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Life Under Green

Sneak Peek

Life as a worshiper of Green is a thankless job with no reward but more work. The most devout either get absorbed body and soul, lashed to a burning sun so the Big Green can listen to their flesh crackle and pop as he feasts on their screams still coming out as hurried prayers to please him, or simply crushed. And those were the few beings that managed to please the supreme god of all things. Catching the attention of Green was an eternal curse, a burden. If you make the drox god’s dick twitch, you might as well consider your eternity over as you are either going to be churned into nut butter for his pleasure, or made into an example of what happens to those who dare not devote themselves completely to serving him.

Clover knew all this and more, probably more than most when it came to Green. The deathclaw had foolishly once thought he was the supreme being. He had conquered his universe, cultivating it for worship and power, only to fall victim to the golden rule of size.

There is always someone bigger than you.

And if you get big enough, the biggest will take notice. And when Clover refers to Green being the biggest, he is bigger than any and all things. He may not look like he’s much larger, but entire multiverses existed as dust caught in the fur between his toes. Green had two options when playing with the smaller beings of the worlds. Appear to be smaller or make them bigger. And Green would never waste his power and size on making a worthless little spec like Clover into a pet of suitable size. It was simply more ergonomic to warp space around himself to appear to be smaller. But at the snap of Green’s fingers he could erupt in so much size it would trigger trillions of big bangs across multiverses untold. And that was the Big Green holding back.

That didn’t even begin to express the enormity of Green’s power. Even Clover didn’t fully understand it himself, but that was the point. Lesser beings couldn’t know or fully comprehend just how enormous Green truly was. The only thing everyone agreed on was the literal and metaphorical magnetism involved with that much mass.

And Green was ever voracious for more.

That’s what Clover was in charge of as a worshiper. He had long since ascended to godhood, if you could even call it that compared to Green’s divinity, and was charged with the nearest multiverses in bringing them into line under Green’s creed. It was easy to understand what he meant by that. All it took was one look and the divine muses would write entire symphonies in praise of his greatness. The adoration would dribble freely from mortal’s maws as liberally as their drool. And gods, gods were no exception to this. To say Clover was smitten was an affront to the feelings he had to his master. The moment he saw Green, he didn’t just see the enormous perfection, but the truly bottomless pit of hunger that existed inside him. It was like seeing a black hole for the first time and truly understanding something so beautifully chaotic. Green was amazing as the god he was, simply because he was him. Much like the destructive force of and cataclysmic entity of a dark hole, it’s very existence is to be revered, now blow that up into things that could only be measured in infinites and wrap it in a perfect body. Clover fell so hard he felt his heart was replaced with nothing but a Green shaped hole, one that was almost as vast as Green himself.

Almost…

Clover was corrupted fully, and willfully so, by Green’s perfection. His mind warped and soul forever stained viridian by the drox god’s mere presence. Every desire he had was now simply Green and his greatness. The moment he saw him, the deathclaw drake forgot what he was doing. In Clover’s eyes, he simply didn’t exist until Green saw him. He was a fetus, unborn until the grace of Green’s attention glanced over him, and everything made sense. Nothing mattered besides Green, and that was the simplest way of putting to words what was happening in Clover’s heart. To call it love would have been a dishonor for the depth of devotion and hysteric dogma that now thrummed in Clover’s veins.

Clover would revel in the pleasure of crushing civilizations under heel, but instead of thinking of adding to his own size, he was simply looking forward to how all those souls and bodies were being stored in him like a tankard that Green would guzzle down and become more impossibly vast. It was truly all encompassing his devotion to his god. He had become one of the most efficient servants of the growing deity, though if he were to put into perspective his use, he was like a straw.

Even now, Clover loomed over a planet, his maw open as life and energy was stripped from the glowing blue marble. Entire civilizations of people were gripping their throats as their fur and hair peeled off them, their skin getting gaunt and gray before their body crumbled to dust, unleashing their souls into the hungry gullet of that cosmic beast. The greenery was stripped from the land, the water turned acrid and spoiled, the soil barren and dry. Clover’s form would swell in the shadows of space, the untold power of all that life, and the souls he consumed causing his form to ripple and expand.

Clover was a medium to transfer what Green wished. The god could discard him at any moment and need only exert slightly more effort to do the same job. It would be inconsequential. Clover knew this in his bones, he knew this in his worship, that he wasn’t even a flake of dust in the infinite expanse of Green’s reality.

So, when Clover raked his claws across the surface of planets, snuffed out suns in his belly, fucked entire black holes, he was doing it with the expectation that he would give up any of his gains, as all of Green’s worshipers do.

Clover was floating in the debris of his most recent conquest, the planet cracking open, it’s molten core going cold and crumbling, his form shrouded in the sunless void that he had left in his wake. Another galaxy harvested, another pantheon of gods consumed, and another catch of souls to present unto Green. He looked out at the void before him, the very fabric of nothingness a mere sheet that he could prick. He lifted a claw, the tip popping with untold power as he pierced the void and started to rake it down. A rift was shorn in the fabric of the void, the debris from Clover’s conquest slipping in like dust to float in the realm of the one true god. Violet light poured forth from that rift as Clover continued to sheer it open.

The deathclaw was a true marvel. His physique was almost as wide as it was tall, his hide a dark brown with occasional cobalt scales that broke up the monotony. His chest was pushed forward, so far so he might not even be able to cross his arms with how far his pecs jutted forward. His abdominals bowed outward to try and find space on such a snatch waist. Then his hamstrings blew outward into teardrop bands of raw power lashing to a duo of sculpted globes of ass flesh. His foot paws were raptor like, one massive tallon jutting out, each started as a dark almost black brown at the base and then became a henna dipped cobalt near the end. His powerful eyes were blazing cerulean suns of raw power, flames and solar flares lazily made his smoky eye. His horns were a duo of craggy spires atop his head. Like if a bull were to form horns out of raw stone.

And the horn between his legs was nothing to scoff at either. That cosmic shlong sagged low over those planetary nuts. Each nut looked like a beach ball hanging between his legs, that cock arching over them, soft and still more meat than any being should be allowed.

Except for Green.

With a flick of his wrist, the rift was torn down, the violet portal open wide for him. A dark grin cracked his muzzle, his tusks glinting with the glow of Green’s heavenly realm. “Why purple,” some may ask, but isn’t it obvious?

It accents the color green.

Clover pressed forward, his body rolling onward to that opening, that rift ripping further apart for the impossibly wide beast. His thick, muscled tail slithered behind him like some cosmic snake as he simply left his charge for the realm of the one true god. With a cosmic explosion of time and space, the rift slammed shut and sent a shockwave that obliterated unfathomable amounts of galaxies, and yet, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, nary noticeable loss, for a being such as Green.

Clover stepped forward, the gravity taking him first as he stood before a palace made of onyx, amethyst, and emeralds. The palace was as large as most cities, and constantly expanding. The spires shifted like tesseracts, their forms fluid and solid at the same time. Solar systems of stars circled them and glinted their green and violet light. The amethyst and emeralds that adorned the palace, or even made some of the spires, were raw, constantly shifting upward, cracking and growing, shifting and expanding with their owner’s might.

To be honest, Green wasn’t actively causing this. This was all a simple byproduct of sharing space with the ultimate divine. A realm that was expanding because of the residual power of its ruler.

The outer space surrounding the palace was a swirling vortex of clouds, the palace appearing to be caught in the center of a cosmic storm that was flashing with purple lightning and rolling with thunder. If one possessed sight strong enough, they could catch the creation and destruction of infinite multiverses in that storm, the palace constantly expanding and growing, the structure itself so large and powerful that it forced any and all realities within its pull to center it.

Literally the center of all realities.

Not that the palace alone was the cause. Eventually all things revolved around Green, given enough time.

Clover found himself in the courtyard of the main palace, a place reserved for the highest of honored guests, servants of Green who were deemed more useful alive than in his nuts, churning into another load for him to bust and forget. Clover never forgot this, and he always stayed humble. All it took was one bad haul and you’d be stripped for parts under the Big Green’s heel.

“And what a wonderful way to go,” Clover rumbled, his spine tingling, his tail twitching in excitement.

Clover lumbered forward, but as he did, energy would curl off him. Being this close to Green was already enough to cause power to shift. Not that Clover cared. It wasn’t really his to begin with. As the deathclaw lower god stepped forward, his glowing eyes went out, replaced with normal fleshy eyeballs with blue irises. His powerful frame would shudder, power twisting off him like pixy dust and spiraling into the distance. Clover never needed to ask where Green was, simply follow the flow of power. It was a rule of law in every reality. If you follow the power, Green would be there.

With each step, Clover would find it easier and easier to move. The powerful muscle forcing him to waddle shank ever so slightly, his powerful thighs shrinking enough to let him walk normally with all that mass. Not that he shrank too much before he held back the flow of power. Clover only let a little leave because it would show him where Green was, and also because he knew Green enjoyed collecting his size tithes himself.

Clover knew the halls well, despite them constantly shifting and expanding. He understood the patterns and the shifting ways the halls continued to adjust. It all appeared to stay the same to the naked eye, but the way time and space shifted, a mortal could get lost forever in the folds of that palace.

The deathclaw shuddered as his uniform slapped onto him, a speedo with a cute tuxedo printed on it cradled his monstrous junk, the string was eaten up by his massive ass cheeks, the fabric teasing his hole and making the deathclaw rumble in pleasure. Another symbol of Green’s ownership over him. It gave him both a swelling of pride in his breast, and a withering sensation of debilitation that warmed his loins.

Clover opened the double doors and revealed a massive office. For most it might seem more like a throne room with its black marble pillars and their green and purple facets and the monstrous chair at the far end, though every room Green was in eventually shifted to make him out as a king on his throne. It was simply the way the universe yielded to his greatness.

Not that the deathclaw was paying the room any mind. No, he was gazing upon perfection incarnate. Perfection was such an impossible thing and yet the embodiment of it was lounging on his throne with a placated look of boredom.

Clover was nearly on the verge of cumming at the sight. His cock was still getting hard and yet his nut oozed out of it. His thong magically sucking up the lesser beings nut to keep it from marring the god’s floors with such pointless swill.

“What’s the use of a nut that’ll never find a womb,” Green had told him in the past. His breeding days were over then and there. At least not for his own pleasure. Any children that Clover accidentally bore with his rampaging would become tithes and worshipers. They weren’t his children. They were already owned before Clover spilled his seed.

Clover kept his head low, as one does in a god’s presence, but that didn’t stop him from glancing up at the “closest” thing he had in the way of standing or stature with his god.

His feet.

Green’s glorious stompers were a glorious mixture of foot and paw. A powerful heel used for grinding his enemies, and anyone else who disappointed or annoyed him, into the ground. The fur that graced it was a black that glinted with the faint viridian of an ancient forest. The glorious arch of that foot rode up into a pad of chartreuse colored sole. Each toe was thick, powerful, and corded with strength. Even the gentle rolling of Green’s ankle caused the powerful cords beneath his flesh to push and shift his flesh, the ankle bracelet of various solar systems glinting and lazily shifting as he did. Those toes left little room between one another with their size, the onyx claws glinting like blades as he did so, each perfectly manicured to accent their spotless beauty and the deadly threat they imposed.

Clover once thought his feet were good looking and deadly, but they are the feet of a beast of burden. Not the idols of worship gently crossed on the floor before Green now. He dared a glance higher, to see that calf muscle. Clover’s cheeks burned as he got a better view of those ankles, the powerful muscle and bone snatching tightly before blooming into a glorious diamond calf, his shin bone flanked by powerful muscle that was slowly flexing as he continued to roll the one foot atop the other in thought. A duo of purple toe rings glinted on those index toes, each shimmering with cosmic dust of countless realities sapped dry of anything and everything except what gave them purple pigmentation.

“Did I say you could look up, worm?” Green’s voice sent a shuddering pleasure through Clover. So deep, and yet also light. It was somehow both the rolling bass and grace of a tenor merged into one.

“Sorry my lord and master,” Clover’s eyes darted back to the floor as he fell to his hands and knees. He glanced forward, watching the energy he had loosed before curl up the steps on that raised platform, the glittering energy twisting between Green’s toes. The digits flexing, fanning as though each little strand was a tongue soothing his hot feet after a grueling hike. Clover knew the sensation of taking power well. It was like dipping his burning toes in a cool stream after having climbed a mountain, only that distilled feeling without any of the discomfort beforehand.

He deserves it perpetually, and Clover cursed his weak body at not being a bottomless font for Green to sip, to use, to fuck and crack open at his leisure.

There was a bit of sizzling and shimming above Clover. Green must have been working on making another sun that would cultivate him a new solar system of worship. He had been experimenting with how different suns shaped his worshipers, making their praise and tithes more potent.

Clover simply stopped before the rise to Green’s feet, the musk from those toes wafting gently over him. To the deathclaw, it was more religious than any chrism to be marked with. He sat there, his nose to the floor as those feet continued to muse while Green deemed his work more important. This went on for a long time. Longer than most mortal’s lifetimes, but time moved differently in Green’s palace. Several melena passed with Clover simply kneeling, his body graced only with the light waft of warmth from those toes, the smell of those digits, the glory of Green’s radiance just above, and yet he wasn’t’ ordered to look yet.

“Oh yeah, you’re still here,” Green groaned. “Fuck, what do you want?”

“I’m here to present my—”

Clover was silenced as that foot had reached down and gotten under his muzzle, forcing him slowly, ever so painfully slowly, to raise his eyes up upon the source of all his desires.

First, was his calves again, those powerful diamonds resting just below a duo of teardrop corded hamstrings. Green’s bulge was tied up in a massive flowing violet loincloth that slipped down between his legs and hung over the edge of his onyx throne. Then, the abdominals, each one a brick of power, each forming a trench between one another deeper than any canyon or valley. The thunderous obliques rolled up the sides of Green’s torso, his lats spreading like thick wings that pressed up his arms. His pecs a duo of mounts of power. His arms were thick and corded, a powerful vein splitting the biceps on each arm, his one hand resting on the arm rest, his onyx claws rasping impatiently as his elbow rested on the other to really make that bicep pop. His fist was at its top and the face of perfection was resting against it.

Clover gave a light gasp at seeing Green’s face. He couldn’t help it. The drox god’s muzzle was strong, his jaw sharp enough to cut diamonds, his mane that started as celadon fluff between his pecs rolled up into a thick black mane that then crested his head with emerald hair, pulled up into a sexy updo.

And his eyes!

Clover could lose himself in those orbs. A duo of violet irises that glowed with raw power as he glanced down the bridge of his muzzle. Despite him being so much taller than Clover, he looked like a college wrestler and not the bloated beast that now prostrated himself before the drox god.

“I’m going to need you to speak up from all the way down there,” Green spoke disgruntled. “I’m not going to waste my power straining to hear your bitch moaning from the floor. Now speak.”

“Yes!” Clover answered like a good pet would to a command. “I’m here to provide you with your size tithes.”

“Again? So soon?” Green’s eastern dragon tail lazily flopped behind him, the viridian plumage accented by that green glinting black. “You sure you did your job right, or did you just get a gushing lady boner for me and come crawling to your master?”

“I would never, my God,” Clover spoke true. He harvested more than he normally would, if anything to help please Green more. Those toes beneath his chin gently flexed one at a time like his fingers strumming his arm rest. He could feel the power in those digits. Each claw a threat to Clover’s divinity, each one a god killing weapon that could slit his throat and spill his ichor over the floor and have five more sluts not only take his place, but lick the mess clean. Each time one of those onyx tips lifted again to brush against his flesh, oblivion called him, the icy cold claw of death raking over his spine, and his cock lurching at the honorable death it would be to get slain by the flick of Green’s ankle.

A shallow grin played at the corners of Green’s muzzle.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Green then slapped Clover’s face with his sole, the deathclaw giving out a whorish moan that echoed off the walls as he felt galaxies of lives, countless souls leave his body and spiral up into Green. Not even a drop in the bucket with how much power Clover had stored in his body for the God of Perfection itself.

“That’s what makes you such a good pet,” Green continued. “You’re the perfect worshiper. You are devout to me, as all beings should. That’s not special. That would be like applauding an old bag henpecking her husband. Nah,” Green smirked. “You worship me knowing you’ll get nothing in return.”

“Yes,” Clover panted as he picked his tongue off the floor. “Yes my God. You deserve it all, and I’m just a servant to bring it to you. Nothing more, and I know I could be even less if you wished it.”

“Fuck, I don’t even know how to reward your faggot ass anymore,” Green spoke with the grace of a frat boy jock. Somehow all part of the perfection in Clover’s eyes. What could be more demeaning than a young alpha with the world lining up its pussy for him to fuck. “I could spit in your face and piss in your cereal and you’d still thank me, wouldn’t you fagtard.”

“Y-y-Yes,” Clover was gushing oceans of cum into his thong, the magic fabric keeping him from being jettisoned out of Greens’ office from the force of those back shots. “Whatever you want, whatever pleases. I live to serve you.”

“You know, that kind of fucking pisses me off in a way,” Green still had a sly grin on, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I have no idea how I’d punish you if you displeased me. You haven’t yet, but eternity is a long time. Plenty of mistakes you could make, and I’m not the forgiving type.”

“I’ll take oblivion if it would placate your ire for my foolish mistakes, My God,” Clover trembled.

“See, that’s the shit that annoys me,” Green rolled his eyes. “Is there anything that I could do to punish you? I bet even denying you entry to my realm wouldn’t be a fitting penance because you’d get off to the idea of me punishing you.”

Clover shuddered at the thought of being ignored. He showed his devotion just now, kneeling before him for melena just so he could be talked down to by the god of all gods.

If Clover could do that, he could wait an infinite amount of eternities to be reunited with his god’s anger. Even if it were just a fist to snuff him out, or if Green deems him worthy, his sole, it would be enough of a flame for Clover to hold out for.

“Yeah, I might have to get a little clever with that, but how about this for starters,” Green lifted one of those perfect feet and it came down just before Clover’s face. The deathclaw shuddered, the warmth of that foot radiating off it, the lightest film of sweat coating it and giving off a light aroma of man and power. Green simply stayed there, his foot unmoving as Clover was forced to have that sole impossibly close, and yet the millimeters of space between him and that foot felt like entire galaxies. An infinite divide that was also sinfully short. He could feel the magnetic pull of those toes, yet he fought against it. Green had not given him permission yet, and he knew his place.

Green had not told him it was appropriate to touch him yet. The drox god looked down at the deathclaw with a cocky smirk as he fanned his toes. The very movement was enough to sheer more size off of Clover, the worshiper groaning and panting, his tongue lulling down over his chin as he tried to keep himself cognizant enough not to just fall into the temptation before him. The energy in Clover rippled off him in tendrils that wove between Green’s toes, those thick digits flexing as the deathclaw’s size was sipped on, slowly pulled from his being. Green gave a low rumble, his body flexing before expanding larger, mounting perfection atop more perfection.

Clover watched as that sole grew thicker, wider, those digits fighting against each other for space. Those powerful legs before him crunching with power, those muscle fibers flexing and weaving over one another before solidifying into thicker, more powerful size.

“Yeah, that’s right bitch,” Green chuckled darkly as he watched his worshiper struggle. “You think you’re devout? I’m going to put that to the test.”

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