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The man (hardly, he and his companion, not that either of them would allow anyone within range of hearing to get away with implying otherwise) could not believe his ears. His friend must have gotten into some weird stuff down at a campus party again, and now his weekend drug trip had become Mike’s weekday problem. Typical. “Are you stoned, right now?” Mike asked, sounding pre-disappointed with the upcoming answer. “Hey, fuck off man,” Daff(odil (hippie parents)) snorted, making sure to turn his head as far left as it could, so Mike would be forced to see his eye roll. After regaining his balance from the root that somehow snuck up on him, he continued. “I’ve been sober for the past 24 hours, at least, probably. Had to be, to make sure all that shit was real.” He turned back again, but for an amount of time far less prone to accidents, and said: “I thought this kind of shit was what you’re all about anyway. Can’t believe you’re not more excited!” “Well,” Mike began, and happily too, because he’d been practicing this exact speech in his head for the past ten minutes they’d spent trudging through this disturbingly dead but nevertheless disgusting forest, “First of all: you don’t expect me to believe there’s been some big underground temple, not even a half hour drive away, that no one has ever found before, right?” “I’m telling you, it must have been that earthquake, right after all those wildfires!” “Right,” Mike repeated in the same dismissive tone he had already used so many times that day, “Secondly, not only is there some giant underground, unknown, temple nearby, but it’s filled with peacock imagery?” “Yeah, so?” Daff was clearly not getting what the issue was, so now it was Mike’s turn for an eye roll. “We’re in North America, dumbass,” Mike groaned, a few hand wringing motions supplementing his look of utter disbelief, “Peacocks aren’t from around here! I doubt they’re even that old of a species, but they definitely weren’t here thousands of years ago.” “But-” “But whatever!” Mike said, having at this point worked himself into the kind of frenzy that Daff knew better than to interrupt, “You begged me, you wouldn’t shut up, and now I’m here, instead of relaxing after a long day of classes and file sorting!” After a few breaths, he gulped, red with anger no longer, but still quite red. In a much smaller voice, and after a time, he finished with “...So let’s just get this done.” Silence for several more minutes, as they continued to trudge through the muck and leftover ash, pillars of dead wood as far as either of them could see in any direction. Daff suddenly laughed, and turned back. “So what if I’m right? What if I actually discovered something cool?” Mike’s instinctual response was something dreadfully rude, but for reasons he did not himself wholly understand, he paused, and regarded the question with sincere thought. After another minute of heavy steps he finally spoke, but not before laughing himself. “Then both of our lives are going to be a lot different, I’ll bet.” Mike wasn’t completely wrong to be suspicious of his friend, even if he was ultimately incorrect. This “temple” he spoke of wasn’t just through the dead forest; it wasn’t just past the rolling hills; it wasn’t even just down the newly crafted crags that split their base; there was a very worrying, and much longer than expected tunnel as well! No matter how often Mike asked Daff how the hell he found his way down here the man’s answers dissatisfied, and it was just as the tunnel’s walls started to become a lot more smooth that Mike’s patience finally ran out. “Daff, there is no temple. All that’s down here is two idiots in a tunnel that are going to die from gases or rock collapse. We’re leaving.” “Just a bit further,” Daff begged him, and not for the first time, “I swear man, I recognize this area. It’s right before the temple!” “Yeah, just like you ‘recognized’ that first tunnel we went into that turned out to be a dead end,” Mike snapped, pointing an accusing finger in the other’s direction, “You were tripping balls man, just admit it. Let’s go.” “No man, I know I saw it!” Daff shouted, his voice filled with a passion Mike had never once observed. There was a wild look in his eyes, and his voice screeched louder with each syllable. “I’ll prove it to you!” He grabbed Mike’s arm, and Mike could not wrench himself free of his friend’s grasp, no matter how hard he tried. That alone was so shocking that he obediently trotted alongside Daff as the other pulled him on, not so dissimilar to the way a bridled horse would. By the time he remembered himself and how pissed off he was, it was too late for Mike. Too late for them both--the Hall of the Peacock stretched before them, glimmering beautifully in beams of their flashlights. It was enough to study for a lifetime. Several, in fact, yes, Mike was sure of that. Daff was going on and on about something, something about how he got here after seeing some sort of cloud of light during a spirit journey or whatever, it was always something weird with him, but Mike was not interested. The murals and mosaics and various forms of script adorning the walls were the kind of thing he could not have imagined, because age, even one not so large as his, brought with it a cynicism that would make hoping for such a discovery impossible. And yet here it was, in all its majesty. Perfectly glazed clay in various shapes and sometimes impossible sizes and undeniably garish colors fashioned scenes that were so grand in scope it took Mike several minutes to truly take them in, appreciate them, but all of them told a pretty similar story: there was some sort of giant peacock (a deity form, if Mike had to guess) that brought with it fecundity and bounty, which, more often than not, led to feasts and parties and elaborate mating rituals involving said god. In Mike’s experience, these were all pretty normal themes, but even so, the place was astounding. The magnitude of the depictions, the thought put into every single feather on the peacock’s tail, the many smaller birds that flocked around him… and in such condition, even though this place had to be so old! It was the discovery of a lifetime! Did he think that already? Well it was worth repeating, that and plenty else. Mike’s head was whirling, so much so that he tripped upon the dias near the edge of the room, falling before the altar it elevated. “You alright bro?” Daff asked, oblivious to the pathetic groan that had just fallen from Mike’s mouth, “Yeah, this was the place, right here.” “What place?” Mike asked absentmindedly, grabbing the hand that Daff offered. “The one I didn’t want to touch until you came here.” There was a weird tone to Daff’s voice, not that Mike heard it; he was barely keeping his head above the tempting waters that reflected to him the future anthropological career he’d always dreamt of. The humming, which had always been in the room, was getting so loud Mike almost began to notice it, but not quite. He walked up the altar with Daff, studying every single symbol on every single step of the way, finally remembering to ask: “Why’s that?” “Because we both need to be here,” Daff answered with a tone that implied Mike should have been ashamed, he asked something so obvious. It was that haughty response and that not-insignificant amount of embarrassment that it caused that finally pulled Mike out of his reverie, his red cheeks turning back to Daff, and then finally, to the altar, which he was now right in front of, actually aware of. How had he not seen this before, appreciated it before? How could something so obscenely ostentatious go unseen by anyone, for any amount of time? For it was a giant peacock, carved from a smooth, marble-like stone of dark blue, gilded gold, jewels of every kind filling the tail feathers it flashed before them. It was probably the most expensive, luxurious thing that… well, ever existed, if Mike had to guess. Every single sparkling eye, including the ones casting down from his head far above, seemed trained on him. The statue almost looked like it was smirking. A terrible foreboding suddenly filled the amateur archeologist. “We should leave,” Mike said flatly, trying to pull his eyes away from the statue, and failing. He would in a moment though, when he needed to. “What?” Daff yelped, wearing a face of utter betrayal that was completely unappreciated by his awestruck friend, “Why? This is exactly what we wanted!” The weirdness of his friend’s words were not lost on Mike, and were only making the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach more insistent. “We…” Mike had a good, logical reason, he was sure of it; just took him a moment to find it, “...shouldn’t disturb this place without the proper equipment.” He also mumbled something about danger, tomb molds and gases and some such, though that felt entirely perfunctory. Nevertheless, he was so close to tearing his gaze away… Yes! Finally. “No, it’s our discovery! We should be the first to enjoy it, man.” The odd quality to Daff’s tone was growing stronger, as if a second voice was overshadowing his first, and there was a strange smile on his face. All too late, Mike had the impulse to back away; Daff’s hand struck like a viper. “So let’s do it.” “Do what?” Mike asked, panic bringing his voice a full octave higher, and suddenly too. With unnatural strength, Mike’s hand was yanked forward, pushed into the rocky-blue plumage before him. Into? Yes, into, for as soon as Daff’s hand joined Mike’s upon the stone, their hands sunk in, the cool stone as pliable as the feathers it was emulating. “What the fuck!” Mike screeched, though not for long. Panic and powerful feelings of self-preservation made the scream start strong, but near the end it had all but died down to a whisper. As weird, as scary, as… well, just plain fucked up as this all was, the feeling of the feathers against his flesh, and the down beneath… it was incredible. He’d never felt something so comfy. So warm. So, so- He never found out what that feeling was, because a great creaking and cracking left both men transfixed, their expressions rapidly oscillating between wonder and terror. The statue that they were touching, melting into, whatever, was starting to shift against their hands, a small mountain the size of a large hill coming to life before them. Mike wanted to scream, but his throat didn’t work (It would be sore for days after. A pity, considering.); Daff was simply transfixed, his irises wearing a strange hue. The constant humming vibration that had filled the hall, that had always been there and affecting them despite a strange obliviousness to it, was reaching a pitch that even these two dopes could no longer overlook. It was breaking the stone--or perhaps the stone breaking made the sound? Impossible to tell the difference, if there was one, but the one thing that was very clear was that the sound was in fact ultimately coming from the vocal chords of the great peacock shaking itself into existence in front of them. “ooooooOOOAAAH!” the wailing, strangely feline-sounding cry filled the hall several times over, the bouncing sound waves knocking Mike and Daff senseless. By the time it was finished, they--well, their ears weren’t ringing, actually. That was weird. They felt punch-drunk and definitely had a slight headache, but their ears weren’t throbbing due to pierced membranes, as expected. If anything, the only pain Daff would have described was the pain of wanting more. To his credit, Mike was still more confused than anything else, but they both opened their eyes in unison when it was clear neither sound waves nor stone debris were going to explode their skulls. They could not believe their eyes. Yes, it was a giant peacock, the same size as the stone statue, and easily just as heavy, if not more--Mike could feel the gravity the beast compelled. No less gorgeous, but undeniably even more so. Where there were once jewels and gilded gold, oranges and reds and yellows deeper than any sunset swayed in the winds of the leftover squawk, while blue hues shimmered across his body hypnotically. Yes, him. The peacock did differ from his statue counterpart in two very important ways, the first of which being, he was somewhat more humanoid--he stood a bit straighter than expected, wore long draperies made of some sort of silk, and was adorned in plenty of jewelry to boot, gold chains of many hefts and weaves hanging from every part of his body that they could. The second way, and the one that made the correct pronoun quite clear, was not just the big fucking peacock dick barely concealed by the aforementioned silks, but… everything about it. It was hard for either human to explain, but the first thing the giant bird did when he became flesh was illustrative enough, which was reach down and jerk it a few times with a wing that moved quite unnaturally and yet so naturally like a hand. It bounced, half hard, afterward. Whatever the hell he, it, whatever was, there was no doubt about it: this was the deity that adorned every wall several times over, that a statue and presumably a whole temple was made in worship of. Even Daff, who at this point everyone can agree was clearly under some sort of minor enchantment the whole time, had to pinch himself. No one is ever truly prepared to behold a god. “Oooooh! Oh!” squawked the bird a few more times, before finally answering the question plaguing everyone’s minds, Can he speak?, “Ooooh, what a nap! What a sleep! Ohohoho, it’s been-” He leaned down, the air parting penitently at his approach--how someone so large could move so quickly no one could ever explain, but before either human could blink, his huge beak was only a few feet away from them both. It was easily as big as either of their torsos. “-too long, sweethearts. Too long, since I slept like that…” He lifted up a foot and shook it out, then repeated the action with the other. Every time he did, his whole body wobbled. All the powerful fat and feather felt no less mountainous before either of them, and it would be terrifying, if the beauty of that shaking tail, not even yet fanned, was not so pacifying. It looked like the color of the sleep that called for you right at sundown. Suddenly the bird’s head tilted, and each one of them had a huge eye trained upon them, looking them down, all around. A little laugh filled his beak, but it almost knocked both of them over when he exhaled it. “Maybe slept too long, look at this fashion… but that’s alright. There’s always time, isn’t there?” He strode past them, an action insurmountable in its recollection. After all, he was so big that the very idea of walking between these two humans, practically side-to-side, was ridiculous. And yet he did. He slipped between them like liquid, but they were no less accosted by feathers and down and yummy colors than if he bowled them onto their asses. Whatever happened, it happened fast and left them swaying on their feet as the last of his train dragged possessively across their cheeks, the peacock strutting down a hall whose width and height now made much, much more sense. What still didn’t make sense was the sourceless but omnipresent illumination that had filled the space, but frankly there were far weirder things for the two men to be focusing on at that moment. Or perhaps, one really big one. “Yes, it’ll be hard work, after so long… So many people have surely forgotten. But we’ll make them remember.” The ominous enormity of these statements was enough to make Mike remember that this was all fantastic to the point of making him question his sanity, so a few more inquiries surely wouldn’t hurt--Daff just watched his new god strut about with awe, and boy, could that peacock strut. Every step down drew the eye automatically to his many ringed talons, each thud almost, but not quite enough to derail Mike’s train of thought. “I, well, what do… what do you mean, by all that?” Mike’s wavering voice inquired, almost inaudible over the sound of the peacock simply existing in the same space as him--the big bird left little room for much else, thoughts about things other than him included. Nevertheless, the giant avian stopped his struts, as well as his mumbling mixed with birdsong, and whipped his head in Mike’s direction with the speed only a feathered beast can. “Ah, of course. Can’t all be thinkers, can they?” the peacock tutted, sounding sympathetic--Mike’s entire face felt very hot, and he was having trouble articulating why, until the bird walked over, and patted Daff gently on the head, “Not like this little darling.” “E-excuse me?” Mike gasped, sounding far more wounded than he would have liked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or if any of this is real, but, but…” The bird and boy he was petting both looked in Mike’s direction, an eyebrow apiece floating into their foreheads. “We’re out of here! Let’s go, Daff.” Daff did not move when Mike beckoned with his voice, nor when he grabbed his limp arm, either. Curious, because when Mike decided that enough was enough and he tried to yank his friend towards him, he almost fell forward from so much unexpected resistance… but Mike wouldn’t say it felt like Daff moved, exactly. Or did anything, but stand in awe of the peacock god at least three times their size; Mike also had a sneaking suspicion that the deity was slowly getting bigger. His voice boomed louder now, if nothing else. “This poor dear is a bit confused, isn’t she darling?” the bird said with a sigh, and, pity? Mike was as embarrassed as he was confused as he was many other feelings. It was so hot in this hall. Were he and Daff just having some tomb gas shared hallucination? “Well, you are the only one that heard me call, as of late. Of course you’re the only one who understands.” Daff finally looked back in Mike’s direction, not that he had half (or a fourth, fifth…) a mind to--it was the wing that slid along the dazed man’s face that moved it, the humans’ eyes meeting for the final time. Mike gasped. Daff smiled, though he would have been doing that no matter how Mike reacted. The dazed look in Daff’s eyes made it immediately clear that something was up; one way or another, nobody was home. Mike was a good man, young and immature as he was. What kept him rooted for so long was not terror (there was plenty, don’t misunderstand), but calculating, hoping, praying that he could save his friend as he escaped. But in that short time he spent wondering the peacock had already leaned down, and in an act of vulgarity that went far beyond anything he had ever seen, the beast jammed its giant tongue into his friend’s throat. Daff immediately squealed so loud it was audible even through pounds and pounds of peacock muscle. Mike turned and ran. And immediately fell into what felt like the inside of a pillow. Not just soft, inviting, warm, but… something else. Mike couldn’t tell what, but it felt imperative that he figure it out. That he continue to lay in this multicolor train and watch the many eyes that surrounded him. So warm in here. Daff, on the other hand, was done for. This god had slept for so long, for entire epochs. He was starving, and in the only way that mattered to a deity like himself. Thank goodness there were still appetizers-soon-to-be-feasts who presented themselves properly. There was hope for these mortals yet. The god’s tongue, no less hot or forceful or bumpy or slobbery than a normal tongue but much more so in fact, continued to choke the Daff, unconsciousness closing in quickly. Two wings wrapped around him, pulling him in closer. The peacock’s head craned where it needed to make sure the kiss was total in its domination of his newfound lover’s mouth, throat, thoughts. The hug reached completion, the unconscious human covered inside and out with the being that appeared to him a few days ago, promising eternal love. If Daff yet lived he wouldn’t for much longer, but still, the peacock continued to kiss. His beak closed ever so around the human’s frail head. Mike knew what it was. He finally figured out how the peacock’s tailfeathers made him feel. It was… He was sure he knew what it was, but then the colors melted together in this really interesting way, and he forgot what he was going to say. Think. Whatever. What was it again? The feeling the feathers gave him. Warmth, yes, though not as much after his clothes disappeared. Pleasant now, not as sweaty. And inviting, and sleepy, and… oh right, dange-! Another flash of lovely hues, and the thought was gone. It took longer to resurface from the colors every time it slipped back under. POP. The peacock god finally, finally popped his beak off of his lover’s head, now that the twitching had stopped. He looked down with tears in his eyes, the kind of love that only a mad monster of a deity could know, and he had pressed it full force upon the creature in his wings. He sighed, and shook his head, the tears falling away--where they hit the floor, small persimmon trees instantly sprouted, two fruits on each. His voice was a command, but it would be the last one that was needed with her, he was quite sure of that. “Wake up, my darling.” The peahen in his grasp blinked her eyes open. She was roughly the size of the human that was once there, but without a doubt much more full bodied in every way that mattered to the peacock, which was just every way. Her ass was huge and rivaled his own impressive cheeks; her thighs were thick, so grabbable, easy to heft; she may have been a bird, but talk about tits--they were almost big enough for the god’s greedy hands. Her feathers were grey, as all peahens’ were, but they sparkled with just as much majesty as her husband’s and provided a perfect juxtaposition to his absurdly garish self. Much like the man that held her, she was barely less anthropomorphic than she was as a human, but the animalism of her new body and soul were undeniable and overwhelming. She needed eggs. “Oh, my Phallo…” the peahen chirped, her old life and all memories of it rapidly slipping away. All that there was, had ever been, was the man before her, and the love they shared. The body she needed. He shivered after hearing his name leave her soft beak, a coo wriggling out his throat while his tail shook with delight to the end of each tip. She felt the pleasure that he felt, and it was so overwhelming it took intense restraint not to say it again and again and again, to hopefully drive him into a frenzy. But there would be time for that. So much time. She’d get his cock. “My first wife in so long, and the first of many to come. You deserve a special name, my dear.” Back at the bird’s big rear end, the vibrations of pleasure from the unnamed wife’s words finally reached the eyes where Mike slowly lost sight of who he was, what anything was, everything but the eyes around him. His brain would have been even more gone than Daff’s had been at the rate things were progressing, if not for misfortune disguised as providence. The pleasure-plodded flip of the feathers knocked the naked human from his perch, and just as his dick was just about to release the load that felt like all of his brains had been pulled down into it--instead of cumming, he hit his left side, hard, and specifically felt the throbbing head of his dick impact the stone floor in a way downright miserable, snapping him out of his trance in an instant. Mike only just managed to catch the scream in his throat as he realized where he was once more, what had happened, and how he already could feel the immense gravity of that tail, that bird, pulling him back in… But no! No, he was already scrambling to his feet, as quickly and quietly but more than anything, quickly, as he could. Daff be damned, clothes be damned, credibility be damned--he was going to run, run far away, and do everything he could to forget this day. When people asked he’d say Daff got toasted and went too deep into a cave he was too chickenshit to enter and Daff never came back out--everyone would believe it, the guy had fallen into open manholes twice this year already. Yes, he could get out of here, he could escape, he could live a normal life and forget this, maybe, hopefully, please… “Daphne, yes, that will do,” said the peacock god, eyes full of desire. “You’ve always had a fondness for humans and their little stories,” the peahen replied, giggling to herself. There was no question of how she came about such knowledge, because a wife just knew. Many things, of course, but more than anything how to make her husband crow. “Too true my dear, it’s just the romantic in me,” he said, dipping his darling deeper in their embrace. Her eyelids fluttered as their beaks met in affectionate, if slightly silly clack. The loud sounds of tongue that followed were anything but. Mike was almost out, he could actually see the exit in front of him now. What was taking the most willpower, without a doubt, was keeping himself from breaking into a loud sprint, but he could control himself. He had to. He had to make it out. Scuttling across the ground with what he hoped was even less audibility than the bugs he was channeling, he continued to pull himself closer and closer to the threshold of this hallowed hall. To freedom. The beasts’ tongues wrestled with sloppy ferocity, while feathered hands or wings or something groped all over the bird opposite their owners. Fat feminine thighs were thoroughly appreciated, as well as a long, manly neck; so much beautiful plumage to enjoy, and so much heat to drink as well as multiply; the god spent quite a while groping his wife’s tits, and enjoying the hisses of breath that shot from her beak as he did so. The peacock was hard as a rock at this point, and his wife was a mess between her legs. Pressing down upon her, he sandwiched his bride between the stone and his impressive form, lining himself up and leaving slick streaks across her feathers the entire way. Her body was screaming with need, she’d have forced herself onto him if he hadn’t already taken such complete control (which only made it so much hotter), but instead she just thrashed in his grasp, sucked his tongue down her throat, and left a puddle on the floor between her thighs. Phallo pulled away from his wife, and looked her deep in the eyes. They flashed a rainbow of pleasures, and her eyes did the same. His dick throbbed right at the boundary of her pussy lips. Only a few more feet before Mike could run, because he’d be within the rock corridors once more. Even this, this… whatever this monster was couldn’t follow him through there, he was sure of it. Too tight, too long, too far from his temple, something, some sort of safety must be afforded! Perhaps he was hoping his delirious prayers would safeguard him, in the end. He never got a chance to see. Phallo pushed his cock deep into Daphne’s puss, the peahen rasping as her entire lower half shuddered. The peacock king’s head tilted back, and he released an unbelievable squawk, one that filled the chamber faster than light could have ever hoped. Mike’s foot, mere inches from landing past the threshold that very well could have saved his life, froze. As the squawking sound blasted him from every angle, his brain shut off, and his body reacted. His dick was instantly harder than it had ever been, and slowly but surely he swiveled, as if turned by his dong and the signal it was receiving. He stood tall, his eyes were wide, and his cock throbbed so hard it interrupted any attempt by his brain to reassert control. The peacock god began to howl some more, only giving a few short, frenetic humps before he was cumming already--Daphne squealed as well, gushing just as wildly. He was filling her up fast, but he had so much to give, and she needed every drop. Her belly began to distend, and her chest began to get heavier. More weight piled up upon the floor, more feathered bulk oozed out from beneath the god that pinned it down, more and more with every shot. Another particularly strong one left her heaving and him screeching, as her tits exploded past the edges of his grip. She was getting bigger, bigger all over, almost big enough to match her man. More voluptuous, more bodacious, more… Everything, every bit of her. Each tit was soon too big not just for a single hand, but almost too much for both, ballooning bigger and bigger with each thrust. Every shot of cum that pushed with such force that it stretched her belly left it stretched, and full, the peahen much more comfortable now than any pillow could hope to be. In no time Daphne was almost as big as her peacock, but not quite, fistfuls of her body too big even for Phallo to heft without difficulty. What cum continued to fill her already aching pussy began to squirt out from the backside, as the top of his dick continued to toy with her clit mercilessly. Mike was cumming, great ropes shooting out across the floor. He could not help himself, though it wasn’t his fault: no one could have. The overwhelming sexuality of the birds before him was so enthralling that anyone who heard the call would have been cumming their pants, were they still wearing them. Bliss and desire both swirled about in what passed for the remain’s of Mike’s mind, and in no time he had no more seed to give, and his dick spasmed without relief. He did not stop cumming, however. How could he stop, with his god crowing so? And squawk the bird did, until he was finally finished. The mountain of a man wheezed; his dick, soaked and still rather hard, popped free of his wife’s hole after an inelegant jerk of his hips. He shuddered, and shook the stars from his eyes, while his muscles tensed, and then relaxed. The smile on his face would have been the envy of anyone. “Oh, my sweet,” the god cooed, as he slowly pushed his bulk off of the mound of his wife’s body, “Forgive me for being so quick. I was waiting so, so long…” Daphne’s eyes were glassy and empty, the force of his love having pummeled her senseless. As such, she did not answer, unless one counted the gurgle that emitted from her throat. Phallo did. “Yes, don’t worry, there’ll be plenty more. Much more.” She smiled, because even while technically unconscious her body could not hear such a wonderful thing without some sort of reaction. Then another gurgle. “Mmm, you’re right. You should rest, my love, at least for a little while. That’s why we’ve got-” As he spoke, the peacock god had been pulling his train around to his front with the kind of dexterity that any deity would clearly have, expecting to see a zonked and cum-covered human amongst the fan. He did not. He turned in a flash. There the fool was, right at the end of the hall, stuck in place and desperately trying to pull his hands away from his dick so he could slap himself in the face and break the spell, failing every time. Luckily for him, the gigantic bird’s thunderous bound did a good enough job of that for him, and by the time the beast was above him, his wits were back entirely. The bad news was, in case it somehow wasn’t clear yet, that it was already too late. It had been too late the moment Mike had entered the temple, really. Even if he had never awakened the god, or seen the powerful ritual of love he performed, or saw those gorgeous feathers, the taint was simply too strong. It stuck to his skin the moment he entered, mixed with his blood, slid into the grooves of his mind. He could have run after stepping only a single foot inside, but he would have been back, eventually. If the dreams, the constant dreams that woke him up harder and less satisfied and more wet than he ever had been in his life weren’t enough to slowly drive him mad, the call would have always been there. In the back of his mind, beckoning him. No orgasm would have ever felt good again. No love would have ever felt truly requited. Eventually, he would have always come back, dick hard in front of him like the rigored limbs of a zombie, head empty beyond what was necessary to get him there, eyes full of hearts. But he didn’t try to run. He’d been there for an hour at that point--he was ripe for the plucking. The god’s tailfeathers flashed, and the sight melted Mike’s brain immediately. “Come to me, love,” the bird said, as he slowly shook his ass. Every feather vibrated with him, repeating the words in the human’s head. The mindless body walked forward, until it was in the bird’s embrace. “That’s my girl. You’ll understand, my little fool,” he cooed, a finger forcing open the human’s mouth. His tongue snaked in immediately, and the man’s eyelids popped up for a moment before immediately drifting back down. The feathers enclosed, the human was soon gone. More squawks vibrated the walls within minutes. “Come, girls,” the peacock called, as the doors to the deeper portions of the temple opened before him, walls melting away. A room so large and deep it could house a lake stretched before him, and the women oohed and ahhed at not just the scope, but the comforts and cushions they saw deep within. Pillows for miles, hookah hoses longer than anacondas, treats abound, the perfect resting place for a god and his harem. He’d need the space soon--he’d already doubled in size since he first appeared--who knew the mortals of this era had such a deep capacity for obsession and worship? Surprising, but very appreciated. “There will be more, as our call brings them here,” he sang, his wives swaying with his steps down the ramp, down the ramp to their home, “So many hens for me to enjoy, and for you to enjoy too.” He sighed, and a hand on each bird’s chest, squeezing; loud moans followed. “But don’t worry,” he said, floating down the last few steps into a great “whumpf” that kicked up a cloud of cushions from the fields of comfort that stretched before them. He waved them on with his wings, and they fell into his embrace, a minute or so of loud kissing soon echoing off the room’s walls. To each peahen’s shock, his hand pulled their heads away--their surprise dissipated when they saw that giant dick pulsing against his belly. Both licked their lips. “You’re not going anywhere, girls. You’re mine, forever.” “And you’re ours, Phallo,” the girls said in unison, gazes empty. They both leaned in, and began making out around the enormous cock. He wasn’t even cumming yet, but the squawk the god let out was ground-shifting. “Ahhh, RrrrrAAAH~” Men and women across the country would mention having weird dreams the next day at work--when pressed, not a single one would share exactly what those dreams were about. They only got worse each night.