The Rise and Fall of Paper

Huge thanks to Newoldguy77 for his quick and very helpful editing. All characters are 18 years of age or older.

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In the beginning, when planets burst into existence, four new consciences were born on one tiny rock among the billions. These four beings each had an affinity for a core element: Earth, Air, Water, and Fire. Later, much later, when humanity sprung into existence and began to try to understand their home, they would worship these four as the First Gods.

As with all life, the gods were driven to procreate. First, Water and Air became lovers and had many children: Cloud, Rain, Storm, and Snow. Storm was loved by both Air and Fire and from their seed birthed Thunder and Lightning. Many years passed before Fire tired of Storm. He fucked Earth and they made Volcano. Then, he fucked Water and they made Life.

Life fucked everyone. If the other gods had been promiscuous, Life was a sex addict. For a while, it seemed like every day Life was having a new child. Well, not exactly a child, as all gods were fully mature when born. The point is, Life was constantly making new gods. First, there was bacteria, then sea sponges and coral and jellyfish, then more and more fish and then amphibians and reptiles, then birds and mammals.

And then came humans. If Life had thoroughly disrupted the relatively calm and pleasant existence of the First Gods, then Man was ten times as chaotic. There was an explosion of minor gods that came from Man.

It seemed, too, that as quickly as Man could create a new god, that god would grow old and die. For example, Pyramid had a wonderfully full, but ultimately short, life. Every god and goddess who came from Man was frantic with need to gain power and maintain relevance to avoid fading away into nothingness as they had seen happen to so many of their siblings. The minor gods of humanity were a chaotic, squabbing, and hypersexual bunch.

Our story begins with the god, Writer.

~~~~~

Writer stroked himself as he watched a scribe chisel words into a stone tablet. Writer appeared as he had when he first came into existence, a human man in his late teens. He was actually thousands of years old, though. While other gods of humanity had thrived in the same time period, gaining enough power to appear as beautiful and strong men and women, he was still a pimple-faced scrawny young man.

As he watched one of his most prolific followers slowly etching symbols into stone, Writer considered his problem. While Blacksmith and Mason and Hearth had unlimited followers, he had only a few scribes scattered in small communities. Some wrote on stone, like this one, but others wrote on turtle shell, or even in the dirt. Writer much preferred his followers who wrote on stone, at least that would last so he could not fade away. Still, if he ever wanted to grow stronger, he needed to make some new gods that would support him, as so many others had.

But what god would fuck him, looking as sickly and weak as he did compared to so many others? What could he offer? Writer considered the other gods and wondered which would be desperate enough to lay with him, even though they were powerful. He didn't need another weak god, he needed power.

Writer frowned as the answer came to him. This wouldn't be pleasant, but he knew what he needed to do.

The smell of death and blood was pungent and strong before he was even close enough to see the god he was looking for. By the time he got within shouting distance, he had to breath through his mouth to avoid gagging. Still, vomiting might not actually dissuade this god from fucking him, he mused.

"Tanner!" Writer called.

Tanner, a tall, hairy, muscular man looked up. His black hair was lank and greasy and hung down in unkempt locks. His naked body was covered in blood and sweat. He had a deadly sharp blade in hand and was skinning a great beast that Writer could not identify.

"Who is it?" Tanner demanded, his voice deep and cold.

"I am Writer."

"What the fuck do you want?"

Tanner was known for being gruff and unfriendly. It was said that his problem was simply that he wasn't getting enough sex. But, for all his strength and power, few other Gods could stand the stench that accompanied him. Writer, however, was desperate.

"Well," Writer said with an ironic grin to hide his anxiety, "I'd like to fuck."

Tanner stared at the pimple-faced, skinny, young man. Writer knew he wasn't much to look at, but he sincerely hoped that Tanner was horny enough to fuck him anyway. Writer needed some of Tanner's power, and the only way gods could share power was through sex.

"Take off your clothes," Tanner commanded with a hint of interest in the proposal.

Writer quickly undressed, exposing himself to the large man. Gratefully, and with a little disgust, he saw how Tanner's penis stirred and grew more rigid. Writer's own penis remained flaccid, no matter how he tried to excite himself by imagining one of his scribes instead of Tanner.

"You don't look like you want to fuck," Tanner commented.

"Maybe, maybe you could fuck me?" Writer suggested meekly.

Tanner's cock was massive, and it was a bit terrifying to imagine it in his ass. But he needed the power, needed it desperately. And, he was a god, human concerns about damage to his anus or infections from the animal blood that covered Tanner, those didn't matter to him. This would probably hurt, but if it worked, he would heal, and faster than he could now.

At least, Writer thought as he eyed the large god's rigid cock, it looked like Tanner wasn't adverse to the idea.

"Come here,"

Writer took one slow step, then steeled his nerve and strode toward the giant, stinky, dirty God. He stopped when he as just an arm's length away and waited. Tanner set down his knife and studied him curiously, but did nothing, and said nothing.

Writer realized that if he wanted any of Tanner's powerful seed, he would have to do more than just be a passive recipient. He reached out one small hand and placed it on the larger man's bicep. The feel of the massive muscles under the sheen of sweat and blood was actually a little arousing. Writer's cock stirred.

Feeling emboldened, Writer reached up both of his hands and wrapped them behind Tanner's neck. He pulled himself up on his tiptoes, while also pulling Tanner's head down to his. Writer pressed his lips against the other god's. Tanner tasted salty, with a tang of iron.

At first, Tanner just let himself be kissed. But when Writer cleared his mind and forgot the terrible smell and his fear of the god's giant cock and just enjoyed the kiss, his own penis hardened and pushed against Tanner's. When Tanner felt that sign of arousal, he kissed Writer back, hard, and lustily.

The two gods sighed, both in relief at finally finding a lover who wasn't disgusted by them. In the world of gods and goddesses, power gave beauty, and all gods wanted from sex was power. Both Writer and Tanner had been outcast, uninvited to share in the sex that all the minor gods needed so badly. But now, they had found an equal need in each other, and they abandoned themselves to it.

Tanner wrapped his arms around Writer and pulled the smaller man into his firm embrace. Their penises rubbed against each other, trapped between their pelvises which were pressed hard together. Writer ran his hands down Tanner's back, which was slick with sweat. He knew that his chest and stomach and penis were getting covered in blood and gristle. Instead of being disgusted by the thought, Writer was excited by it. Writer had never considered that dirty sex could be fun, but he was learning today.

Tanner lifted Writer and pulled the smaller god's legs around his waist. Writer felt the head of Tanner's massive cock pressing into the crack of his butt. Writer clenched his jaw and pushed himself down onto the hard penis. The intrusion split his asshole and he could feel his own blood add lubrication to their mating.

Pain exploded as Tanner sunk his full length and width into Writer's anus. But with the pain was pleasure. Anal sex wasn't new to Writer, but usually, it had been him who was fucking one of his scribes. One time, he'd let a scribe fuck him in the ass, but the man's penis hadn't been nearly as large as Tanner's. The experience had been mildly disappointing and left Writer with confusion about why so many men appeared to enjoy having their ass penetrated.

Tanner's penis was doing things that little scribe's could never have accomplished. Writer felt full, stuffed, and he felt pressure inside that built and grew wonderfully. Tanner held the smaller god and thrust him up and down over and over again on his cock. Both gods moaned and grunted as they fucked, standing there next to a half-skinned carcass.

Finally, hot fluid flowed into Writer's anus, adding a new layer of lubrication to the mess that was already filling him. The sensation of the hot liquid, and the power that it released into him, set Writer off on his own orgasm that left his body tingling with pleasure.

Gently, Tanner pulled the smaller god off of his cock and set him down on the ground. Writer's ass throbbed, but he could feel as the influx of power set to work closing up all the new wounds inside him. He stretched and grinned as he felt new muscles growing in his arms and legs and chest. Writer felt his face and was thrilled to discover that his skin was clearing of pimples.

He grinned up at Tanner, only to see the larger god looking at him sadly.

"What's wrong?" Writer asked, concerned.

He hadn't cared much about Tanner as an individual when he'd come here, but he found that he cared now. This giant had given him pleasure and power, and he got very little in return out of the deal.

"Leave," was all Tanner said, his voice thick and guttural.

If Writer wasn't imagining things, it almost looked as if the big god had tears in his eyes. Suddenly, Writer felt like an absolute jerk for using the other man. He'd told himself that Tanner was using him too, and he had. But now, Writer was handsome enough that many of the other gods would happily have sex with him, and unlike Tanner, there was nothing about his domain that made him inherently unattractive.

Writer clenched his jaw with grim resolve, "No."

Tanner glared at him, "You got what you wanted, now get out."

"Fuck. You." Writer said, with all the eloquence of his profession.

"What?!" Tanner roared.

"I said, fuck you." Writer repeated, enunciating clearly.

Tanner grabbed his skinning knife and swiped it at Writer, slicing open a deep gouge in his chest.

"No wonder no one likes you. You're a rude asshole." Writer said as he used a bit of power to close the wound.

Tanner growled, "You came to me, little god, I didn't invite you here."

Writer grinned, "Yeah, you did. I distinctly remember you telling me to 'come here.'"

Tanner stared at Writer, considering how to argue this simple fact. Eventually, he decided to ignore the comment entirely.

"Just go."

"No."

"No reason for you to stay."

"Certainly, there is. I, for one, enjoyed that very much. Also, I find I quite like you, irritable jerk though you may be." Writer argued.

"You're insane." Tanner said.

Writer grinned, "Well, as a son of Art and War, insanity runs in the family."

"Doesn't the smell and the blood bother you? Most runt gods who come out here to find me hoping for some easy power can't make themselves actually come close enough to get what they came looking for."

"I don't really notice the smell anymore," Writer sniffed experimentally. It was still there, but faint enough that it no longer bothered him.

Tanner laughed. The smile turned him from a frightening and somewhat disgusting giant to a breathtakingly handsome man. Writer inhaled a sharp breath. He wanted to fuck again. Unlike humans, gods with enough power could keep their cocks hard for days, and now Writer had enough power.

Tanner glanced down and noticed that Writer's cock was hard again.

"Seriously? You're a strange little god."

Writer stayed with Tanner for hundreds of years, and in that time his power grew so he was nearly as large and strong as Tanner.

Writer grinned wryly as he saw humans marking leather hides with their words. This process was much quicker and therefore, more accessible, than chiseling stone. His followers grew in numbers, and it was all thanks to Tanner.

So, it came as a complete shock when Tanner told him to leave again.

"It's time for you to go," Tanner said as they lay together after a full day of rough sex.

"Like Hell," Writer said.

"I can do nothing more for you. I'm just holding you back now," Tanner told Writer.

"I don't give a shit; I like you and I like fucking you."

Tanner sighed, very used to Writer's insane stubbornness by now.

"Look, I think you could be as powerful a god as Music or even Blacksmith, and you have the ambition. The way you came to me shows that. But you have to make your move now, while you're in the height of your power. You can't afford to let your power fade, as mine will, and lose your chance to breed new gods."

Writer was silent as he considered Tanner's words.

"What do you mean, your power will fade?"

"Man has a new child, Weaving, and she is taking many of my followers. Have you not noticed that I am shorter now and have less muscle?"

Writer looked at his lover critically. All he saw was the same powerful, gruff, god who'd first shown him what fucking was meant to be. He looked as strong and handsome as he ever had.

"No." Writer said flatly.

Tanner sighed, "You are blinded by love. It is admirable, but you cannot survive if you cannot be ruthless. I will not have it said that my lover was weak. You will respect me by taking care of yourself. And, I have an idea for how. You know how some of your followers have begun to make writing sheets from reeds?"

Writer nodded, "Papyrus."

"Yes, well, it's good as far as it goes. But what if you could make sheets for writing out of something easier to get, stronger, and available everywhere? You need to find Tree and breed her." Tanner laid out his plan.

Writer frowned, "I've never fucked a female."

"Well, you need to if you want to breed new gods."

Writer was quiet for a bit, "I don't want to leave you," he finally said.

Tanner nodded, "I feared as much. So, I am leaving you."

So saying, Tanner got up and walked away. Writer leapt up in alarm and hurried after Tanner, but the large god was already gone, using a burst of power to disapparate.

Writer screamed, "Fuuuuckkk yyoouu!" to nothing.

Writer tried to track down Tanner for years but could not find him again. He was filled with anger at the betrayal. How dare Tanner try to insinuate that breaking up was for Writer's sake! How dare he try to tell Writer what to do. Writer hated being told what to do.

Still, as the months passed, he couldn't stop thinking about Tanner's last advice. He'd seen Tree a couple times, and she was a beautiful goddess. Since Man arrived, many of the older gods had taken on humanlike appearances, which made breeding with the new minor gods easier. Tree was one of those. She was trim and lithe with small firm breasts and rough bark-like skin. A halo of green leaves mimicked hair.

Writer found himself imagining fucking Tree, wondering how her skin would feel, and her vagina. He even stroked his cock as he looked at trees, sometimes going as far as to rub himself against them. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. The idea that Tanner had planted had taken deep root, and he had to find Tree and rid himself of this obsession.

Tree turned out to be much easier to find than Tanner. Possibly because she wasn't trying to hide, the way his former lover was. Considering this point pissed Writer off. He worked to suppress his anger as he approached Tree.

To any but another god, Tree would have looked simply like a tree, albeit one that was remarkably woman shaped. But gods could always see the power that writhed beneath the surface. Writer walked over to Tree, naked. Since he'd gained power and was no longer a scrawny weakling with a small dick, he no longer bothered to wear clothes.

Tree watched him, appraising his physique, the external sign of his power. She neither encouraged nor discouraged his approach. The gods that pre-dated humans were always an odd and uncommunicative bunch. Still, Writer was determined to fuck this one, and if he could, breed a new god that would give him power.

Writer stood in front of Tree, and still, she did not move.

"Hello?" Writer asked.

He resisted the urge to wave a hand in front of her face. That might piss her off.

Instead, he said, "I'd like to fuck you."

Writer saw no reason to be coy about his intentions. The direct approach had worked well with Tanner, after all. Still, there was no response from Tree.

Writer considered the situation. His humanity insisted that fucking Tree while she was non-responsive was a craven act of immorality, or more precisely, rape. His god half, on the other hand, knew that Tree was hundreds of times more powerful than him, and despite her appearance, was not human at all. He could not expect her to behave in the way a human woman would.

After thinking a while, Writer shrugged. He would fuck her, and if she smote him with her superior power, that was simply a risk he was willing to take. For all he knew, she would be more annoyed by being prodded to speak or move, rather than simply treated as an object. There was just no way to guess with these old gods.

Stubbornness setting in, Writer reached out a hand and stroked Tree's face. He had no idea if she felt it, or liked it, but he decided to proceed as if she could be aroused. He knew what turned on Tanner and himself, so he worked from that starting point. As he pressed his lips to Tree's, Writer considered that maybe he should have tried having sex with a human woman, or even a goddess of humanity, before going straight to Tree.

Writer kissed and licked and nibbled at all the erogenous zones he knew, ears and neck and nipples. The total lack of reaction made it challenging for his human side to get aroused, but his god side just pulsed some power through his dick and made it erect.

Imagining it was Tanner's asshole he was fucking, Writer thrust his cock into Tree's slit. Her skin and vagina were rough and rubbed him raw as he thrust in and out. And still, she didn't move.

While getting hard was a simple matter of using some power, cumming and shooting his seed required some actual arousal. Since Tree wasn't providing it, Writer thought of Tanner. He remembered the big god's massive biceps, his thick hands, his incredible amount of hair, the smell of death that he'd eventually come to love, and the amazing feeling of his lover's pulsing dick in his over-stretched ass.

With thoughts of Tanner in his head, Writer spurt into Tree. His cock softened quickly as he pulled out. Writer looked around, wondering if the sex had worked, and if so, how long did it normally take to breed a new god? Would he have to fuck tree multiple times? He didn't relish the idea.

He decided to sit down and wait. If nothing happened, he'd try again. It turned out that it was not a long wait at all before he noticed a visible swelling of Tree's stomach. Soon, Tree was as swollen as a fully pregnant human woman. Writer watched, fascinated, as the bump swelled even bigger.

Not even a day after their sex, there was a spherical protrusion attached to Tree that was big enough for a grown human to fit inside. Then, the bark-like skin around the swelling began to crack and split. Writer jumped to his feet and ran over.

A flurry of rectangular, thin, off-white, flat writing sheets erupted from Tree. When the flutter of sheets fell to the ground, a young goddess was revealed, laying in the pile. Writing knew instinctively that this woman was his daughter, Paper.