Page 5 of Berries and Greed


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“A sitting room, for your relaxation,” the high priest told me in hushed tones as two younger men heaved open the doors, revealing another dark room with a lit fireplace. More stone and velvet-topped sofas were arranged in the centre of the space. There was a TV. I eyed it, wondering what channels they got here. I was particularly fond of late-night infomercials that sold weird shit, like blenders that could crush phones and fleece blankets that you could wear as giant, hooded onesies.

I had one of those. It was really fucking comfortable.

“A dining room,” the high priest continued as we entered the next room, which had a long black marble table dominating the centre. “Large enough for many. In case you choose to take several mates.”

“I’m not taking any,” I said quickly.

“Mm, of course, my Greater.” The old man’s voice was still deferential, but it took on a sly tone. I scowled at the back of his head, feeling fidgety, like I was too exposed. Maybe it was strange for a demiurgus to come here to just look around.

But I’d sooner disembowel myself with my own claws than admit to the loneliness that had driven me here.

“A bedroom.” The high priest was already shuffling into the next room, so I dragged my feet after him. “I hope it is to your liking, my Greater.”

I grunted, giving it a cursory glance. The bed was too high off the ground—a big four-poster with black satin sheets—but it wasn’t like I was going to be sleeping in here. I was already itching to leave, thinking wistfully of my dark, cluttered bedroom and cosy nest and big baggie of shade herb just waiting to be smoked. God, I was going to get so high after this, if only to forget the humiliation of this entire catastrophe.

“Now, our humble compound is quite large, but I would be honoured to give you a full tour.”

“No,” I blurted in horror. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Oh, my Greater, I must insist you see the courtyard first,” the old man gushed, nodding at the two men who swiftly crossed the room to heave open another set of doors. “It is the heart of our compound, where we go to worship each day.”

I side-eyed him. So they actually, actively worshipped my kind then? This whole place was so fucking creepy.

“Why do you worship demiurgus?” I couldn’t help but ask as we made our way into a wide, black-stoned hallway. It was far too spacious—unnecessarily so. At least there weren’t any windows.

“Because we…” The high priest paused. “Because we do.”

I almost snorted. “That’s not an answer.”

It seemed like he was struggling to think of an actual response, which made this whole place even weirder. Definitely brainwashed.

“Because you have given humankind so much,” he eventually said. “And you are… Your forms, both of them, are beyond imagining. Your strength and speed and longevity… You are higher beings. You’re better.”

What in the actual fuck? I eyed him in alarm. What had we given humans? I supposed when my ancestors had first emerged from below to live on the surface long ago, they’d brought with them remedies and medicines that had since wiped out some human diseases. And I knew humans enjoyed some of our food and wine, delighted in our creations, gathered in droves in galleries and museums to gaze at our artwork and sculptures.

But… higher beings? Really? We literally came from below them.

And they were the ones who’d made all the good stuff. Pizza and TV and those little patches you could put on your pimples to make them practically vanish overnight.

“I’m not a higher being,” I told him, wondering if I was about to make his world implode. “I piss and shit just like you. I get drunk and do stupid things. I watch TV and eat junk food and sleep in too late.”

“Well, yes,” he sputtered, “because you have honoured humankind by choosing to live modestly among us. You honour us with your humility, Greater. You honour us with your presence, with the… the mere chance of blessing us with matehood.” He turned to face me, gazing up at me with teary eyes. “There would be no greater honour than to see you take one of my flock as your mate. To let them live in the warm shadow of your glory, in the knowledge that they may experience the divine ecstasy of your…”

“Of my what?” I asked apprehensively when he trailed off. If this frail old man uttered the words, ‘of your cock’, I was going to smash my way bodily through the nearest wall to escape.

“Of your virility,” he breathed, which was almost just as fucking bad. My eye twitched as I suppressed a cringe, wanting to inch away from him. “There is no higher pleasure for a human, my Greater. Nothing comes above it. That is why we worship you.”

Fucking hell, who had started these rumours? The demiurgus themselves? Truthfully, if a demiurgus attempted to fuck a human, the human likely wouldn’t survive it. For multiple reasons. Demiurgus with cocks… Well, that went without saying. But while demiurgus with cunts didn’t possess the physical attributes that would destroy a fragile human body, most demiurgus were far too vicious and rough during mating—not to mention much, much bigger—for a human to come out the other end with their body and sanity intact.

And yet somehow, I had found myself being given a tour of a sex cult’s compound. A sex cult that worshipped my kind. That worshipped me.

Get me the fuck out of here.

The high priest was eyeing me with gleaming, adoration-filled eyes, making me wildly uncomfortable. I took a step back, gaze drifting to the doors we’d just gone through. Maybe I could make a run for it. I’d never be able to show my face in the city again, but it wasn’t like I went out much anyway.

“The courtyard is just through here, Greater.” The old man was shuffling onward, his silent entourage following but watching me with wide eyes.

I glanced back at the doors one last time, then reluctantly trailed after them. If it made the old man so happy, I would step into the stupid courtyard, give it a nod, then leave. What did they have out there? Probably a gigantic, very incorrect statue of a demiurgus cock. Did they all gather around it and fall to their knees in worship? Fucking weirdos.

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