and kept furiously stroking her cock while it shot load after load of thick cum high into the air.
“Ah, the first blessings from our Savior!” the man in purple shouted and extended his hands above him, with the palms of his hands facing up. “Savor the shower of our Savior’s deepest essence and beg for forgiveness! For we not worthy!”
The other hooded men and women followed their leader's example—extending their hands toward the shower of their Savior's deepest essence.
The ramblings of the high priest barely even registered in Beatrice’s mind, who was still basking in the afterglow of her first orgasm in this new body. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The pleasure that was lost to her... The pleasure that she had no hope of experiencing ever again… It was here. Now. Stronger than she ever remembered. And after such a long time, this wasn’t nearly enough. Beatrice’s cock was still just as hard and ached for more.