Critical Miss

"After?! I don't even know who I'll be after another fight! You don't care about me. You just want a healing automaton to fix your mistakes!" Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. This was all too much. Before anyone could interject, he stormed off down the coast, blinking furiously to clear his sight and trying to keep the sobs to a minimum until he was out of ear shot.

***

He walked until his boots were too full of sand and the tears had stopped flowing. The steady ebb and flow of the tide serving to calm him, ground him, give him a sense of the passage of time. The conversation wound around again and again in his head. He came up with a hundred different ways it could have went down differently, all of them terrible, all without resolution. He sat down on a rocky outcropping in a huff, his fists clenched against his temples, adrenaline from the conversation fading to bone-deep weariness. Satisfying, in a way, to give voice to his thoughts, it also came at the cost of alienating some of the people he cared about. He had no idea if he even had a team anymore.

Why were they so thoughtless? Didn't they understand what he was going through?! Every time he used his power, it was like he was losing a part of himself. He couldn't let them die, it was against everything he believed. But to go into battle with a Lich would take all his magical power. And then...

So caught in introspective thought that he didn't notice Mork coming up alongside until he was close enough to feel the ground quake.

"Go away," Colin said, wiping quickly at his eyes for any hint of moisture.

But the goliath ignored him. He sat next to Colin on the rocks, settling like a collapsing brick wall, staring out into the water.

"OTHERS WORRIED," Mork explained, "TOLD THEM MORK WOULD CHECK ON YOU."

Colin nodded, but that doesn't mean he liked it. "I just wanted to be alone. To think. You...you know what's going on with me, right?"

"YES. POWERS CHANGING YOU. YOU THINK GODDESS PUNISHING YOU."

"I don't think, I know! Why else would my magic be taking this price on me? None of the other healers at my Priory went through this. I've searched the archives back at Glostock for stories, legends, anything that would explain what sins I've committed, or how to ask for forgiveness. Nothing..."

They sat in silence for a while. It was a beautiful vista. The sun was going down, turning the sky a gorgeous shade of crimson. A huge stone statue of a lizardman jutted out of the water in the distance, his stony sneer of cold command worn down by water, wind, and time until the features were barely recognisable. Below it, in the water, a trio of mermaids were laughing and splashing little waves at one another with their flippers. Through his crisis, the world continued spinning.

"MAYBE ANOTHER EXPLANATION?" Mork queried.

"Like what?"

"THE CHANGES HAPPEN WHEN YOU HELP PEOPLE, YES? DO THEY HAPPEN WHEN YOU USE YOUR POWERS FRIVILOUSLY?"

Colin blinked. "Why would I do that?"

The colossus' enormous face cracked into a smile. "MORK BELIEVE YOU ANSWERED YOUR OWN QUESTION."

The young healer thought about his powers. In some ways, his use was selfish of course. But his party wasn't knocking over caravans, it was destroying threats that people have paid them to handle. The flame elemental had been burning forests to the ground before they'd defeated it. Before that, there was the Ratking, who had been eating livestock and poisoning grain. And before that were those bandits who were blackmailing that town. They were doing good work, for good causes! But if it wasn't a punishment, what could it possibly be? A curse? Some fell enchantment placed on him by a rival?

What if it's not a punishment...

The pair stood, swiping off the sand from their clothes. "Thank you for talking to me. I...guess I wasn't expecting you to have advice I needed to hear."

He nodded sagely. "MORK UNDERSTAND. OUTWARDLY, MONOSYLABRIC BRUTE. BUT WHILE MORK HAS TROUBLE EXPRESSING HIMSELF SOMETIMES, MORK HAS RICH INNER LIFE."

"I still need some time. I have to contact the Goddess somehow. I won't be able to go with you do the Lich's lair."

Mork grimaced. "UNFORTUNATE. BUT UNDERSTANDABLE. IN COMBAT, ONE MUST HELP ONE'S SELF BEFORE HELPING OTHERS. MORK TELL ARTHER AND TILDA. THEY KNOW YOU WILL BE THERE WHEN WE NEED YOU MOST."

Colin cocked his head to the side. "How do they...how do you know that?"

Mork patted him gently. "THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS DO."

***

The Goddess of Colin's faith had many domains. Along with being the patron of medicine and healing, she also turned her gaze towards couples, justice, light, knowledge, and the lost. To seek her out, typically, one must meditate within a location of great illumination. The Priories devoted to her had some best stocked libraries on the continent, and at the top of each was the blazing spire; a perpetual fire kept alight by those devoted to extolling and exploring Her wonders to the world.

But he was several weeks away from his homelands, and his faith was just one of dozens known to the traders and farmfolk who lived around here. People used to constant monster attacks didn't have the luxury of picking a god and praying; they prayed to whoever would listen.

So. If he couldn't find a Priory to bask in its illumination, he'd have to find another way to commune with Her.

It had to have been past midnight, by his reckoning. The moonlight was faint through the thick forest canopy, making ever step a potential hazard. He'd already fallen half a dozen times, and his hands had become skinned and cut by bracing against the sharp rocks and branches that lined the ground like natural caltrops. These were not sensible woods to be walking in near pitch darkness, especially considering the threats there were. The kinds of thing his team was sent out to face. But he continued onward, not stopping for rest or even healing his many minor wounds. To find Her, his only hope would be to become well and truly lost.

The only sounds around were those of crickets and the crunch of deadfall under his feet. Not enough to distract his mind from wandering on past events. Picking them apart, looking for new meaning. What did it mean when he didn't share his brothers' zest for physical combat? Or when he spent long hours with several female companions before he joined the Priory, never once feeling out of place? Did everyone avoid their reflection in the water, or was that something to think about too?

Colin chewed on his lower lip. His powers. His incredible gift from on high. Surely She'd meant for him to do something with them. But why had she made his body change whenever he used them? If she was displeased, why wouldn't she remove his powers? He'd heard of fallen clerics before, and though he had no interest in joining their number, that they existed at all gave him a strange sense of comfort. On one level, it was nice to know one didn't instantly vaporize once they lost the favour of a capricious deity. On the other hand, that he wasn't one of them gave him a glimmer of hope that he wasn't a total lost cause.

His boot caught on an unearthed root, sending him tumbling to the ground. He landed hard on his bruised hands, again, and whimpered. How much longer did he have to go on? Another hour? Three?

"Sweetie, you're going to catch a cold lying down on the floor there."

Colin blinked. The forest was gone, replaced by the modest interior of a cozy farmhouse, not unlike the ones they'd boarded in during their journey down the coast. The interior was lit by a glorious fireplace, roaring flames licking at the bottom of a large black pot. A figure with generous, feminine curves stirred the liquid within with a ladle, humming a tune to herself. She wore a peasant dress and apron in a drab brown colour. When she turned to face him, he recognised her face immediately.

"Goddess?" he asked. As the sound left his mouth, he noticed that it was no longer dry. He knelt, prostrating himself before the being before him. His Goddess: the source of his devotion and from which all his many powers had sprung.

"Well I'm flattered you call me that. Please, stand. Or rather, sit." She held out her hand to the cushioned seat which appeared next. Reluctantly, he complied. Pushing up from the floor didn't hurt, neither did his feet; his aches and wounds had completely disappeared. He settled down into the chair, gawking at his surroundings, his brow furrowed.

"I don't understand. This is...not what I expected, what the others described was more...."

She smiled, fetching a clay bowl from a cupboard. "Ostentatious? Gaudy? I'm a simple woman, really. The others may prefer the marble and the tapestries of woven fate but give me four walls and a cot and I'd be satisfied. I hope you like soup!" Ladling out a portion to him, Colin took it gratefully. A vegetable medly, it looked like. He looked around for a spoon, but one appeared in his hand the moment it left his peripheral vision.

He took a spoonful. It tasted like heaven after a week of trail rations. Good, honest, hot vegetable soup with a few herbs and a pinch of salt. "It's good!"

The Goddess beamed. "I'm glad. Hubastis was the cook in our family. Well, technically he's the God of the Feast, but I think I can hold my own over a stove. Now, while you eat that, tell me why you've gotten yourself lost out in the woods to find me."

He slurped, responding between mouthfuls. "You don't know?"

"I'm not That omniscient," she said with a smile, "Kidding. Just humour me. Sometimes hearing the problem out loud is the best way to work toward a solution."

"Well...I wanted to ask you why, when I use my powers, my body changes. It becomes softer, weaker..."

"Mmm...I don't know about that. Femininity is not weakness. You wouldn't consider me weak, would you?"

"Of course not!" Colin replied on reflex, out of as much respect as fear.

"Good. I was afraid I was losing my touch! Now...let me see..." The Goddess opened up another cupboard and rummaged around. The door faced Colin so he couldn't see what she was searching through, only hearing the occasional clink of glass or the slosh of something filled with fluid. "Aha! I thought I put it in here."

She set down a vial of glowing fluid. Far from the red of health potions or the blue of mana, this one was a pure, luminous white.

"What is that?" Colin asked.

"It's a special potion of my own creation. The ingredients aren't important, but the effect is. It will accelerate the changes, tipping you all the way over to a complete transformation."

"But why would I want that? Why is this even happening at all?"

The Goddess made a face. "Because, silly, you're just like me."

Without ceremony, she lifted the apron off her body and undid the buttons on her dress. Her gorgeous, flawless body was on full display. For a moment, he kept his eyes off of her out of respect. But it was impossible to resist the sight, the full and unfiltered vision of his Goddess. Stretching down from her long, flowing hair, across her full face, voluptuous body, squishy tummy, and most surprisingly...a cock. A soft, thick, gorgeous cock.

"Y-You're..." he stammered, words slipping from his grasp, "You're..."

Her smile could have brought life to a desert. "Like you? Of course, sweetheart. Those who feel a different call of their heart to the body they've been given hold a special place for me. They are my chosen, and I reward those who help others. So you see," she reached down to pat the head of her servant, "You aren't being punished. You're being rewarded! But I understand, this might be scary. You might not want to change quite this fast. If you want me to take what I've given back, I can. You can be in your old body in a moment. You'll still have my blessings, and I'll still love you just as much."

Then, in that moment, it all came crashing down. The need in his life, the life he wanted to lead, it was all so clear. In a moment, Colin wasn't Colin anymore. The old identity flaked and fell away, shed like a dragon sheds its scales. A name arose, unbidden, surfacing from some dark and dormant part of her mind.

"Grace?" the Goddess asked.

"How did-" Grace began, the name completing a puzzle she'd been working on her whole life.

"I'm your Goddess, dear," she replied, running a hand through her supplicant's hair, "I ought to know your name."

A swirl of emotions welled up in her heart. She wanted to laugh, and cry, and shout and dance and a hundred other things until she couldn't move anymore. But most of all, she wanted to show her appreciation for the gift.

"How can I ever repay you?" she asked.

The Goddess laughed. "You don't need to pay me anything. I don't really have a currency, sweetheart. All I ask is that you continue to bring light and healing to those that need it, and do your best to live a virtuous life." She handed Grace the potion. The stoppered glass vial felt warm in her hand. "Drink this in its entirety. It might not have the best taste but it'll accelerate your transformation. You'll be exactly how you desire to appear, no less."

Grace stared at the vial. It was everything she previously didn't know she wanted. A completion of her transformation! But something was...off, about the liquid inside. She removed the stopper and sniffed it. "Umm...Goddess?"

The voluptuous deity blushed. "I-Is there something wrong, my dear?"

"This...what exactly is this potion made out of?"

"I don't see why you need to be so picky!" she said, throwing up her hands, "It's just a few odds and ends..."

The healer tipped it from side to side, watching the viscous fluid roll back and forth. "Because, besides the glowing, this smells and looks and awful lot like-"

"Alright! Okay, I'll admit it. It's my...essence. But you try conjuring up a vector for life magic that DOESN'T involve semen!" Realizing her placid mask had slipped, she visibly shook off the outburst and settled back into her original role as the caretaker. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned something. If you're not willing to consume this, I can make a potion out of something else. It might take some time, but I think I can use my new soup recipe. Just need a little-"

Grace shook her head. "No, I wasn't asking because I wasn't willing to take it. I was asking because...I think I know a way to express my gratitude."

Falling to her knees before her Goddess as she had so many times during prayer, her slender fingers reached up to touch the thick thighs of her object of devotion. The Goddess was startled for a moment, unused to the touch of a mortal.

"I'm not sure I...oh, oh goodness!" she said, hands pressing in her cheeks in an exaggerated pantomime of shock, "You don't have to do that! I have your bottle right here!"

Grace's hands slid sensually along the Goddess' skin to meet around her hips, where they touched and prodded her limp cock. "But what if I want it straight from the source? What if I want you, right now, inside me?"

Taking the initiative, Grace took the shaft and jerked it gently, testing both it and its owner for a response. In moments the Goddess stiffened in more ways than one.

"Oh dear...it's been so long...I might have a little bit too much saved up!" she warned.

Grace smiled. "Then I better get started, shouldn't I?'

Without anymore ado, she leaned in to trace a long, languid lick up the divine dick in front of her. As a cleric, Grace was restricted from marrying. But the Goddess looked highly on those who would provide succor and care to those around them, up to and including sexual release. As such, Grace knew her way around a penis. Her tongue flicked up at the end of the lick, teasing the very tip of the throbbing purple head and forcing a groan to spill forth from her perfect lips.

"Ngh...that feels good..." she admitted.

"And this will feel even better," Grace declared. She opened her mouth wide and let the thick head slip past her lips. Precum squirted out in response to the joy of being placed inside a wet, welcoming mouth. The Goddess thrust herself forward instinctively, but pulled herself back, afraid of taking too much from her suckling supplicant.

"Sorry!"

Grace grinned. "If it feels good, don't be shy. Let me make you feel good!"

With a slight hesitation, she placed a hand on the back of her head. Sighing deep, she applied a slight pressure while thrusting forward, stuffing her cock into Grace's waiting mouth. The human went to work, polishing her underside and as much of the shaft as she could lick with her questing tongue, tasting every inch. There was no gagging from her, only an eager, yielding hole for a Goddess to pleasure herself with. More pre spurted forth, sliding without hindrance down Grace's throat.

She sped up. After all, the key to her transformation lay within! Steadying herself by gripping the Goddess' plush butt, Grace bobbed her head back and forth, letting her tongue drag lazily along the shaft to tease it. Sweet moans sounded like music to her ears, encouraging her to continue.

"Mmm...this feels so good...I forgot how good a mortal mouth could feel!" the Goddess said, her voice unusually high. Grace took that as a compliment. After all, how many people could say they pleased their deity so...viscerally?

The pace quickened, as did the Goddess breathing. Well practiced breath control allowed her to keep up the pressure, letting the thick cock slide effortlessly up and down her throat. The natural wet and warm confines were seductive enough, but adding the tightening of muscle at just the right points, and soon the spurts of precum was a steady leak. Grace took that as encouragement, letting more dick inside until her lips were pressed up against the Goddess' hilt. But despite her divinity, her stamina wasn't infinite. Grace felt the telltale quiver and gasps from a woman about to climax.

"Oh...oh dear...I'm close. I have...so much to give you. I can't hold it back...this is your last chance to...ngh..." the Goddess warned, her message scattershot between sharp breaths and moans at the sheer enthusiasm from Grace, who turned her last reserves of devotion into insistent oral affection. She hilted herself again and again, taking her Goddess' cock deep down into her throat, bulging it obscenely. She could feel it twitch in her mouth and looked up, staring into the face of her adoring deity. An act of pure, selfless devotion.

Her perfect cock exploded, squirting hot, glowing cum in impossible volumes. Grace swallowed everything she was given, and her body was filled with glorious light...

***

The Lich's laughter sounded like wind blowing through the windows of an abandoned homestead. The nature of its skeletal features made it seem like it was grinning, yet its voice was mirthless, hollow. It seems it was humorless in more than one sense of the word. "What foolishness has infected the youth these days..." it rasped, moving its hands in slow, deliberate circles, puppeting the legion of the dead in its attacks.

Mork smashed the sternum of another bone golem, the bones turning into white powder. It continued to fight, even as its rib cage collapsed in on itself, swinging another double fisted axe-handle strike that caught him in the shoulder. Despite his bulk, he went spinning through the air, crashing into one of the ice trails Tilda had conjured into existence in her bid to stay ahead of the small army of skeletons. It toppled down around him, partially burying him in magical ice.

With one motion, she picked up the blocks that had covered Mork, and with another great, full bodied gesture, she flung them full force at a crowd of skeletal soldiers. The chunks smashed them to bits, rusted weapons and armour flying every which way, sometimes with bones and skulls still inside. She caught her breath after such a taxing maneuver, pressing her hands to her knees and sucking in chilled air.