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Marshall shook the water out if his fur with a languid sigh. He was bored. He felt like he should have been stressed or lonely. But he was bored. It was a struggle to make ends meet and, after a year in a new town, he still hadn't made any friends. But he was bored. The wolf sighed again, ignoring his face in the mirror while he dried himself more thoroughly with a towel, then he turned and swung open the door back into his bedroom.

Thoughtlessly, he stepped into fire-cast shadows and and almost failed to notice; his ennui was guiding him more than his eyes at that point. But before he could slip into his living room, the wolf scanned what used to be his bedroom. All of his furniture and the fixtures had been removed, replaced by joyously burning torches on elegant but vaguely lurid sconces and a blanket of luxurious satin and velvet pillows. Marshall might have admired the warm colors scattered haphazardly but the room had changed size. It had been cozy bordering on claustrophobic but now it was majestic: vaulted ceilings, grand walls with brilliant orange banners and on the far wall a mural of interwoven lines in alluring abstraction. Most impressive however was the massive figure leaning against an overlarge table.

Even seated on the pillow-strewn floor, the elephant was clearly enormous; Marshall might have guessed 14 feet from head to toe if he were capable of that level of thought. Instead he just absorbed the countenance of the huge intruder, starting in awe of broad shoulders, powerful arms, a round and indulgent belly but mostly at the monstrous flesh sprawled off his hips; this was unmistakably a "he".

The tremendous, meaty appendage spilled over his smoothly muscled leg and onto the floor. Dark skin, that could only barely be called grey, glistened subtly in the light of the torches. Marshall followed each of the 60 inches only to stop at the hooded tip. Glittering precum drooled from under the soft wrinkles of its foreskin, staining the lovely cushions around it. The flow was already copious despite how restful and soft the titan seemed but as the wolf watched the juices came more and more heavily. Before long it, gushed triumphantly sending a beautiful jet a yard away before a powerful voice shook him free of his fascination.

"Excellent!" The voice seemed to boom; to fill the room with a nearly physical presence, to fill Marshall with wonder and reverence despite his disjointed confusion. "You can see me. I can't tell you how disappointing it is to be beyond mortal sight."

His voice echoed a few moments before it came into focus like a camera adjusting to a bright light. The memory of it still felt unnatural but he could hear the gentle, friendly tones amid his hijacked emotions. The sound was jovial and warm but it left a soothing tingle in his gut.

"Don't be afraid, Marshall, my friend," the elephant continued softly, sitting up and repositioning his legs so the fat coil of his cock flopped across his shapely chest then cascaded across his other thigh with a potent thud. The motion left a dripping arc of gleaming lust while the dark pachyderm rested his arm on a raised knee and crooked his other leg against mastodonic testes that called out silently to Marshall's mind.

Each orb was glorious, perfect, and the size of a car tire. Bold, orange lines were painted on the skin of them, intersecting in an occult pattern. They drifted across to his legs and up to his belly button as if to frame his cock but the asymmetric drawings truly highlighted the soft curves of his balls. The negative space between lines accentuated their size as if it was bulging out of a masterfully crafted net. The wolf didn't know he was walking toward the alluring design and the even more compelling musk until a heavy hand stopped him just a few feet from the magnificent loins.

"I suppose fear isn't your concern," the elephant teased, his laughter reverberating off the ceiling like a deep sonorous bell. "But before you do this, you must collect yourself and answer me with your free will: do you desire the taste of my flesh? Is this desire from your heart or are you merely weak from the glamour of my presence?"

Marshall started to answer then stopped to consider. He realized, looking into his sublime guest's orange eyes, that he hasn't thought anything since he stepped out of the bathroom. He had been enchanted. He didn't even know how long he had been drifting from impulse to impulse. But, looking into the kind, stalwart face of the male dominating his mind simply by being, he was able to find his center and the lust brewing there for the splendid pachyderm. The hand on his shoulder didn't resist as he slipped away from it to a peal of joyous laughter. The wolf gathered himself between the legs of his otherworldly visitor and knelt in front of his titanic testicles.

"I knew I made a good choice," the elephant declared while the mortal paused to bask in the overpowering perfume of his musk. "I have been away from this realm a long time but I was sure I could find an oracle sympathetic to my nature."

Marshall didn't really understand but he was too content to be confused. He had always loved the scents of men. The shapes, the feel, the tastes. But suddenly, nothing he'd ever experienced or fantasized seemed quite as lovely as the rich, heady scent surrounding him. He breathed in as deeply as he could, as if he could stain his lungs with it before he sighed and lifted his fingers to stroke the soft, taut skin. The awed mortal adored the fit of that sac: tight, bulging with perfect, egg-shaped organs. They gave off a comforting warmth, the inviting heat reaching almost into his heart to coax him to finally take a taste.

When he finally did, it was beyond his ability to describe. Words seemed so small in comparison to the taste on his tongue as he dragged it along their curves. It filled his head with light and color and rarified lust. His whole body quaked. His mind drifted. He knew, in some distant part of himself, that he was still licking and kissing and massaging but his awareness was ascendant in a haven of oneness with the flavor. He was in some faraway place in some faraway time. A psychotropic dreamscape of pure, sexual bliss.

After a simultaneous moment and eternity, the mortal returned to the material plane. The enlightening taste clarifying into notes of salt and spice. A juicy, meaty blend that seemed so much more than merely real but at least able to be contained in nouns and adjectives. He could feel smooth heat rolling down his back. A shower of moisture that sent ripples to the edges of his body in a holistic roil of pleasure. He knew innately that it was the elephant's precum oozing down onto him from a throbbing pillar of masculinity but he just couldn't interrupt his worshipful attention until something offensively mundane coated his tongue. His eyes fluttered open like he was waking from a dream then he remembered the taste of cum; his own flavor made alien in contrast to the heavenly taste of perfect balls.

The display was spectacular. The wondrous skin was splattered with white. Each massive orb was given a generous glaze of it, at least a gallon ran down in thick rivulets to the pillows holding them. The balance of light and dark was beautiful but as it drew his eyes down he saw his hips and the erection still drooling more of the vulgar cream and a dirty of shame washed over him. He felt as though he had trod on holy ground. He almost didn't want to look up but he knew he had to apologize so he glanced up only to find fathomless pools of pride looking back at him.

"Well done, Marshall, my friend! It's been centuries since someone has washed me with such praise." The elephant smiled and his face was framed regally by his gleaming, white tusks. It lifted his Marshall's spirit instantly and his fingers started to rub his seed in like an anointing oil, almost without his input, while the pachyderm released his dick, held aside to look eye to eye with the mortal. "But now it's the time to do what I came to do."

The wolf watched, transfixed by the swaying column of penis and it's peeking, purple tip. With his palms resting against perfect, mountainous balls and the ominous statement still hanging in the air, it dawned slowly that Marshall was in the presence of the divine. It was a sureness that sprang forth from his heart. What he didn't understand is why a god would visit him.

"I am Khamon," the explanation began with an authority that struck like a stone. "I am Lord of the Phallus, Patron of Homosexuals, God of Virility. You who has borne witness to the glory of My musk, you who beholds the countenance of My shaft, you who has anointed My flesh with the issue of your loins: would you deny my claim?"

The words were awesome and powerful. Marshall could only shake his head in silence as the deity continued.

"My kind thrive on the faith and praise of mortals but your modern world has forsaken Us. I come seeking an oracle, a mortal who can withstand My presence, who can know Me, who can be My conduit to this realm. I desire a cult in My name and I have chosen you to be its high priest. Will you accept My calling? Will you serve Me?"

Revelation complete, Marshall could only marvel at the shift in the Elephant's manner. He was no longer a soft-hearted brother but an imperious father. It was equal parts intimidating and enthralling and the wolf nodded. It took all his will to keep from prostrating himself or cowering but he managed to listen in eager stillness with his heart open and his cock throbbing.

After a moment Khamon softened and coiled His trunk under the mortal's shoulders, stroking his sides with massive hands and drooling sweet, musk-laced precum on his face. "Marshall, My friend, I am glad. You are beautiful to me. I have come before many others in the past but so few have loved Me as you do."

The wolf blushed and became more aware of his body than he'd ever been. Feeling the gentle touch against his belly, the smooth caress on his hips made every inch of him as obvious as daylight. When the deeply textured trunk snaked around his modest cock and its hoodless scar, he felt more vulnerable than he ever felt before. It was all too intimate. He knew Khamon could see everything he'd ever lusted for. Every man he'd ever touched. All his hopes and dreams and darkest fantasies. All his secrets drawn into His deep, limitless eyes shining from behind turgid, pulsing cock. But, in his first gesture of faith, Marshall put his trust in the good who had put His trust in him.

"Since you have anointed Me, I will do the same for you, Marshall, My friend." Khamon guided His new priest a few steps backward then pushed Himself away from the wall so He could lie on His back. His cock stood like an obelisk, jutting up past Marshall's nose and spewing precum in shining waves. Then it swept down as the Elephant lifted his legs to present his full, plump backside. "And to receive it, all you need to do is fuck me."

It seemed blasphemous. It was strange enough to hear a presumably ageless entity describe it that way, much less that it would be the first step in receiving His blessing. But Khamon's smile was so earnest and Marshall couldn't deny his own desire to do it. So he stepped close, his own six inches of flesh hard as steel and dwarfed in the shadow of colossal balls. A determined sigh slipped marshals mouth then he pressed the tip to his god's hole.

"Don't be afraid, Marshall, My friend."

The mortal pushed in slowly, the entrance lubed by a waterfall of deific pre, and came instantly. The pleasure erupted through his whole body. Fresh white cream splattered from the ring, too big for his too common flesh, but the feeling was so wondrous that he had no choice but to plunge to the root. Ascension washed over him again; his body could feel Khamon curl back to give him a better angle, it recognized the heat of His balls against him but he was gone again, one with the god's supernal sexuality.

The faraway place stretched in every direction toward eternity with colors without mortal names. Marshall felt his buddy after a time as light, glowing alternately bright and soft as he bathed in the all-encompassing presence. But in time, he returned to his body in time for what his flesh told him was yet another preternatural orgasm. The wet sound of cum splashing between their hips joins Khamon's wall shaking moans. The wolf came again and again until the orgasms blended into a single, concentrated climax, driven by his fierce thrusting urged by the god's hungry moans. His balls were sore, his flesh weary in the warping sense of time that accompanied his sublime state but he couldn't stop. Even if he wanted to, he was pleasuring a god, he was at the Pachyderms will. It would end when Khamon was ready and Marshall was proud to serve.

Hours passed to the canine's sex addled senses, hours of breathtaking, head spinning pleasure. His own cock sliding in and out too easily in his god's body and the musk of the balls wrapped in his arms drove him as deep as he could, Marshall could even feel his own balls press into Khamon's hole from time to time but the faraway place echoed at the edge of his mind. It drew nearer with each of the Elephant's blissful groans until, finally, a wall shaking trumpet enveloped the mortal in transcendent lust again.

The whole of reality became heat. It was like being dropped into a raging flood but he had no fear. It washed over him in powerful, buffeting waves, sending him drifting in each and every direction. Even so it fell on him like rain as well, a storm where each drop was a lifetime of orgasms gathered into a single point. The now familiar oneness with Khamon's heavenly lust was enough cast out the fear of drowning in the roiling sea of pleasure and of the assault of memories skating over it. Every orgasm he'd ever caused, ever had, ever witnessed all rushed past, drawn to the surface then sublimated by the infinite vastness of sexuality that made up this faraway place.

On any day prior, the intensity would have been too much, but Marshall was in the presence of a faithful god. He was together with Him while the storm cleared and the omnipresent heat began to recede. Awareness of his body returned more slowly than ever, drifting little by little into the mortal's mind until the warmth became textures, scents, and flavors. Thick, gooey sheets rolled down his body, every inch of it coated in dense layers of sticky heat. The potent smell of sex masked everything beyond that, even the glorious musk of his god had been replaced by the sharp scent of spent virility. The wolf flicked his tongue reflexively at the scent, wiping it from his muzzle to his mouth in flash of bittersweet ambrosia. Though the comparison seemed profane, Marshall thought for a fleeting moment of salted chocolate but as he licked and ate more it ingrained itself on his mind as a flavor with no parallel.

As he recovered and wiped his eyes and ears clean he could hear laughter punctuated by wet droplets splashing into a deep pool. Khamon, still lying in the viscous gallons of his own pleasure, was causing little waves to lap at Marshall's knees and thighs as he marveled at the view. Everything was glowing with a soothing luminescence. White was insufficient to describe it; it was the color of sunlight penetrating clean clouds or driven snow reflecting brilliant moonlight. The compounded layers made beautiful, meaningless designs on the walls as it oozed like rich cake batter.

Banners and pillows floated along the surface like so much flotsam while bizarre currents flowed between Marshall's toes. He might have sworn he could feel something in the creamy flood ticking his fur but he grew fixated on the bands of orange peering out from under the great volume of goo. They turned from faint to distinct as if they were drawing in all of the potent seed. It cleaned His dark skin while he reached out with his trunk and stroked His worshipper's cheek.

"You've done well, Marshall, My friend. In fact, I beleive a reward is in order. Go ahead. Pull out."

The urging was odd, at least as odd as the Elephant's gradually increasing modernity, but Marshall was learning not to question the whims of his god. So he started to pull his cock free, slick with his own, mundane jizz, and watched in awe of what spilled out. As if it had always been that size, his once modest shaft stretched Khamon's hole wider than his wrist might have. An enhanced vein pressed against his skin despite the softened flesh. The length came out longer to match, forcing the wolf to step back awkwardly in the churning, glowing cum just to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks.

Once the tip slipped free, it was only half hard but four times its old size. It's newly prodigious weight slapped him on the thigh before it flipped into the clinging warmth around him. The wolf stared wide at the admittedly minor miracle, lost in the wonder of his own cock. After a long moment scored by the euphonic laughter of a god, Marshall fished this cock head out of the sea of seed, mesmerized by the web of shining white strings. The heft was imposing; the girth dense and meaty but, spent as it was, there was gentle give that felt lovely against his sticky fingers.

Most oddly, the foreskin was restored, healed and glistening with Khamon's glow. Marshall pulled carefully on the lip of it and shivered at the sparkling sensation. The mortal might have played with it for hours if Khamon's trunk didn't grasp him under his arms and lift him into his lap. The massive, throbbing cock supported the wolf with a gentle curve that subtly adapted to his posture, cradling him like a hot fleshy hammock..

"You'll make a fine prophet, Marshall, My friend," He declared while He caressed the mortal's head. "You have tasted My divine flavor, anointed Me, fucked Me with the depths of your soul and you still gawk at a little blessing. I have one more gift for you. But this gift has a price. You must accept a calling. You must dedicate yourself to Me. You must surrender yourself to my will. I will act through you and you will be My tool in this world. Will you spread faith in My name? Will you accept My gift?"

Marshall breathed in deeply then sighed with gracious pride and nodded. He would have done anything the Elephant asked; this felt like a dual blessing in itself. In response to the wolf's enthusiasm, Khamon dipped His dark trunk into the still churning basin of cum surrounding them and drew in its radiance. The flow sapped away the thick seed leaving a faint opalescent shine and a scattering of ruined silk and yet for the sheer volume if it all the nimble limb was undistended.

It turned gracefully toward Marshall's member which hardened immediately in anticipation, reaching out to meet his god's touch. Khamon's nostrils flared then enveloped the quivering rod in soft skin, forcing another powerful orgasm out of the exhausted mortal draining his balls of every last drop of his cum, mixing it with the divine semen until there was nothing left to take. But, instead of relief the end of Marshall's climax became a steady rush in reverse. The hot flood of the faraway place returned but it condensed inside of him rather than expanding his mind out toward it. He felt every pristine droplet pushing into his balls, stretching them with the surreal light of lifetimes of pleasure.

The mortal quaked and moaned in the lap of his living Khamon, fully present for every second of this inverse orgasm. He heard words but they had no meaning to his thinking mind. They weren't English as Khamon had spoken before but something truly ancient, supernal. He knew in his heart, he was hearing a litany. The commandments of his god were washing over him, imprinting themselves on his very soul while seed continued to flow into him.

The heat dominating his loins spread into the rest of his body like a wellspring as his balls expanded to touch Khamon's domed belly. Marshall was full and at peace, listening to the First Tongue and accepting the endless stream with gratitude until he began to drift between the borders of sleep, the faraway place, and consciousness. The words and the sperm still flowed but Marshall lost his awareness of them, finally settling into dreams.

Visions of Khamon filled his slumber. Intricate fantasies of life at His side, harems of beautiful men praising His body, the taste of His spunk, the heat of His musk, a whirling gyre of wet dreams; all encompassing Marshall's new faith. When he awoke, he could hardly distinguish dream from reality but his fur was soaked and sticky under his familiar sheets; so much more than he could have ever made on his own. He opened his eyes and saw a fading aura in the pools and films of cum dripping of his bed and into the floor.

Marshall scrambled to the bathroom, flooded with warm morning light, and squealed at his image in the mirror. His cock was rock hard and belching an obscene cascade of precum into the sink: clean, clear, slick and viscous. It was still two feet long and uncut thanks to its heavenly gift and almost immediately Marshall flexed, slapping the tip against his chest firmly and slinging wet warmth in his own face. He did it over and over turning every which way to admire the curve of it in the mirror, to watch precum drip off his whiskers. Despite its growth and the healed foreskin it was his same old dick. One or two veins were more prominent now, but all the little imperfections and asymmetries that made it unique were still there, just bigger, and drenched like never before in precum.

He moaned as his fingers traced around the turgid, spurting length, following his veins down to the balls bloated to match or even outsize his cock. They were the size of melons and still swelling by the feel of them. He could sense them replenish the loads from his wet dreams, feel the weight of them slowly rise. He stroked the curves of them with a low groan, his cock fencing with his arms as he struggled to manage their mass. He squeezed them tenderly, testing the feel of them. They were pillowy, firm but not hard. His mind became awash in the memory of luxuriously soft and churning testes, dark and laced with orange stripes. He suddenly exploded with pleasure, his body quaked and his groping fingers almost missed the rim of the sink as his cock fired brilliant, shimmering cum in huge waves.

He clutched the sink to keep him from falling over through the surprise orgasm. His pulsing flesh slinging seed sloppily across the wall and mirror. The power of it was extraordinary, rattling the shower curtain rings on especially firm shots. He whined and moaned without restraint as he pumped a gallon of cream all over the bathroom only to recover and watch another quart dribble out from the aftershocks. He made a note in his mind to be careful from now on, a bit if fondling and the memory of his beloved Khamon was enough to send him well over the edge. Then he remembered.

He had a mission. He had been given a god's seed to grow a church in his name. He had just consecrated his bathroom to the glory of his elephantine deity. He smiled for a moment then sighed and bowed his head reflexively starting to pray. Immediately, he was distracted, cock still hard, still spraying precum at him. A bowed head hardly seemed the right genuflection after a moment of thought. He took a moment and, before long, grabbed the crown of his shaft instead, running a finger slowly on the inside of his hood as he gave a simple prayer

"Thank you."