
Consciousness returned to Tulio like a slap from a jilted lover - sudden, painful, and with the distinct feeling that he probably deserved it.
"Miguel," he groaned, "if you let me drink that fermented cactus juice again, I swear by all that's..." He trailed off, his voice sounding wrong. Maybe he was still drunk. That would explain why everything felt... shifted. Off-center. Like someone had rearranged all his furniture while he slept.
Speaking of sleeping, something warm and heavy was pressed against his chest. Two somethings, actually. He tried to roll over and immediately regretted it as various parts of his anatomy decided to follow the motion with a slight delay, creating a ripple effect that his hungover brain absolutely refused to process.
"That's... new," he managed, his voice still oddly high and melodic. Maybe he'd been poisoned. That would explain the strange weight distribution and why he felt so... breezy. Had someone stolen his clothes? No, he could feel fabric, just... significantly less of it than usual.
He cracked one eye open and immediately wished he hadn't. The world was too bright, too golden, and definitely spinning more than it had any right to. And then there was the hair. Masses of it, long and silky, spilling over his shoulders and pooling around him like a river of ink. It smelled faintly of flowers and something spicy, tickling his nose and making him want to sneeze.
"Right," he said to no one in particular, "I'm still dreaming. Obviously. Because the alternative is that I've somehow..." He gestured vaguely at himself and froze. That was definitely not his arm. It was too slender, too graceful, ending in delicate fingers adorned with gold rings.
He sat up carefully, which caused several interesting shifts in mass that his brain steadfastly refused to acknowledge. The room swayed alarmingly, though whether from the hangover or the mounting panic, he wasn't sure.
"This is fine," he told himself in that strange new voice. "Everything is fine. I'm just having a very detailed hallucination brought on by whatever was in that drink..."
He made the mistake of looking down.
"Those are not mine," he said with remarkable calm. "Those are definitely not mine. Those are..." He poked experimentally at one of the bronze teardrops barely contained by what appeared to be some sort of ceremonial bandeau. It responded with a jiggle that sent his mind skittering off in several impractical directions.
Standing proved to be an adventure in advanced physics. His center of gravity had shifted dramatically, and his new hips seemed to have their own ideas about how walking should work. The brief wrap of fabric around his waist swished against thighs that were definitely curvier than he remembered having yesterday.
"Now listen here," he addressed his hips sternly, trying to walk in a straight line and failing spectacularly. "We are not going to... undulate. There will be no swaying, no shimming, and absolutely no..." he stumbled, his new curves automatically compensating with a distinctly feminine sway. "...that. None of that."
His hips, apparently, had other ideas.
"I mean it," he muttered, gripping the stone wall for balance. "This is a temporary situation, and we are going to handle it with dignity and..." Another step, another unconscious swing of his newly generous backside. "Oh, for heaven's sake."
"Having trouble?"
The voice - HIS voice - made him spin around, which set off a chain reaction of bouncing that took several seconds to settle. There in the doorway, wearing his face like she'd been born to it, stood... well, himself. But the way his body was leaning against the doorframe, one hip cocked in a pose he'd definitely never attempted, made it clear exactly who was driving.
"Chel?" He squeaked, then cleared his throat, trying to sound more authoritative despite his new soprano. "What did you... how did you... why am I..."
"Eloquent as always," she smirked, and it was deeply unsettling to see his own face wearing that particular expression. "Though I have to say, my voice sounds different when you use it. More... panicked."
"Panicked? PANICKED? I'm not panicked! I'm just..." He gestured wildly at his new form, setting off another distracting series of jiggles. "Why am I bouncing? Why is everything bouncing? And why are you ME?"
"The Mirror of Xibalba," she said casually, examining his - her? - new masculine hands with obvious satisfaction. "Ancient magic. Body-swapping. Very traditional, really. Though usually it's used for more..." she waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "religious purposes."
"Religious... you used sacred magic to steal my body?"
"I prefer to think of it as a free upgrade," she said, striding into the room with a confidence that looked wrong on his normally anxious frame. "For both of us, really. You get to experience life from a new perspective, and I get to..." she stretched languorously, "enjoy the benefits of being a god."
"This isn't happening," Tulio muttered, pacing frantically which only served to make everything bounce more. "This is just a very detailed nightmare brought on by bad shellfish or that weird purple fruit or..."
Chel-as-Tulio picked up a polished golden plate from the altar, holding it up like a mirror. "See for yourself."
The face that looked back at him was hauntingly beautiful, with high cheekbones, full lips, and dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. He blinked. The reflection blinked. He touched his new face. The reflection touched hers.
"That's... that's..." His voice rose to a pitch that probably only dogs could hear. "That's YOUR face!"
"Mmhmm," she agreed, clearly enjoying his mounting panic. "And this," she gestured at his former body, "is YOUR face. Well, was your face. Currently my face. Though I have to say," she ran his hands through his hair in a way he definitely never had, "you really weren't making the most of it."
"This isn't... you can't just..." He spun around looking for something, anything that would make this make sense, which just set off another cascade of jiggling that made him grab at his new chest in frustration. "Stop that!"
"You know, they're attached. Yelling at them won't help."
"Change us back!" He demanded, trying to sound authoritative despite his new soprano. "Right now!"
"About that..." She lounged on a pile of cushions, manspreading in a way that looked deeply wrong with his body. "No."
"No? What do you mean no? You can't just... just... keep my body!"
"Actually, I can. And I will." She stretched again, clearly enjoying his mounting horror. "Consider it a promotion. You get to be a beautiful temple dancer, I get to be a god. Everyone wins!"
"How exactly do I win in this scenario?"
"Well, for one thing," she smirked, "you get to experience what it's like being me. Maybe gain some... perspective."
"I don't want perspective! I want my body back!"
"Sorry, no refunds or exchanges," she stood up, adjusting his clothes with far more grace than he'd ever managed. "Face it, I make a much more convincing god. And you'll make a much better temple dancer. The way you're already swaying those hips? Natural talent."
"I am not-" Tulio started to protest, then caught himself mid-sway. "They do that on their own!"
"Mmhmm."
"Tulio? Chel?" Miguel's voice echoed from the corridor. "Are you two- oh." He stopped short in the doorway, taking in the scene.
"Miguel, it's me! Tulio! She-" he pointed accusingly, "stole my body!"
Miguel blinked slowly, looking between them. "Did I miss something? Is this a joke? Because if it is, I don't get it."
Chel-as-Tulio shrugged, smirking. "She seems to think she's Tulio. Apparently we switched bodies last night. News to me."
"This isn't funny!" Tulio snapped, stomping his foot which just made everything jiggle again. "Miguel, you have to believe me. Remember Barcelona? The incident with the chicken and the three nuns?"
Miguel's eyes widened. "How do you know about that? We swore never to speak of it again!"
"Because I was there, you idiot! I'm Tulio!"
Miguel looked at Chel-as-Tulio suspiciously. "What was the color of the chicken?"
She held up her hands. "Don't look at me. I'm just the innocent bystander here."
"It was brown with white spots," Tulio said exasperatedly, "and it wasn't a chicken, it was a rooster. Named Pepe. The nuns were very clear on that point."
Miguel's jaw dropped. "Tulio? Is that really you?"
"Yes! Finally!" Tulio threw up his hands, then quickly crossed them over his chest when the motion caused more bouncing than he was prepared for.
Chel-as-Tulio slow clapped. "Bravo. What a touching reunion."
"Change us back," Tulio demanded. "Right now."
"No can do," she said cheerfully. "The magic of the Mirror of Xibalba only works on the full moon. You're stuck like this for a month."
"A MONTH?"
"Oh, and one more thing," she added, examining her nails nonchalantly. "If you experience the, shall we say, 'ultimate pleasure' five times while in my body, the change becomes permanent. Just a heads up."
Tulio made a strangled noise. Miguel looked confused.
"Ultimate pleasure? What does that mean?"
"Forget it," Tulio snapped. "It's not happening. None of this is happening. I refuse to accept this reality."
"Refuse all you want," Chel said, "but the reality is, you need me. Both of you do. If you want to keep up this gods charade and get your gold, you need someone who knows the culture, the traditions. Someone who can keep you from putting your divine feet in your mouths."
"She... may have a point," Miguel admitted.
"Whose side are you on?" Tulio demanded.
"The side that gets us the gold and gets us out of here alive!"
Chel lounged deeper into the cushions, somehow making Tulio's lanky frame look more regal than he'd ever managed. "And speaking of staying alive, there's the small matter of tonight's ritual."
"What ritual?" Tulio asked.
"Oh, nothing major," she examined Tulio's fingernails with exaggerated casualness. "Just the Uk'inal K'in. You know, the sacred dance that ensures the sun will rise tomorrow instead of plunging us all into eternal darkness." She paused. "I assume you've been practicing?"
The color drained from Tulio's borrowed face. "Dancing? Nobody said anything about dancing!"
"Did I forget to mention that part?" Chel's smile looked unnervingly predatory on Tulio's features. "Silly me. Well, as one of the temple's lead dancers, I really should have been practicing all morning. The gods would be very displeased if their favorite performer wasn't ready for the ceremony."
"But I'm not—" Tulio gestured frantically at his new body, setting off another cascade of unwanted movement. "I can't—these things have a mind of their own!"
"Those 'things' are the least of your problems," Chel said dryly, "you need to master the hip movements."
"Hip... movements?" Tulio's new voice cracked.
Miguel cleared his throat. "It can't be that difficult, surely? I mean, you just sort of..." He attempted a movement.
"Please never do that again," Chel and Tulio said in unison.
"Look," Chel stood up, "you have exactly six hours to learn this dance before the ceremony. Either you figure it out, or we can explain to the high priest why his sacred dancer suddenly moves like a drunk donkey. I'm sure he'll be very understanding right before he has us all sacrificed."
"You wouldn't," Tulio narrowed his eyes. "They think you're a god now. You need us."
"Correction: I need one of you to maintain the illusion of divinity, and Miguel here is much better at improvising." She winked at Miguel, who promptly dropped his lute. "Face it - either you learn to dance, or I'll tell everyone you're not fit to be a dancer, while Miguel and I continue our divine charade without you."
Tulio looked desperately at his friend. "Miguel?"
Miguel retrived his lute. "Remember that time in Barcelona with the three-legged horse?"
"That was different! Nobody's life was at stake!"
"Actually, several people almost died."
"That's not the point!"
"The point," Chel interrupted, still sprawled across the cushions in Tulio's body with a casual grace that made her former hips look positively sinful, "is that you need to learn this dance. Now." She clapped her hands. "Miguel, you'll need to provide the rhythm. It's like a heartbeat - *thump-THUMP, thump-THUMP*."
Miguel strummed experimentally. "Like this?"
"Slower," she instructed. "More... primal."
Miguel adjusted his tempo, finding a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to pulse through the temple stones themselves.
"Perfect," Chel purred in Tulio's voice. "Now, *Chel* dear, first position."
Tulio stood awkwardly, her new body refusing to cooperate. "Which one is first position?"
"The one where you look like you're actually enjoying being alive," Chel drawled. "Shoulders back, chest up—no, not that much up, you'll throw your back out—and hips..." She demonstrated with Tulio's body.
"I do NOT move like that!" Tulio protested.
"You do now," Chel smirked. "And speaking of moving..." She gestured to the guards. "Would you be so kind as to fetch the ceremonial ankle bells? Our dancer seems to need additional... motivation."
The guards hurried off, leaving Tulio to glare at her stolen body. "Ankle bells?"
"Oh yes. They let everyone know if you miss a step." Her smile turned wicked. "And believe me, they'll be listening very carefully. The last dancer who missed a step... well, let's just say the jaguar pit got a midnight snack."
"You're making that up."
"Are you willing to bet your life on it?"
Miguel's rhythm faltered. "There's a jaguar pit?"
"Focus on the music," Chel commanded. "Try to look less like you're being tortured and more like you're communing with divine forces."
"I AM being tortured," Tulio muttered, but attempted to mirror Chel's movements.
"Better," Chel said as the guards returned with what looked like several pounds of golden bells. "Now, let's add some... musicality to your movement."
The ankle bells, when attached, made Tulio sound like a wandering herd of very uncoordinated goats.
"Remember," Chel called out as Tulio stumbled through another attempt at the basic steps, "this dance tells the story of creation itself! The rising of the sun! The birth of the world! The—" She winced as Tulio nearly toppled over. "Maybe we should start with something simpler."
"I'd like to see you do better in this body!" Tulio snapped, then immediately regretted it as Chel's eyes lit up.
"Oh honey," she drawled in Tulio's voice, "Would you like a demonstration?"
Before Tulio could protest, Chel had risen from the cushions and begun to move. Even in Tulio's body, she made the dance look effortless.
"You see?" She executed a perfect turn. "It's all in the intention. You have to mean it."
"I mean to strangle you with your butt-length hair," Tulio offered. "Does that count?"
The guards exchanged worried glances.
"Our dancer," Chel announced smoothly, "is simply overwhelmed by divine inspiration. The gods' presence can have that effect on mortals."
"Oh yes," Miguel added helpfully. "Very overwhelming."
Tulio's eye twitched. The ankle bells chimed accusingly.
"Perhaps," Chel suggested with malicious glee, "we should practice the part where you balance the sacred flames on your head while dancing through the purification pools?"
"WHAT?"
"Oh, don't worry," Chel's smile was pure evil on Tulio's face. "The flames are quite safe. As long as none of your hair catches fire."
Tulio reached up to touch her new long, flowing locks. "You're joking."
"Am I?" Chel raised one of Tulio's eyebrows.
Just as Tulio was about to launch into a tirade about the many, many ways in which this was not okay, a commotion at the temple entrance drew their attention. The enormous Chief Tannabok, resplendent in his ceremonial headdress and gold-embroidered robes, was bowing deeply before them.
"My lords," he intoned, his voice reverent. "I come to pay tribute to your divine presence and to humbly request your blessing for tonight's sacred ritual."
Chel (as Tulio) stepped forward, her stance regal. "Rise, Chief Tannabok. Your devotion pleases us."
The Chief stood, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of "Chel" standing beside the gods. "My lord, forgive me, but why is the temple dancer here? Has she displeased you in some way?"
Tulio (as Chel) opened her mouth to protest, but Chel (as Tulio) smoothly intervened. "On the contrary, Chief. Chel has been chosen as our sacred vessel. Through her dance, our divine power shall flow and bless your people."
Miguel, catching on, nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, very chosen. The most sacred of vessels. Absolutely brimming with divinity."
Tulio shot him a glare that could have melted gold.
Chief Tannabok, however, looked elated. "Truly, the gods have blessed us! To have our humble dancer serve as a conduit for your power... it is beyond our greatest hopes!"
"Yes, well," Chel smiled magnanimously, "we are nothing if not generous. In fact, we would be honored if you, Chief Tannabok, would personally prepare Chel for her sacred role."
"Me?" the Chief looked stunned. "My lord, I am not worthy to—"
"Nonsense," Chel waved a hand. "Who better to anoint our chosen one than the leader of our faithful? Miguel, the sacred oils, if you please."
Miguel, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and concern, startled. "The, uh-"
"Tulio" gestured to an ornate jar on the altar. "The sacred oils. For the anointing."
"Oh, right! The anointing! Of course!" Miguel scrambled to retrieve the jar, nearly dropping it in the process. "Silly me, always forgetting about the... anointing."
He handed the jar to Chief Tannabok, who accepted it with trembling hands. "My lords, I am honored beyond words."
"As you should be," Chel said smoothly. "Now, if you would be so kind as to prepare Chel for her divine duty..."
Tulio, who had been watching this exchange with growing horror, finally found his voice. "Now wait—"
But Chief Tannabok was already approaching, the jar of oil in his hands. "Please, allow me to serve the gods."
Tulio backed away, her new body's movements still awkward and unfamiliar. "I really don't think this is necessary—"
"Hush now," Chel (as Tulio) admonished. "The gods have spoken. Who are you to question their will?"
Tulio shot her a look of pure betrayal, but found herself backed against the altar, the Chief looming over her.
"Be still, child," Tannabok murmured, his voice low and reverent. "You have been chosen for a great honor."
He dipped his fingers into the oil, the scent of ylang-ylang, cacao flowers and copal resin filling the air. Tulio flinched as those large, callused hands touched his shoulders, the oil cool against his skin.
"Relax," the Chief whispered, his breath hot against Tulio's ear. "Let the gods' power flow through you."
Tulio shuddered as those hands slid lower, tracing the curve of her collarbones, the swell of her breasts. He bit back a gasp as Tannabok's thumbs brushed over her nipples, the thin fabric of her top doing nothing to dull the sensation.
"Such perfection," the Chief marveled, his hands cupping and kneading the soft flesh. "Truly, the gods have blessed you."
Tulio squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensations, the humiliation. But there was no escaping the feel of those rough hands mapping every inch of her new body.
The Chief's hands slid around to Tulio's back, tracing the line of his spine, the dimples above her ass. Tulio jerked as those hands cupped her buttocks, squeezing and spreading the flesh.
"So responsive," Tannabok chuckled, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Tulio's loincloth. "The gods will be pleased."
Tulio bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, fighting the urge to squirm away from that invasive touch. He could feel the Chief's... *something* pressing against his stomach, hot and hard and far too large.
Chel (as Tulio) just looked smug, a cat-that-got-the-cream smile playing about her lips.
Tulio wanted to scream, to push the man away, to do anything but stand there and experience this "profound blessing". But her body betrayed her, arching into the touch, his hips twitching as that finger approached her...
"Please," he whispered, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for.
"Shh," the Chief soothed.
Just as he thought he couldn't take anymore, Tannabok stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Tulio stood there trembling, her skin glistening with oil, her chest heaving and his face flushed.
"She is ready," the Chief declared, his voice rough with desire. "The gods' vessel is prepared."
"Excellent," Chel (as Tulio) said, clapping her hands. "And now, Chief Tannabok, I believe we discussed a further... offering?"
The Chief tore his eyes away from Tulio's quivering form. "Yes, my lord. I am prepared to give twice the prescribed tribute in gold, as well as a feast of the finest fruits and wine for your divine pleasure. But, in return, may I humbly request..."
"Yes?" Chel prompted.
Tannabok swallowed hard, his eyes darting back to Tulio. "In return, I would request a private audience with your chosen vessel. Tonight, after the ritual."
Tulio's head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror. "What? No! Absolutely not!"
But Chel was already nodding. "Of course, Chief Tannabok. Chel will come to your chambers tonight, as a reward for your devotion. And generosity."
"Thank you, my lord," the Chief bowed low. "You honor me beyond measure."
"WAIT!" Tulio cried, finally finding her voice. "Don't I get a say in this?"
Chel raised an eyebrow. "You are a servant of the gods. Your desire is to serve."
"But-But I'm not—"
"You are what we say you are," Chel said firmly. "And tonight, you will serve your purpose. Unless you'd prefer to explain to the Chief here why his promised reward is being denied?"
Tulio looked at the Chief, at the barely restrained lust in his eyes, and felt her stomach turn. She knew she was trapped. To refuse now would be to risk exposing their entire ruse.
"I... I understand," she said finally, his voice small and defeated.
"Good girl," Chel smiled.
As the Chief left the temple, his steps light with anticipation, Tulio rounded on Chel.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed, her new voice rising to a pitch that could shatter glass. "You just... you just pimped me out like a-a-"
"A temple dancer?" Chel finished dryly. "Which, may I remind you, is exactly what you are now."
"But I'm not-"
"Look," Chel said, her tone softening slightly. "I know this isn't ideal. But we need to keep up appearances. The Chief expects certain... privileges. It would look suspicious if we denied him."
Tulio opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. As much as she hated to admit it... they were playing a dangerous game here, and they couldn't afford to slip up.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "But this is a one-time thing. And you'd better hold up your end of the bargain."
"Of course," Chel said smoothly. "I'm a woman of my word. But in return, you have to promise to take me with you when you leave El Dorado."
Tulio and Miguel exchanged a look.
"Leave El Dorado?" Miguel asked. "But I thought you loved it here. You're practically royalty."
"*Royalty?*" Chel laughed bitterly. "I'm a glorified servant. A pretty little doll for them to dress up and trot out at their pleasure. You think I want to spend the rest of my life like that?"
There was a raw edge to her voice that made Tulio pause. For the first time, she considered what life must be like for Chel.
"I'm, uh, sorry," she said softly, "I didn't-"
"Save the pity," Chel snapped. "I don't want it. What I want is a deal. One month in your body, and then you take me to the Old World, and I get my third of the gold."
Tulio hesitated, glancing at Miguel. Her partner's face was uncharacteristically serious, his eyes troubled.
"Deal," Tulio said finally. "After you've changed us back."
Chel smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course."
The hours until the ritual passed in a blur of nervous energy and dread. Tulio paced the temple, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensations of her new body - the swish of her hair, the jiggle of her breasts, the ache in her feet from the damned ankle bells.
Miguel tried his best to distract her. He plucked out cheerful tunes on his lute, regaling her with tales of their past adventures, each one more exaggerated than the last.
"...and then, just as the guards were about to catch us, I leapt onto the back of the bull and rode it straight through the marketplace!" he declared, strumming a triumphant chord.
"That's not how it happened," Tulio said. "As I recall, you were running and screaming like a little girl."
"Artistic license," Miguel sniffed. "The point is, we got away. Just like we always do."
Tulio's smile faded. "This time feels different."
Miguel set aside his lute and took Tulio's hands in his own, seemingly unbothered by their new delicacy.
"We'll get through this," he said firmly. "Like we always do. Together?"
Tulio swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. Damn these female hormones.
"Together," she agreed, squeezing his hands.
The moment was broken by the sound of drums, their deep throb echoing through the temple.
"It's time," Chel said, appearing in the doorway.
They walked together to the great plaza, the drumbeats growing louder with every step.
Tulio had never seen so much gold in her life. It was everywhere - in the glittering headdresses of the priests, the shimmering mosaics on the temple walls, the very dust that hung in the air. The people, too, were adorned in gold - necklaces and earrings, bracelets and anklets, even woven into their hair.
But as they approached the central dais, Tulio's attention was drawn to the figure standing at its center. Tzekel-Kan, the high priest, resplendent in robes of deepest crimson and a headdress that seemed to writhe with sculpted serpents. His eyes, cold and assessing, fixed on Tulio as she took her place.
The drums reached a crescendo, then fell silent. In the sudden hush, Tzekel-Kan's voice rang out, deep and commanding.
"People of El Dorado!" he cried. "Tonight, we honor the gods with our most sacred ritual. Tonight, their chosen vessel will dance for their glory!"
He gestured to Tulio, who felt her stomach drop. This was it. No turning back now.
The drums began their ancient rhythm, and Tulio tried to move in time, but her new body seemed to have other ideas. Her hips went left when they should have gone right, her breasts bounced in ways that were definitely not ceremonial, and the ankle bells chimed in what could generously be called syncopation.
Tzekel-Kan's face darkened with each stumbling step. "What," he hissed to Miguel, "is wrong with the vessel?"
"Wrong?" Miguel laughed nervously. "Nothing's wrong! She's just, uh, interpreting the ancient rhythms in a... new way?"
"She moves like a drunken llama," the priest's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Has she been drinking the sacred wine?"
On the platform, Tulio attempted a graceful turn and nearly fell face-first into a brazier. The crowd gasped. Several children started crying.
"This is blasphemy," Tzekel-Kan's voice dripped with venom. "To mock the gods with such... such..."
"Innovative choreography?" Miguel offered weakly.
"SACRILEGE!" The priest's voice boomed across the plaza. "The gods demand perfection! They demand grace! They demand..."
"A... DIFFERENT TUNE!" Miguel suddenly shouted, whipping out his lute. "Because this... this is the OLD dance! But we, as gods, bring you something NEW!"
The drums faltered. Tulio froze mid-stumble. Chel raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"What are you doing?" Tzekel-Kan demanded.
"BEHOLD!" Miguel struck a dramatic chord. "The divine... uh... Sarabande! Yes! The dance of... of..."
"Paradise?" Chel supplied smoothly.
"Paradise! Exactly! The very dance the gods themselves do when they're... being godly!"
And then, before anyone could object, Miguel launched into the most outrageous version of a Spanish dance tune ever played on a lute. It was part sarabande, part tavern song, and part what might have been a lullaby he'd heard once while very drunk.
The familiar rhythm sparked something in Tulio - memories of late nights in Spanish taverns with her partner, sword fights turning to dance battles, the countless times she and Miguel had turned disaster into triumph through sheer audacity.
"En garde!" Miguel shouted, tossing his lute in the air, catching it like a sword while still somehow playing.
"Oh no you don't," Tulio grinned, grabbing two ceremonial torches. Her new body moved with surprising grace as she fell into their old routine. "You fight like my sister!"
"I fought your sister!" Miguel parried with his lute. "That's a compliment!"
They circled each other, the crowd gasping as Tulio spun the flaming torches in increasingly elaborate patterns. Her long hair whipped around her, the ankle bells now perfectly in time with Miguel's music.
"What manner of madness is this?" Tzekel-Kan spluttered.
"This," Miguel announced grandly, leaping onto a ceremonial altar, "is how we celebrate in paradise! The sacred dance of divine combat!"
"Divine what?" The priest looked apoplectic.
"It's the language of the gods," Chel explains to the dumbstruck priest. "The vessel channels the energy of combat, to herald the Age of the Jaguar."
Tzekel-Kan is not quite convinced.
But the crowd was entirely caught up in the performance now. Tulio twirled and dipped, the flames painting patterns in the air as she and Miguel enacted their familiar sword-fighting choreography - only now with musical instruments and fire.
"Your footwork is sloppy!" Tulio called out, her new voice carrying musically across the plaza.
"Your face is sloppy!" Miguel retorted, somehow playing a particularly complex riff while simultaneously dodging a torch.
"That doesn't even make sense!"
"The gods need not make sense!" Miguel proclaimed to the crowd. "We are beyond your mortal logic!"
The people cheered. Someone started throwing flowers. Tulio caught one in her teeth while executing a perfect backbend, causing several young men in the audience to faint.
"The sacred flames represent... uh... divine passion!" Miguel improvised wildly, now dancing on top of a statue. "The music speaks of celestial harmony! And this move right here?" He did something that looked suspiciously like a tavern jig. "This is how we banish evil spirits!"
The crowd began mimicking his movements, the plaza transforming into something between a religious ceremony and a Spanish dance hall.
"And this," Tulio called out, tossing both torches high in the air, catching them behind her back, "is how we honor the sun god!"
"The sun god loves a good party!" Miguel agreed, his lute somehow producing the sound of an entire orchestra.
Even Chel was getting into it now, using Tulio's body to demonstrate some moves that were definitely not part of any traditional ceremony. The energy was infectious, the music irresistible. People were dancing in the streets, throwing gold coins and flower petals, children attempting to juggle fruit in imitation of the "sacred" performance.
"This is an outrage!" Tzekel-Kan tried to protest, but was drowned out by the crowd's enthusiastic attempts to copy Miguel's increasingly ridiculous moves.
"And now," Miguel announced, "for the grand finale!"
He played a complex series of chords while Tulio performed their signature move - the one that had won them countless bar bets and gotten them out of several tight spots in Madrid. Only now, in Chel's more flexible body, with the flames trailing through the air and her hair flowing like a river of silk, it looked less like a tavern trick and more like actual magic.
The crowd went wild. Gold rained down on the plaza. Several people spoke in tongues. Someone's pet jaguar started dancing.
"The gods are pleased!" Chief Tannabok declared, his massive frame somehow having joined the dancing without anyone noticing. "This calls for celebration! More wine! More music!"
"More sacred dance instruction!" Miguel added, now teaching a group of enthusiastic locals something that looked suspiciously like the macarena.
As the plaza erupted in celebration, the Chief approached Tulio, his eyes gleaming with admiration and something else that made her stomach flip.
"That was... most impressive," he said softly, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. "Perhaps now you might demonstrate some of those... sacred movements in private?"
Tulio's heart sank. "Oh, I really should stay and supervise the... further demonstrations..."
"Nonsense," Chel-as-Tulio cut in smoothly. "I'm sure Chel would be *honored* to provide the private performance. Wouldn't you?"
If looks could kill, Chel would have been a smoldering pile of ash. But Tulio forced a smile, her cheeks aching from the strain.
"Of course," she managed. "Whatever pleases the gods."
The Chief's hand slid lower, cupping her ass possessively. "Then let us retire to my chambers. I have a feeling the gods will be very pleased indeed."
The walk to the Chief's pyramid felt like a death march. Tulio's heart pounded in her ears, her palms slick with sweat. She tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but it was hard with the Chief's entourage surrounding them, their knowing smirks and lewd whispers making her skin crawl.
The Chief, for his part, seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He kept up a steady stream of chatter about the night's festivities, his hand never leaving her lower back.
"...and then, when you caught the torches behind your back? I thought Tzekel-Kan was going to have a stroke! His face turned the color of a ripe tomato!"
Tulio forced a laugh. "Well, you know the gods. Always full of surprises."
The Chief chuckled, his breath hot against her ear. "I look forward to being surprised."
Tulio suppressed a shudder.
They reached the Chief's chambers, the guards bowing low as they opened the doors. The room beyond was opulent, all polished obsidian and glittering gold. A huge bed dominated the space, piled high with furs and silken cushions.
Tulio's eyes widened. The bed was big enough for an orgy. Which, given the Chief's reputation, it had probably seen its fair share of.
"Some pulque to relax you?" the Chief offered, gesturing to an ornate gold decanter. "It's flavored with honey and sacred herbs."
"Oh, I really shouldn't..." Tulio started, but the Chief was already pouring a generous cup.
"Nonsense. We want you nice and... loose."
He pressed the cup into her hands, his fingers lingering on hers. Tulio took a gulp, nearly choking as the fermented agave liquor burned its way down her throat.
The Chief smiled, taking a slow sip from his own cup. "Good, isn't it? The finest in the city. Only the best for my... special guests."
He set his cup aside, his hands coming to rest on Tulio's hips. "Now then, shall we begin?"
Tulio's mouth went dry. "Begin?"
The Chief's smile turned predatory. "Your performance, of course. I want to see those sacred moves up close."
Tulio's mind raced. What would Chel do? She was always so smooth. She'd probably turn it into some kind of seductive tease, make the Chief beg for it.
But Tulio was not Chel. Tulio was a two-bit con artist trapped in the body of a temple dancer, about to be defiled by a man who made barrels look svelte.
"I, uh... I'm not sure I remember the steps to that one," she stammered. "Perhaps if you refreshed my memory..."
The Chief's eyes glinted. "Ah, you want me to take the lead? I like a woman who knows what she wants."
Before Tulio could blink, the Chief had pulled her flush against him. She gasped as she felt the hard length of him pressing against her stomach.
"Is this what you had in mind?" he growled, his hips grinding against her.
Tulio's face flamed. She could feel *everything*. The Chief was built like a bull in more ways than one.
"I... I..." she squeaked, her brain short-circuiting.
The Chief chuckled darkly. "Don't worry, little dancer."
He spun her around, pulling her back against his chest. One hand splayed across her stomach while the other trailed up her side, brushing the underside of her breast.
Tulio bit her lip hard, determined not to make a sound. But her body had other ideas. As the Chief's clever fingers found her nipple through the thin fabric of her top, she couldn't stop the breathy little moan that escaped.
"That's it," the Chief encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you. Let the gods hear you."
His hand slid higher, cupping her breast fully. Tulio's head fell back against his shoulder as he kneaded the sensitive flesh, his thumb circling her nipple until it peaked.
"So responsive," he marveled.
His other hand drifted lower, playing with the edge of her loincloth. Tulio tensed, her thighs clamping together. But the Chief just chuckled, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to stroke the smooth skin of her inner thigh.
"Easy, little one," he soothed. "I'll take care of you. Let me worship this sacred temple."
Tulio wanted to scream. This was no temple, it was a prison. A fleshy, feminine prison that she'd been trapped in by that conniving, backstabbing...
Her thoughts scattered as the Chief's fingers grazed her center. Even through the fabric of her loincloth, the sensation was electric. Her thick hips bucked involuntarily.
The Chief groaned, his hardness throbbing against her back. "Eager little thing, aren't you? I'll give you what you need."
He spun her to face him, his hands gripping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. Tulio yelped, scrabbling at his shoulders for balance as he carried her to the bed and laid her out like a feast.
"Look at you," he breathed, his eyes roving over her body with undisguised hunger. "A gift from the gods themselves."
Tulio's skin prickled with humiliation. Did he have to stare so much? Her breasts heaved with each shallow breath, the tops of them spilling out of her bandeau. The Chief licked his lips, reaching out to trace the swell of her cleavage.
"I could spend days worshipping these," he mused, cupping her breasts reverently. "Maybe I will. Would you like that? To be kept in my bed, pleasured endlessly?"
Tulio's eyes stung with unshed tears. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a nightmare, a horrible, twisted...
She gasped as the Chief's mouth closed over her nipple, his tongue laving the sensitive bud through the thin fabric. His beard scraped against her skin, rough and ticklish at the same time.
"P-Please," she whimpered, though she wasn't sure if she was begging him to stop or keep going. Her body was a livewire of sensation, every nerve ending screaming.
The Chief hummed around her nipple, the vibrations making her toes curl. His hand slid up her thigh. Tulio tensed, waiting for the inevitable invasion...
But it didn't come. Instead, the Chief sat back, admiring his handiwork. Tulio's breasts were fully exposed now, her top pushed up around her neck.
"Now then," the Chief said, his voice heavy with satisfaction. "I believe you owe me a more... intimate performance."
Tulio's blood ran cold.
"I... I don't..." she stammered, her face flaming.
The Chief tutted. "So shy, I suppose not all rumors are to be believed, Chel. But I suppose that's part of your charm."
He reclined against the pillows, his legs falling open. The bulge in his loincloth was impossible to ignore, straining the fabric obscenely.
"Come now," he coaxed, patting his thigh. "Don't be coy."
Tulio swallowed hard, her throat clicking. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to do anything but submit to this humiliation. But she was trapped, caught in a web of her own lies and Chel's machinations.
She was hyperaware of every sensation - the cool silk of the sheets against her palms and knees, the warm breeze from the open windows caressing her bare skin, the weight of the Chief's gaze on her exposed body.
Her thick thighs spread as she moved, her loincloth riding up to bunch between her legs. She could feel the fabric nestling between her ass cheeks, rubbing against her most intimate places with each sway of her hips. Her ass itself seemed to have a mind of its own, wiggling and bouncing with every crawling step, an obscene metronome marking her progress.
And her breasts... Tulio had never been so aware of them, their weight, their movement. Freed from her top, they hung heavy and pendulous, swaying beneath her like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. She could feel her nipples, hard and aching, brushing against the sheets with every inch forward.
Her hair dragged behind her like a bride's train, the black tresses shimmering in the flickering torchlight, clinging to the sweat-misted skin of her back. A stray breeze from the open window caught a few strands, sending them dancing across her face.
Her jewelry jingled softly - the golden bangles at her wrists, the emerald drops at her ears, the accursed bells at her ankles that chimed her shame with every move.
Tulio wanted to scream. Or cry. Or possibly vomit. Everything about this was a mockery of everything she... HE was. Chel had a lot to answer for. If Tulio survived this night with her sanity intact, there would be a reckoning.
It seemed to take an eternity to cross the expanse of the bed, though in truth it could only have been a few heartbeats. But finally, she was there, between the Chief's spread thighs, her face level with his straining loincloth.
The gigantic man looked down at her with undisguised lust, his chest heaving with anticipation. With surprising tenderness, he reached out to brush her hair back from her face, his rough fingers trailing across her cheekbone.
"There now," he rumbled, "isn't this better? Just you and me and the will of the gods."
He leaned back languidly against the cushions, the very picture of a pasha awaiting his concubine's attentions. With a casualness that bordered on insolence, he flicked aside his loincloth...
...and Tulio came face to face with the Chief's manhood.
It lay there against his thigh, a sleeping serpent stirring to life. Even mostly soft, it was easily the size of Tulio's forearm, thick and veiny and grotesquely in proportion to the rest of the Chief's corpulent form. As she watched in horrified fascination, it twitched and began to swell, slowly unfurling like a cursed scroll of flesh.
"Well?" the Chief smirked. "It won't worship itself."
Tulio dragged her gaze away from that monstrous appendage, up the vast expanse of the Chief's hairy belly, to meet his expectant stare. His eyes glittered with amusement, reveling in her horrified awe.
"I... I don't..." Her voice emerged as a croak.
"Come now," the Chief chided. "The gods have chosen you for this sacred task. You must not disappoint them."
Sacred task? What kind of twisted theology was this? Tulio wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream until her voice gave out.
But most of all, she wanted this to be over. And the one way out... was through.
Steeling herself, Tulio leaned forward, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. She could feel the heat radiating off the Chief's groin, could smell his musk - a heady mix of sweat and spice and something unidentifiable but undeniably male.
She parted her plush lips, her small pink tongue darting out to wet them nervously. The Chief's cock jumped at the sight, a pearly bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. Tulio stared at it.
"Go on," the Chief urged, his voice rough with need. "Taste your blessing."
Blessing. Right. Tulio took a deep, shuddering breath... and slowly, inexorably lowered her head.
Tentatively, her lush lips whispered along his shaft. Slowly, shaking, her small tongue tip poked out to run along the base of his cock, on the underside. The chief gasped. Tulio thought the taste might make her gag - but surprisingly, it wasn't overly bad. A bit salty, a hint of his body taste, but not horrible.
"Ah, fuuu--" the Chief gasped above. His hand dove into her hair, lightly grasping. Forcing her head a touch lower. "Yes... Now open. And take me in."
Tulio quivered with anxiety as slowly, her plump lips parted to take in the head of his enormous member. She had to STRETCH her jaw to accommodated even the tip, her tongue was now coated with his taste. Suddenly, the large man bucked his hips up a bit, stuffing the first few inches into poor Tulio's mouth. She openly gagged, drool began leaking out as her new body tried to accommodate it. The chief moaned in intense satisfaction.
"Yes, Chel.... oh, it's even better than I imagined. My sacred offering in your hot, tight little mouth, blessed by the gods..."
Tulio snorted internally at that one. She was doing this under extreme duress!
Slowly, she tried to bob her head up and down, her plush lips sliding along his veiny shaft. The chief was continuing to harden in her mouth, thickening, stretching her jaws to their limits. Drool seeped from the corners of her lips, sloppy noises emanating as she sucked awkwardly. She was forced to open wider for each stroke, trying desperately to remember how she liked to be blown when she had a cock of her own.
Some strange sort of memory baked into Chel's body kicked in, and Tulio found herself beginning to suck more effectively, forming a tight seal with her lips and hollowing her cheeks. She was vacuuming his cock inside her hot mouth, swirling her tongue.
"Gods! Chel, you filthy little cocksucker," Tannabok groaned, his hips beginning to thrust shallowly. "That's it, worship your chief's fat cock, you divine slut!"
Tulio bristled at his degrading words but was too busy slobbering all over the swollen cockhead popped behind her teeth. He seemed to grow impossibly bigger as she sucked.
Tannabok reached down and grabbed her swaying tits roughly as they hung below.
"Look at these udders jiggle as you service me. Built to be a perfect little cock warmer, aren't you?"
He pinched and twisted her engorged brown nipples, making Tulio whimper around his throbbing cock now jabbing the back of her throat. In this position, bent over with her voluptuous rear in the air, she could feel a strange... *something* between her trembling thighs. A slippery, swollen sensation that made her inner muscles clench.
Suddenly, the Chief grabbed her hair and yanked her off his spit-shined prick with a wet plop. Her lips felt puffy and used, sticky tendrils of drool connecting her to his reddened cockhead. She panted for air, tits heaving.
"On all fours. I need to split that perfect peach of an ass and break in your tight little breeding slot."
Tulio's eyes widened. Oh gods, this was really happening. Her thick thighs quivered as she felt the chief move into position behind her.
His sweaty gut pressing into her lower back, his hairy thighs against her smooth, spread ones. She flinched as she felt his cock, now rock hard and spit-slimed, prodding at her delicate folds through her loincloth, pushing the soaked fabric up into her crack. Tulio whimpered pathetically at the sheer size of him rutting against her, knowing where that monster would soon be holstered.
'Get ahold of yourself!' she scolded internally. 'You're a man! A man stuck in a hot piece of ass that's about to get split open on a fat dick, but still a man!'
Her pep talk was interrupted by thick fingers shoving the loincloth aside and the blunt head of Tannabok's cock notching into her weeping entrance.
"Ever taken a real man before, Chel?" he asked, slowly circling her clenching hole, coating himself in her never ending arousal. "Popped this ripe little cherry?"
"I... I..." Tulio stammered out. She gasped as he pushed forward slightly, feeling her nether lips stretch obscenely around his flared head, the rim tugging at her opening. "Oh- OH!"
"That doesn't answer my question, fucktoy," the Chief rumbled, teasing her, pushing in just an inch before retreating. Her pussy lips gripped him, trying to suck him deeper.
Tulio's head spun from the pressure, the stretch, the aching emptiness. Her body felt like a simmering cauldron and the only thing that could quench it was the thick spear of flesh butting against her entrance.
Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the Chief grabbed her childbearing hips and thrust to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
"AHHHHNNGGG!!" Tulio wailed as she was split open on his huge cock, her tight inner walls forced wide around his girth. She swore she could feel him in her stomach, stuffed impossibly full to the brim.
The chief groaned in satisfaction, grinding his pelvis lewdly against her jiggling ass. "Fuuuck, so tight! Squeezing me like a gods damned vice! Knew this cunt would be choice."
He pulled back until just the tip remained, her newly deflowered pussy clinging obscenely to his cock, before slamming back in to the root. His heavy balls slapped against Tulio's taint.
"Nononono too- too m- MUH- MUCH!" she babbled, eyes rolling back as he began to pound into her.
All Tulio could focus on was the wet squelching, the lewd slap of skin on skin, the grunting of the heavyset man rutting into her like a wild animal. The feeling of being so full of throbbing cock.
Her huge tits swung heavily beneath her, slapping together with each impact. She face planted into the pillows as her arms gave out, presenting her huge brown butt-spheres high for Tannabok to enjoy.
"That's it, NGH- take it! Clench this soggy fuck hole on my cock! UNGH- MMM- Milk me!"
One huge paw landed on her ass with a crack, the other coming up to wrap around her slender neck, pulling her up until her back was arched almost painfully.
"Fuckfuckfuck!!!" Tulio gasped, eyes rolling wildly, tongue starting to loll out.
Her brain was melting from the onslaught of sensation, every conscious thought fucked right out of her head until all that was left was a horny, empty-headed bimbo.
"Gonna flood this tight cunt, fill it to overflowing with my cum until you're fat with it," Tannabok growled into her ear. "Breed this perfect little cock sock, knot you on my dick until you're swollen with my seed like a good slut!"
Tulio's pussy was making the lewdest wet noises with every thrust of the Chief's hips, her ass bouncing and rippling with the force, tits shaking until she thought they might fly right off her chest. Her little clit was throbbing in time with his cock pushing so deep inside her, every stroke rubbing it raw, every grind of his pelvis against her ass sending sparkles shooting up her spine.
"Ah, ah, ah!!!" Tulio squeaked with each thrust, drool running down her chin, eyes unfocused. "Nnnngh!"
The tension was reaching a breaking point, winding tighter and tighter inside her like a watch spring about to snap. Her whole body was shaking with it, clenching down harder and harder on the throbbing cock violating her so perfectly. Just a little more... a little deeper...
"Yes, yes, clamp down on my fuckstick, Chel, you little bitch!"
As amazing as that previous peak felt, it couldn't compare to how far gone she was now, every vicious thrust of that fat bastard's dick blasting past her cervix and burrowing deep inside her womb. She was sopping wet, making the lewdest squelches with each obscene plunge of his meat into her molten core.
"Tha- that's it! T- take my fat log right up your tight baby hole! Gonn- UUUNGH breed you! Pump you so full of my cum your little belly swells!"
"FuuuUUUNNNGHGGHYESSS!" Tulio squealed, eyes a spiraling galaxy of stars. As one mind-shredding thrust in particular butted right up against the entrance to her womb, eyes somehow rolled even further back into her head.
That triggered the most devastating tsunami of ecstasy to ever detonate deep inside poor Tulio's brain. It started in her tight, gripping center, her pussy walls spasming so intensely it was almost painful, before exploding outwards. The sensation made her feel like her very soul was being ripped from the mortal plane.
Images flashed before her mind's eye in the instant of pure euphoria – Miguel's roguish grin after swindling a rich merchant, them singing over the campfire as stars painted a story across the heavens, the two of them balls deep in the willing sisters they'd met in Barcelona, the sweet soft curves and wet heat of the women writhing beneath them... but it all felt dull, lifeless compared to this. Nothing in her old life could compare to being nailed so perfectly by this huge slab of masculine flesh.
The chief's dick was jackhammering into her now, the steady *smack smack smack* of his heavy hips against her rippling asscheeks echoing through the chambers. He drove into her hard enough that her tits swung up to smack her in the face with each thrust.
Tulio could only exist in the moment, body surrendered to primal carnal forces. Her brain, her identity, erased in the white hot flame of orgasmic bliss as she came harder than any human ever had before. Back arched so sharply in a perfect U-shape it was nearly inhuman, eyes rolled up into her skull, lush pink tongue extended far past her thick cock-pillows, she shrieked hard enough to shake the foundations of the entire pyramid.
The chief was rapidly reaching his own peak, meaty hands gripping her wide hips hard enough to leave bruises, thrusting into her climaxing hole like a rutting beast. He groaned, cursed, slammed into her creaming fuckhole with wild abandon.
"Gon- GONNA- UNGH! Dumping my nut in thi- this tight little cock sock! MMMMFUCK!"
With a roar he slammed home, grinding against her ass as his swollen cockhead flared, ready to unload deep in her unprotected womb. She could feel him throbbing, swelling, on the cusp of erupting.
Through the dense, cum-drunk fog, a tiny voice screamed.
'NOT INSIDE HIM YOU DUMMY! DON'T LET HIM CUM INSIDE YOU!'
With the force of an erupting volcano, Tulio slammed back into consciousness. Her eyes went wide as he felt the Chief's cock, impossibly large, begin to throb and swell inside her clenching cunt. She could practically feel his cum bubbling up, ready to blast directly into her fertile womb.
"W- wait!" Tulio yelped. "Y- you can't cum inside!"
"Ungh, why not?" Tannabok slurred, drunk on lust, hips still grinding obscenely.
Tulio's cock-clogged brain scrambled for an excuse. "Uh- b- because...the GODS! The gods have claimed th- this egg-box as their personal c- cock sheathe!" She gasped as his dick pulsed inside her. "You m- mustn't defile it with your unworthy seed!"
Tannabok's sweaty brow furrowed as he rutted into her. "B- but the gods would want me to breed such a ripe little peach..."
"N- no!" Tulio squealed, pussy spasming around him. "The gods will, ah, take away your divine favor!"
To emphasize, she clamped down hard on his pistoning cock. Tannabok cursed, hips stuttering.
"PleasePleasePlease pull out!" Tulio wailed, big tan orbs swinging beneath her. "I can't t- take your cum in my baby hole!"
With a frustrated roar, the Chief yanked his huge cock out of her, making a nasty slurping sound as her greedy pussy tried to hold on. Tulio slumped forward in shaky relief as she felt that fat pole flop onto her sweat-slick back.
"Gonna paint this bitch-body with my spunk," Tannabok growled, fisting his cock furiously as he straddled her prone form. "Drench this perfect cum-dump in jizz!"
Tulio braced herself, ass still raised and pussy fluttering around emptiness. The sloppy sounds of the Chief beating his meat filled the air, mixing obscenely with his grunts and curses.
"Drain my balls all over this thick rump! UNGH!"
The first blast struck Tulio's right butt cheek like a scalding, liquid fist, making her yelp. More jets followed, hosing her down from the crack of her ass up her back, pooling in the dimples of her lower back before overflowing and trickling back down.
*SPLRRRTTTT* *SPLOOOORGGHH* The ropes audibly slapped against her wobbling cheeks, thick and viscous.
"That's it, wore this slutty body like a glove on my cock, now take my cum you filthy bitch!"
Glob after glob of hot spunk painted Tulio, some splattering across her shoulder blades to catch in her inky hair. The thick spooge dribbled between her ass cheeks to mix with her pussy cream before oozing down her quivering thighs in heavy rivulets.
By the time the Chief's balls were empty, Tulio was glazed like a fresh pastry, covered from ass to shoulders in streaks of jizz. The room reeked of sex and ball sweat. She could feel the sperm cooling on her overheated body, an amazingly degrading sensation.
"Fuuuuuck," Tannabok panted, every inch the satisfied male. He gave her butt a light smack, watching it jiggle coated in his cum. "The gods have blessed me indeed."
He rolled off her with a groan, hefty cock flopping spent against his thigh, the tip still drooling a thick string of seed.
"Ungh, r- right. The gods are p- pleased," Tulio tried to say grandly, but it came out a wrecked whisper. Her poor cunt felt like an abused wind sock and her mind was pudding. That earth shattering orgasm had shaken something loose inside.
"Oh, where are my manners?" The Chief suddenly sprang up, all joviality, as if he hadn't just used her as his personal fuck toy. "Let me pour you a drink!"
Tulio could only nod dumbly, thighs quaking as she tried to rise and promptly collapsed back into the puddle of cum. Tannabok lifted a dripping gold chalice to her lips and she drank without tasting it, the cooled pulque barely registering. She felt disconnected from her body, the only real sensations being the ooze of jizz and her well-fucked hole.
"This calls for a trip to the baths!" The Chief proclaimed happily. "The warm waters will restore our energies. You especially after being claimed by your chief," he winked salaciously.
Somehow, Tulio found the will to stagger upright, inner thighs slick with the residue of their sloppy fucking. She tried desperately to affect Chel's previous grace, but knew she looked more like a newborn deer on wobbly legs. She felt his thick load drip from her hair to run down her heaving tits in goopy lines. But she was beyond caring, body simply wanting to be clean of this man's scent.
Attendants appeared as if from nowhere to escort her, practically carrying her jelly-limbed form to the bathing chambers. The sweet smells of herbs and the gentle lapping of water would normally be soothing, but all Tulio could focus on was the swirling storm of confused feelings within.
She'd been... violated, used, degraded in the most intimate ways. Yet her body had burned for it, convulsing through a climax more powerful than a hundred past orgasms as a man. This strange, lush form wanted to be bred like a bitch in heat by a ruinously large cock, and that realization sickened Tulio.
She grit her teeth as attendants scrubbed the Chief's leavings from her skin with scented soaps and rags. Their hands were gentle and impersonal, cleaning her with a detached reverence. What must they think of her, claimed so enthusiastically by their leader?
The Chief reclined lazily in the pool, watching the proceedings with a satisfied smile even as his cock gave the occasional twitch of renewed interest. He gestured for Tulio to join him.
Hesitantly, she sank into the warm, perfumed water, hissing as her sore holes were enveloped. It soothed her abused flesh even as the herbs stung her stretched cunt-lips.
"Ahh, nothing beats a nice soak, don't you agree?" He swirled the pulque in his cup before taking a deep swig. "Of course, certain other activities come close." He smirked, eyeing her breasts as they bobbed half-submerged.
Tulio forced a giggle, trying to channel the flirtatious persona the Chief seemed to expect. "You flatter me, my lord," she simpered. "I live only to s- serve the gods' ch- chosen."
"And serve you did! I'll be feeling that for days." He shifted his hips, drawing attention to his cock as it floated fatly just below the surface. "If the gods are so invested, perhaps we should make these private sessions a regular occurrence, hmm?"
A regular occurrence? Tulio wanted to scream. Her body couldn't take being mauled by this beast of a man again! She was barely holding together now! But she knew openly refusing wasn't an option. She just hoped she could weasel her way out of it in future.
"I... I'd be honored, my lord," she demurred, the words like ash in her mouth. "Whatever the gods desire."
"Excellent!" He clapped his hands, startling an attendant who spilled a pitcher of pulque. "I look forward to further sampling your... delights." He leered unabashedly before settling back with a contented sigh. "But for now, let's savor the restorative powers of the springs. We've both had quite the workout, eh?" He laughed heartily at his own joke.
Tulio laughed woodenly along, stomach twisting. The worst part was the traitorous fluttering between her legs at his words. Even bruised and leaking this body wanted more, craved that brutal invasion, that utter domination.
It was terrifying.
The bath seemed to last forever, but finally she found herself stumbling out of the Chief's chambers into the cool night air. Her hair hung sodden down her back, and the rough fabric of her loincloth chafed against her swollen lips with each step. She yearned for the relative privacy of the temple, the chance to break down far away from prying eyes.
Altivo was waiting for her at the base of the pyramid. At the sight of him, Tulio finally lost the composure she'd been clinging to. With a choked sob, she threw herself against his sturdy neck, burying her face in his coarse mane.
The horse let out a snort that somehow managed to convey both sympathy and judgment.
"Don't," Tulio warned, pointing an accusatory finger that wobbled more than she'd like. "Don't you dare give me that look. I've seen where you put your nose."
The horse's expression suggested that where he put his nose was entirely his business, thank you very much, and at least he hadn't just been thoroughly debauched by the human equivalent of a small mountain.
"This is officially the worst day of my life," Tulio declared, attempting to mount Altivo with what remained of her dignity. It took three tries, during which various parts of her anatomy made their complaints known in vivid detail. "And yes, I'm counting that time in Madrid with the cheese merchant's wife."
Altivo's ears flicked back in what might have been concern or possibly just resignation to his role as therapist to idiotic humans.
"You know what the worst part is?" Tulio continued, settling into a position that didn't make her newly acquired parts scream in protest. "I think... I think I might have..."
The horse waited patiently.
"I think I might have... enjoyed it." The words came out in a horrified whisper. "It's like... you know that moment in a con when everything clicks? When you're so deep in the role that it stops being an act?" Tulio's hands gestured wildly, nearly causing her to lose balance. "It was like that, but with... everything. My whole self just... ugh."
The horse's ear twitched in what might have been understanding or possibly just a fly.
"I hate it. And now I can't stop thinking about it." Tulio buried her face in her hands. "Oh gods, is this what being a woman feels like all the time? This... this AWARENESS of everything? Because if it is, I owe several people in Barcelona a VERY sincere apology."
They passed a group of revelers who bowed deeply at the sight of the "sacred vessel." Tulio managed something between a wave and a cringe.
"What am I going to do?" She groaned, flopping forward against Altivo's neck. "I can't tell Miguel - he'd either die laughing or die of embarrassment, and I'm not sure which would be worse. I can't tell Chel because she's wearing my body like a suit and doing things with my body that should NOT be physically possible. And I'm telling YOU because you're a HORSE, which really says something about my mental state right now."
Altivo snorted in what was definitely amusement this time.
"Right. Great. Excellent. I'm having an existential crisis about gender and identity while riding a horse who judges my life choices. This is fine. This is normal. This is..." She trailed off as they rounded a corner to find Miguel *still* teaching a group of enthusiastic locals some sort of heinous dance.
"Left hand, right hand!" He was calling out cheerfully. "Now shake your divine blessings! Yes, just like that! This is DEFINITELY how we dance in paradise!"
And there, in the center of it all, was Chel in Tulio's body, somehow making his gangly frame move with a grace that should have been impossible, leading the crowd in what had to be the most sacrilegious conga line in history.
"You know what?" Tulio said to no one in particular as she watched her own body demonstrate what appeared to be the electric slide to a group of thoroughly confused priests. "Maybe this is exactly what I deserve. Maybe this is the universe's way of saying 'Hey, Tulio, remember all those times you said you'd give anything to understand women better?'"
Altivo's shoulders shook with what was unmistakably laughter.
"Well, joke's on the universe," Tulio declared, straightening up with newfound determination. "Because if I'm going to be stuck in this body, with these... assets, and these feelings, and this absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of hair... then I'm going to make it work. I'm going to be the best damn temple dancer this city has ever seen. I'm going to make Chel regret ever thinking she could out-con me."
She swung off Altivo's back, only wobbling slightly. "And you know what else? I'm going to figure out how she does that thing with the hip swivel, because that's just physics-defying and I NEED to know how it works."
The horse gave her a look that clearly said "That's the spirit" with just a hint of "You're all insane and I'm only here for the apples."
Awesome book and amazing chapter.