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"You really think this will work?" Emelda asked.

My young research assistant was hand-selected from the Cult of the Magister inductees the previous year. She believed she was selected based on her aptitude as much as her looks considering I was a lonely stoat too old now to properly woo a lady when the comfort of my own paw became too stale. A good apprentice was one thing while perks were entirely something else. The young doe didn't seem to mind, too focused on the knowledge I could provide to pursue her own needs.

What I really needed was a channeler, and sensed she was one of the best. Of course, Emelda jumped at the opportunity to work as my apprentice, even if she was not yet skilled enough to know what I truly needed of her. A vessel, not an assistant. A guinea-pig, not a doe. A perfect conduit for magic.

Thankless was our toil. My servants were well accustomed to the reclusive nature of my services. Without the associated bureaucracy associated with magical artificing, I could demand a Duke's ransom for my work. Nobles were willing to pay just about anything to buy a golem from me if it meant avoiding the Artificers of the World and the allegiance they commanded for their employ. Not to mention the tithing that came from the yearly checkups and warranty for the artificial laborer.

What a joke.

Magic wanted to be learned; uncovered and revealed. It shouldn't be the purview of a rare few. While I agree that it wasn't for the masses, anyone that could truly savor and nurture it shouldn't be limited by the depths of their pockets.

But I digress.

"Yes. The reconstituted pages of the Apocrypha were clear enough. While I was able to extrapolate the rest, it's only a standard purity draw from the fourth quartile of-" I paused at the bemused glance from the doe. I didn't need to explain the basics to her, again. "Yes. Now, take off your clothes and stand in the summoning circle. The moment it turns blue, and not a second before, you are to step out. I'll snap in the warding circle which should reveal the constituted apport within moments."

I gestured with a paw, waving to the runic circle carved into the living rock of the tower's experimental chamber. Devoid of any windows, nothing could interfere with my work. Nothing so much as an errant breeze to snuff out a ritual candle. Not even the wild energies from the day and night cycle could become a distraction. My library was a full two stories of arcane manuscripts and clandestine eldritch incantations, built around the solid stone tower that occupied the center of the castle estate.

"Always eager to get me out of my-" Emelda started, but froze when she saw the deadly serious look on my face.

"Two years, and three more of irregular preparation," I held up a gnarled finger, the knuckle popping in brittle complaint as I silenced her.

I was an old stoat, late into his seventies at this point. Every joint ached. It was hard to rise in the morning and even harder to retire in the evening. Year after year, the appetites of my species increased, so I was more like a pig. Always hungry, never full, despite the unlimited repast my incredible wealth afforded me. My body grew thin like a rail the more I ate, my body weaker and weaker by the year to gain sustenance from what I ate. My ravenous appetite that I could feed was not for the physical, comestible, or ingestible. I hungered for the intangible and incorporeal. The arcane.

"The ancient Balaterivan Ritual of Purity had too high a price with the needed ingredients," I hissed, already feeling the discomfort caused by the weight of my ceremonial robes. Preternaturally smooth rock beneath my sandaled paws leeched the additional forces necessary for the ritual, increasing my discomfort. "They couldn't 'keep it up', so to speak. This is the second to last step required to make it sustainable." Incense tickled my nose and made me rub it before I continued, "We will make a pure element, and then that itself will be the final component for the ritual to be self-sustaining. We cannot mess this up." I gave a tired smile I hoped was reassuring, "I haven't got another five years left to prepare again."

"Yes, master." Emelda ducked her head in reverence before she obediently slid out of her robes, already aware of what was required from her.

I'd withheld her from my meager affections, despite it being in my right as her elder, as she needed to focus for the past three days. Drinking and bathing in only the purest distilled water and abstaining from food of any type to ensure her body was as pure as possible. She thought it was so she could best conduct the magical locus. While that was true in the most innocent of interpretations, it also left Emelda weak and distracted from lack of sustenance and sleep. Exactly as she needed to be.

The nude doe left her brown robes on the floor beside me and gingerly stepped into the sigil, avoiding the concentric and interweaving runic circles carved into the smooth stone. Designed to keep out foreign material, the runes made the inner circle as pure and protected from the world's crass, base material as possible. She stepped onto the four-foot-wide obsidian plate, itself impure and unrefined, but the top had a fine gold sheet so thin as to be invisible.

Emelda's softened hooves hardly made a sound as she stepped upon it and stood ready. Emptying her mind with a sigh, the doe placed herself within the mental mindset I spent the last year conditioning into her. Nothing more than a lightning rod, there to accept the magical energies that would rocket towards her very location. She was a smart one, but what an imbecile. The lightning rod never gets to 'step away' from the current of the lightning bolt.

Lifting my arms, I began to chant the seventeen truths of Loun clear the room of the ancient fallacies of Mnar. Straying into such esoteric realignment of the local magical structure would put even the most keen of observers to sleep within moments of an explanation, so I'll spare you the details. I spent a considerable amount of time memorizing the ritual chant from almost an entire decacycle of the lunar phase shifting prior, adding and finetuning the chant to serve as tonight's capstone. Like an actor on opening night, uttering their well-rehearsed lines for a packed house, I too felt a deep- seated flutter of nerves, followed by the tranquil calmness of one resigned to their fate. I would say the words correctly, without faltering. Or I wouldn't. Worry would only ensure the latter and do nothing to assist the former.

Lightning stuck after the tenth truth. To the untrained, the magical force was invisible, but not to me. I could see the pure, rare, unrefined essence of the world being squeezed from the environment around us. From miles around, it gathered here like a bubble bursting in reverse, forming around the sigil and doe in the middle. The runes of the floor lit up and surged with life, but went unnoticed by Emelda, the doe too far gone at this point. Her body was not designed to withstand such energies, even if unknowingly proficient in channeling those energies. It consumed my young apprentice from the outside in, her body glowing incandescently like the sun instead of a flame, pure white and just as cold. Candles scattered about the room, the only illumination, flickered out in abeyance to the greater light that filled the chamber. Such was its brilliance, eclipsed only by the magnitude of the new being that now stood within the circle.

Before me was the completed ritual. The very same one that allowed the ancient Balaterians to become the most powerful civilization in history, but also led to its downfall. For them, the price had been too high, exhausting their empire's reserves of magical energies just to keep it alive for only a short while in the grand scheme of things. The three millennia of magical knowledge gained in the interim had convinced me that we had learned better. A carpenter does not hammer in a screw with a screwdriver, nor savage his own hand to drive a nail into wood. Such were the inept practices of the Balaterians, dealing with forces beyond their comprehension with the wrong tools for the job.

Summoned forth were forces of pure energy and matter, powerful enough to destroy Emelda's fragile shell, even as her natural channeling acumen allowed it to take shape. Pure was the operative word. Every substance in the world had impurities, the slightest of which would counteract the summoning. This meant Emelda had none.

The ritual had been successful then, as the Ritual of Purity - my words, not theres - summoned the magical force that would bring ultimate existence to those filled with its energies. Pure of body, heart, and mind forever more. Those who obeyed the ruler infused with this special energy knew absolute tranquility and heavenly health, far beyond their natural lifespans. Those who did not serve...well, any history book can give you an exhaustive account of the fall of Balateria.

Emelda - or at least what had once been my young apprentice - uncoiled from the radiant light that engulfed it. The luminescence was blinding, but dimmed fractionally as the seconds crawled past, giving shape to the mysterious energy. A spike. A claw. A thick tail. Gradually, the being took form. I'd tussled with demons before, and knew I hadn't summoned something so profane. Within the star I had summoned, I could see the regal and mighty stature of a powerful male. A laborer by the shape and size of their hulking physique.

Reptilian in appearance, the summoned creature continued to take shape from the immense light. A crest of spikes ran down its back, ending at a thick tail that hung low enough to sweep the ground at its feet. A second tail...oh. Oh no. Not a tail, but another 'appendage' drooped with mighty size from between its - his - legs.

The summoned turned to face me, freezing my heart midbeat under a cold gaze. Those eyes lanced out before I felt my own skull cave in, my body squeezed of its lifeblood as if pressed beneath the weight of a mountain. There was no more rational thought, no more existence at all, as I became pain and suffering. Cast into such a disproving place, I was ill prepared for the unthinking, unblinking and unyielding horrors behind mortal existence. In fact, if I had not been situated defensively against the glare, I would have toppled over. My body seemed to turn to stone under the draconic gaze of the lizard like being of purity before me.

He was pure. I was not. He was glorious. I was horrid. I could not suffer the existence of such wonders. He could not suffer the impurities of an elderly stoat. My weaknesses and mortality only fueled his magnificent flame, like so much cordwood to be consumed in the stellar forge of his being. He was shaped like a lizard, but it was like looking into the face of the sun, no trace of color besides incandescent white and impossibly more acute white.

All that is retrospect now, but at the time, I could not comprehend the unmalicious intent behind my unbearable suffering. A fact I would not know until much later. At the time, it merely (merely? I laugh) felt as if I was dying over and over. Endless deaths, both simultaneous and singularly drawn out, as all my senses collapsed. I might have been standing there an age or a moment, but a more critical analysis says that the eons of unthinking pain I endured was only a handful of minutes. In that time, I surmise, equally in hindsight, that the being had left the runic circle to survey the room and my preparations used for his summoning.

Only then, did my suffering vanish, allowing me to live again by the good will of the Basilisk, for that is what it was.

"You summoned me into existence," the creature said with the voice of thousands. "My old hosts are long dead." The reptile's eyes looked over the chamber again, "Your approach is...novel. I approve." My heart fluttered again as his eyes rest upon me again. I felt unworthy of such attention, "But it is too weak. My fire will die before a flower plucked this moment wilts. You, like everything on this plane of existence, is flawed. But in your striving for perfection there is hope."

Those were the first words, spoken directly to me by my new god. Like a cool ocean wave, the sensation of truly being alive quenched the infinite suffering I had endured. Through the stones of the tower walls, I could hear my servants downstairs ceasing their own cries, having suffered much like myself, the effects of the summoning not confined by stone or magic enchantment between it and its subjects.

When the Basilisk took hold of my elbows, the flickering flames that engulfed the created being burned at my very flesh, but I was not consumed by pain. The great, colorless and all-colored glowing serpentine maw, inches from my own, would be called fearsome by many. To me, I was in beatific joy as I beheld the creation I had labored so long to manifest. Of course, I was speechless, unworthy to utter words to pure beast before me. Here I was, after years of preparation and a life time of study, invested and prepared for the magic and power of purity, only for it to take the form of a large cocked lizard creature that exuded pain and suffering.

My bemusement was palpable.

"Your research and intent is naked in its base desires," my god continued with a hiss. "I can give you want you want. I will give you want you want. Your compensation for bringing me into existence once more. The world is in need of my light and pure, perfect life."

A great clawed hand moved up my arm to caress my slack-jawed face with the gentleness of a feather. It left me as insensate as a five year old cub beholding a knight fully adorned in their pristine, polished armor. Hero worship was a fair term to describe such a feeling. In such situations, one finds it hard to speak clearly, if at all. And I'm reasonably sure I babbled incoherently.

"I must reward your labors," the Basilisk smiled, cutting off my meaningless sycophantic words and presenting a snout full of razor teeth and needle fangs. Somehow, it was full of warmth where one would expect none. "Your endeavors, the years of diligent work, should be rewarded."

Transfixed by the Basilisk's emotionless gaze, I was lifted as a babe, up into the arms of the burning creature. Heated pain returned, a sign of my impurity, but the burning was of a metaphysical kind that I could not comprehend. Simply, I was mortal, so it hurt for a god to touch me.

Seeing my grief, the creature's dangerous fangs disappeared before the Basilisk gave me a soothing hiss, like a gentle coo for a whimpering cub. There was no crime, no atrocity too great, I wouldn't commit to feel that wondrous gaze and miraculous warmth again. And that right there is why us mortals are impure. Such thoughts have no place in the world promised by this godlike being. I was a lowly stoat given but a glimpse of such pleasure for the first time. Until I shared in that light, I was unworthy to withstand it.

Leaning in, with a strong arm behind my back, the Basilisk's lips met mine. Stuck in my mortal shell, mesmerized by powers beyond my imagination, I could do exactly nothing. Not speak, nor move, nor act at all to display the breadth of feelings flowing throughout me. In my long years, I never felt the affections of another male, but that mattered not to this great god of purity. He kissed me because he wanted to, my desires irrelevant. Such a direct connection to pure love and warmth left my face feeling afire. The simple touch of his scales cut through my old, thinning pelt to heat me inside and out. Like an old, wizened foot stepping into a hot bath, the searing pain did nothing to make me pull away, soon dulled before it was gone. The only thing left in its wake was a sublime level of comfort and peace I never knew possible. My face - no, my entire form - felt changed, my flesh burned away as I was kissed by the god that held me.

I should pause here for an aside. Burning might not be the right word. It was as if there was a third vector for sensations of the flesh, beyond only heat or cold. The sensation was not one that mortal males and females were equipped to feel, much less process. Like describing blue as a 'darker shade of green', the description was an efficient approximation of the sensation I felt. What actually occurred, what was 'burned away' by these radiant, powerful energies, were the imperfections and mundane impurities until only the physicality of perfection remained. A pure soul.

Like him.

"M..."

It was the first sound I managed to emit at that point, like a kit learning to speak. Again, a claw caressed my transfixed face. The loving, tender touch did not go unnoticed despite how dumbfounded, unfocused and mesmerized I remained.

"I know, little one," the Basilisk said with that hypnotic multi-voice, each one perfect in timbre, tone, and power. "I have done this many, many times. And it is intense."

The light around the lizard had dimmed from an uncompromising radiance to the gentle glow of a stoked coal. The edges of his body was tinged with a bluish grey reminiscent of the death of starlight in the morning, but his inner body remained featureless, smooth and infinite in that heavenly light.

"This is not your reward, but a fulfillment of the promise of my existence," the Basilisk continued with a whisper.

The runic circle was destroyed when I was laid across it, splayed out upon the smooth surface of the gold-topped obsidian plate. A small part of me realized my tail sat directly against the cold altar, unobstructed by my robe which had been stripped from me at some point and was now clutched in the lizard's giant paw. The charged sensation plate felt electric against my thin pelt. The enchanted jewelry I adorned for the sake of the summoning ritual melted off me, forming silver and gold puddles. They were no longer of any use to me. The ceremonial robes in the basilisk's claw ignited and burned, evaporating into ashen nothingness before he joined me on the altar upon which he would sacrifice my mortality.

The hulking, nine-foot god loomed over me, slightly hunched like the alligator men of the Chaux, but far more noble and regal in bearing, similar in gait to a sovereign monarch leaning forward to hear the petitions of his beloved subjects. Similar to the gator men, his flesh was a dark green, at least from what I could see. Unlike the gator men, a crest of spikes followed his spine from brow to the base of the thick tail that lashed behind him. His thick muscles reminded me of the barbarians to the north, taut under the scales. And his arousal.

God, his arousal.

Most mortals, when they pray to gods, are left unsatisfied and disappointed with the results. No so with my prayers. There was nothing even remotely ungodly about the being I had summoned. The thick, turgid length sizzled in contact with air around it, again not due to any kind of fire, but the immense perfection burning away the coarseness of physical matter. The charged area around it wicked outwards, wavy like the air on a hot summer day. It created a radiant halo of ghostly light one sees dancing in the heavens of the snowy northern climates of Icebixhu. Lowering himself, my god's perfect phallus dipped deeper down, following the flat curve of my body before it disappeared from my sight, making his intentions crystal clear.

"Filled with pure energies indeed," the Basilisk said with a grandfatherly rebuke of naïveté, quoting the passage from the original spell's description.

Oh god. It...Oh, my god.

Once more, his muzzle met mine, this being of transcendental perfection obviously an attentive and caring lover. I was an old stoat; an old male. A being of thinning fur and sallow flesh. I'd long ago lost interest in the pleasures of the carnal and salacious. My libido long ignored in pursuit of academic endeavors and mystical knowledge, only to give rise to my increasing lack of self control. My apprentice Emelda and the squirrel before her, whatever her name was, were the only females in the past two decades to submit to my affections, regardless of how rare those encounters might have been.

Although frozen and mute, much like the stone surrounding us, the instant the bulbous tip of the incongruously mammalian-like cock touched the intimate area below my testicles, my back arched and I gave a groan of satisfaction. My body, no matter how ill prepared, understood the pleasures it would soon endure in the burning forge of the Basilisk's embrace, but my mind had yet to catch up. Just from that touch alone though, my own maleness pushed from its sheath at the command of my new god; a tiny, pathetic phantom of the mighty nature of the basilisk's length that now tapped just under my tail.

My head cleared a bit, mind refashioned in some sense to the purity forced upon it by the Basilisk. I thought I would die, again, as I suddenly experienced the opposite ends of emotions. On one hand, I felt humiliated by the complete 'failure' of my summoning, about to be fucked upon an altar of my own creation. On the other, I felt overcome with an eager elation, about to provide this magnificent beast with what he desired. Regardless, my emotions were moot as the Basilisk's colossal member entered me, making the only emotion left unadulterated joy.

Powerless to do anything but stare, I found myself looking over the Basilisk's right shoulder when he leaned over me, engulfing me in that purifying inferno. He hefted my legs to either side of his preternatural form as he pinned me, like a newlywed bride on her wedding night. The moment his shaft penetrated my final defense, I felt the strength of renewal flow throughout my body.

Fat like a ball, the round head would not yield in the slightest bit. It was I that must give quarter to it. Considering the tight, rear entrance of a male was the filthiest, most corrupt place on the body, it was obviously the first to be cleansed. And rightfully so! My arms shot up and interlaced with the muscular arms of the Basilisk mating me. My god regarded me with kind, joyous approval as he penetrated me further.

I felt a brief reprieve from his girth as the head of his shaft slid in and plugged my tailhole from all else. My tight asshole snapped down around the back of the glans to better accommodate his power. The sensations that rushed through every fiber of my being were pleasurable beyond any description known to mortals. Better than any female whom had brought me to the pale, dying candle of joy one called an 'orgasm'. No more than the head of his cock was within me, and it was already the most euphoric experience of my life. A vast contradiction to the worst horror and pain I was subjected to only moments before.

Speech had returned to me, yet I continued to babble incoherently. Crass, profane speech would only ruin the moment anyway. In my head, I already called from the mountaintops - Fuck me master! - but those weren't the words I needed to say. My pleas weren't meant as toady obsequiousness, but a desperate bid for my new god to let this experience last, like the immense pain that proceeded it. I wanted nothing more than to spend an eternity under this magnificent being.

"All is right," my god whispered unto me, those voices converging into one heavenly song. "I have seen that expression on thousands of disciples. The physical and emotional transcendence of my love." I shuddered as a claw ran through the meager fur of my abdomen, electric. "The change is starting inside of you now. Accept it."

And I did. Fully.

The Basilisk gave a growl of approval when my legs hooked over his hips, heels connecting over his thick tail. Dreams once unknown to me came reality; desires I didn't even know danced to life and became real. The moan in my twisted muzzle became a strangled cry of painful delight as his wondrous cock, thicker than my flagon at dinner, further stretched my body around it. Impurities, corrupt and adulterated, burned away with each imposing inch, replaced with flawless perfection. This was necessary. Like a blacksmith, the reptile targeted the worst parts of me, excising them in an attempt to smooth and temper with his incredible heat to expertly mold my form.

Left uncorrupted by the transformative effect his cock had upon my body, my mind was allowed to appreciate the carnality of the process. Looking down my lithe form, I could already see the change. Lustrous fur replaced the thinning hair of my sheath and belly, reinvigorating me as the glow travelled further, pure and divine like my god.

The unabashed, primal sexuality of it all made my cheeks and ears burn, certain this was as much for his pleasure as my own. A claw caught my chin and directed my gaze away from my changes, looking into his emotionless eyes. His tongue flicked out to catch my lips, body poised and motionless above me. I couldn't look away, giving a soft huff as I tried to breath.

"Ah," I huffed softly, trying to keep my breath.

"Mmmm," the reptile's head nodded once. "That's it, little one. Do not be afraid." A sway of his hips made me grunt again, the movement within me forcing every muscle to tense. "Become mine."

Blinding fireworks exploded behind my eyes when that final inch of heavenly godhood slid into my depths. With a throb, I could actually feel his radiance pour into me, undeterred and hot as my insides were scrubbed clean of my material impurities. A branding of the most metaphysical variety. Regardless of these sensation and my total submission to the deity, the most rapturous moment so far was the pleasured growl gained from the Basilisk. It made me smile.

It wouldn't take an embarrassing admission of my age to know I was an old stoat. One would expect my parentage to be half carpet, half bean pole by the appearance of my wizened, rail thin, frail form and the mottled pelt that layered it. Exercise, diet, and even sunlight were sacrificed in lieu of my mystical studies and it showed. Or at least did before these blessings were cast down upon me by this heavenly beast. There was that approving smile again. My shaky paws lifted to press against his strong chest as I accept his blessing into me.

"There," he hissed, giving me another sway to move that monumental member, grinding against places I didn't even know I had. "Accept me into you."

Slack jawed, I was once more at a loss for words, hardly even capable of nodding my head. As he pulled back, I hissed with the Basilisk, my paws clutching at his smooth scales as my thighs tightened in a feeble attempt to maintain this connection with my god. The glorious thrust that followed sent my head reeling, that once mythical energy that built an empire surged through my body. The heavenly numbness flowed from my now purified bowels and up along my spine. My acceptance permitted his sway to grow, now seeping into my mind and erasing any reasoning I had with summoning this beast.

Erasing all reasoning besides wanting to serve and worship.

Divine starlight and extraordinary energy, the same kind used to build an empire, flowed through me with another thrust from the reptiles hips. My muzzle opened but no sound came out as I was overwhelmed with power. Breath, as mundane and prosaic as it was, flowed into my lungs free of pain like I had not felt since my youth. With it, I felt that strength spread, my back popping as my frail spine unbent and lengthened from the surly bonds of gravity that had shrunk me for thirty years. I watched my arms swell, ever so slightly, as the atrophied muscles were invigorated through my veneration.

It felt like my body was both on fire and frozen in the very same instance, tingling pricks of sensation making my full, thick pelt stand on end. With some effort, I lifted my head to look down at myself. I should have been shocked at my condition, appearing as I did when I was not much older than twenty summers. In fact, probably even more impressive. Even through my now lush pelt, I could see the outline of muscles I never had so thick. I truly was becoming more like the Basilisk. Pure. Radiant.

Perfect.

Much like my body filled out, so did my sheath. There stood my cock, no match for my mighty god's phallus, but that didn't hinder my vigor any. If anything, it stood as a monument to my wondrous lord; a pillar of my reverence. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time it stood with such vigor. I was becoming again the stoat I saw in my mind's eye. The stoat my reptilian god wanted me to be.

The Basilisk watched my face as I regarded my shaft, distracting urges once more surging through me, desires I had not felt in decades. Like a warm, fuzzy blanket, it covered my thoughts with a layer of sexual desire that would influence any need or action. I had often wished for my youth back as the years passed by. So much so, that I would occasionally dabble in the more hypothetical alchemical studies. Outlandish ideas of runic stones of transformation and youthful fountains. Stories to tell the kits at bed time. And here it was, a biproduct of this summoning. The problem was, it really felt my youth was coming back, along with all the associated downsides.

Sex was just so irrationally important again!

"Yes," I finally moaned as my head fell back on the cold altar.

"Yes what?" The Basilisk grinned with a mouth that had devoured countries.

I pondered that question, dizzy with lust, "Yes to...everything." The sudden, unconscious clenching of my ass around that godhood showed my true ardor for his blessing.

The Basilisk's leer made me blush, but he slowly nodded his head, "Do not be embarrassed." There was humor behind my lord's voice.

I gasped when I felt him withdraw, preparing my mind and body...and soul...for the next thrust. Every fiber of my being wanted the Basilisk to fill that void again, an emptiness I had felt for years. I even begged him for it with my needful moans. Unfortunately, gods can be vengeful and cruel, even one as perfect and pure as him. I felt incomplete the moment my lord pulled free, crying my desperation with a kit like squeak that made the reptile's snout twist with a smirk. I wanted him to fill me again, not because a mere single thrust into my tailhole had restored my youth, but because I was filled with an aching need for connection with my god.

"Wha..." I sat up to watch him, eyes wide and pleading.

The lizard god sat back on his haunches, legs spread to let his wide tail wiggle under him. His length, glistening with its juices, each drop and iridescent rivulet glowing with ageless light, stood proud from a slit through the scales of his groin. My complaints were muted by the sight. There was no way that thing was inside me, but...it was. There was no denying that.

That multilayered voice came to me again, "Do not be afraid, little one." A clawed paw curled around the base of his cock as I stared, aiming its impressive tip toward the ceiling. "Come. Worship me properly and be at peace." He grinned, a show of confidence and strength in that alone. "Be transformed."

I started to pant, my mind no longer my own. The overwhelming desire to do the god's bidding took me to my knees. I closed the distance between us on paws and knees towards the magnificent beast. Homosexual love had always been unnatural and frowned upon; something I never had the extra time or desire to consider except as a slur for children. Yet, here I was, crawling into the Basilisk's lap without any idea of what I was doing. I only knew I needed his love within me again, to feel whole.

Our cocks ground together as my god's powerful claws guided me forward until I straddled him. Wet heat coated the area behind my reinvigorated balls as his tip found my entrance again. Ideas filled my mind; shameful, humiliating thoughts. I was more akin to the Haratite, those tail-raising faggots of that decadent kingdom long past, about to willingly take another male into me. What my god did to me, would doubtless do to me again was more of a baptism, anointing, practically a ritual, but what thoughts and desires brought to action filled me now took on an added dimension of desire and personal want.

A claw caught my chin as I remained poised over the Basilisk, and he directed my gaze upwards, that heavenly voice reassuring me again, "No shame, little one. Become my apostle."

Thoughts and fears were driven from my head, leaving only room for my devotion to this king. His desire for me burned into my depths once more as I eased down on my own accord, impaling myself upon the Basilisk. My mouth gaped again, as I called out my desperate, delighted ululations to the heavens. That emptiness was driven from me once more, replaced almost instantly by that pure, burning passion I was quickly becoming enslaved by.

How could anything that felt this way, so pure and divine, be wrong? How could anything my perfect god was doing to me be profane in any way? My mind once full of fear was filled with light as my body was filled with his cock. Surely this must be the correct way of being! The Basilisk reshaped my enfeebled body with his blessing and brought it back to glorious health. My soul was equally reinvigorated when my rump finally came to rest in his lap, one with my god.

I didn't move as I took my first rasping breath as a devout worshipper of my new god, paws clutching at his chest like my insides clutched at his cock. Finally, my soul and body both were properly oriented as to how I might best serve the Basilisk. My ass would be his vessel and my lips would worship and sing his praises with hymns that I felt welling up within me. Sadly, I had not the skill or training to properly convey them, so my first prayer unto him was as crude as it was pure.

"Fuck me, my lord!"

Thinking back on it now, that such a crude expletive came from my mouth at the time of such rapture is embarrassing, but at the time, it was the truth.

My reptilian god seemed to approve of my prayers. His intense gaze held mine as I felt paws take a grip of my hips. I squirmed in his lap, a side to side sway that moved his hilted length against even more unexplored areas that needed divinity. The curve of his cock ground against something that made my now youthful dick twitch. I chased that sensation with new focus and soon bounced in his lap, an eager follower of this obscene new religion. Translucent pre dripped from my twitching tip down upon the reptile's lower stomach, already glistening with a dim but perceptible light as more and more by new body took on greater and greater amounts of the perfect apport from which my god was fashioned.

The Basilisk gave a chuckle. My rosy lenses of self-delusion forced me to think of it as enjoyment and amusement instead of being any sort of contempt one would visit upon an eager and irreverent student. When he raked his claws along my sides, I cried out and went motionless, pressed into his lap. That magic touch moved upwards until one paw rubbed my scruff, the other cupping my cheek. Our eyes met again.

"Good."

His praise made my entire soul ignite, a burning for my new lord that I was eager to share. I smiled, proud and happy. I bowed my head in reverence, while his paw continued to squeeze and massage my scruff. When it pressed forward, I leaned in, and soon found his thin lips pressed to mine. His long, tentacle of a tongue slid into my muzzle, deep. As he traced my teeth, I felt him take a grip on my hip, squeezing both it and my scruff now. And I didn't fight.

Only worshiped.

The first thrust was excruciating, in that I wanted so much more and showed it by squirming in his grip in an attempt to push back against the member spreading my asshole wide. I felt more than heard the Basilisk snicker as his tongue trembled in my suckling maw. His claws held me tight as he remained motionless until I stopped my struggles. Only then did he push back in to the hilt. Instantly, I was like putty in his paws, moaning into him as he repeated the process without pause. This time, I held myself as he instructed, poised to continue being his cock holster.

The Basilisk bedded me in my cold, hard, rude laboratory. Such a dingy, awful chamber was no place for a being of perfection and sexuality. I had no grand temple - not even a bed - to properly worship my lord in, but the altar seemed to suffice. My god mounted me. My got made love to me. My god crafted and perfected me. Every hammering thrust of his thick, unyielding cock battered what I now know to be the male prostate. Every second of contact with him burned away mortality and left behind only the eternal.

Eventually, after he established a deliberate rhythm, he released his hold. There was no hesitation on my part. The moment his claws eased their hold, I pushed back to meet each thrust. My ass and mouth were doors into my body and he filled them entirely. The flavor of his saliva drooling into my muzzle was intoxicating. The emissions from his mighty phallus squelched with every clasp of our loins as the sounds of our mating filled the laboratory. Adding to the thrill was the mingled scent of our love making. I truly was one with him.

I cried into the kiss, tears streaming down my cheeks as I felt the Basilisk's influence burn deeper into me; becoming me. The tingle started in my groin, as if some phantom paw had a vice like grip on my churning balls. It spread from the epicenter, through my loins and up my spine. The power of his filled every piece of uncertainty with his love, reinvigorating every sore muscle and aching bone. Every strand of fur stood on end as that radiant heat spread upwards, overwhelming my jaws and tensing my entire form. I ceased to think as I let the final change take me, my mind overwhelmed by his influence. Thrown over the edge, my muzzle broke from his as I called out my devotion to the heavens.

Dazzling blue light, reminiscent of the blaze that brought my lord to this plane, once again filled the lab. This time, its source was me, coming from every orifice on my body; eyes, muzzle, everything. My lord changed me. My mind was no longer flesh and blood as I became eternal and immortal. Images of a wonderful life beyond out mortal plane filled my head as I became my god master's gay servant. I painted the Basilisk's chest with my unwavering devotion, my cum surging from my shaft in thick ropes, illuminated by my own heavenly light.

The Basilisk sang his praise with me a moment later, cutting my worship short with a deep, pleasured hiss. His paws once again tightened and pulled me flush with his lap. I understood why the Balatarians ruined their continent in pursuit of this experience, as my god pumped a river of thick, rich cum into my tight, servile tailhole. The floor was ripped out from under me, my sense of self and consciousness changing in that instant. I have to admit again, just as with the pain, my mind forgets the depths of that pleasurable experience.

My lord held me there, trembling as he enjoyed his own release into me. He never lost that grin as he watched me give over to it. To him. I didn't move in his grip, wanting everything he had to offer me. As I came down from such lofty heights, I fought for breath, panting hard. He didn't give me much time before he took me back into another wet kiss, enjoying the lingering sensations of bedding his newly created worshipper.

I lost track of time, but such mundane things no longer mattered to me. We could have sat there, joined, for an eternity or a few short moments. Each twitch of his heavenly cock was another communion of godhood, atonement of sexual completeness as he continued to leak into me.

I was not disappointed when he slid free from my body. The Basilisk's cock dripped with quicksilver and glittering starlight, the same glow of the cum that painted his chest. I moved off of him, my own remaining seed dripping to the altar. I glanced down at myself to see the same glow run in rivers down my inner thigh before my battered tailhole could maintain its dignity. Oddly, I felt no shame in it. I chuckled lightly as the reptile sat up, lifting a paw to cup his cheek. Finally, I understood the infinite that no mortal could touch, all from the wonderment of his love and attention.

A fur is possessed of free will. One may eat, or not eat. Act or not act. I could feel those choices being taken from me in a way that felt not like restraint of will, but liberation of that will. As if all the incorrect answers to life had been revealed to me and all that remained were the right choices. Again, I must beg your forgiveness, as it is an impossible task to explain the freedom of perfection and purity. It is such an unknowable, unobtainable sensation beyond description. It is like describing, to use a prior illustrative term, an unseen color. Or of what use or knowledge or ken is the idea of 'justice' to a four-legged toothrunner in the brush.

"Perfect little one," the Basilisk began. "Your worship has only prolonged my presence, but has not guaranteed it. I must have more."

Without question, I moved to all fours, tail flagged and ass presented in moments. I felt no shame or embarrassment when he laughed at my offering or the disappointed expression I flashed him. The Basilisk's head shook as he moved to his feet, once more towering over his lowly subject.

"No no, apostle," he sneered. "I am invigorated by negation of the imperfect. The impure." A large paw found my rump and squeezed, "You...are perfect. And drained. You won't like what will happen if I breed with you again so soon. I need..." A loud knock at the chamber door cut the lizard off mid-sentence, gaining our attention.

"My lord!" The voice was muffled by the closed door, but I could make out the sound of my guard. He knocked again, "My lord! I heard shouts. And...and earlier..."

We grinned, my god and myself, like conspirators about to enact a conspiracy of a plan. The Basilisk's head nodded. I pushed myself to my feet, for the first time moving in this new, better form. It felt like I could crush stone. "Thomas!" Even my voice sounded powerful; commanding. Nothing meek about it. "Ahem...One moment."

I unlatched the door and opened it just a crack. Thomas was an imposingly large wolf, or at least used to be. Now, while still large, he wasn't so intimidating. His gaze was alert and alarmed.

"Sir!" The lupine barked, "Are you...oh gods of the Making!" Furrowing his brow, he gave me a curious look, as if not recognizing the creature in front of him. Of course I was greatly transformed, a youthful stoat barely past twenty summers, and more dominantly as a description, glowing with an inner light beneath a snow white radiant pelt of unearthly make. I could see his face illuminated with the light shining from my own eyes. His nose quivered once as he gathered further information with a sniff, muzzle instantly cringing at what he found.

"Everything is fine, Thomas," I said as I opened the door and stepped back, fully exposing myself and the room behind me. "The spell worked even better than I had desired!" My gaiety and grin must be infectious, if not something to greatly put in abeyance concern from my more dim employees.

First, his eyes darted down. The sight made his ears flush slightly, a darker red against the grey, "Sir?" Next, the poor lupine's jaw hung slack as he took in the sight behind me, "What is...? There was a flash, and pain, and I woke up and..."

Answering his own question, Thomas stared openly at the Basilisk in all his glory.

"Everything is perfect Thomas," I growled next to him, a little angel on his shoulder.

"Yes," my lord approved of the offering, holding out a paw toward the lupine, translucent, incandescent, eternal. It brooked no room for refusal. "Come, pup. Worship. Feel the call within your soul. Feel your desire to approach. Act on it."

Thomas' body trembled with a shuddered breath as his head gave a disbelieving shake, "My...god." His eyes dart to the offered paw, then back at the monster offering it, before he took a tentative step forward.

I knew the moment the lupine's paw slipped into the reptile's claw, my lord had another worthy disciple. Thomas was a strong wolf, young and headstrong. He was a well-respected family man too, having just welcomed a litter the previous year. In fact, his young wife worked for me as well. I couldn't think of anyone more deserving of my lord's blessing than my guard.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel anything petty like jealousy or anger as I watched my guard stripped and purified by the creature that so recently seared himself into my very being. Well, I would be lying if I didn't admit to feeling some jealousy, but only because Thomas was experiencing the baptism I so recently endured. I was torn between watching, and working. I decided to split the difference, closing the door and walking around the two, standing near the laboratory portal to listen for other officious intermeddlers while watching my god's second convert join his obedience.

The Basilisk guided the naked wolf to all fours, a very feminine position for such a masculine fellow. Easing Thomas' tail upwards, the reptile mounted the wolf right there in the middle of my laboratory. Already slick from his time with me, the Basilisk speared into the lupine without any ceremony or comforting words he shared with me, snarling as he hilted in one vicious thrust. Thomas lifted his head and barked out at the sudden penetration, but remained prostrate to show his newfound piety. He was rewarded in that way at least, as his sudden start, his corded, bunched muscles swelled and gained mass and definition, his scars of training and upbringing vanishing beneath his new, slick, oiled pelt.

There was no foreplay or words of comfort to the wolf. This wasn't a reward, like my time with the great creature had been. Instead of a kiss, the reptile used his snout to take a firm grip on the lupine's scruff. Instead of rubbing, his claws squeezed tight and held the large lupine immobile. Instead of letting Thomas learn to worship, the Basilisk showed him how it was done with almost brutal drives of his hips.

I wondered if that's what it looked like when he took me.

Being held on all fours, it really appeared like the lupine was praying to my - no, our - new god. And I must tell you, Thomas knew how to pray. Each slap of the reptiles lap against his rump was accented by a sharp yip from the powerless wolf. Before long, his howls rang out through the estate as Thomas joined the fold, our lord purifying Thomas with his heavenly essence.

Thomas remained on all fours after the Basilisk pulled free, glowing rivulets of seed running lewdly from him to drip from his empty balls.

"Apostle," the beast growled to me, even that amount of acknowledgement making my heart race. "Attend to your acolyte. Give sermon to my sheep." Thomas knew instinctively what was asked of him, his own new, glowing form turning half to me as he looked at me with the lust and male attraction we both now felt.

I obeyed eagerly and mounted Thomas, even as the wolf's howls of pleasure brought further curious worshippers to the laboratory door; a gardener, a maid, the cook, all quickly purified by our divine god. Before the night was through, I lead the Basilisk through my estate, allowing the great beast to decontaminate with his blessings. My flock gathered in the great hall, each granted a fragment of his blessing as reward for their services in assisting. Not assisting me as a person, but my work to bringing about his love. He bedded them all, further spreading his glorious essence.

All but one, anyway.

Jenkels, the stablehand. The old boar was brought before the Basilisk last. Having been passed over in a subtle way, there was a moment of weighty gravity to the situation as the Basilisk sat upon the family seat of the great hall, the aging sandalwood now a translucent and glimmering glassy throne, draped in the samite spun from the transformed linens of the estate. Resting in state, the Basilisk beheld Jenkels as a god rightfully would a petitioning soul before his court.

"This one. His being contains the essence of discord and disobedience."

"Yes my lord!" Jenkels blabbered, the rude boar all but sweating as he came to his knees with an audible thud upon the glittering white eternal tiles "I am impure! I need your blessing that you've given the others!" The man even offed his lopsided cap and wrung it between his hands. No fool I, his lies were hollow and obvious. Something was amiss, his wild look too intense. All of us when beholding our god felt the call to serve him, but Jenkels... stood aside.

"And why is that," the Basilisk grinned. "Confess." He knew already. Of course he did. What was occurring was a lesson from a stage, so that we, the audience could learn.

Jenkels didn't even need to think about the answer, already calling out his sins, "I stole the shipments of powered ruby. I sold it for coin!" He cried.

Basilisk's hooks. He'd scuppered off with the shipment and set my summoning back five months replacing the near irreplaceable jewels!

Jenkels attempted to squirm before that gaze, but found his hips unable to do so, and not because he was restrained by any physical paw. The pudgy pink flesh of his hips and even the raiment of his body took on a grey tone, the shade of stone. Not any stone, but mundane, terrestrial rock. The boar sat up and screamed, eyes wide with shock. There was no sign of pleasure behind them, only pain to match the screams. All over again, the eternal suffering that we all had felt upon our god's appearance filled him again as punishment upon his was meted, and then frozen into stone. Unyielding. Undying. Suffering without end.

The greying flesh traveled away from the epicenter of his groin in all directions, down his legs and up his torso. As it ran down his arms, he reached for me, his expression a mixture of confusion, horror, and pain as his sins truly were purged, the pain of a hundred lifetimes blinding his vision as he was locked into that moment forever.

His terrified expression was frozen permanently, an abject lesson to those who would hinder his arrival.

He is in my garden now.

Without the power of our god to sustain our purity and having been set aside from the mortal world, our unnatural vigor, energies, and immortal bodies are already regressing to be made of the crude matter of the world around us. Unliving material began to crumble, and my estate now lies in ruins, left with nothing but devotion... and the new youthful bodies and lease on life. Thomas and his new husband slumber in the bed across the room from me even now as I write, both their insides filled with my seed after our evening devotions to our absent god. It has been over a week since we stopped glowing enough to read by at night via our own luminescence, and the ache and disappointment at being flesh again is palpable, the only balm the love we have for one another and our perfect god.

I must confess one last time, not to apologize, but as a word of encouragement. This is the true nature of my communication with you. My marvelous god bedded us all. I've already detailed how wondrous, _glorious,_the experience was. Starting with myself, then spreading through my eighteen servants, our Lord's desires spread. We took his scriptures to the streets of our village, his lessons to the dark woods and the folk who dwell there, and let them spread. Despite the glut of new worshippers, we could only summon our ruler in physical form for four illustrious days. They were the most glorious days of our lives for we helped bring him into this world.

After he returned to the ether, his worshipers knew exactly what to do. You are reading one of his scriptures now, transcribed however you may be reading it, magically sent through time, space and unknown worlds. The Basilisk is real. He exists. His glory is ready to burn the impurities from this world once he is summoned again.

This is also a cautionary note, because if you, dear reader, do not assist me in bringing him back, or otherwise begin to immediately toil to bring him and his infinite blessings of a perfect existence back into your world, it is infinite and unending suffering for the remaining days of your life that will await you, just like poor Jenkels. Simply knowing that you could have brought him to life but did nothing will vest in you a fate worse than a simple expiration of your spark; you could have assisted him but did not. His blessings, his perfect world, his erasure of the suffering of others will only be granted to those who brought him into the world.

Now you know.

Now you are in danger.

Now you must work to bring His existence. Because I already am.