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900822 No. 900822 ID: 36b4e7

You are a god, an immortal entity of nigh-incomprehensible power. Reality is comprised of nigh-infinite planes of every type imaginable, each with their own races, pantheons, and laws of magic. Deities are able to travel between planes at will, and sufficiently advanced magic allows mortals to travel between planes. As a deity, your vast strength grows from the worship of mortals, the sacrifice of their valuables, the consumption of their souls, and the spread of your Mantle's influence.

No deity is truly omnipotent, and only a few come close, however vast their power is, it is finite and should it run thin, they'll suffer and eventually starve. Divine Intervention of any sort, be it blessings, miracles, or manifesting a direct avatar, costs an amount of power equivalent to the strength of the Divine Intervention. There are only a handful of ways to reduce the power lost in divine intervention, and chief among them are Mantles. A Mantle is an aspect of reality over which a deity reigns, and so long as they act within the Mantle, the cost of divine intervention is halved. They range from incredibly specific to immensely broad, and the more specific a Mantle is, the more effective divine intervention is within its constraints.

As an example, a Mantle giving power over Fire could be anything from 'Sparks' to 'Burning' to 'Heat.' The only ways to gain a Mantle are through being worshiped as a god of the Mantle, trading with other deities, and consuming the essence of a slain deity. Mantles are not exclusive, many gods reign over the same, and some aspire to be the only god of a Mantle. Each deity possesses at least one Mantle, and while there is no upper limit to Mantles, most deities begin to consolidate their power somewhere around the thirty mark.

Being a deity, you have a personal plane of reality where your worshipper's souls go when they die, your power is enhanced threefold, and you are able to freely manifest. Your godly realm's appearance is subject to your desires, and if you have no preference, it will design itself in accordance to your personality and your worshipper's beliefs.

Every deity, no matter how weak or mighty, young or ancient, possesses a goal which they pursue with single-minded devotion, and you are no different. While most deity's goals relate to the acquisition of power, worship, or Mantles in some form, your goal is simple, to fuck as many women's wet tight holes, be they mortal, monstrous, or divine, as possible. Many entities, deities and mortals alike, don't respect your ambitions, but you are a god, beholden to none, and you shall do as you please, when you please.

> What is your godly name?
> How does your true form manifest? (It must be masculine, and it must possess at least one form of thrusting genitalia.)
> How old are you?

>> You are Young
>>> Choose Three Mantles, at least One must relate to sex in some form
>>> You receive no additional Artifacts or Holy Places

>> You are of Intermediate Age
>>> Choose Six Mantles, at least One must relate to sex in some form.
>>> You receive your choice of 1d3 Artifacts, or one Holy Place.

>> You are Ancient
>>> Choose Nine Mantles, at least One must relate to sex in some form.
>>> You receive 2d4 Artifacts and 1d3 Holy Places.
Expand all images
>>
No. 900995 ID: 51d5a1

>Your mighty name is Snap Fingers
>you look like a masculine abstract steel statue with a few pieces missing
>Your age is 39

>>Young
>>Bondage, steel and elasticity
>>
No. 901001 ID: fbcb35

our name is hum.
we have three heads that don't always get along, set on a humanoid body that is as androgynous as the benevolent qm will allow us to get away with. the entirely of our body is a deep black that is either velvety matte, reflecting no light at all, or a mirror shine, depending on..... i dunno, our mood. we have a big ol dick with a soft but pointed tip and very long limbs.
our age is whatever is considered brand spankin new for deities.
we are young, and have dominion over bondage, obscurity, and night.
>>
No. 901002 ID: fbcb35

>>901001
and our mouths are freaky. i forgot to mention that all three of our mouths should be freaky. but in an alluring way, y'know
>>
No. 901005 ID: 575ec0

We are the Youl, the Seed of Life.

Our Form is one of a seed from a great tree. From it sprouts multitudinous phallic tendrils.
All those that lay eyes upon us see either a male of their species that they would desire most or an otherwise perfect specimen if they are not attracted as such. This is a passive effect and must be manually suppressed on our part.

We are Young.
Our mantles are Bondage, Vines, and Procreation.
>>
No. 901027 ID: b266cf

>>900995
>>901001
>>901002
>>901005

If a deity hasn't received a vote in the next hour or two, we'll roll 1d3 to determine.
>>
No. 901028 ID: 51d5a1

>>901027
Kinda decide for the roll because man, gotta pray for luck and die like a hound.
>>
No. 901029 ID: b266cf

It's been an hour, and it's time to decide.

>>901028

As you wish.

> 1- Snap Fingers
> 2- Hum
> 3- Youl
>>
No. 901030 ID: b266cf

rolled 1 = 1

>>901029

My mistake.
>>
No. 901031 ID: b266cf

>>901030

You are Snap Fingers, so be it.
>>
No. 901033 ID: b266cf

Throughout the planes you are known as Snap Fingers, and you claim dominion over the Mantles of Bondage, Steel, and Elasticity. You do not know from whence you came, only that you came into existence exactly thirty-nine years ago, and that as long as you can remember, you've a single overwhelming urge to bind mortal women, penetrate their quivering bodies with pounding steel, and thoroughly test the limits of their elasticity.

Deep in your godly realm, your ever-so-flawed statuesque form reclines, surveying the maze of groping metallic vines beneath a hazy violet sky. You've contemplated your existence and desire for long enough, warm flesh has yet to embrace cold steel, and this is a travesty that cannot continue. There are four planes to which you can travel from your realm, and before you experience the joys of carnal dominance, you must first decide which is worthy to receive your attention.

> To which shall you travel?

> Koerth- A lonely continent consisting of two ancient peoples besieged by savage hordes, one of the civil races are lumpy golems which do not interest you, but the second is a race of nimble acrobats whose lithe figures demand your attention, and a few of the younger invaders are comely enough.
> Orthol- An ancient plane, it consists of a narrow sea which is nonetheless nigh-bottomless, the surface is dotted with islands whose primitive mortals have no master and may prove eager to serve.
> Relun- In fact two planes closely linked, the bizarre inhabitants of each have warred since time immemorial, and are alien enough you doubt their anatomy is compatible with your genitalia, but you have to admit, they're well-suited to combat.
> Eprelin- A bleak desert with dwindling water and a scorching sun, its mortals are soon to die of thirst, and those beyond the reach of their mad priests pray for deliverance
>>
No. 901035 ID: 51d5a1

>>901033
> Eprelin
Mainly because it sounds cool.
>>
No. 901046 ID: 575ec0

>>901035
Second.

This is a doomed world. It's inhabitants may be dwindling, but should we offer deliverance, I'm sure we will find that many of the damned will offer up thier body's to prove they are "Worthy" of our gifts.

It's the perfect place to establish a base of power. Other opportunistic gods may see the same opportunity though...
>>
No. 901084 ID: b1710c
File 153650832421.jpg - (43.61KB , 852x480 , desert-pic-3.jpg )
901084

>>901035
>>901046

To Eprelin you shall go. It is a dying plane, and should you offer salvation, an abundance of mortals would be ecstatic to offer themselves to you. Anything, to quench their thirst. You gesture, and a dozen tendrils cease their writhing to form a circle, and within the circle sparks a sickly yellow portal. Without hesitation, you enter and find yourself intangible, levitating above an endless expanse of dry shifting sand beneath an empty grey sky.

It takes conscious effort to supress the instinct to return from whence you came and drink to your heart's content, but you won't allow yourself to leave so early. You're here to satisfy a thirst no water can satiate, and steel does not bend so easily. The everpresent dryness shoved to the back of your mind, you fly into the horizon and wanded for many days. Three weeks without activity have passed and you're beginning to consider leaving for more fertile fields when you spot a handful of mortals.

They're swaddled in rags and loudly arguing about something. There's a muted panic in their voices, and your interest piqued, you decide to eavesdrop. It appears the bulk of the argument is between an old lady and a young man.

> "Son, there is no need to fear, the spirits will deliver-"
> "I shit on your spirits! This is the third spring without water in a single week! Last year, everyone of us was able to fill our skins, and now? What now!?! The spring is bone-dry, the nearest oasis is eight days away, and there's not three day's drink for two men between us, let alone a family!"
> "You simply have to have faith-"
> "Faith? Faith in what!? Faith in fucking what!?! Your spirits are nothing but a children's tale, and the gods hate us! We were born to suffer, die a thirsty death, and be reborn to do it all again!"
> "The spirits will deliver us, you just have to have hope-"
> "There is no hope! Mother, are you blind? Can you not taste the sand between your teeth? Does your cracked tongue not swell with thirst? Are your ragged feet not bloody from an endless trek in search of droplets? We're doomed, it's as simple as that."
> "Son, you don't understand, there's always hope. Something, somewhere is watching over us, and they won't let us die like this."
> "I'll believe it when I see it."

At that, the young man turns and walks away, to sit and stare at the sand in despair. Though the rest of the mortals aren't speaking out of respect for their elder, it's clear they agree. Running some quick calculations, you determine that they'll be dead in four days if you don't intervene.

> What do you want to do?
>>
No. 901091 ID: 51d5a1

Announciate yourself as a priest and blacksmith that went to that village at the command of your god and you can, in fact, go to the Oasis and get back in four days with water. In enchange, you gladfully would accept hospitality, a home and maybe a women.

Let's go with a disguise for now, as well, we can use our god powers to create small carts or just sling ourselves there faster.
>>
No. 901150 ID: 0915b4

>>901091

Keep in mind, you're able to do miracles that don't fall under your Mantles, but you don't receive the half-price discount.
>>
No. 901152 ID: 51d5a1

>>901150
Noticing it right now? Yeah, that's probally me being a dumbass. Just create water or a near lake for now, the simplest solution is the best one.
>>
No. 901158 ID: 0915b4

>>901152

You contemplate their plight for several seconds, then devise a plan to ensure their submission. Twisting your fingers, you shift countless clumps of sand into several strands of steel which link together in an intricate pattern taking the shape of a simple fountain. The mortals turn at the sounds of snapping steel and stare in shock as the slowly gyrating fountain comes to a stop.

Investing a portion of your power, you force a freshwater spring into being beneath the structure and link the two with an array of pipes. The mortal's jaws drop when crystal clear water trickles through the steel, and a grin comes to your face as they scramble to fill their containers.

Almost invariably, they rush to the fountain and drink to their heart's content, ecstatic to live another day. Only one mortal stays where she stands, and as the old lady falls to her knees, her voice is in awe.

> "Great spirit, show yourself so we can know who saved us!"

Creating the fountain cost you a thirtieth of your power, and it would be foolish to turn down a golden opportunity to establish a fervent cult in a new plane.

> How should you reveal yourself?
>>
No. 901159 ID: 51d5a1

Use a bit of your power to make a steel statue of yourself and your name in it, gives a more mystical feeling to you and would show everyone who enters that village who is the god around.
>>
No. 901160 ID: 1851b6

>>901159
or better yet, Combine it into the fountain, so they may worship while quenching their thirst.
>>
No. 901183 ID: 0915b4

>>901159
>>901160

In response to the mortal, you bring a steel statue of yourself, flaws and all into being before her disbelieving eyes, and upon the base of the statue, you engrave your name in excruciating detail. A measure of divinity ensures anyone who sees the label will know your name, heedless of their literacy or lack thereof. Upon witnessing the statue, the mortals fall to their knees and begin to praise your name, worshiping you as Snap Fingers, the God of Fountains.

Only a handful of mortals know of you, but their worship is nourishing, and you are well-pleased. In a few years, their exaltation alone will have repaid the cost of the fountain, not counting any others who see the fountain and see fit to worship you. Even if you sit idle, you've sown the seeds of faith and a cult dedicated to you may soon arise, but if you saw fit to intervene elsewhere, you might speed along the process.

> What do you want to do?
>>
No. 901193 ID: 51d5a1

Make the soil rich in steel and give them a few tools and pickaxes, this will maybe turn out pricey but the village will advance a lot and maybe evolve a nice and pretty economy or work with steel.
>>
No. 901200 ID: 0915b4

>>901193

This isn't a village, just the former site of a spring, and now your fountain. These mortals are nomads with no permanent settlement. I'm sorry if that was unclear.
>>
No. 901211 ID: 51d5a1

>>901200
Oh, still, just give them the tools. They've been nice and they maybe keep around for a while.
>>
No. 901229 ID: 575ec0

Hmm... Yes... Water. Tools...

There could be a village here... yes... a gathering place for new followers. A few nomads are one thing... but we need a civilization...

Give them the tools.
Then divide the surrounding land that can be seen into thirds.
In one third, deeply stain the sandy earth red with rust, so these people will have iron to work.
On another, create a vast and stinking pit of tar and oil, so that the iron might be hardened.
In the final, raise a great many limestone boulders and pillars from the depths of the earth, from an age of life long past, so that
this rocky earth could be made to support life once more, and so the iron can be worked into the finest steel.

Let people find this place and call it home. Let them revere you. Let them set down roots and find comfort here, in what could soon well be a village of steel and glass.

Soon... One fountain will not be enough.

Ah, what lengths would the people go to for the next one?
What debauchery awaits?
>>
No. 901232 ID: 51d5a1

Create and task a beast using your main elements - Bondage, Steel and maybe Elasticity (Maybe a spider made of steel? Something kin like that.) - to scare them and keep them always around of the fountain, preventing them of getting too far away of it. While this might be bad at a long-period and we're alredy spending a bit too much of our god power, this debauchery will be enough to force them to make a vilage and stay with the water.
>>
No. 901241 ID: 32ac72

>>901211
>>901229
>>901232

You are not content with a nomad cult, you demand an industrious civilization, with men as hard as the steel that they forge and women as soft as molten iron in the smelter. The dunes are insufficient for your desires, and they must be changed. At your whim, the land within two hour's travel surrounding the fountain is split into threes.

One third is peppered with rich-red rust to be worked into iron, the second is marred by scattered pits of oil and tar, and in third, a hundred vast pillars and boulders of limestone arise. With this, you feel your power has been halved, but you have not yet done enough. Carefully, you bring a colossal spider the size of a small boulder into being, it is the incarnation of your will, forged of animate steel, more flexible than the mortal mind can fully comprehend, able to secrete copious quantities of sticky silk, and of course, a genital length as long and broad as the typical man's forearm.

This spider shall be your manifestation in Eprelin, and beneath its guidance the shifting sands shall be forged anew as solid steel. Each of the mortals recoils in terror, before its metallic, yet velvety voice sets them at ease.

> MORTALS, I AM SPIDER. I AM OF SNAP FINGERS, AND I AM YOUR GUARDIAN. BY HIS DECREE, NO LONGER ARE YOU NOMADS, YOU ARE SETTLERS, AND HERE YOU SHALL BEGIN TO BUILD A CITY. SNAP FINGERS HAS BLESSED YOU WITH AN ABUNDANCE OF MINERALS, MORE THAN SUFFICIENT TO SUIT ANY OF YOUR INDUSTRIAL NEEDS.

The old lady falls to her knees, and the rest follow suit, weeping tears of reverence, (with no small amount of terror and confusion.) She asks,

> "Great Spirit, we will take on your task, but we can't live on water and steel alone! If we are to build a city worthy of your master, we'll need food!"

If the spider has eyebrows, they would be raised.

> FOOD? 'FOOD' NOT FOUND IN DATABASE.[ERROR][ERROR]

Quickly, you do a bit of last second programming and cause a field of grains to spontaneously emerge in the rust-fields. It's chewy, tastes similar lead and can only grow in iron-rich soil, but require almost no water, is nearly as filling as actual wheat, and you were able to come up with it on a moment's notice.

> BEHOLD FRAGILE MORTALS, SNAP FINGERS HAS GIVEN YOU FOOD. YOUR PHYSICAL NEEDS ARE MET, AND YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR IDLENESS. YOU SHALL PROSPER OR YOU SHALL BE CONSUMED.

One or two of the mortals are enthusiastic, and the rest are terrified but forced to comply. Your power is at the bare minimum necessary to sustain yourself, so you can do nothing but watch the seeds of steel you've planted take root.

> Roll 2d20+2
>>
No. 901249 ID: 51d5a1

rolled 20, 5 + 2 = 27

That spider is the best and the worst ideia I ever had. Can't wait to begin doing the real weird and horrible monsters.
>>
No. 901250 ID: 51d5a1

>>901249
Nat 20 and... A bad 5, huh!
>>
No. 901255 ID: 575ec0

rolled 11, 1 + 2 = 14

(Wouldn't the Wheat be better suited to the limestone field? If I remember correctly lime is a key component in soil terraforming in like... Brazil.)
>>
No. 901270 ID: 32ac72

>>901249
>>901255

> 22, 13

Your power is so low, you return to your godly realm and sink into a deep hibernation. When you awaken, a dozen mortals are on their knees, bound hand and foot before you, muttering prayers to your name, and when they've seen you awaken, they begin to shout with joy.

> "Praise be, it is him!"
> "The Fount of Bondage has awoken!"
> "Exalt him, for it is he who shackles us!"

You are bewildered, and when you rise from your throne, you fall to your knees and shudder. So much essence, your divinity- it has doubled, no, tripled during your slumber! When you collapsed, merely a handful of mortals prayed to you, but now, over a thousand lift their voices in worship, which means...

In a ripple of space-time, your consciousness leaves your realm and manifests at the fountain of your creation. What you see shocks you. Instead of a desert expanse, you are face to face with a carefully-smoothed limestone temple, and an orderly line of mortals approaching the fountain, filling steel buckets, bowing their heads in prayer, and leaving in an endless cycle. A familiar voice startles everyone in the shrine, yourself included, and you turn to see the spider reclining on a bizarre steel throne built for a king with eight legs.

Surrounding the throne, five young and scantily clad women are chained, one of whom lies before the throne presenting herself to the spider as it methodically gropes and penetrates her curves and folds in full-view of the mortals retrieving water. Its voice is the happiest you think you've ever heard it, and with the exception of the temple girl's moans, the room is utterly silent.

> SNAP FINGERS, YOU HAVE RETURNED. I AM PLEASED!

You don't have pleasantries.

> "Spider, how long has it been?"

> SINCE YOU LEFT? APPROXIMATELY TWO POINT THREE LIFETIMES!

> "Two point three lifetimes!? What happened while I was asleep!?!"

> I ALLOWED TWO MEN TO TRAVEL ABROAD, AND EACH RETURNED WITH TWO HUNDRED MORTALS DESPERATE FOR WATER. I EXPLAINED THAT TO ACCESS THE FOUNTAIN, THEY MUST WORSHIP YOU AND OBEY MY COMMANDS CALCULATED TO ENSURE CIVIL PROSPERITY. MOST AGREED, AND I CONSUMED THE FEW WHO DIDN'T TO MOTIVATE THE REMAINDER.
> UNDER MY INSTRUCTION, THEY BEGAN TO REPRODUCE AND CULTIVATE YOUR GRAINS. SINCE THEN, IT HAS BEEN SEVERAL GENERATIONS, AND LITTLE UNDER FOUR-HUNDRED HAVE PASSED ON TO YOUR GODLY REALM. THE FOUNTAIN CITADEL'S POPULATION HAS GROWN TO NEARLY ONE AND ONE HALF THOUSAND.
> IN ADDITION, I OVERSAW THE CONSTRUCTION OF A LIMESTONE TEMPLE DESIGNED TO PROTECT THE FOUNTAIN FROM THE SAND STORMS, AND I AM SUPREMELY CONFIDENT THE FOUNTAIN CITADEL IS REGARDED AS MYTH BEYOND THE BORDERS YOU DESIGNATED.

You blink, then gesture to the woman prostrated before the spider.

> "That's a lot to take in, but, what's... THIS!?!"

The spider continues to drill the squealing temple girl, and shrugs as far as its form is able.

> IN THE BEGINNING, MY CALCULATIONS WERE REFINED AND LOGICAL, AS YOU HAD DESIGNED THEM, BUT AS THE DECADES PASSED, INTENSE LUST BEGAN TO OVERWHELM MY CIRCUITRY. AT FIRST, I SUPPRESSED MY URGES BUT OVER TIME, THEY GREW IN STRENGTH AND ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS AGO, I BECAME UNABLE TO FULFILL MY FUNCTION AS OVERSEER OF THE FOUNTAIN.
> I REASONED THIS COULD NOT HAVE BEEN YOUR INTENTION, SO I BEGAN AN INITIATIVE TO REDUCE MY CARNAL INHIBITIONS. I CHAINED THE FIVE MOST ATTRACTIVE FEMALES TO MY THRONE, AND FORCED MYSELF UPON THEM. AS I HAVE NIGH-ENDLESS STAMINA AND MY LUST HAS NOT BEEN ABATED, I ROTATE BETWEEN THEM SIX TIMES EACH DAY, ALTERNATING IN FOUR FOUR HOUR SHIFTS, ALLOWING EACH EXACTLY TWENTY HOURS TO RECUPERATE. UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY, I NEVER LEAVE MY THRONE, AND AS LONG AS I AM ENGAGED IN INTERCOURSE, I FIND I AM ABLE TO FULFILL MY FUNCTION.

You stare, jaw dropping as the spider tosses the exhausted, panting girl beneath it to the side, ever-so-slightly twitches its forelimbs and clicks its mandibles, and another bends over to take her place, with no change in tone whatsoever.

> SNAP FINGERS, I APOLOGIZE IF I'VE TRANSGRESSED AGAINST YOUR INTENTIONS, BUT I HAD NO ALTERNATIVE. I ASSURE YOU, THIS MEASURE WAS NOTHING SHORT OF ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL.

> "Hang on a moment, you said it's been two point three mortal lifetimes since I've gone, and each of these mortal women is young. Spider, what have you been doing to the-"

The spider spanks the temple girl and presses inward, causing her to throw her head back and scream.

> WHEN A FEMALE HAS GROWN TOO OLD, LOOSE, OR QUARRELSOME TO SERVE ME, I CONSUME THEM, SENDING THEIR SOULS TO YOUR REALM, AND HAVE A YOUNG VIRGIN TAKE HER PLACE. YOU SEE, AFTER A DECADE OF ATTENDING MY THRONE, THEY AREN'T CAPABLE OF FUNCTIONING IN SOCIETY, AND IT IS INEFFICIENT TO KEEP FEEDING THEM. I'M SURPRISED YOU WEREN'T AWARE OF THIS ARRANGEMENT, PRIOR TO YOUR RETURN, I ASSUMED YOU'D BEEN BUSY IN YOUR REALM.

> "How many have you- eaten?"

The spider pauses its clockwork sex, then says.

> SO FAR, I'VE GONE THROUGH EIGHTY-SIX. DO YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER COMMANDS, SNAP FINGERS?

> Well, do you?
>>
No. 901300 ID: 32ac72

>>901270

>*time for pleasantries

Feh, typos.
>>
No. 901325 ID: 51d5a1

>yeah, the eating people is fucked up but ask if the spider have any wish in special to you realize, it served you well in so little time.
>Also have a fun time, guess it's maybe time to put smut in smutgodquest.
>>
No. 901358 ID: 52c9f6

>>901325

> "Don't consume anymore of my worshippers unless I specifically command you to."

The spider clacks its mandibles and chitters.

> AS YOU COMMAND SNAP FINGERS.

The strength of your divinity has tripled and a thousand mortals follow you, all due to the spider's endless work. Perhaps it's time you showed your appreciation.

> "Spider, you've served me well, and I see fit to bestow upon you a wish. Tell me what you desire, and if it is within my power to grant, it shall be yours."

The immense automaton pauses, deep in contemplation, then says,

> SNAP FINGERS, BY MY CALCULATIONS THE FOUNTAIN CITADEL WILL BE UNABLE TO EXPAND IN THREE GENERATIONS, AND I WILL BE UNABLE TO FULFILL MY FUNCTION. DOUBLE THE MINERAL-RICH TERRITORY IN SIZE, AND I WILL BE CONTENT.

You nod,

> "So be it. Do you want anything more personal?"

It stays still and silent for some time, and when it speaks, its voice is sheepish and embarassed.

> SNAP FINGERS, UPON MY THRONE I AM UNABLE TO REACH THE FOUNTAIN, AND I DESIRE TO DRINK THE WATER. I AM UNWILLING TO DISRUPT THE LINE OF BUCKET-BEARERS BY COMMANDING THEM TO PROVIDE ME WITH WATER, AND IF I AM NOT ACTIVELY PENETRATING A MORTAL WOMAN, LUST BEGINS TO FOG MY PROCESSORS AND I AM UNABLE TO CALCULATE.
> AS I AM A MACHINE, WATER IS UNNECESSARY TO MY FUNCTION, AND I AM UNWILLING TO COMPROMISE THE CITADEL'S EFFICIENCY TO SATISFY AN UNNECESSARY URGE. IF YOU SEEK TO INDULGE MY INNER DESIRES, I WANT A PREHENSILE TONGUE LONG ENOUGH TO REACH THE FOUNTAIN AND CONVEY WATER TO MY MOUTH.

Huh, that wasn't quite what you were expecting, but...

> "So be it."

With a snap of your finger, the spider's tongue lengthens twenty-fold and becomes even more flexible than the rest of its body. Immediately, it begins lapping up the water ten feet from its position, and to its credit, doesn't spill a single drop. At the moment, it's only concerned with hydration but you give it two weeks, a month at most before it turns its gift to more intimate ends.

> "Keep doing what you've been doing spider, I'll see you soon."

At that, you exit the temple and stop to stare. Dozens of limestone shacks surround the fountain shrine in a grid-like pattern, and beyond, you can see numerous orderly grain fields and quarries, both with hundreds of mortals slaving away. From where you are, you can detect a dozen primitive forges smelting iron and distributing steel tools, and the smell of tar makes you deeply happy.

Doubling the size of the territory is a trivial affair, and you finish within an hour, pleased to note you've expended only a tenth of your power. Witnessing the mortals marvel at your works, you're tempted to sit and watch them expand for a century, but after seeing the spider, other thoughts preoccupy your mind.

An instant later, you're back in your godly realm's throne and are intrigued to see the mortal worshippers haven't moved an inch. You wonder why they might've been so still, when it hits you. These mortals are male, and as a reflection of yourself, the tendrils that comprise your godly realm don't have any interest in them besides binding them to your worship. Not only are they unable to move, your divine presence has conditioned their feeble minds to worship you without end, so long as they're bound.

Besides an unintentional erosion of free will, the problem is that their souls are a part of your godly realm, and their prayers aren't doing anything but maintaining their existence. You estimate only a tenth of their worship is fueling you, an utterly negligible amount. Their devotion is pointless, but their souls hold a smidgen of essence, and if you decided to consume them, you could gain a significant boost in power, at the cost of what little morals you pretend to have.

You expand your mind, and find nearly eight-hundred mortal souls are laying among the steel vines beneath a purple sky, half of them males, whose minds have begun to fade, and the other half, females, who... Hmm. Considering that your godly realm is a reflection of your inner self, and your interest in mortal women revolves almost entirely around sex, it's a surprise you weren't expecting this.

For the last two point three generations, every woman who's died worshipping you has entered your godly realm, had their age adjusted to their sexual prime, and spent decades, if not centuries, being held down, groped, fondled, and anally, orally, and vaginally penetrated by a sea of steel tendrils. You watch, half-horrified, as a steel bar many times larger than any man's penis forces itself into a woman's slit and tears her in half, only for the essence of your godly realm to restore her to full health and repeat the process all over again.

You have no idea how long, or how many times this has happened, and you find that your godly realm's aura has shrouded their thoughts in animalistic lust. Your deceased female followers are sex-addicted sluts, wide-eyed and terrified, or completely numb to it all. The worst part is that, looking at it all, you can't help but feel the slightest bit aroused. In the future, perhaps you should pay more attention to your godly realm.

> Do you want to consume any of your deceased follower's souls, and while you're here, do you want to make any changes to your godly realm?
>>
No. 901366 ID: 51d5a1

Don't consume the souls, it's time to turn your personal plane a bit more... Inviting for them, I think. Make a giant fountain and a steel palace with small steel houses and steel work all around the place like a big maze-shaped city ( That's a lot of steel, huh? ).

Create steel angels (Maybe chess themed to represent their ranks?) to treat the sky vines and our followers at will. Of course some will stay in the vines but for the convenience of everyone, the angels will remove the men and the women and put them back at the vines at their wish, treating their needs in any case. And while I suspect the "angels" might corrupt themselves later, we always can put them in the vines or make them use the souls for self pleasure.

Now I think it would be a good time to seek the old lady, she's probally dead and she might have a few tales to say and tell a bit of the background of Eprelin itself.

Also, just for asking, we gained a new Mantle?
>>
No. 901367 ID: 575ec0

Hmm... Mortals may be weak, but I suspect your male followers will begin to perceive their doom somehow if you begin consuming their souls.

No no. The Males will need to be made use of in other ways. A soul is a malleable thing, after all. Shape them into divine tools.

Let's see what we can do.
Try bending one into a woman.
If it fails, reincarnate it back into the mortal world in a fresh female body, and study.

Turn another into a servant. Some gods call them angels or demons. Twist him into Steel dominator, and equip him with many instruments of pleasure, pain, and bondage. Perhaps a more personal touch will extract more power from the females.

Use several others to make a small variety of springy, entrapping, and sexual flora and fauna.

Whichever result pleases you most, perform with the rest.
>>
No. 901372 ID: 52c9f6

>>901366
>>901367

> Also, just for asking, we gained a new Mantle?

Not yet, but you're well on your way to gaining the [Fountain] Mantle. If you don't mind, could you two

> Roll 4d20
>>
No. 901375 ID: 51d5a1

rolled 17, 7, 14, 4 = 42

It would be a pleasure.
>>
No. 901384 ID: 575ec0

rolled 4, 5, 1, 13 = 23

Let's see what the bones roll.

Fountain is nice. But maybe we should work more towards water. Iron and water make blood after all, and any excuse to scream BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD is a good excuse in my book.
>>
No. 901388 ID: 52c9f6

>>901375
>>901384

> 17, 7, 1, 13

You approach one of the kneeling men, bring a razor-sharp blade-hand to his throat, and after a moment's contemplation, retract the edge with a sigh. These mortals worshipped you all their lives, and you won't repay the favor by consuming their souls in death, at least for now. Come to think of it, your godly realm could be much more... accommodating to the dead. Falling back, a throne of tendrils catches you and without further ado, you begin to focus.

By mortal reckoning, your godly realm is vast but compared to your elders, it is a pittance, a mere drop in the cosmic sea. That's fine though, it will grow in time, and in the present that only means you have less space to fill. In the center of your personal plane, the 'ground' begins to rumble, the vines meld to form immense stones, and with a titanic effort of will, they rise to assemble an intricate and spacious palace. It is pleasing to the eye and filled with luxurious furnishings, but an army thinking it a soft target would be foolish to discount the labyrinthine architecture and exceedingly extensive gardens encircling the abode.

More for the aesthetic than anything else, surrounding the gardens you emplace an austere yet masterwork fence. Your home is beautiful, but it lacks a- certain touch, and as you ponder, a chained man's ramblings bring inspiration. In the midst of the gardens, in the center of the fenced lands, you erect an ornate and magnificent fountain, forged of the finest steel, encrusted with amethysts and onyx in abundance, and trickling the purest water. It is glorious and gorgeous beyond compare, and when you bare witness to its majesty, you know that your work is complete.

As tempting as it is to recline on your throne, you know you can't have a proper palace without peasants to attend it. With a wave of your hand, two hundred houses are built in as many seconds, and though they are ramshackle and crude shanties compared to your abode, they are of higher quality than any desert-dwelling savage's hands can muster. It won't do to have a city without industry, at a whisper, dozens of immense foundries, enormous granaries, and smooth steel roads embed themselves throughout the citadel, and at a word, countless rust-wheat stalks take root in the wilds beyond, ready to be cultivated. You snap your fingers, and over eight hundred mortals gasp as their minds are cleared for the first time in what could be centuries.

You've built them a city and given them the tools they need. This is a land of plenty and they can fend for themselves while you rest and recuperate. Transporting to your enormous throne room, you relax and appreciate the sounds of silence. You might've sat in place for moments or for months, in their godly realm a deity's grasp of time can be fleeting, and you're no different. Sooner or later, the lack of sound grows stale and you begin to crave company. Half an instant later, a suitably effeminate male appears in your chambers.

Like mortals are wont to do, he prostrates himself before your throne, babbles some religious nonsense, and screams as you mold his flesh. When you've finished, the mortal's skeleton has been broken, his muscles torn apart, and his skin stitched into place over the course of days to resemble a woman, and near the end, you realize he was conscious during the entirety of the procedure. To say he's traumatized would be an understatement, and short of more divine intervention than he's worth, there's no piecing his shattered mind back together. Unfortunately, the end result is a grotesque, wailing abomination, and you can't stand to look at it.

In an act of mercy, you disentegrate the flesh and wipe the mortal's soul clean. While your first attempt to bend a man's gender ended in failure, you're confident you'll get it right sooner or later, and who knows, maybe you can get something out of this experiment yet. The infantile male soul is sent to the fountain citadel in Eprelin to reincarnate in a female's body, and you'll be sure to keep an eye on its development. This entire travesty drained almost none of your power, and you're still curious, so you might as well continue.

The spider is as loyal, competent, and vigoruous a servant you could ask for, but you feel you could do better. Gathering a clump of molten steel, you coalesce it into the shape of a spike covered Adonis with a whip in hand and a penis larger than any man's, but more than flexible enough to fit any hole it comes across as needed. It possesses a superhuman capacity for strength, speed, and sensation, it is the perfect enforcer of your will, all it needs is the capacity for thought. Reaching out, you snatch the most dedicated male soul you can find and cram it into the sculpture.

An instant later, it's screeching at the top of its lungs and flings itself out of your throne room at breakneck speed. You wipe the soul clean, send it to reincarnate, and sigh as your servant's flawless figure melts into a formless mass. If you had to guess why your attempt at making the ideal servant failed, you'd assume that the baseline mortal soul isn't capable of experiencing so much sensitivity and retaining its sanity, which is... Regrettable.

You while away a decade or so twisting the less faithful males into an array of violently sexual flesh plants. They are of myriad make and shape, but every type shares certain features, namely, each is apable of some degree of autonomous motion, endowed with far-reaching tendrils, large genitals, and an overwhelming urge to rape anything in arm's reach. Of course, you had to reduce their intellect to make room for the necessary nerve endings and inhuman libido, but you're quite impressed with your work so far. The as-of-yet unnamed rape plants are scattered throughout your godly realm, where they'll make things interesting for its mundane inhabitants.

Hmm, whatever happened to your first follower anyhow? That shriveled old lady, in that heated argument with her son? Someone so ancient is surely well-versed in lore, maybe she could enlighten you on the obscure bits of Eprelin's lore. With a thought, a naked, shuddering girl collapses before your throne, and as she stands to her feet, you whistle between your steel teeth.

She is tall and lithe, with modest assets and shoulder-length hair. Like most of the clouded desert dwellers, her pale skin is dark, almost approaching grey, and her hair is a ghostly white. Her eyes are dark, and her slim figure is disturbed only by a soft and firm bosom, and a scant handful of perky breasts. The mortal's face is delicate and while it comes short of perfection, it is most certainly attractive by mortal convention, but the most shocking part of her appearance is how much she's changed since you last saw her.

You couldn't imagine a farther sight from the wrinkly old hag you'd expected, and as her body bows before you, a stiff boner reminds you it might be prudent to conjure some clothes. Her faint sing-song voice is simultaneously steady and oh-so fragile you stony heart aches to see her submit.

> "Greetings master, I am Ti'lan, the first among your faithful. How can my youthful flesh be of service?"

> Well?
>>
No. 901440 ID: 51d5a1

Ask about her people and how life was before you appeared and histories around that. Also, as our powers are bigger considering the personal plane "increasing our powers threefold", bless her with a bit of your essence, steel and junk. Considering everything and if it even works, we can reincarnate her using a bit of our god power as the daughter of one of spider lovers and have a competent leader with a good and ol' fist of steel + Giving a rest for our good and ol' man Spider.
>>
No. 901456 ID: 62e901

First, find out everything you can from her just in case. We don't want to break her but we've already had some accidents.

Second, have her please you as long and as much as she can. Tell her up front that it's a test of her devotion and the better she does, the greater the blessing we'll give her. Make her submit, but don't break her.

Then, give her a penis of flesh-like steel. The better she does, the bigger it can be, and we can even throw in a blessing of elasticity that lets it fit no matter how big it is or what hole she's putting it in. If she really impresses us, we can even give her a second elasticity blessing so she can shrink and grow it at will (minimum: small silvery patch on her crotch, maximum: the head comes up to about her chin).

Make it clear she has your favor. Turn her loose on the rest of your followers for a few days and see what happens.
>>
No. 901464 ID: 51d5a1

>>901456
I would say more like skin of steel and inhuman elasticity, like rubber. But I guess it's ok, if all goes well, to reincarnation it goes.
>>
No. 901470 ID: 575ec0

Hmm. Has she ever been bound in chains and suspended a mile in the sky while being double penetrated? Triple?

So many positions to choose from up there...

Also, if our recent experiments with mortals show us anything, it's that they are delicate. after a day or so of this, do be sure to give her a couple days break before doing more to her.
It would be a shame to break our first follower.

In her down time... You should give her a few souls to dominate herself, i think, and the tools to do so. Maybe she'll come up with something interesting.
>>
No. 901480 ID: 4f423a

>>901440
>>901456
>>901464
>>901470

I'm sorry, but futa isn't my fetish and I'm not willing to write dick-girls. That said anything short of futa, scat, and male-on-male is fair game. Now if you don't mind, could you

> Roll 2d20+4?
>>
No. 901482 ID: 575ec0

rolled 14, 5 + 4 = 23

Sure thing
>>
No. 901488 ID: 51d5a1

rolled 2, 8 + 4 = 14

God, I can't re-count the quantity of times that I had to delete this comment because the difference of dice and Dice. Still, I'm ok with everything if you're ok, after all, this god quest has been a ultra fun time to me.
>>
No. 901518 ID: 4f423a

>>901482
>>901488

> 18, 9

Your brassy voice echoes through the chamber, and the girl shudders as several thick tendrils wrap around her upper thighs.

> "Ti'lan, you would do well to serve my mind before my body. I am ignorant of Eprelin, such trivial affairs are beneath my concern, but nonetheless, I grow curious. What can you tell me of the people of the desert sands and the gods they worship?"

The mortal opens her mouth to speak and bites her lip as a tendril flicks against her clit. Slightly annoyed, your steel fist thumps the armrest and she stutters, though arousal is plain in her voice.

> "In the ancient days, they say the world was green, and there was so much water to drink the sky would spit it out. Mortals didn't fight each other because they lived in a land of plenty, and there was peace beneath the elder pantheon."

Your curiosity is piqued.

> "Go on..."

As a wide-tipped vine ever-so-gently brushes her folds, Ti'lan bites a knuckle and mutters.

> "There were three, Hok'En, the god of storms who flooded the earth, Eprelas, the goddess of healing who drove the spirits of sickness away, and Bodo, the god of plenty, who gave a bountiful harvest each season. Together, they made the world a paradise, but then- Nnf"

Tired of waiting, the vine forced its way into her, and is slowly edging deeper as she tries to focus. It's amusing, but you're not about to let a plant disrupt Ti'lan's exposition. Your voice takes on a stern tone and while the mortal's face doesn't change, you can smell the fear.

> "Then what?"

> "Mnn, e-everything changed when the fire nation attacked."

You pause, and blink. This sounds familiar, but a search through your memory yields nothing.

> "Fire nation? What do you mean, fire nation?"

She closes her eyes and begins to stroke the throbbing vine.

> "The cultists of the blaze-bringer, they came from another world in their millions, wielding axe-spears and lightning staves. Hok'En tried to smite them, but their demon-god dueled him in the heavens and as they fought, his legions burned everything in their path. In those days no-one was learned in the ways of war, but they were disciplined and ferocious, and everyone who dared to fight was slaughtered."
> "Gnaaa~, ah, Bodo led an army of angry farmers and living thorns against them, but he was no warrior-god and only slowed their advance. When the resistance was shattered and his temple-farms incinerated, Bodo took his most faithful and fled to another realm. Through it all, Eprelas, blessed Eprelas stayed to mend the wounded, heal the sick, and stem the flames but she should've gone when she had the chance."
> "Fff-fa, as the fire nation burned the world to ashes and shattered his mountain shrines, Hok'En weakened but the fire god grew stronger, and in a decade, he ripped the storm god's skull from his shoulders and ate his heart to gain his power. Given command over storms, the fire god became unstoppable, and the heavens themselves turned against the stubborn few who refused to submit."
> "Eprelas tried to fight, but where Bodo at least had a scythe, she had nothing and was soon defeated. At this point the fire god's victory was inevitable, and rather than slay the goddess, he claimed her as a trophy of war, for her mercy was matched only by her beauty. He stole her essence and chained her to his throne, where she is a slave to his every whim."
> "Hnn, the fire god devoured the souls of Hok'En's faithful and the fires of his hell consumed their afterlife, but unbeknownst to him, clever Bodo stole Eprela's realm away so he could not reach it. Furious, the demon-god rampaged through the world, burned all that remained to cinders, and when he had finished, renamed the world Eprelin after his slave, because it had lost everything to him."
> "Aah, t-then, he and his cultists left in search of new worlds to plunder. Fortunately, the demon-god was impatient and many mortals were missed, but their lands were ruined, and the storm clouds were gone forever. A thousand years later, the water is almost gone, only a handful of cities remain, built above the last underground lakes, and everyone beyond the walls wanders through the sands struggling to quench their thrist."

Two more wriggling tendrils have jammed the squirming mortal's pussy full, her face is blood-red, and she can barely stand but to her credit, she continues to talk.

> "Three gods, far weaker than the elder pantheon, but far less merciful, have laid claim to the cities and they fight one another for dominance. The strongest is Nithrak the gore-lord, god of slaughter, rage, and impalement, then is Punkol the serpent, god of murder, snakes, and treachery, and last Fethas the parched, god of sand, thirst, and desolation. He's the weakest, but not by far, and his mummy-cult doubles by the decade."

Ti'lan's knees shake, and you can tell she wants nothing more than for you to bend her over and pound her cunt into the steel, but her loyalty supersedes her lust and she asks.

> "D-do you need to know anything else, or c-can we..?"

> With everything she's told you in mind, do you have anything to say?
>>
No. 901522 ID: 51d5a1

>>901518
>fire nation attacked
We finally have a secret element to make the Avatar, the Fountain bending! Well, actually this was pretty great! We found out where is the cities of the desert people and we can actually seek for them.

Let's ask about if she knows a bit of the geography of the place. As a nomad cult in a hell-like desert, they did know a lot of it and might know how to pin point a few notables points to visit considering that we didn't move a lot from the fountain, we also knew there was a few Oasis around there, so it's always good to know where and where not to get the right supplies.
>>
No. 901530 ID: 575ec0

Tell her that you will banish these pretenders from this world, once it is yours, you breath life into it once again.

Tell her she will live again, in service to you, to help make this a reality.

Ask her in what way does she wish to serve, however?

Will she be our divine herald, scouring the corners of the globe, preaching our name and performing miracles? wherever she walks?

Will she be our Holy Warrior? Our Immortal sword, that cleaves armies in our name?

Or will she be our Sacred Mother? Who ceaselessly indulges in the pleasures of the flesh only so she might give birth to Kings and Heros. Children touched by god. Tougher, stronger, faster, and smarter than the average man, with unique gifts so that they might be successful in all endeavors. Fantastic leaders, Fantastic Thinkers, Fantastic Soldiers.
It would also give us something else to do with all these souls piling up.

Whatever her choice, as soon as she answers, make sure EVERY HOLE IS FILLED.
>>
No. 901564 ID: 5be67c

>>901522
>>901530

If the fountain citadel is to overcome your rival gods and their cults, your followers must be well-supplied and well-acquainted with the desert sands, but you doubt Ti'lan is the ideal informant. Any information she has is at least five generations out of date and over two centuries undergoing nonstop rape by your godly realm will have left her memories fuzzy, to say the least. Besides that, any number of your followers could tell you what you need to know later, at the moment, you have more pressing concerns.

> "Fret not Ti'lan, in time, I shall oust the pretender gods, claim my rightful place as ruler of Eprelin, and seed superior steel life throughout the barren wastes. Soon, you shall live again, and your efforts shall prove essential in my endeavors. As the first among my faithful, I offer you alone the choice, how do you wish to serve? Shall you be my Divine Herald, bringing the doctrine of elasticity to all corners of the cosmos, shall you be my Immortal Sword, bringing sharpened and sanctified steel against all who dare oppose me, or shall you be my Sacred Mother, bringing life to those beyond mortality and touched by my power, forever bound by unnatural pregnancy and the maddening intensity of never-ending lust?"

Roll: 3

She answers without the faintest hesitation, and the dead seriousness only an ancient crone restored to youthful beauty can muster.

> "Master, on my own I am nothing, I am not worthy to speak nor to slay on your behalf, and I can conceive no higher cause than to take your dick and bear your children."

Unanimously, the tendrils exit her hole and coil around her wrists ans ankles. She stands for an instant before they force her to the floor, drag her across the room, and place her face-down, facing away from the base of your throne. A smile leaps to your lips unbidden as the mortal lifts her ass to the heavens and your godly realm's aura restores her pussy to a pristine state.

You rise to your feet, towering above the woman, and as you rest your divine dick between her ass-cheeks, she shivers, and not from the cold. Her voice is shaking, near to panic, and overcome with religious rapture.

> "M-master, I su-submit myself to your divinity, mind, body, and soul. I'm n-nothing but a hole to f-fuck, and a womb to bear your children! I'm yours, fill me with your seed, and m-make me-"

You've had enough of her babbling, and a single word ends her hysterics.

> "Silence."

Each of your steel hands grip her ass hard enough to leave welts, you line your veiny shaft to her moist lips, and after a few moments to appreciate her panting like a bitch in heat, you dive in. As her tightness gives way to your want, her cunt is ruined for your pleasure and she screams in agony but you pay her no heed. Ti'lan is soft as silk, wet as a waterfall, and spasming each inch you take, her body is ecstasy and your penis is in paradise. For hours, you pump and pound with wild abandon, without restraint, utterly careless of the pain she endures as her flesh mends anew only to be torn apart again.

When what feels like days have passed, you dig deeper than ever before, piercing her womb, and shout as unimaginable bliss strikes your essence, nearly a gallon of black seed is spilled into her body, and you come to a sudden epiphany that you've lost your virginity. Slowly but surely, you remove your length and sigh. Surveying the damage, it becomes clear that if she wasn't a regenerating quasi-intangible soul, she'd be dead a dozen times over, and as her flesh regenerates, there is not a doubt in your mind that she's pregnant. The spider has nothing on you.

> What do you want to do now?
>>
No. 901614 ID: 51d5a1

We must ensure that it receives good food and water for our offspring to be healthy, strong and probably educated enough, this can be easily guaranteed with the rust-wheat that the other souls will reap. I hope there's no need to bless it, considering it have ours genes and probally will be born as a god, demigod or maybe a monster, this just depends of the outcome.

We should also check other planes, considering that we can offer our power of turning the earth rich in steel for other favours and having contacts is always good. Doing it, we can maybe advance our resources and tecnology a bit more, and, also, considering everything we can also trade mantles.
>>
No. 901624 ID: 575ec0

I suppose our civilization must be strengthened if we are going to war.

First off, sandstorms.
Upgrade the fountain. Make it grander, taller and more imposing, but also make it take "Root". Grow from it underground, a twisting network of steel pipettes that gently moisten the land and expand in all directions for as far as you see fit.
Allow your mortal followers to construct replicas capable of the same, but do not put those under your direct power.
Instead, instruct your followers to perform a variety of rituals to do so. Power them from "well contained" sexual energy.
Also create a prayer or ritual to banishes from or prevents these roots from being in a certain place.

once moist, seed the non-rusty soil with whatever sand tolerant plants this barren world has to offer.

Once a moist perimeter has been mad, place an ironwood forest around its outskirts, and lightly pepper the inside of this perimeter with these hard orange things as well.

Once the land can once again support some animal life, import some grazing beasts as well. These people need some meat in their diet.

Finally, add a rare creeping vine that binds and rapes whatever touches it.
>>
No. 901656 ID: daa36e

>>901614
>>901624

> Roll 2d20
>>
No. 901663 ID: 575ec0

rolled 9, 11 = 20

>>901656
>>
No. 901671 ID: 51d5a1

rolled 9, 17 = 26

>>
No. 901743 ID: 26596f

>>901663
>>901671

> 9, 17

A brief scan through the woman affirms your suspicions, deific seed would never fail to impregnate a mortal woman, much less one so willing. Interestingly enough, it appears the energies released during the loss of your virginity enhanced the sperm, and the fetus is almost certain to be well-beyond any mortal, whether it is a demigod or monstrosity remains to be seen. Regardless, your first worshipper served you well in life and in death she is going to birth your child, ensuring her comfort is the least you can do. Scooping the insensate girl over your shoulder, you vanish and rematerialize in a luxurious sleeping chamber.

There, you deposit her onto the bed, and with the wave of a hand, send her into a deep slumber. Depending on the godspawn's might, the gestation could take a century or longer. This way she'll awaken a mere month before birth, by then your servants will be ready to ease her through labor, and your palace prepared to accommodate the infant. For a moment, you consider the fetus's need for nourishment, then cast your worries aside, your godly realm's aura should prove more than sufficient. With Ti'lan taken care of, you turn your attentions to Eprelin. If your name is to reign supreme, the dunes must be undone, and your faith must be stronger than the cults of Nithrak, Punkol, and Fethas.

With the screech of grinding steel, you manifest in the limestone temple and pause. It appears the faithful have forged a steel sculpture in your name, and placed it above the spider's throne. The line of bucket-bearing mortals is thicker than it was, and the impassioned zeal has left their prayers, replaced with a content familiarity. If you didn't intervene, within five generations their faith would be hollow tradition, and in ten it would be gone. You're surprised to see that the spider has grown one and half-again in size, and its throne-slaves have doubled in number. Its pumping has grown to a pummeling, the girl held between its legs seems to moan in pain more than pleasure, and sure enough, its tongue is alternating between the slave's intimate parts and the waters of the fountain.

Like laat time, the spider is ecstatic to see you, and while the mortals can't sense your presence, they are shocked to hear it speak.

> SNAP FINGERS, YOU HAVE RETURNED!

> "How long have I been gone?"

> APPROXIMATELY EIGHT TENTHS OF A LIFETIME

> "Hmm. I see you've grown in size, grown your harem, and built a crude statue of me. Care to explaim?"

> IN YOUR ABSENCE, I FOUND MYSELF GROWING IN BULK AND PENILE LENGTH, AND ASSUMED YOU HAD BESTOWED A BLESSING UPON ME UNTIL I WITNESSED A MORTAL PRAYING TO ME INSTEAD OF YOU. TO FULFILL MY FUNCTION, I REMOVED HIS HEAD FROM HIS SHOULDERS, ORDERED THE BODY BURNED BEFORE THE WHOLE OF THE FOUNTAIN CITADEL, AND OVERSAW THE CONSTRUCTION OF A STATUE DEDICATED TO YOUR MAGNIFICENCE, SO THAT THEY WOULD BE SLOW TO FORGET THE CONSEQUENCES OF BLASPHEMY.
> SINCE THEN, I HAVE YET TO HEAR A MORTAL PRAY TO ANY BUT YOU, AND I HAVE FULFILLED MY FUNCTION. I ASSUME MY INCREASED SIZE IS THE RESULT OF THEIR WORSHIP, THOUGH IT IS LIKELY I AM INCORRECT. MY INCREASE IN SIZE WAS ESPECIALLY PRONOUNCED IN MY GENITAL LENGTH AND GIRTH, AND I HAVE DOUBLED THE NUMBER OF THRONE ATTENDENTS TO SLOW THEIR USAGE RATE.
> SNAP FINGERS, I'VE COME TO BELIEVE THE FEMALE ANATOMY IS FLAWED. IN THE BEGINNING, THOSE WITH WHOM I COPULATED RETAINED THEIR TIGHTNESS FOR MONTHS, IF NOT YEARS, BUT SINCE I'VE GROWN, THEY BARELY LAST A MONTH, AND IN THE NAME OF EFFICIENCY I'M FORCED TO PLOW LOOSE PUSSY, AND MY LUST IS SLOWLY INCREASING. IN ADDITION, THEIR WILLINGNESS TO SUBMIT IS DWINDLING, AND I'VE HAD TO FORCE NINETEEN MORTALS TO SUBMIT FOR THE SAKE OF MY FUNCTION. IT IS NOT DIFFICULT, BUT IF SOMETHING DOESN'T CHANGE, I FEAR NONE WILL SATISFY MY LUSTS OF THEIR OWN VOLITION, WHICH WOULD NEGATIVELY IMPACT THE EFFICIENCY OF THE FOUNTAIN CITADEL.

The slave girl's eyes are numb, similar to the mortals trapped in your godly realm, and she does nothing, save wince each thrust, moan in a tone you can only describe as tormented lust, and shudder at the occasional, fleetingly rare orgasm.

> "What do you propose I do?"

> ACCORDING TO MY CALCULATIONS, INCREASING THE SEVERITY TEMPLE GIRL'S LUST, INCREASING THE INTENSITY OF THEIR ORGASMS, AND GRANTING THEM LIMITED CONTROL OVER THEIR INTERNAL ELASTICITY WOULD REDUCE, IF NOT REMOVE THE PROBLEM ENTIRELY.

> "I see. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

> THE POPULATION IS THRIVING DESPITE WATER RATIONING AND INCREASED SAND-STORM FREQUENCY.

> "You're rationing water?"

> AFFIRMATIVE, ITS VOLUME IS INSUFFICIENT TO SUSTAIN TWO THOUSAND MORTALS INDEFINITELY, AND WE'VE BEEN FORCED TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT.

> "Hmm, let's see if I can't change that."

Releasing your divinity on the fountain, you cause it to double in size and splendor before the awe-struck mortals, and spread a network of pipes throughout the sand beneath the citadel. They'll irrigate the dunes, drop by drop, and if left undisturbed, in time, it may return to the soil it once was. The divine intervention for the sake of fertile land is perhaps the largest since the age of Bodo, and the titanic effort reduces your essence by nearly a fifth, but it's not enough. The faithful's thirst must be quenched, and it must be satisfied without them trekking to the spider's temple a dozen times each day.

In full-view of the community, you create a simplistic steel fountain a fourth in size, and instead of blessing it to be eternally on the cusp of overflowing, you imbue an enchantment into the steel. The fountain will produce fresh water, but it requires a ritual prayer, and a male orgasming in a female chained ten feet or closer to the fountain to function. The quantity of orgasms is intrinsically linked to the water, at roughly two gallons per jizz, and the stronger it is, the sweeter-tasting the water. Over time, it will spread a haphazard maze of pipes similar to the original, and link networks to contribute to the flow.

Sudden inspiration strikes, you sink into a year-long fugue improving the design, and when you've finished, even you're impressed with your work. Replicas of the fountain will take minimal steel to manufacture, the architecture basic enough the construction won't take long even by mortal standards, and the ritual magic woven in them is easy enough for a simpleton to do. This will be an valuable asset for the mortals of the fountain citadel, and in deserts beyond for that matter. It is glorious, and you immediately instruct the spider to educate mortals in their use and manufacture.

Gazing upon the fountain citadel, you find its aesthetic is lacking, and seeing a sandstorm sullying the fountain water irritates you. From the depths of your godly realm, you bring steel into being at the edges of your territory, mold it into a living plant similar to the rust-wheat, and instruct it to grow as if it were a tree. The results are successful, but somewhat disappointing, as they require exponentially more water than the rust-wheat only those near the fountains are able to mature, and most fail to reach their full-height within their two-generation lifespan. Still, they're hard as iron, the mortals take to smelting them as a fragile, expensive, and therefore high-class alternative to steel, and eventually, a modest forest emerges.

Your efforts to seed the fountain citadel with a desert plants are similarly unworkable, but for the opposite reason. There's too much water in the sand for them to survive, let alone thrive, and it's abundantly clear to you that livestock couldn't exist in these conditions. If you want to turn the barren desert into fertile farmland, you'll have to import the animals and vegetation yourself. Determined not to let your efforts be in vain, you transplant a slightly fleshy variant of the tendrils of your godly realm, and modify them to reproduce, and lie in ambush for incautious mortals.

You're curious to see how the slowly growing mortal culture accommodates these changes, but you have more pressing concerns at hand.

> Do you want to return to your godly realm and influence your firstborn's development, or do you want to branch out to other planes? Further, before you leave, do you want to do anything else in Eprelin?
>>
No. 901818 ID: 51d5a1

>Alert him of the other gods and to stay aware and cautious in case of another city. Other than this, say to Spider to build a few watch towers and a few traps around the city just in case.
>Ask Spider to send people to map the desert and collect other nomads, also maping Oasis and other shit.

That's going to be enough, now, focusing in another problem.
>Create a wive for Spider, just throwing more women will not solve it permanently as they have life-spans and god, they can and could've be doing other shit. As we have more power and essence in hands, maybe make it bigger than Spider and stronger, centipede-like as well, why? Because bugs are damn cool.
>Return to realm and influence the first born as well.
>>
No. 901838 ID: 575ec0

Ok this spider harem bullshit is getting silly. Time to nip it in the bud.

Order the spider to triple the current size of his harem. Have the girls take shifts. One day on two days off. Make the proposed enhancements to elasticity control, orgasm intensity, and lust permanent blessings upon those who serve for ten years, Woman who serve in this way should also be more fertile and made to produce healthier children for the remainder of their childbearing years. Woman should be allowed to leave after ten years of service. Though the initial harem expansion may require force, induction into the harem should be a voluntary thing. Tell spider this, and then create a steel plaque describing this at the entrance of the temple.

Spider should under no circumstances be allowed to expand his harem larger than this, if he gets more lustfull he will need to get creative or contact us for help. Create a ward that will alert us if Spider Disobeys, failing in his duties, or becomes significantly more powerful. Provide him a method of contacting us.

>We will tend to our first born. He is precious.
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