Chapter Text
"Hey, come on, you- you can't be serious," they said, hands raised defensively, signature cocky smirk plastered on their face despite the uncertain wavering of their voice. "Uncle, come on, it's not a big deal!"
"Not a big deal. Not. A big. Deal," the glowering deity before them snarled, hands gripping the sides of his throne so tight it cracked the sacred gilded marble. "I am the master of seasons, ruler of the sky, the lord of all those that walk in daylight and the one tasked with keeping the crops growing and the monsters at bay. My name alone has sent armies of nightkin trembling in fear, my stature as warrior god-king the very basis of our followers' way of life and, by extension, our own. Yet now here I sit, bound to this chair for how many months, unable to serve my duties and protect the mortal realm from the demonic hordes on the eve of winter's rise, their most powerful season, and you claim that this matter isn't DEADLY serious?"
Smirk finally faltering, if only for a fraction of a second, the smaller god shrugged in their silken tunic. "I- I mean yeah! It's f- fine, right? Dad came up with that self-pulling cart to draw the sun across the sky for you, and it's not like the dread hordes know you're... erm... otherwise occupied! As you said, just your name can turn their armies, so as long as they don't find out-"
"And if they DO find out," the statuesque celestial interrupted. "If the demon king learns that I am unable to stand, much less raise my spear to fight? You say the blood of the thousands of clerics of my word now powerless without my help, not to mention the dozens if not hundreds of your own kin, my children and bretherin he will slaughter to try to usurp me, that those deaths are 'not a big deal!?'"
"W- well, no, of course that would be a monumental catastrophe," the pleading god admitted, shrinking into themself. "I just-"
"Just what? Couldn't control yourself? Couldn't think of the consequences of your damned actions!? Couldn't be satisfied with anything but that which you are not WORTHY of!?"
"...I just... I think the punishment is... a bit much," they tried, meekly.
"You injured my chefs to get close to my food, poisoned me to leave me vulnerable, deceived my wife and daughter into letting you into my bed chambers, and had your way with me while I was unconscious knowing FULL WELL the fate of those you lie with! You have betrayed my trust, defiled my body, and now as a result I am incapable of defending the waking world from harm! All because you wanted to see me pregnant with your children, you perverted freak," the sky king roared, before collapsing against the back of his throne and panting and heaving. Indeed, the weight of his incredibly gravid, rounded middle was sapping so much energy from him that his shouting left him gasping for air. His once chiseled abs were gone, lost in a sea of stretch marks and gently jostling baby bumps as the dozens of new gods growing inside him pushed ever outwards. Between his toned thighs and sculpted calves, a veritable river of thick, chunky sperm flowed gently but steadily from his prolapsed anus, proof of the act that had sired so many babes only the night before. Despite being male, the most powerful god in the world of Ingdras was absurdly, heavily pregnant with an absurd litter of nearly sixtry swiftly developing embryos that, if their sire's previous sows were to be asked, would take months to emerge despite already seeming full term.
Such was the blessing- or in this case curse- of the god of sex pregnancy and birth, Syth-Nalbahd. Any living thing seeded by their prodigeous cock would be fat and round with child for a full nine months at the very least, no matter their gender, and similarly any bodily fluid that entered their always-drooling cunny would swell their own womb with infants. If it were not for their husband, Igmund the Chaste, and their wife slash sister, Kastrid the Barren, they would undoubtedly become a living plague infesting the world with more demigods than anyone dares to imagine. But even with two spouses and a devoted cult to, ahem, release tension with, Syth-Nalbahd found themself unable to get the image of their uncle, the all-powerful godking, swollen to the point of incapacitation with their spawn. Thus they had enacted their plan, even going so far as to abstain from release for an entire month in preparation for well and truly seeding their uncle's ass.
Oh, and what an ass it had been. Tight, muscular, clearly used before but very infrequently... just remembering it stirred Syth's gratuitous erection under their tunic. The hot, vice-like grip of the taboo flesh they were so temptingly forbidden from... not to mention the feeling of ruining that tightness as the powerful king slept, laying into his rear and pumping it full for what felt like hours on end, until the sky lord's stomach was bloated so full that the unconscious deity was vomiting sperm in his sleep... ah, that was a memory they would treasure for the rest of their (apparently short) life.
Yes, because the punishment that had been chosen for them was the worst a god of Ingdras could earn: banishment from all realms, being cast into the void beyond reality, never to be seen again. None that crossed the dark horizon had ever returned, and thus since the gods were immortal, being sent away to live out the rest of their eternal lives... wherever else there was outside of the universe, well, that was as bad as it could get. It did leave one problem though.
"If you send me away, who will take over my domain!? The mortals will not live forever- if they stop giving birth, stop getting pregnant, stop laying with one another... that would be much worse than a demonic invasion! It would be complete extinction," they insisted, hoping their uncle would see sense.
But the bearded, pregnant god only smiled and raised a hand to his own squirming middle. "Oh, don't worry about that. I plan to split your duties among those that would best be suited for the task. You provided me with so many candidates, after all. Perhaps dividing the domain and power associated with it thinner will let your children think more clearly than their parent, make them less perverted and ruled by their own lusts. Who knows? Maybe our children will be better at the task than you ever were. I suppose I'll just have to find out. You, though... You won't be getting a chance to see what they grow into, to corrupt them to your short sighted, self centered way of thinking. You'll be out of my hair. Forever."
Syth-Nalbahd paled and opened their mouth to protest once more, but found their tongue limp and their mind blank. Their own progeny used to cement their undoing. It was poetic. Laughably so. The corner of their slack mouth twitched upward, and they would have chuckled... but their Uncle, with a snap of his fingers, unleashed a rolling crack of thunder that blew them backwards into the pitch black portal behind them, and in an instant they were gone.
-----
Nothing.
No light, no darkness.
No cold or warmth.
Not the feeling of falling, or floating, no feeling at all.
Not even the solidity of their own body.
Not even the fluidity of knowing time was passing.
No sleep, no dreams, no... anything.
Just the abyss, boundless and draining.
-----
Piercing light, cold hands, a sticky slime all over their body and down their throat. They couldn't breathe. They were a god, they didn't need to breathe. Fuck, they were burning up, what was happening!? Their body- oh they had one of those again- was shaking and twitching, weak and exhausted, and then they were WAILING.
"Congratulations, it's a boy," the doctor cheered, holding up the newborn infant as it cried out for the first time. "Heh, a BIG boy!"
"Um, are you sure about that doctor," a nurse questioned uncertainly, gesturing between the child's legs.
The doctor frowned under his mask and turned the squirming baby around, looking closer. "What the- oh my."
-----
"But they're healthy," the concerned father asked, holding his wife's hand as she slept.
"Well, yes," the doctor admitted. "Certainly, at the moment, they seem perfectly okay-"
"Even with the oversized, uh, you know?"
"Oh, the testicles? Yes, it looks to be a simple case of newborn hydrocele, very very common. The glands themselves are fine, it's just an excess of fluid around them making them LOOK large, but it's perfectly painless and harmless. Still, there is the other matter to be concerned about."
"That they're intersex," the father said, raising an eyebrow and looking over to his newborn. Indeed, the freshly day-old child was equipped with a swollen sack nearly the size of an apple, a cock a good few inches long already, and a pert little pussy nesstled underneath. Quite the rare case, apparently caused by a pair of twins- one male and one female- merging in utero.
The doctor fidgeted with his clipboard. "Right. Yes, that. The easiest corrective surgery would be to remove the male genitalia, as that set is mostly external, but if you would prefer we could try to take out the ovaries now and then then do a follow up hysterectemy once it's a little more developed-"
"Hold on, I thought you said they were healthy," the father cried, distressed. "Now you're saying they need surgery!? Which is it!?"
The doctor simply stared at the man, uncomfortable. He glanced back at the infant for a moment, then at the sleeping wife. "Well, sir, I mean... your child is fine, it's life is not in danger, but... it-"
"Would you stop calling them 'it' like that!? You sound like your talking about a dog, damn it, that's a human child! MY child!"
The medical professional winced. "I- sorry, sir I just... THEY are, as you said, intersex. So, well... the only way to fix it is, well, corrective surgery."
The room fell silent save for the methodical, slow ticking of the analog clock hanging over the door. Several agonizingly long seconds passed. A bead of sweat dripped down the doctor's neck. "Get out," the father snarled, a dark look in his eyes."
"S- sir?"
"Get the hell away from my family you damn butcher," he growled, standing and towering over the white coated doctor.
Backing towards the door, the smaller man stammered out "I- I'm sorry if I offended you, sir, I thought-"
"You thought what!? That I'd want you to mutilate my perfectly healthy child!? That just because they came out a little different that I'd be so horrified to look at them that I'd want you to cut them up and potentially KILL them!? Get out! Get the hell out of here, and if I ever see you again I'm going to beat you into the fucking ground for having the GALL to imply that there's something so wrong with MY CHILD that you'd have to SLICE INTO THEM to fix it when they are, in your own damn words, PERFECTLY OKAY!"
They left the hospital the next morning, vowing never to go there again, and leaving many nasty reviews for that particular doctor. In their arms, the new parents held their child, who they named Angel. Of course, there was no way they could have known they were holding a reincarnated god, or that the apparent swollen size of their scrotum wasn't from hydrocele, but instead simply the first sign of the changes to their body and the world around them that would be brought on by their divine power leaking through into the world they had been reborn into. A world much like your own, dear reader, though not for long if Syth-Nalahd, now known as "Angel," had any say in the matter.
No, the god had been given a second chance, and this time there was no uncle to banish them, no arranged marriages to hold them back, and no demon army to worry about. This time, it was just them, their otherworldly power, and a whole potentially eternal lifetime to enjoy themselves and make things interesting however they saw fit.
Oh yes, this was going to be fun.