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A Certain Magical Dig Site: Othinus Tg
🕑 Added 2020-05-01 02:39:36 +0000 UTCOne of the best parts of writing a dissertation on Norse mythology included the trips out for on site investigation. Oliver already had most of it written up, but what was he supposed to do, give up a trip to Europe fully funded by the school? It wasn’t like it wouldn’t be useful since some of the communities he studied were rather secluded and didn’t have video chat for an overseas visit, plus his studies just happened to coincide with a dig nearby that he wanted to participate in. It was a small but vocal segment of nordic beliefs, that Odin was a woman instead of a man in their mythology. He blamed Marvel for his obsession with Nordic cultures, the idea of a pantheon intriguing him from a young age given his Christian upbringing, some of his peers going to satanism to rebel while he just liked the idea of gods being petty rulers who just came down to mess with people. Of course that meant he liked the Greek pantheon a decent amount as well, but again he found Thor comics first and it was always difficult to top a first love.
If there was one thing he regretted, it was taking his friends to see Midsommar right before he had left, the jokes unending and his family members nearly getting the entire trip cancelled by his worried parents, though as an independent adult he still would have gone, he would have just had to hide it. Memes aside he found the communes in Norway to be a great escape from city life as he started his interviews with elders of the different sects, touring all across the countryside and doing plenty of farm work and cleaning. At least he didn’t have to cook for himself, all the different groups making sure to keep him well fed, finding them similar to the Jewish parents of his friends in Brooklyn. There was a strong sense of matriarchy within these communities and he was sure he could fit in some interesting theses about gender roles and the role of “wise women” to properly pad out the twenty page deficit he still had, not that he was worried given the large number of outlined notes he had yet to put to paper.
There was also a growing excitement the further North he travelled, knowing each village and testimonial brought him that much closer to the dig site. They had been appreciative of any help since most of these sites relied on lots of volunteer work since it was mostly plot digging and a lot of their base just did not want to brave the colder temperatures. Some of the interesting tidbits he found out from the interviews included an expanded roster of abilities for the goddess, including the ability to rewrite reality with just her words and her all powerful weapon, the Lance of Gungnir which was an interesting parallel with the more mainstream Odin mythology. Oliver just guessed the Nordic people just loved their lances and hammers. When he finally reached the northern strait where a massive temple had once been according to the researchers, he had to spend a week being taught proper excavation practices, what to put in the boxes for sifting, when to use water vs brushes vs blowing to shake dust off things, when to call over the dig overseer since they had around 500 separate dig squares and all sorts of guides on which rocks to pickaxe, when to use the various hammers, which delicate works and materials had to be left to the experts etc. He had never known so much about rocks before, and there was some embarrassment with even the simple things that he figured would be easy instead took up the most time. He hadn’t expected to be yelled at for improper brushing technique to the point where he was even hesitant to brush his teeth after a week, but finally he was deemed passable and it was time to actually dig.
Work started before dawn, Oliver cuddling the space heater that kept his tent warm as he drearily woke up, scarfing down a quick breakfast and collecting his tools he’d be using for the rest of the day. Thankfully a few people had already worked at his square so he only had to use the spade for a few minutes, uncovering the sedimentary rock that contained most of the riches the dig would find throughout the excavation. He very carefully chipped away at the stony wall, making sure it wasn’t an actual wall. The first excited yip came when he found some type of coin, made in iron, another in bronze that revealed runes concurrent with the ones of the ancient worshippers. Once he found the first few artifacts he was soon finding a lot of use for his artifacts bin, excited to properly sift and dust away his finds later. In fact the excitement might have gotten to him too much, his hammer swings growing increasingly more harsh as they battered into the rock until one especially powerful swing sent the rock wall ringing out with a loud crack, spiderwebs of damage spinning their way from the impact point, the whole wall threatening to crumble.
The number of self derogatory comments that ran through his head were probably worse than anything the foremans could deliver once he owned up to possibly damaging a bunch of shit, a few split artifacts already making themselves known as he stared at the damage, chunks of the dig square clattering around his feet as whatever lode stones kept it stable must have fallen away as the whole thing collapsed. He kept his screaming fairly contained considering how battered his feet were after the large stack of rocks crushed his toes. Though his curses died in his throat once he stared up, shocked at what he had uncovered.
Scrabbling for his notebook, Oliver had to double check some of his scribbles, staring at the completely intact lance before him, its design gnarled and bulbous like the roots of some ancient tree, specifically that of the world tree which he knew from his field notes, but this couldn’t be real could it? The entire thing was already impressive enough with the craftsmanship, the stone worked and teased in ways that made it look almost wooden, organic in nature which boggled his mind. Scrolling to a few pasted in clippings and his own poor attempts at copying some of the runes, he found that it was a perfect match for the Othinites’ depictions of their goddess’s own Lance of Gungnir. This wasn’t just a simple find, if this was real it was a major discovery! And he could take a nice chunk of credit too! Hell screw the paper, this could be massive to his career! Of course though as an academic, he’d call over the build site’s manager after taking a few pictures proving he had discovered it, quickly pulling off a work glove to take a few selfies and videos so he couldn’t be deprived of due credit as he then carefully dug out around the artifact, chipping lightly as his hand lightly gripped the staff.
The more he was able to grasp it, the better it felt in his hand, almost like it was made to fit his grip, the stone almost warm in the brisk winds that buffeted his site. At the end it wrenched free, the whole thing dislodging smoothly and sudden, his grip victorious around it. For a second he felt incredibly powerful, almost like his body was humming with an excited energy, then the dust and rocks inside the “bulb” of the staff vaporized and in the strong winds, were buffeted straight into his right eye. This time his screams were not contained, the pain immense, but before the other workers could rush to his site, a voice in his head screamed for him to HIDE THE STAFF so even if he didn’t know why, he quickly took one of his spare jackets and wrapped it in it, leaving it next to his bag before the foreman rushed in, looking annoyed at his site but more concerned with his eye which was bleeding slightly. He was quickly sent to the medical tent where the next hour was spent carefully treating the wound even if it stinged something awful. By the end of it his head was wrapped diagonally in gauze, his right eye fully covered and the pain dying down some after they had injected something under it. The overseer of the dig came in and told him to spend the next week resting and apologizing that he was injured while also making sure he knew that they were not liable for the damage.
When that was done with though, Oliver was allowed to grab his stuff, happy no one had noticed the artifact he had covered up, his site untouched past a few bloody stones piled in a corner and his artifacts box emptied. Running quickly back to his tent he couldn’t help but feel obsessed with something about the lance, questioning why he was risking everything just to steal it when he had enough documentation, enough credit if he just shared it, yet the same voice that told him to hide it was refuting that, the feeling that it was his growing by the hour as the damaged flesh under the bandage began to fester and boil with power. That heat only grew when he unwrapped the staff, feeling it in his grip, the voice in his head rising in intensity as he scratched at the gauze, pulling it off to reveal the square bandage. It seemed wrong, just a white strip with nothing notable about it covering up magnificence. In fact he denied that that was all he had.
“I have a grand eyepatch that covers my glory, black and red.” The staff buzzed and like that the white rotated 45 degrees to a diamond, turning black and red as straps grew from it to wrap around as a regal looking eyepatch, or at least that what he thought had happened, suddenly needing to see himself.
“I have a large mirror…” The words just slipped out, the walls of his tent shaking as a full body mirror sprouted from the walls, just plopping onto the ground in ornate fashion. While its appearance should have been impossible, what worried him more was his own body, realizing how weak his disgusting masculine framing was, feeling the weight of generations of matriarchal belief pouring in, a bright light shining from behind his eyepatch. Yes his body was a golden temple of his worshipper’s beliefs, not this pitiful form.
“This is wrong I have long flowing blonde hair, strong nordic features and eyes like fresh evergreens, not this mud brown shit with my hair and eyes.” His voice contorted in strange coos and moans as he felt the staff warm up once more, that warmth racing up his arm and into his face as his facial bones softened like wax under heat, gold locks pouring down his back while everything about his face softened while gaining in severity, his left eye doubling in size as it arched into a green jewel.
“Mmm yes~.” Oliver smiled with his thicker lips, moving his jaw around to pop it down to a sharp point, giving his reflection his best ‘I’m better than you’ face, though it annoyed him once he moaned happily, disgusted at the lump in his throat, those deep tones. And that accent, it reeked of the sticks across the ocean, not fitting at all for his true form. It had to be commanding, sultry, resonant.
“MMMMMmmmmmmmm there much better.” The silky tones that poured from his shrinking Adam’s Apple had an attention grabbing sexiness to it, drenched in disappointment and disapproval, like every word she had to say was wasted on the likes of whoever she was talking to. And really such a voice and face were wasted on a body like this, shedding his clothes to properly study what kind of shell he had ended up in. He purred, letting his voice arouse him as his cock began to harden, turned on by the idea of his emerging body. He had pored over the legends of Othinus long enough to remember the details of her appearance, the staff urging him on with pleasant baths in its energy, demanding him to unleash the inner goddess. Did Othinus have this greasy, hairy skin in her legends? Of course not!
“Her skin is utter perfection, impervious to harm, silky and sexy and and.. Ahh.” The pleasure cut him off, a prickly sensation washing over his body as his pores coughed out their follicles and oil, paling as all blemishes and pimples were wiped away, leaving a sheen of smooth, tanned marble, yet such a luxury exterior was purposeless when the interior was junked and bulky, like a lexus with trash on the inside. No he had to be better, slimmer, sexier.
“Mmm I don’t need all this bulky muscle or height, my power is spiritual, compact, overwhelming. I don’t need to look physically dominating when I’m already oppressive with my mere presence.” He spoke and his body listened, the muscles and bone grinding like dancers at a ritualistic festival, breaking themselves against each other as his height decreased, his body contorting in ecstatic poses as the staff burned, his shoulders ground down to rounded sockets, his bulky, unseemly frame crunching inwards to something petite and ferocious. His hips swung outwards, bony but giving a proper framework to hang his goddess’s curves on. The sides of his stomach sloped in as well, accenting the cute cut of his belly button while all the muscles there receded into slim fat that was feminine and danced wildly as all of his fat and bulk was burnt away.
“Already much better.” Oliver smiled at his body, rubbing his smooth skin fervently as the skin around his fingers and arms constricted, forcing them down to slender limbs topped with long glossy nails. Much like his personality his body was ruthless in the conversion, his cock throbbing happily as the tightening skin choked out the weakness in him. His legs were like overstuffed sausages, the packaging stretching out to extend their bones, adding a few of the inches he had lost from his spine’s compression and arcing. They became long and crane like, her toes wriggling happily as they stretched and daintified, both heels decallousing while they lost five sizes. Twirling he smirked, loving how responsive his body was, precum condensing at the tip of his cock as he rubbed his body. But something irked him, all that slenderness still bony, jerky, amateurish for someone as seasoned as her.
“Was I always this scrawny? No it’s this body. Othinus has a womanly figure, she isn’t some anorexic- o-ohhhh~ OHHH~!” That frame she had wryly noted earlier was finally realizing its potential, sensitive, sensual fat pouring into his hips and ass as he gave it all a squeeze, moaning as he finally came from the excitement. The hot spurts of cum spoiled his reflection, his head rocketing back as the release delved deep into his body, sending shockwaves through his quivering ass and hardening nipples.
“Mooore!” The universe caved into his demands, heat traveling up from the staff into each nipple before the stiff peaks swelled with fat, his cries quavering as the petite lumps barely reached b-cups, yet that was perfect for him, his small hands able to perfectly wrap around and service each full breast while his palms squeezed against his eager nipples. Oliver- no OTHINUS wanted her breasts like she wanted the world, dancing in the palm of her hands, reacting to her every flinch and touch and giving her nothing but pleasure.
Cum rocketed from her cock as she blissfully screamed, each messy splat vanishing from the mirror, her thighs, her tent’s floor. She wouldn’t dirty her hands with it, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t indulge in the death throes of her masculinity, its dying contortions a marvel to behold and feel. She wanted more of it, that pleasure, that cum, wanting to be emptied of her host’s now pointless testosterone. Of course such a task required the proper tools and as she looked at her lanky legs and found them wanting, her moans soon resumed to their previous level, her cock staying hard from force of will alone as each pass between her legs found each one a little thicker than before, fattier, her thigh gap filling in every inch of space they could as they bore down on the wriggling worm that stood in defiance to her perfection.
It was hard to tell what was throbbing more, the staff or her cock, both pumping their energies out, though while her cock’s seed was soon wiped from the earth, the heat from her staff was replacing it, filling her balls and prostate, spreading through the muscle of her shaft and sending shockingly strong spasms through her body. Othinus knew many things, though she had never studied her medical knowledge with that much attention, so she just let the magic do its thing, letting her innards convulse as their forms shifted. Her prostate was especially sensitive, sending her whole body joggling as it tendriled out through her hips, her g spot leading to a consecutive string of orgasms that only intensified as her releases became clear. Her balls, melting under the heat of her staff’s magic, were sliding back into her body, her balls a hot knife to her buttery groin as they liquified deep into her body, the scrotum tearing as it pulled flush to her underside, the flaps of skin thickening with blood and muscle as the inflated lumps turned to lips around her shoddy cock, ready to put this idol of a false gender to rest, topple it with Othinus, convert it to the matriarchy.
“KNEEL! KNEEL AND GIVE IN TO THE MIGHT OF OTHINUS!” She screamed with joy, her throbbing shaft suffused with godly ecstasy, servicing the god as it was inverted. Each wondrous thrust of it brought a squishy sound that was most agreeable to the goddess, not waiting for her to command its departure as it became like her, dominating the muscle and flesh, trampling over all that would get in its way as the tip slipped in, driving down into the depths of her pleasure chambers until the hard shaft popped, a bath of hot juices raining from her new shaft as she came unto the world as in the olden days, squealing and flailing as her clit throbbed and pulsed in accordance with her demands.
Like everything involved with her, the orgasm was glorious and overwhelming, her naked body writhing beautifully in the mirror, her eyes fully locked onto her cumming form, laughing as she was reborn into this boring world. It was time to begin her takeback of everything, but first she needed the proper outfit, one meant to entice all who laid eyes on her while also covering up her sacred areas… somewhat at least. Of course she knew exactly how it should look, the tent tearing itself into strips of skimpy black cloth, not quite a dress as much of the spine of one with her nipples only covered by the tips of black, leathery triangles, the cursory preswells of her vagina clear to all who stared too closely between here legs, interlocking straps of fabric woven into black boots. Nothing was spared, her bandages sewing into the tent cloth that clothed her, solidifying into a cloak, the inside blood red, the outside black and of a similar leather to the rest of her outfit. The last bits refashioned into a hat with similar design, half bandages, half black and red cloth. She didn’t even feel a hint of the cold winds, in fact the winds all died down at once, as if knowing better than to blow on the body of this planet’s new ruler.
First things first came the dig site, laughing at these measly attempts to bring up her old church. These mortals were so earnestly stupid, but she had common cause and raised a hand up as she told it to rise again. Their small bodies were hilarious as they scampered away, confused shouts filling the plateau as spires ascended, everyone shocked as an entire church rose from the ashes of the build site, its broken windows reforming, cracks healing, the whole building radiating with a savage gleam.
“Enter.” It wasn’t like they could hear her, yet every person there from the foreman down rushed in, most of them thinking it was their choice, yet when she entered all of their confused chatter ended, her presence stifling.
“Wh-Who ar-” She cut off the foreman with a simple, effective commandment.
“Worship your goddess and become the true nords within.”
The foreman fell to his knees, moaning as the act of supplication sent pleasure shooting through his body and blonde hair out his scalp, a dark pool staining his denim as breasts surged and his cock receded into a temple worthy of devoting itself to Othina. The rest were horrified as their knees bent against their wills, the horror lasting until they knocked on the temple’s wooden floor, squeals and shrieks of ecstatic revelry echoing as their bodies shifted into Nordic beauties, all young, blonde and strong. She left them to their revelry, new sisters fucking and masturbating as she flipped through the dropped list of items recovered. The world was her plaything now, her staff making ascendance as easy as scratching her back, yet it wasn’t fun to miss the resistant parts of her subjects. She’d turn it into her liking, bit by bit. If she got bored of Nordic women she’d make others from the humans, if the physics grew tiresome she’d just rewrite the laws, let people gamble on probability, invert Newton as easily as she inverted cocks. But what should she name it? Reading over the list she saw the heading, “Index for Certain and Uncertain Religious Items(Magical/Spiritual/Cultural).”
A bit bulky, but she could whittle it down some. Smiling she raised a finger and the orgy came to a halt, her small mass of worshippers now overcome with lust and the ability to convert more to the fold by exchanging fluids.
“Why don’t we head to some neighboring towns and proselytize. I’m sure everyone wants to share in your discovery here. Show them what I’ve given.” The horde broke out in a mad scramble, slutty battle outfits fitting over them while Othinus watched the dimwitted fuckers stream out her church, ready to spread her will. Yes this was going to be fun.
