Altered Genesis Ch. 03

"Ladies will start arriving in fifteen minutes. Get the finger food on the table Dean," Gabby Johnson stuck her head out of her bedroom door to project her voice down to the kitchen. She returned to the mirror, adjusted her blouse and took a deep breath as she stared at herself.

Her dark blue formal dress billowed out from her broad hips and almost touched the floor. Ornate buttons fastened up to a white frilled collar against her neck making her blouse the definition of ladylike sophistication and dignity. Her grey hair was tied back with a sapphire studded silver headpiece. She wanted everything to be perfect for the local coven meeting.

After taking a moment to calm her nerves, she made her way down the hallway to inspect her son's progress.

"Last month you over-cooked the spring rolls," she had tension in her voice while moving from the lounge room into the kitchen. Upon arrival, she found Dean turning around while holding a tray of perfectly cooked spring rolls. He smiled proudly for a short moment.

She leaned against the doorway with arms folded.

"Did you clean the bathroom?" she probed.

"Yes," Dean was quick on the reply.

"Will dinner be ready soon?"

"In about half an hour," Dean's irritation was tempered by an understanding that his mother was nervous. The last thing that he wanted was to trigger her anxiety any further.

He understood that she sometimes felt out of place amongst the senior members of the Sisters of Dibella. After several failed business ventures, she barely had the money to put him through school, let alone attract a handsome boyfriend. She was one of the only ladies among the coven leadership who didn't have a man.

Holding the tray with one hand, Dean pulled a platter from the cupboard above him without even looking. Everything had its place. He had been responsible for all cooking and cleaning in the house since he was twelve but was still unaccustomed to preparing a banquet for fifteen ladies with well-developed appetites. Preparing all of the food that his mother requested for the occasion required him to spend half of the previous day shopping and then start preparations at 7 am.

As he turned to the bench to begin plating up the snacks, Gabby noticed that her son was still wearing some battered old track pants that she got him for high school athletics.

"Oh Deany. You're not wearing those ugly old track pants again?! They are hardly appropriate for guests," she said in a pained tone of voice.

Dean loved to wear the black, ragged trousers around the home. They reminded him of the day that he made the high school team. He had trained every day for over a year to make the last place in the reserve relay team.

She always said that he was much more gifted as a homemaker but he detested the thought of being a stay-at-home husband. He loved track but knew that he wasn't a natural athlete.

"If any of my friends knew how I was spending my weekend cooking and cleaning as a domestic servant in this stupid white apron, I would never hear the end of it," he reminded himself as he bit into a hot spring roll gingerly.

"Put on those lovely shorts that you got last week. I assume that you got them for tonight," Miss Johnson used a tone of finality that she only administered on occasion. Dean knew that this meant that any argument or protest would not end well for him. Besides, he hated to make his mother upset.

Dean cringed for a moment. He had bought the hotpants to impress his girlfriend, Charlotte Femworth. In reality, they were more like lingerie than shorts.

He considered telling his mother the real reason that he bought them but he didn't dare open himself up to more invasive questions. If she knew that he had been dating the daughter of Justice Femworth, she would be proud. But then the probing would never end. He would need to lie, something he was always terrible at. He couldn't bear to imagine his mother's reaction if she knew that he had already given his virginity to her.

He recalled the hypnotic sight of her powerful dark brown breasts bouncing in the dim light cast by her bedside table lamp and his desperate plea for her to stop. Their formidable size was a testament to her femininity. The only sounds were her loud moans of satisfaction building towards another orgasm as his penis grew inside of her. He could have stopped her, could have said no. But he didn't want to be that kind of guy. The kind of guy who entices a femme but never puts out. Charlotte talked about how much she hated boys who would abuse their sexual privilege to manipulate honest unsuspecting femme. In that ecstatic moment, he gave in. Half of the school knew about his deflowering only twenty-four hours later; reinforcing her position as queen Bee.

Dean noticed that some of the guys from the track team were a bit more distant with him than normal. He felt like a cheap whore and couldn't blame them for their reaction. The only thing that could drive home his humiliation any more was if she got pregnant; then she would have him for good.

She terrified him. He could never seem to control himself around her and she would always seem to get her way. He knew that he made the right decision in the end. Ending it was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but it felt like too little too late. He certainly couldn't bear to tell his mother any of this because he was sure that the shame would kill her.

Dean realised that his mind had wandered so he turned back to his mother and quickly came up with a response.

"But it's a bit cold tonight," was the best excuse he could come up with to avoid wearing the hotpants.

"Rubbish, you've been working hard enough to stay warm, besides, you can keep the apron on anyway," she said.

The knowledge that his front would at least be covered afforded him some relief.

"Ok," he sighed as he made his way to his room.

The hotpants proudly carried the 'CG' logo that gave them an air of class that Dean had never felt before. The white elastic pant legs ran only an inch below his bottom, leaving his smooth-shaven legs exposed. He picked white because it was the color of virginity. Looking at himself in the mirror made him feel like a fraud. The thin elastic fabric did little to hide his genitals; an outline of his plentiful charms pressed against the tight fabric and left very little to the femme imagination. He was proud of his masculine assets, but using them to entice a bunch of horny old witches was the last thing that he wanted. His mother's friends made him feel uneasy even when he dressed modestly.

He swallowed hard and slipped on a light-blue tight sleeveless shirt then tied the apron around himself and turned in the mirror to see the material riding all the way up his ass crack; as if the pants were painted on. The fabric pressed uncomfortably against his genitals. But at least his genital bulge was covered by the apron; something for which he was eternally grateful.

Dean sat on his bed and began slipping on some socks and shoes.

"And no shoes dear. It's a sign of humility and respect. We have some special guests this month," his mother called out down the hall from her lounge seat as if she was watching him from across the room.

"Fine," he muttered to himself too quietly for his mother to hear.

He had planned to match his top with the shoes, but going barefoot meant that he had to change into something that would better suit his pants. The replacement was a sleeveless midriff top that showed off his lower abdominals and obliques. This was something he would wear to impress the ideal femme and far from what he felt comfortable wearing for his mother's friends, but it was the only thing that matched. If it wasn't for the apron, he would have found something else.

"As the boy of the house it is your duty to answer the door when we have guests," his mother reminded him.

He rolled his eyes at hearing this for the hundredth time.

"And remember to pay extra attention to Kimberly Gynodime. She is my new boss and certainly deserves your appreciation. She's the reason I can afford your tuition at all."

Dean nodded with a subtle grimace and returned to the lounge.

"And only speak when spoken to. If Kim speaks to you, you must reply with what?"

"'Yes ma'am' or 'yes my lady' or 'thank you ma'am'," Dean rubbed his fingers into his closed eyelids as he answered.

"You forgot that Kim prefers 'Lady Gynodime' from boys," Gabby scolded.

Dean prided himself for his good memory and was shocked to realise his oversight.

"Dean! There is a lot ridding on tonight. You need to focus if you want me to pay your tuition. Remember?" she continued.

Dean nodded solemnly.

"And what else?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Always smile!" she sighed. "Especially if you are given a compliment."

"Yes mom. Don't worry," he subconsciously dropped his head slightly.

"Good. You may only ever say anything else when specifically asked to do so."

"I'll be having a brandy in the lounge," she added.

Dean silently made his way back to the kitchen.

She breathed out and her shoulders relaxed upon seeing his improved attire.

"Switch the lights on sweetie, it's getting dark in here," she spoke while pouring brandy from a crystal decanter. Her tone was slightly less anxious.

Taking a deep breath, Gabby took a moment to admire a mural depicting the 'universal ladder of being' as the sisters of Dibella understood it. Dean hung it on the wall for her several months ago to impress her regular guests from the coven.

She took another sip and was amazed that she would always find something new every time that she reflected on it. Sometimes it was a new detail in its intricate design, other times it was an entirely new layer of meaning.

At the top, stood the Goddess Dibella wearing a golden robe over her broad frame and a crown atop of her flowing white hair. A pink scarf encompassed her face and covered her neck. She was depicted in a classic iconic style with a round halo encompassing her head. Her arms were pointing out from her sides and down to her creation below. From each of her palms a brilliant light flowed down to form the two hierarchies of the universe.

On the right, flowing from her left palm was the hierarchy of nature. At the top was the sun, from which all life gained its physical manifestation. A vortex of light continued down below the sun like a golden ribbon until it reached flora and fauna. Cows, sheep and chickens were what the artist chose to represent fauna while she chose lush meadows spotted with fig trees and sunflowers for flora. Below them was the underworld, a lifeless underground cave harshly illuminated by a stream of amber lava.

On the left, flowing from the Dibella's right palm was another ray of light leading to the hierarchy of the soul. At the top was a common iconic depiction of a femme. She was adorned with an elaborate formal dress that exaggerated her generous proportions and covered her entire body with the exception of her head. Her dress was less ornate than the Goddess but of similar design and her eyes were looking up at the Goddess who gazed back down at her with serene love.

Both the Goddess and the femme were decidedly elderly in keeping with church teaching that states that a femme is not yet fully grown until she has passed menopause and granted the title of 'lady'. Another ribbon of light connected the femme and the sun together as if making the top horizontal rung on the ladder. Indicating that both the sun and femme were one the same level of existence in the ladder and were closest to Dibella.

Gabby's eyes continued down the hierarchy of soul and she was surprised that she still found the next image so titillating. Two naked 18-year-old virgins knelt with hands clasped together as if praying to the femme above. Their impossibly large cocks joined in intersession to her with raging purple erections and testicles of matching size and color.

Gabby took a moment to admire the exquisite attention to detail that the artist had taken when painting the unique patterns in the bulging veins of the boy's phallic offerings. She had beautifully depicted those fatless, hairless and strong bodies with remarkable detail and emotion. Four young plump testies hung heavily with their burden of devotion; her glorious bounty. Two curved penises touched each other ever so slightly at their apex, joining like a pair of hands praying to their Goddess on earth. The warm feeling between Gabby's legs reminded her that she hadn't ridden her dildo yet that day. Normally she would start the day with some porn but she simply had too much to do.

The two obedient and handsome faces were underscored by black chokers around their necks. Gabby saw the boys as a profound distillation of the masculine virtues of beauty, obedience, humility and chastity. By embracing their inferiority, they had elevated themselves and ascended to the pinnacle of masculinity.

"It is certainly the sexiest spirituality ever. It once seemed completely contrived, but the more I explore it, the more it feels true," she thought as she took another sip of brandy.

The second rung on the ladder of soul equated boys with flora and fauna in the hierarchy of being. Below the boys, the golden ribbon of light coalesced into a rope. A noose hung from the rope in the empty blackness. This symbolized the death of the soul by eternal torture, the antitheses to the blissful birth of the feminine soul from the Goddess of the universe. The rung between the death of the soul and the underworld made the third rung on the ladder of being.

Gabby felt anxious, she prayed that Dean would remain under the authority of a femme for all of his life so that he might be reincarnated as a boy once again and avoid eternal suffering and death in the afterlife. If he would be able to remain true and chaste for his entire life and faithfully serve his wife then he might even come back as a femme in the next life.

"If all goes well for me, then I'll enjoy eternal pleasure in the paradise that Dibella has prepared for me. With more beautiful young virgins than I could ever want," she thought.

The first guest arrived seconds later. Dean stopped what he was doing, answered the door, led the lady to the lounge room and served her a drink. Every few minutes another heavyset, elderly lady would arrive and Dean would need to drop what he was doing to repeat his hosting duties. The ring of the doorbell elicited a sting of suppressed frustration every time.

Each time Dean answered the door, he held out hope that he would find a young attractive femme on the other side, but it was not to be. The meeting was only for senior coven members in leadership positions and the church of Dibella only admitted post-menopausal ladies to such posts. Only they were considered to be fully mature femme. Even if it was open to all members a majority of the sisterhood would still be much too old for Dean's liking anyway.

He did his best to remember the names of guests that had visited on previous occasions and learned the names of the new ones.

The third lady to arrive was new but did not require an introduction upon first meeting. Dean recognized her from online videos that he had seen since he was child. It was High Gynarch Martha Rati, the head of the entire Californian coven. She had a considerable world-wide spiritual following. His mother had been watching her sermons online for many years and made sure that Dean would watch with her from an early age.

The high Gynarch wore a long black robe that touched the ground and included a train that followed half a meter behind her. Gold embroidery formed elaborate patterns all the way around the garment which had a distinctively religious quality with its long loosely fitted sleeves.

A large triple crescent symbol of Dibella made of solid gold hung from her neck and perched on the outer-most point of her huge, modestly covered breast. Dean wasn't sure if she wore a bra with extra padding or if they were natural. It was common practice for an ordained Gynarch of Dibella to wear such prosthetics to give honor to her station and project power.

She was a suitably tall lady; a head higher than Dean. He felt small and vulnerable in her presence. Her dark brown skin had deep wrinkles and her white hair was well kept and straight.

All of the scepticism and outright rejection of the matriarchal religion that Dean had fostered in recent years evaporated in an instant and old childhood habits kicked in. He felt instant reverence, as if he didn't deserve to be in her presence.

"High Gynarch Rati, it is an honor," he bowed his head automatically.

It was as if he was outside of himself looking on.

"Oh, you must be Gabby's son, Dean. I presume that you are catering this evening," she smiled warmly while surveying Dean up and down.

He felt a rush of joy at the realization that Gynarch Rati actually knew who he was. Her familiar thick Indian accent was confident and feminine with a raspy texture from her age. The distinctive sound of her voice made Dean feel like a child again.

"Yes, your eminence," he responded with a slight flourish. He couldn't believe that he was sucking up to a lady who he thought he despised.

"Blessings to the male of this house," she spoke the unusual words comfortably and her eyes pierced into him as she raised a hand towards him, "That he may grow in humility, obedience, beauty and chastity. May he be a true credit to Gabby's estate."

As she spoke the prayer, Dean had no idea what to do other than just look to the floor. He wanted to hate her but she was making it difficult for him. He couldn't help but smile broadly because he knew that such an honor was one that could bring a male closer to reincarnation as a femme in the next life, or so the teachings of Dibella stated. He knew that they were nothing more than superstition but he still couldn't wipe the smile off of his face.

"Thank you, your eminence," Dean added with a bow while standing to the side of the doorway. This was a customary invitation to enter that a male host would give to femme guests. Such was coven protocol.

Fixing drinks for the new arrival, he could feel the eyes of the sleazy old ladies on his ass as he bent over to pour, and Gynarch Martha Rati was no exception. Each time that he leaned over, he could feel the tight elastic material ride further up his butt.

"Good boy Dean," Sandra acknowledged him as he bent over to pour.

"Lovely dear," Laura said when it was her turn to have her glass filled.

"You're welcome ladies," was his programmed response.

"Oh my Goddess!" Kimberly mouthed silently to the lady next to her so that Dean wouldn't hear. Sandra responded with a cheeky smirk and a nod. When Dean turned towards them with champagne bottle in hand, they smiled warmly at him and presented their half empty glasses for a top up. Following the lead of the ladies on the other side of the room, they held their glasses in their laps so that Dean would need to bend over to pour, offering an enticing view of his firm masculine bubble butt to the rest of the room.

"Thank you Dean," she said.

"It's an honor lady Gynodime," he added the additional sentiment for his mother's boss out of obligation.

Kimberly Gynodime's hair was grey and her face round and wrinkled. She also had a belly that could not be hidden by even the most modest dress. To Dean, she was the perfect example of the stereotypical sleazy old business lady. None of that mattered, he had to show respect if he wanted to stay in school.

He returned to the kitchen and the ladies migrated to the dining room in anticipation of the coming feast. As they all filtered in and found their seats around the long wooden table, the conversation was continued by Amber, "This is why you get such good attendance when you host Gabby. Your son is so... welcoming!" she completed after a thoughtful pause.