Berries and Greed

My pulse leapt when his eyes flared. His throat bobbed with a swallow. Neither of us had said a word, but after casting a sheepish look around, he cleared his throat and parted his lips hesitantly, revealing sharp yellowish-white teeth.

“Uh… Hi.” His voice cracked. The little thorns around his hairline twitched, and the frondy tips of his ears fluttered as he cleared his throat again. “Hi,” he repeated in a steadier voice, though it was thick with apprehension.

Before I could say anything back, the high priest turned and gently gripped my arm. “Now, Beryl, as is right, we give you the opportunity to reject the Greater’s claim.”

Everyone laughed like the mere idea was hilarious.

“You can accept him here and now, and we can begin the process”—the high priest squeezed my arm—“or you can request some time alone to get to know each other first.”

Fuckety fuck fuck. I resisted the urge to glance back at my aunt, to see what she was thinking. If I said no straight away, what would happen? To me? To Violet? Would they start to suspect us? Would they kick us out? It wasn’t like it would be the end of the world if they did. I earned a small salary working on the vineyard, although I tended to… kind of spend it all on stuff I wanted every month, like fancy skincare, shampoo and snacks. It wasn’t like I had to pay bills.

Violet earned a proper salary, but I didn’t know how much she had saved. It wasn’t like it would be a lifetime’s worth anyway. How would we find other jobs when our only experience was ‘training to be a demiurgus’s sex pet’? I supposed Violet had office management experience, but she was nearing retirement age and, well, everyone in the city thought we were weird anyway. Who would hire us?

Maybe if I asked to spend time alone with the demiurgus first, I could come up with a legitimate reason to reject him.

My blood whooshed through my ears. My medical record.

I’d brought up my vaginismus at every single health check, and I always refused to attempt treatment for it for a few reasons. One: I didn’t think it was something that necessarily needed “fixing”, seeing as I wasn’t at all interested in being penetrated anyway, and there was more to life than having a dick shoved in you, despite what some of The Order’s members thought. Two: I preferred oral sex.

And now three: it was going to keep me safe. Surely once he saw my records, once he realised he wouldn’t be able to fuck me, he’d change his mind. And then I wouldn’t have to do anything. We’d be safe and it wouldn’t be my fault.

Besides… I was pretty sure it’d take even less than that for him to change his mind. I had no idea what had caused him to declare that he “wanted me”, but he looked like he was seriously regretting it now. Which actually made me feel a little better. I didn’t know why he’d come here, but I got the feeling this wasn’t the intended outcome. He was wildly out of his depth.

Taking a breath, I gritted my teeth and managed to give the high priest some semblance of a smile. “I’d like some time alone together first.”

Some of the entourage behind him guffawed, like they thought I wanted to take this dude for a test-run in the dark, creepy suite of rooms they kept immaculately prepared for the arrival of a Greater.

I ignored them, turning to follow as they all began walking back to those big, imposing black doors. The demiurgus walked in silence beside me, but I heard him gulp. It would have been comical if this situation wasn’t so fucking weird.

I’d been planning to ream him out the moment we were alone, telling him he was a creepy perv who could just go and find a life partner in a normal way, like normal people, not come here to select one from a group of worryingly adoring and obedient humans. But even though he looked as apprehensive as I was, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know what he’d do if I made it clear I didn’t actually subscribe to the demiurgus-higher-being-sex-god bullshit they believed here. I didn’t know what he’d repeat to the high priest.

My medical record was going to be my saviour, just as I’d always planned if this near-impossible situation ever occurred. As we reached the big doors and two cult members stepped forward to heave them open, I asked, “When will the dem—When will the Greater see my medical files?”

“Oh, not until you have consented to the claiming, my dear.” The high priest patted my arm in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring way. “Your consent allows us to share your private information.”

Darting a look at the demiurgus, I said, “Well, I consent to it now. The medical record, I mean,” I added quickly with a stab of terror.

The high priest stopped as we stepped into the hall and turned to face me. His milky eyes creased as his wispy brows drew into a frown. “My dear, is there something wrong? You are healthy. All of my flock are healthy, I assure you,” he added in a rush, directing it at the silent demiurgus. “They eat well and exercise every day. They are given regular health check-ups.”