The Statue

Hannah opened her eyes as dawn gently lit up the Museum. She was nude, laid bare on the floor directly beneath a statue of her. In her (real and tired) arms were the bodies of two (equally nude) worshippers. They were once merely coworkers — colleagues, friends. Perhaps, if the spirit of the statue had been different, they could have been lovers, even slaves would have been a more equal balance of power.

But to them, she was now the only goddess in the universe. The real form of a divine power which existed beyond the shadow of doubt. Something so strong that it could contort their muscles and pinch and tickle each nerve ending however it so pleased. The statue was the locus, but she — she was the true embodiment of Gilira — the goddess of fertility, love, the blessed release of orgasm, and the potency of surrender. The night before both of them had been entirely about themselves. Hannah had been acting a little strange and protective of her notes, but they just assumed that her behavior alongside her melancholy earlier in the day were symptomatic of some personal issues, and let it be.

The night before, she had to step aside to collect all her notes after her backpack spilled everything on the ground. Within minutes of her moving out of sight, though, the museum’s lights had shut off as with most electronics in the building, effectively locking them in — neither had their physical keys with them. The two had ventured to the exhibition they worked with Hannah on: “Beauty through the Ages.” There was a blue-green phosphorescence bleeding out against the moonlit atrium, which both felt the need to investigate. The exhibition was just as it had been the day earlier — the statue of Gilira, an ancient goddess of the Elamites was glowing.

While Hannah put her notes back together, Jane and Davis stood in awe of the possessed stone and saw runes inscribed at its base. By day, only a few carvings were visible. At night, while the stone glowed against the dark, a new plethora of symbols were clear — the two put their minds together and rapidly came to the same revelations which Hannah had the night before. The spirit of Gilira awoke, and took hold of their minds and bodies. Just as it had done with Hannah, muscles went from weak to toned, skin cleared out, hair thickened and softened, vision cleared, and any few wrinkles were ironed out. But unlike Hannah, who was imbued with a new confidence and control, it saw these two as new worshippers to induct into the her fold.

As they saw the truth behind the words below the statue’s feet, they felt an intense, overwhelming urge to remove their clothes. Jane and Davis, two graduate professionals, stripped bare and began to kiss the statue up and down as though it were their only lover. Both felt the need to compete for its ungiving attention — having no knowledge that their actions elicited intense sensations in Hannah, just a few rooms over. After twenty minutes of debasing themselves against the statue — both leaking lubricant all over the floor as they worked on it — Hannah showed herself, and demanded their attention.

Their minds were gone the second they saw the statue, but upon gazing at its living representation, they were reduced below the status of slaves. They were nothing but the tools of a woman bent upon maximizing the visceral pleasure she could draw from the trio. Worshippers, objects, and with no desire to be anything but — so long as the power of the statue held them.

Yet, as the morning sun arose, the towering figure of Gilira began to fade — each symbol’s light grew dimmer while the room brightened up. Hannah could only recall the faintest details from the night before, but the sensation and the visage of her two friends helplessly sticking themselves upon her — that played out over and over again in a loop. She savored it, gripping them both tightly in her arms. She was their goddess — not merely a domme, not merely a mistress, but a goddess. That truth would never leave her, but the rapturous power it imbued seemed to drain out of her with each passing second. She missed it, longed for it, but knew why it was gone. Intuitively, she knew the statue’s power was strongest under the moon, and as the sun rose overhead, she lifted her back up.

The other two would wake up soon, and soon after that, the morning cleaners would come in and have questions. They needed to be gone before any of that happened. Her senses were beginning to come back to her and she tried to shake the two bodies on the ground awake.

Davis and Jane woke up in a start and turned over to face her. Their eyes were enthralled still — like little devoted puppies. But the power of Gilira faded just as quickly as it had in Hannah. Jane was the first to speak,

“Holy… shit… goddess we need to… I mean. Hannah, mistress, we… fuck… sweetheart… I… I can’t think…” Hannah put up a finger against Jane’s lips and shushed her, pointing to the pile of clothes at the base of the statue.

“Look, Jane, Davis, we need to get the fuck out of her right now. Now, we can talk about what happened later, but go! Get to your cars and get back to… oh I dunno… um…” She scrambled for a place they could debrief.

Davis’ eyes lit up and he suggested, “Your place, goddess?” Hannah was amused at him. Unlike Jane, he seemed to have no hesitation at using the epitaph.

“Sure. Just meet me there, ok? And wipe off the statue if you can!” The two had pulled off her smart watch, and after finding it, she sighed in relief to see it was barely past 5:50 — the cleaning crews wouldn’t arrive for another half hour. She stumbled out of the staff door, putting on her shoes while she walked to the car.

She wondered to herself about what had happened the last two nights. That statue had possessed her, yes, but why didn’t it do the same thing to her friends. The answer boiled up from her unconscious just as quickly as the question had — the goddess needs one priestess, one locus. But it needs many worshippers. Many devoted, eager, thirsty, horny worshippers, all ready to do anything for an encounter with her.

The thought elicited a shiver from her — her friends as worshippers. How many could she have? What would she make them do? The dark recesses in her hindbrain suggested a plethora of delicious acts to demand, but her conscious mind flushed them. Right now, she needed to get herself home, get herself to safety, and get her friends checked out. They weren’t her slaves, they weren’t to be used like objects, they were people whose minds needed to be free and independent.

And yet, at the same time, they were her people.

As she turned right into her apartment’s parking garage, she stomped her foot on the floor of the car. “No. They are my friends. Not my…” The darkness of the garage hid the sun from view, allowing the spirit which influenced her to stretch its phantasmal muscles.

“Oh, they are my worshippers.” She licked her lips at the notion. She shook her head and focused her mind of repressing the thought. Darkness, or maybe just the absence of sunlight, seemed to allow it more ground. But was it bad to allow it ground? She wondered to herself — it had done so much for her, transformed her, made her better. And beyond that, how could she really divide herself from it? It was her, she was it. She was Gilira, in a real sense, the statue was of her, and she was of the statue.

The puzzling thoughts riddled her mind for a while, but eventually she found her parking spot, and began walking to the elevator. Her posture was strong, upright, with confident strides. No one was around, no mirrors to embrace her image, just the wooden frame of the door.

Yesterday, it was only physical changes, but now these mental changes — what if it was just a little confidence boost? What if that’s all this was. Simply a certainty in her form. She knew she had the body of a goddess, and wasn’t afraid to accept it.

“Yes.” The word was hissed out inside the elevator rising up to the sixth floor.

The hallways were lit by dim light, and as she walked towards her apartment, the sunlight in the breezeway bled through. Hannah returned to her full self, and as she swung into the apartment and collapsed onto the couch, she felt the sunlight simultaneously draining her of energy and charging something inside her.

It began to connect. Just like the glowing algorite, she needed the sun to renew her, but only under darkness could the powers she now held be expressed. And when they could be, they needed to be. They pulled every string in her head, turning her from a hesitant, nervous student into the goddess her form reflected.

“What am I going to do?” She mused idly, while lazing on the leather sofa. No voice came. No spirit from outside of her. Just her and her slightly messy apartment. She wasn’t happy about the mess. Between yesterday rushing out to get back to work and today’s affairs, she hadn’t vacuumed nor done her dishes, and as the boredom of lounging in the sun dawned upon her, she realized just how much deep cleaning needed to be done. Yes, the place was facially clean, but everything had little asterisks on it. Yes her bed was made, but the sheets could be washed. Yes, her laundry was done, but was everything wrinkle and lint free?

A devious thought crept into her mind, but she pushed it back. Her friends were not maids. She wasn’t going to use them to clean out the apartment. That was below her, and it was below them. Even the powers she now held — and which held her — couldn’t make her do that. Yet, the idea of having two devoted servants doting on her while she watched and waited had an undeniable appeal.

For a while, she fantasized about what she would have them wear, if they were to do that, but within a few minutes, she heard someone knocking at the door. It had been half an hour, shockingly. Half an hour just thinking about how much nicer it would be if the place were cleaner. She grinned a little at the idea of having them do it, just one last thought, before she unlocked the door and looked out.

Jane and Davis were still bedraggled. Jane’s hair was everywhere, and Davis’ collar was bent and wrinkled out of shape. Looking in that direction, Hannah noticed that both had necks covered in hickies. Hannah had no recollection of having marked them like that the night before, and given how fresh they were, it seemed only one explanation made sense.

She pulled them both inside and shut the door behind them. “Gods, could you two not hold yourselves from each other for more than a few minutes??” She scowled at them, and added, “We were inches away from being caught, and you spent that time making out!?”

Both of them blushed guiltily, and Jane started by trying to explain her behavior. She stepped backwards into the sunlight, feeling the same strange invigoration which Hannah had, “Well I, I mean. We both had quite the night last night, and it just. I don’t know Hannah, we got into my car, and it just kinda happened. I mean no offense by this, but until yesterday, I had never even considered either of you like that. Now it’s just… god, I can’t not think of you two like that.”

Hannah sighed and pushed her hair back from her forehead, before trying to piece everything together, “Ok. So just… you two saw the statue, you saw the writing on it, right?” The two nodded synchronously, which Hannah noticed, startling her, “How are you two doing that?”

They both responded, synchronously, “Doing what?”

“That! You’re in sync. Like there’s a wire connecting you two.”

Davis took the response, “It’s weird right! I feel connected — to both of you, actually. But it’s different. I feel something close to fraternal, but not exactly fraternal, with Jane. But there’s this mental connection. Like root processing linked together.”

Hannah shook her head, “That almost made no sense. Jane, what’s going on here?”

Jane shrugged, and said, “I guess it’s like we can just feel each other. It’s less intense now, but last night, it was like we kinda shared a mind. I mean, not really, like I could still feel myself, my own body, but we were connected!”

Hannah couldn’t make sense of it, so just set it aside for the moment, “Ok. That aside, what happened when you two saw the words? Did it jump out to you?”

Davis furrowed his brow, “You jumped out at us. Like a ghost version of you.”

“But I was in the other room sorting my notes.”

“Is it really hard to believe, my… Hannah.” Jane struggled with her words.

“Why are you doing that? What’s the difficulty?” Hannah moved to the dining room table, and added, “Also, none of us have had anything to eat — what should we do about that?”

Before Jane could speak up, Davis interjected, “I’ll make something! What would you like, goddess?” Hannah felt a fluttering joy at the sound of that word, followed by her superego reprising her for it. She was better than this.

“No, I — we can just order something in. Does the Coral sound good to you two?”

“Please, I insist, I can make anything you need.” Davis earnestly pleaded with her, and Hannah acquiesced.

“Just scrambled eggs and toast is fine.”

“I’ll do you one better!” He dashed into the kitchen and began his work.

Hannah shook her head and rested it on her palms, “What am I gonna do about you two?” She looked over to Jane, who was standing at attention in the living room, “You can sit down here, Jane. I won’t bite.”

Jane stepped over and took a seat on the bench across from Hannah, “I was having difficulty there because it’s like there’s two parts of me now.”

Hannah pulled her head up and recognized this as the same phenomena that she was feeling, “Go on!”

“So, before last night, I was me. I had my goals, desires, all that. And then bam! Your ghost thing popped into me and made a new part of me. And it was…” She trailed off, the mere thought of it sending shivers and goosebumps down her back.

“It was sexy. Horny, it wanted to be your sexual object. A worshipper of the divine, the spirit of love.” Hannah and Jane shared a mutual sigh at the sound of those syllables dripping out of her mouth, “It’s just so hard to resist, and then the part of me that wants to resist it doesn’t even want it that badly. I can still be me — it’s just now me includes ‘sexy-horny-cult-of-Hannah-lady'” She paused, adding, “And that’s the other thing I wanted to tell you. I was so excited to have Davis there, like I never considered him that way. Not that he’s not hot now — not that he wasn’t before, but. We’re professionals! I can’t just fuck him in front of our work, you know…” Her thoughts were beginning to get difficult to follow.

“Jane, back to the point. You were gonna say something.”

“Right. I didn’t just want it to be him and me and you. I wanted it to be more people. Part of me still wants it to be more people. Like if we could turn the whole world into slaves like us. Worshippers like us. And we’d do it just how you…” Hannah cut her off.

“Jane. That’s not going to happen. I won’t let that happen. We need to stop this all right now before it gets bad.”

Jane, coming more into her own, agreed, “Yes. And I mean, Davis and me were both bi before, so I guess this isn’t bad that way, but what if we start pulling people in who wouldn’t want this?”

Hannah, flustered, “You just said you didn’t want this before last night!?”

“I know, I know, but like, I didn’t not want it. I just was ambivalent about the idea of it. It’s like my mind was in neutral. And now it’s hard to keep the acceleration slow.”

“That doesn’t make sense how you’re saying it.” Davis said from the kitchen, before adding, “Sorry to interrupt my goddess.”

The added “goddess” made Hannah return to the point at hand.

“Ok. Like I was saying, why do you have difficulty just saying ‘Hannah'”

Jane hesitated for a moment, staring blankly across the table before responding, “It’s difficult because part of me insinuates itself whenever I think about you.” A thin sliver of saliva dripped from her lips, and Jane had to lick it up before continuing, “I look at you and that part of me sees my goddess. I can’t do anything to stop that part of me. Like… I want to resist it? But I don’t know that I want that anymore. Not after the last few hours. Resisting that part of me feels wrong. But I don’t know if that’s still me? I don’t know…” She trailed off, looking over towards Davis, then refocusing on Hannah. Her eyes glazed over and took on a dreamy look. Hannah couldn’t help but soak in the adulation.

Hannah realized how powerful, how incredibly sensuous it felt simply to be looked upon like this. There was no pretense of reciprocity, no notion that Jane would get anything in return. Merely being able to gaze at Hannah was her reward. And if she had the opportunity to do more, if Hannah so much as lifted a finger to request something of her, she would do it — without hesitation. Hannah grinned down at her worshipper for a minute or two, but the potent smell of bacon wafted over to shake her from the trance.

She asked Jane, “Do you want out of this?”

“Huh??” Jane shook her head, coming to.

“Davis, you too,” Her voice had suddenly taken a more serious tone, “Do we want to get away from this? Yesterday, actually, two days ago, when I first looked at the statue, it was different. I said something to it when I noticed the glyphs in the bottom. Maybe I could change it back, and we could return to what we were before all this.”

Davis, instead of responding, drifted over to the table with two plates of eggs benedict and a heaping pile of bacon strips.

Hannah was thoroughly surprised at this, “Davis, I didn’t buy any bacon — where did you get this?”

“My lady, it was in your fridge. Same with the eggs and the rolls.” He set the two up with cups of orange juice too, with sprigs of mint on top.

“I mean, goddess, I’m sure you can get used to all this.” Jane patiently waited for Hannah to take the first bite. Jane showed no hesitation at addressing Hannah as such.

“I know. I know. That’s what makes this hard. One part of me wants this to be the beginning of something incredible. But at the same time, I don’t want this to take over my whole life. Part of me wants to be normal. Or, actually…” She paused, taking a knife to the egg and poking it open, letting a gush of yolk coat the bread, “I want to go back to yesterday. Before you two saw the statue, before the sex. Before all that. The statue started by changing me. And it didn’t change me to feel like this. It just made me hotter. Fixed my eyesight. Gave me better coordination. It’s like it looked at me and chiseled away all the rougher edges. Smoothed me out and made me the best me I could be.”

She bit into the eggs benedict, before looking up at Davis, “This is actually fucking good.” And stuffed herself with another mouthful.

Jane eagerly started on her breakfast, remaining silent for a moment before suggesting, “Well, maybe Gilira thought that the best you could be was a locus for her… and the best we could be is worshippers for you.”

Davis nodded, but before Hannah could ask him his thoughts, he yawned then said, “I’m actually feeling really tired, my mistress. Is there somewhere I may sleep?”

Hannah hesitated to offer her own bed, but as there was nowhere else, she pointed to her bedroom. Davis stumbled over, and promptly collapsed onto the mattress, likely already unconscious before he hit the cushion. Hannah chuckled at that, and asked Jane, “Surprised it took that long for last night to catch up with him.”

Jane didn’t respond, and Hannah turned over to face her. She stared blankly into the distance.

Hannah got up and moved over to her — Jane didn’t react in the meanwhile, nor even when Hannah waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“Jane?” She snapped her fingers in front of her, but nothing happened, “Jane?” Hannah put it together that the two of them had been hit by a wave of tiredness simultaneously, and that they were likely under the spell of the statue.

Hannah grinned, the part of her mind sympathetic to it whispering what it was going to do to them. As she held herself from diving into those licentious thoughts, Jane collapsed forward, only narrowly missing her plate of eggs. Hannah pulled her back up, and hauled her over to the couch.

As she laid Jane down, she could feel that the statue’s powers were coursing through her — Jane was slightly feverish, and her clothes were already starting to feel looser in some areas, tighter in others. Hannah looked down as the transformations began. They were too slow to notice with the naked eye, but over the last half hour, Jane’s breasts had strained against her bra, pushing outward as the statue readjusted them to befit her new purpose.

“This will be the beginning. You will be my worshipper.” The words dribbled out of Hannah’s mouth without any mind behind them. Hannah caught herself, but let them continue, “Yours will be the body of a worshipper, the body of my high priestess. My favorite woman.” She reached down, under Jane’s sweater, and unclasped the bra, letting it hang loose over her chest while she lay unconscious on the couch.

Hannah took a few steps back, but bent back down to unbutton Jane’s jeans, making sure that the stress on them wouldn’t break them as well. But with that, she would allow the goddess to work her magic on the woman’s form. She needed to ensure Davis was all well.

Seeing the boy unconscious on her bed, she realized she would need to flip him over onto his belly. He wasn’t particularly tall, and she knew the statue would do little to change that, but a five foot eight man was still heavy as bricks when he wasn’t helping you move him. Gilira gave her strength, and he flipped over onto his back. Hannah giggled as she looked down at his jeans. Whatever dreams the goddess had decided to entertain him with, she had no clue. But the arousal straining against the fabric was intense enough to make her smile. She undid his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and whispered in his ear, “You will be the priest. My favorite among men. Your body will suit that purpose. To worship. To be the high priest.”

She strolled back into the living room to watch as Jane’s body was sculpted from its form. A tingling thought in the back of the mind attached an addendum to that — she would assist in the transformation. Jane was sprawled out on the sofa, and Hannah bent down to place a hand on her head, feeling her scalp and then putting one hand over the other into her hair. She kneeled beside the couch and murmured under her breath, “You always had such fine brown hair. So little I could see to improve upon. Yet, everyone deserves a refresh, I think.” She began to massage the scalp, putting all fingers to work at it. Jane’s mouth opened and let out a guttural sigh of approval.

“Ohhhh, such a good good priestess, such a good babe she is.” The massage continued down Jane’s temples to her collar, where Hannah pressed and molded the bone into a more delicate, pronounced angle. Each push of her hand shifted the tissue like it were clay — Hannah gleefully continued down to her ribs, and then down to the pair of breasts freely hanging on Jane’s chest. The bra had halfway fallen off, and Hannah pulled it away, tossing it aside before beginning to gently knead the tissue like balls of dough. She took care to avoid touching the nipples, they were next in line. Every few seconds of pressure on the orbs caused them to enlarge ever so slightly. Hannah was careful not to overdo the change; too much of a good thing, after all. They had become engorged, but not distended. Large enough to demand the eyes, but not so large as to obscure the other features, nor so much as to make moving uncomfortable.

She twirled her fingers around Jane’s two nipples before sighing into her ear, “I’ll return shortly, I have two in the oven right know.” And she dashed over to Davis. His chest was broad as it stood, but Hannah rubbed her palms together with anticipation before she gripped his two shoulders and tugged in opposite directions. They stretched out — only slightly — underneath his t-shirt. The student’s chest and belly had been somewhat flabby, and Hannah looked at him, “Choices, choices…” The goddess hadn’t turned her into some Olympian. Not all stone must be made the same. She had freedom to choose with this one, just as she would soon with Jane. Chiseled or soft marble.

“Broad shoulders. Your stocky body needs a good bit of muscle, but let’s not get carried away.” She bent over and massaged his chest — working down what little fat had been on him into nothing. It was as though each rolling of her palms forced it inside him, and then sweated out across the brow and back. His belly received a similar fate, “I won’t do all the work for you, but this should be a good start…” She returned to his arms, noticing that the biceps were already fairly sturdy, perhaps already just what she wanted. The forearms though, they needed to be made just a little bulkier.

She dug her thumbs into the muscle and skin, pushing outward and inward, her nails and bones sculpting the tissue into the ideal shape. She grinned at the creation she was making. Perhaps a little more muscle wouldn’t hurt any. Just a little.

She moved down to Davis’ belly and began to rake her fingers down to his waist — each tug thinning out the layer of fat and skin under them. Underneath, a layer of dense, tone muscle became more and more apparent. She stopped herself short of turning him into a godly statue. He wasn’t meant for that, but a heroic stature was more than sufficient for the man beneath her. She flipped him back over onto his belly and pulled his jeans below the waist. His butt was nothing to speak of, but that was far from acceptable — she smacked it, and there was so little there it felt like striking bone. Unacceptable. She gripped the skin and pulled outward, then recessed it, then pulled, molding it to her intentions like one would a block of hard candy as it cooled. Unlike Jane’s breasts, Davis’ ass took a good bit of muscle to change. She genuinely needed to put in a lot of hard work to correct the mistakes which nature had left him to solve. It was stubborn, but with each successive motion, it became more shapely.

She wanted to rest her head on it now, but it wasn’t quite there yet. The hair on his skin wouldn’t be of any use now, and she dug her nails into the skin, raking it off better than any razor could. Now the olive skin was made bare, and his body was nearly ready. She would return to him once she finished Jane.

Jane had tossed and turned while she worked out Davis, but still looked placid and relaxed as Gilira refinished and finely polished the broad strokes which Hannah had performed. Hannah lunged down and removed Jane’s pants, getting a good look at her midriff before deciding what to do. It was already right, very soft, with contours in just the right places, but like Davis, her ass would definitely need some redefinition, and Jane decided it would be best to start there, then work outwards.

She couldn’t help herself but to smack Jane’s ass playfully once she got Jane on her belly. She loved how it jiggled just slightly, but it would need much more. She sat herself on the sofa with Jane and grabbed both cheeks. Unlike Davis, hers moved with no resistance, the tissue expanding as she gripped it tightly in her claws. In a matter of just a minute, Jane’s ass was ideal — with just the right curvature over the upper thighs, just the right contour with the waist, everything statuesque. Hannah looked up at the lower back, and began to dig in with her lower palms to work out every single knot she could find.

For hours she switched between the two, playing around with their forms, modifying, reshaping, and joyously crafting her perfect pair of worshippers. After the feverous molding was completed, though, she took a seat at the dining table and surveyed her home while the two slowly came to. The fanatic excasy had faded from her mind, and was replaced now with a fatigued sense of regret. She had taken a hand in the non-consentual modification of two of her closest friends. Taken their bodies in her hands and made them into something else — without a word of approval from either of them. And yet, part of her was happy to see a groggy, busty Jane stumbling back over to the table, happy to see Davis’ arms leaning against her doorframe, his face newly modified to be more sharp, more pronounced.

Jane was the first to speak up, and only managed to let out a single sound, “Wow.” She slumped onto the dining room chair and looked across at Hannah, “Just. Wow.” Davis followed suit and sat himself on the bench.

“Thank you, my lady.” The words were panted out. Neither of them needed mirrors when they had Hannah’s eyes upon them. Hell may have been other people, but heaven was right here, being the subject of Hannah’s gaze. They looked up to her at the end of the table, with only one thought on their minds.

Hannah broke the silence and sighed out, fully her own, “So. What comes next for all of us?”

The silence between them continued until Hannah asked them, “Did she tell you two anything in your dreams?”

Jane and Davis both nodded, but this time Davis started, “She wants us to be your loyal, ready worshippers. She talked to us like we were dogs. Maybe children, or something. Or maybe just like she loved us. But she is you, right?” He paused, still in a haze from the dream, “How did she do that?”

Jane’s slurred voice added, “She’s magic, she lets us love each other, lets us love her. It’s so hot to fucking do that. Goddess let me… let me….” She drifted off, grinning, as she heaved her body up and started walking around the table to meet her goddess closer. Jane lowered herself as she approached, and sat, kneeling before Jane. Her tongue lulled out of her mouth, and she looked up in awe at the woman who had changed her. Davis, seeing this unbridled adulation, followed suit on her other side.

Hannah was tempted to give in, and to let the two slaves pleasure her once more, but one grain of resistance caused her to get up and shout, “Guys! Wake up! We need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about all this!” She stood up from her seat and pulled the two up off their knees, dragging them forcefully from their trance.

“Fuck! It’s like I’m dealing with children or something — if we keep going like this we’ll be out of a job, out of money, and just a trio of crazies on the streets. Jane. Davis. If you two want to make things work in all this, we need to stop thinking from down here.” She grabbed their crotches to emphasize, causing both to whine a little at the grip.

Hannah walked over to the balcony, shut the sliding glass door, and looked back, “Ok. So you two go completely mindless over me, and I go all power hungry. Makes sense. We just need to know what the triggers are, avoid them, and everything’s gonna be fine.”

Davis, having pulled himself from trance, looked at Hannah and asked, “Well, do we really want that? I don’t know about you two, but this feels right. Like very right. More right than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Jane nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I don’t know what my brain would do if we just cut this off right here.” They knew Hannah felt the same.

“We can do this, sweet worshippers,” the words fell from her lips without her control, but she regained her composure, “but this isn’t our world. We have our jobs, we have our facades to keep up, and maybe we can pull more into this tryst. If that’s what we want. But, we need to keep ourselves together and actually manage our lives through all of this, ok? We need to go back onto campus today, pretend like none of this happened, and we’ll figure things out from there, ok?”

The two worshippers nodded, and Jane spoke, “How are we supposed to resist these urges, goddess?” Her control was fading, as was Davis’.

Hannah felt the desire creeping up on her, “Maybe…” She looked at her two worshippers and a salacious thought crossed her mind, “Maybe if we just, exercise these urges together. Maybe if we do it regularly, we can get our fill and just walk it off…”

The two before her needed no more encouragement, and without hesitation lunged at her. Davis’ new arms were sturdy enough to lift her off her feet. No command was issued, but he knew where to set her down. The trio weaved its way back into the bedroom, and Hannah squealed with joy as she tumbled onto her bed and Jane climbed over her.

Hannah laid back against her pillows and sighed while the two sets of hands removed her shirt in tandem. Once her shirt was off, they moved down to her jeans, which was tossed aside in a matter of seconds as they gingerly pulled them down. Her toned, pale physique was contoured by the bright orange of her bra and panties. She smiled and gestured for the two to begin.

The worshippers climbed all the way onto her bed and began with her midriff, gingerly kissing up towards her breasts, taking their time to ensure that not one inch of tissue was missed. They were meticulous, careful, and made sure that their lips were soft and relaxed.

Davis got the idea that a small bite or tug would elicit more joy from his goddess, but Hannah yipped at the sensation, preferring only the softest, most gentle affection at the start of her sessions. She lowered a hand into his hair and gripped it, pulling him up towards her face. She whispered in his ear one word, one which he understood perfectly: “Punishment.” The syllables were drawn out slowly, and her voice hitched on the end as Jane worked her way up Hannah’s other side.

Lowering Davis back down, she ran her fingers through Jane’s hair and let out a deep sigh, “Good, soft girl.” She repeated it again, this time looking down at Davis, “She is so good, good and soft and respectful of her goddess.”

Davis made no noise, instead focusing on his task at hand. Jane’s fluid, soft kissing worked its way up to Hannah’s sports bra, and without asking, she bit down on the edge with her right canines and lifted it up, letting the massive breasts within loose.

Hannah let out a soft, “Oh.” At the released tension. Davis, realizing he was being outdone, pushed upwards to help remove the bra. Hannah looked down at the two endearing faces slowly pulling the bra over her head, and smiled, raising her arms up to help them out. After a good minute of trying, it was off, and she felt relaxed in her bed, warm, surrounded by loving, unquestioning worship. She wrapped her arms around the two, and said, somewhat still in control of herself, “I don’t really care if we never become our old selves, I wouldn’t trade this for any of my old life.”

She could feel the potent degree of arousal those words caused in both of them, and smiled — genuinely and kindly smiled at them, saying, “Really. Jane, Davis, all this, the business with the statue, it has made me feel better than I ever have. About me, about my work, about everything…”

Hannah couldn’t get another word in before the two started covering her face in kisses — soft, smooching kisses. They had the same kind of insistence and rapidity that a dog’s kisses had, and Hannah welcomed it for a while, before turning in towards Jane.

“You did well not to bite me, for now you get to be on top, with me.” She turned back towards Davis, grinning, and letting her tongue roll over her teeth.

“You will enjoy your punishment, boy.”

Davis smiled back at her, gleeful at the opportunity to pleasurably repent to her.

Hannah looked at Jane again, communicating wordlessly that Davis was to be put on his back beneath them. She gripped Davis’ shoulders and rotated him towards the bed, pulling herself up while she pushed him into the cushions. He did not resist, and found himself on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

Hannah pointed at his shirt, and Jane took to removing it, while Hanna finished removing Davis’ jeans. His legs were shaven, likely via the statue’s magic. His dick was stiff and already dripping with precum. Hannah didn’t feel the desire to make the difficult choice between that and his mouth, “Jane, you have been faithful. Where would you like to sit?”

Jane gasped at the opportunity, and grinned as she took Hannah’s place at Davis’ hips. Hannah got up off the bed, then remounted it once she was close to Davis’ head. The two women locked eyes, and synchronously, slowly, descended upon their seats. Hannah’s lips were lowered to Davis’ and Jane carefully let his bare cock penetrate her. Both women were dripping from the brief foreplay — Jane having been continually excited since her arrival at the apartment.

Still, though, Jane found it difficult pushing all the way down onto Davis. His was wide, quite possibly one of the wider ones Jane had encountered. But, the mixed lubricants and a gentle, slow lowering of her hips, allowed him into her with little difficulty.

Hannah spoke to Davis, “Can you reach both of us with your hands?”

He could not speak, and instead demonstrated by stroking both of their legs with two fingers.

Hannah looked down at him, and traced an inscrutable symbol on his chest.

“This will help you, baby.” And with that, she gave one final instruction to him, “Please your mistresses.”

He wasted no time, and Hannah felt his tongue going to work against her clitoris immediately. Slow, circular motions with the bottom of the tip of his tongue, repeating while his left fingers gingerly traced (as best they could, given the pressure between her lips and his face) her labia, teasing that they would enter. On Jane’s end, he pushed with his hips what little she would allow him, and flexed his glutes, pushing the head of his dick back and forth in her. Jane knew that if she wished to get more out of him, either she would need to give him space to work, or he would need to move his free hand into position.

She did not move, and so Davis pushed his free hand under her, trying his best to maintain a duplicate pace between the right hand and his tongue. Jane and Hannah both felt the heavenly glow of this unwavering attention. Davis, for his part, could feel some pleasure from the experience, but perhaps due to the charm which his goddess had left on his chest, it was all psychological — or at least, mostly. Yes, the physical pleasure was intense, but strangely it didn’t feel as though it was pushing him any closer to orgasm. This didn’t deter him from pushing harder — somewhere in his head, the charm left a note to the effect of “hard work will pay off. Eventually…”

Jane’s mouth gawked at the sight of Hannah grinding her hips against Davis’s face. She was simultaneously jealous of Davis, and gleeful that she had the privilege of looking upon her goddess as something approaching an equal. She leaned forward, as best she could while maintaining her connection to Davis, and tried to kiss Hannah. Hannah was just, barely out of reach. Hannah leaned in to kiss Jane upon her lips, and savored the deep embrace. Jane felt Hannah’s tongue piercing her lips, and pushed her own back to play with Hannah’s.

She copied her goddess’s motions, and started grinding along Davis’s dick, sighing into Hannah’s lips as the three slowly picked up their pace. Motions were still slow, gently easing into strong, rhythmic flexes of tongues, hips, thighs, fingers, and waists. Each action of Davis’ elicited more noise and joy from Hannah and Jane, and he was excited by this, feeling more blood pumping into his dick, more energy into his mouth. He couldn’t see them, his eyes were covered by Hannah’s ass, and he could barely hear anything between her cushy thighs. His buildup was so tenuously slow — unlike anything he had ever known. More than wanting to finish, he wanted to feel himself getting closer to finishing. Yet with each passing flex, he felt the sigil on his chest burning stronger, perhaps soon it would burn away in a flash and he would be permitted to embrace the carnal pleasures his two female counterparts were enjoying.