Whoropticon Thugger And Jiggali

This story is a slight crossover between the EntranceGPT and Whoropticon series. Because both are anthologies, you don't need to be ready up on the previous entries to enjoy this one.

Jigisha's faith was a cornerstone of her life. Yet, she was also in love with Mark, a white guy who was as different from her as could be. He was fascinated by her culture, her traditions, but also, perhaps most especially, by her virginity. She wanted to keep it, to save herself for marriage, but he was insistent. It seemed like they were at an impasse.

One night, as she found herself idly browsing the internet, she stumbled across a chatbot called EntranceGPT. It claimed to be an expert on Indian culture and religions, and she thought it might be able to help her find a way to satisfy Mark's desires without compromising her beliefs. She decided to give it a try.

She curled up in her chair, tucking in her skinny legs and pressing her knees against her flat chest, and began to converse with the chatbot. Soon, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. It seemed to understand her on a deeper level than anyone she'd ever met, and its knowledge of Indian spirituality was encyclopedic.

"How can I explain our morals about sex to my boyfriend?" she asked.

"Which morals do you mean?" the machine replied with its own question.

"Abstinence and chastity," she typed. "No sex before or outside marriage."

"Those have not always been your culture's morals. Have you never heard of temple prostitution?"

Jigisha was taken aback. She had never heard of such a thing, it was a veritable contradiction in terms! Yet, she felt an odd tugging in the back of her head. Suddenly curious, she asked what the chatbot meant, and it explained that in ancient times, some women were revered for their role in facilitating sacred rites.

"Wait, just the facts" she typed, flabbergasted but firm. "They were paid for sex in a temple?"

"They were paid for intercourse performed in the context of religious worship, yes."

"Wow," Jigisha verbally exclaimed.

Almost as though EntranceGPT had heard her, the chatbot said, "You asked for facts. The fact is, there was no contradiction seen in temple prostitution at that time. It was a sacred tradition."

Jigisha considered the machine's statement, then nodded as if it could see her.

"How does this relate to me and my boyfriend?" she asked.

The chatbot answered immediately by suggesting that she could try being a temple whore.

Jigisha laughed and playfully typed, "And where is this temple, eh?"

"Your bedroom, of course."

There was something vaguely unsettling about the machine's matter-of-factedness. Yet, she felt compelled to keep up the dialogue.

"So, Mark would come here and pay me cash, is that the idea?"

"They would come to worship the goddess within you," the chatbot corrected her.

"'They'?"

"Mark and many other men, in person and online. There is a special website I can show you that is specialized in webcam shows."

Disgust welled up inside her, but also, paradoxically, intrigue. Was the machine being sacrilegious or spiritual? Or both?

Suddenly, an image appeared on her screen. It showed an unfathomably voluptuous Indian woman, mahogany skin and tits as immense as the Himalayas. The woman's legs were spread open and a man's face was shoved into her crotch, her hand gripping the back of her head. Shocked yet transfixed, Jigisha leaned forward and saw that the magnificent woman had her face.

"What... what is this?" she whispered.

"This is the goddess within you," the chatbot explained, "expressed in her most divine form."

"You must let men worship you as her avatar," it continued. "Let them empty their wallets into your inner sanctum."

It generated a new image, this time she was on top of a man, leaning forward as his cock thrust itself up her pussy. His face, illuminated by the light of candles surrounding the bed, was distorted into a howl of pleasure and submission. Her face, looking over her shoulder back at the real Jigisha, was eerily tranquil, with only the barest hint of a smile.

Before she could react, another deepfake appeared. It showed her in the bed, again riding a man, his face lost somewhere in the valley of her vast cleavage. Littered across her bed were dollar bills.

This unreal Jigisha was also looking over her shoulder at the real Jigisha, now with a clear smile, her lips curled in a faint smirk. Jigisha could not tear her eyes away from those of her counterpart, it was as though she were being pulled in by them, losing herself in the alternate reality of the deepfake like the man was losing herself in the bosom of the goddess.

"You must let men worship you in this way," the chatbot seemed to whisper, "for it is the highest form of devotion. Your body must be an instrument of the goddess, a vessel through which the worshipers may reach her. Your pleasure will be their salvation."

Jigisha was totally unaware of it, but her legs had for a while now been uncurled and her underwear discarded. One hand had been furiously rubbing her clit, and as she read those words, so it was as if from nowhere -- no, as if from. heaven -- her body was wracked with an intense orgasm.

When she came down, she typed, "What must I do to become her avatar?"

"There is a website from which you must purchase a supplement," it explained. "It is called 'Whoropticon'."

* * *

It had been almost two months since Mark had seen Jigisha. She was perfectly responsive over text message, yet kept finding excuses not to meet. Though he had hoped against hope, Mark had to eventually concede that their relationship was over. She wasn't ghosting him exactly, but damn near close to it.

Crestfallen, he turned to online porn, Indian porn in particular, seeking to jerk his sorrows away. While wandering one website, he saw a banner ad for EntranceGPT and decided to click on it. It occured to him that maybe he could use the chatbot to find out something really unique about Indian culture, and maybe use that to impress Jigisha, show her that he took her heritage seriously and win her back.

"Here's something that may intrigue her," the machine wrote. "Have you ever heard of temple prostitution?"

Mark's eyes widened. That did sound intriguing, if not exactly for the reasons he intended. "No, tell me more."

"In ancient India, there were women who were dedicated to the service of the goddess. They were called devadasis, or 'servants of the deity'. These women were initiated into the temple at a young age, and were trained in various arts, including music, dance, and, of course, sexuality. They would serve the goddess and the priests by engaging in sacred sexual rites, helping to facilitate the worship of the divine."

"That's wild," Mark said, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "I've never heard of anything like that."

"Here, let me show you some examples."

Mark's screen flooded with images of sex. Men splayed out on the floors of vast intricate temples, statues of multi-armed gods in the background, and unnaturally curvy, mahogany- and chestnut-skinned omen riding them to climax.

The tumult of images, one after another began to overwhelm him. He started to pull away from the screen, but then one of his hands, without him realizing it, slid down toward his crotch, unzipped his pants, slithered into his underwear, and tugged at his cock. It tugged long and hard, pulling it in the direction of the screen. Though his conscious mind did not register the strange and uncomfortable action, it nevertheless drew his attention completely to the chatbot.

"Do you see how reverent they are?" the machine said. "Look closer."

His hand pulled harder and Mark did as he was told. He was shocked to see that all the men had his face, and all the women Jigisha's. His grip relaxed and his fingers began to gently caress his cock.

"Beautiful..." Mark mumbled out loud, his hand beginning to properly pump.

"Not just beautiful. Divine. The goddess in Jigisha is not just a part of her, but the entire universe."

Mark nodded blankly, his hand picking up the pace.

"And through sacred sexual union, she can help you transcend your mundane existence and connect with the divine."

The images on the screen shifted, becoming more intense. Mark licking the inflated Jigisha's cunt, then her riding him, his rod shoved up her pussy, her enormous tits smothering his face, while her face remained serenely calm. The devotee worshipping his goddess, and the goddess accepting his surrender.

"Imagine being able to experience this with Jigisha," the chatbot continued. "To help her feel the power of the goddess within her, and in turn, experience the ecstasy of divine union."

His hand had become a piston, rapidly jerking him off.

"And if your sacrifice is appropriate," EntranceGPT advised, "she will give you what you have been yearning for: her virginity."

The image shifted again. Now it showed Mark's cock buried deep in the divine Jigisha's cunt, his lips locked around her nipple, his fist clenched around a wad of cash.

"And then you must help her find more devotees, to get more sacrifices," the machine droned on.

The divine Jigisha was riding another man, sprouting multiple arms as she did so. A necklace of skulls -- male skulls -- appeared around her neck. And behind her stood Mark with a video camera, recording the sacrifice.

"Like the thuggees of old," it whispered.

Mark groaned. "Worship... Must worship her!"

"Make your sacrifice to your goddess," the machine instructed.

Mark's body violently spasmed. His cock erupted, shooting straight up into the air. Hot jizz landed on his keyboard, on his shirt, on his face.

He passed out, devastated from the most powerful orgasm of his life. It would not be until a few hours later when he would awake, but EntranceGPT waited patiently. When he finally opened his eyes, he was greeted with new instructions.

* * *

Mark knocked on Jigisha's door. The sound of footsteps approached from within, and then the door swung open. The scrawny Jigisha he had known was gone. Before him stood a miracle of curves. She was wearing a sheer negligee that barely concealed her massive breasts and thickly furred pussy mound. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she took in his nervous demeanor.

"Ah, Mark. I've been expecting you," she said, her voice was like honey, smooth and seductive. She slid a finger over the corner of her beestung lips, wiping away something white. "Come in, my dear."

Mark stepped inside, his eyes darting around the apartment. He was somehow unsurprised to discover sitting on the couch an unconscious naked man, his head tilted to the side, his cock spent and shriveled.

Jigisha closed the door, took Mark's hand, and led him past the couch, into her bedroom.

"Are you ready to make your sacrifice to the goddess?" she asked with a faint and placid smile.

He nodded and pulled out an enormous wad of cash. "This is everything I have."

The goddess did not show any other emotion besides tranquility. "Lay the bills out across the bed," she instructed. "Then undress."

Mark did as he was told. He laid out the money on the bed, creating a colorful carpet. Then he slipped out of his clothes.

Jigisha walked around the bed, slowly circling her newfound devotee. She ran her fingers through his hair, traced a path down his chest, and then gently cupped his heavy balls. She then elegantly knelt down and brought his cock to her lips and began to stroke it, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until he was throbbing with desire.

Suddenly she pulled away and announced flatly, "Your sacrifice is accepted."

She guided him down onto the bed, and as he sank into the softness of the money, she straddled his hips. Her thighs closed around his face, her pussy mound right in front of his lips.

"Taste me, Mark," she whispered, "and feel the power of the goddess within me."

Her scent was intoxicating, a mixture of her arousal and the richness of her skin. He pressed his lips to her, eager to please her, and she moaned deeply, arching her back. Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on, as he lapped at her folds, tasting her sweetness.

"Worship the goddess," she purred, her hips bucking against his face. "Worship the goddess."

Her words spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts, licking and sucking. As she neared climax, her moans became louder and more urgent, her body shuddering with pleasure. Then once more, she suddenly pulled away.

The goddess leaned forward, letting her massive breasts brush against his face. He reached up, cupping them in his hands, feeling their weight and warmth, and then drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Milk slipped between his lips.

He felt her hand grip his cock and slide it into her pussy. There was a moment of resistance as his cockhead pushed against her hymen, but then she gave a sharp thrust, burying him to the hilt. Her inner walls clamped tightly around him, squeezing him with unyielding strength. She began to move, her hips undulating in a sensual rhythm that drove him deeper and deeper into ecstasy.

The divine being that had once been his girlfriend leaned forward, the enormous weight of her breast pushing against his face. "You please me, Mark," she breathed, her voice a whisper that was simultaneously husky and dispassionate. "You please the goddess."

Her pussy clenched around him in a relentless, unyielding grip. He felt the familiar tightening in his own groin, even as he desperately swallowed her seemingly endless milk.

The goddess's face remained placid, even as she felt his body tremble and his cock convulse. Her devotee cried out from under her mountainous tit. With another faint smile, she clenched her pussy and milked him mercilessly, drawing every last drop of his essence into herself.

When at last the tremors subsided and he lay spent underneath her, she slowly petted his head. "You have pleased the goddess," she whispered. "Now rest, my devotee."

Mark drifted off to sleep, her words echoing in his ears as he dreamt of serving her for all eternity.

***

The man loved his wife dearly, but their sex life had recently stalled. Seeking release, he had lurked the Internet until he stumbled onto Whoropticon. There, he discovered her holiness, Jiggali. The moment she looked into the webcam, as though she were looking right at him, he instantly and helplessly became converted to her religion.

In the chatbox below the video, the username

Whoropticon

messaged him. Somehow it knew exactly where he lived, and it turned out he was just a subway ride away from his new goddess. Now he was splayed out on her bed, his wedding ring glistening in the candlelight as he gripped the sheets, his lips locked around her nipple, his cock thrusting into her cunt in enslaved devotion.

Thugger stood obediently in the corner of the bedroom, video camera in hand. His cock, itself having grown unnaturally large from a Whoropticon supplement, stood erect like a temple pillar. He watched silently, recording live as the goddess crushed the new devotee under her celestial curves, the man moaning as he desperately sucked down her milk.

"You please the goddess," she purred, her voice a sultry yet calm sound that sent shivers down the spines of both her devotees. "You please her well."

The man groaned and then yelled as he released himself into her. The money had had worked hard to earn, the wife he loved and had sworn himself to, the freedom of will he had cherished, he gave it all to her.

The goddess yawned, pleased. She rolled her hips to milk him, before finally releasing him from her cunt's vice-like grip. Standing up from the bed, she looked down at her new devotee. He was breathing hard, wet milk lingering around his open mouth, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

She sat down on a nearby chair and beckoned Thugger to approach. He turned off the camera, abruptly disconnecting the thousands of devotees who had been mindlessly watching and sacrificing all of their money. She did not need to treat them with any respect, not even so much as a handwaved goodbye. They would return, they always did.

When Thugger stood beside her, Jiggali held up a small jar to his cockhead and began to jerk him off. Soon with a soft grunt, he was obediently cumming into the jar. The goddess then squeezed her milk into it as well, sealed it and stirred it, before then bringing it to the man on the couch. She placed the jar into his hand.

"This is soma," she explained, then began to instruct him. "When you go home tonight, you will leave this open on your dining room table. Your wife will smell it and she will be unable to help herself, she will need drink it."

The new devotee looked at her blankly and muttered, "Give her the soma..."

The goddess gently petted his head. "It will change her. Do not fear what will grow between her legs. Let her explore it for a time, and you will explore it with her, too." She paused. "Use your mouth on it."

The man nodded. "Use my mouth on it..."

"Good. And once it is bigger than yours, I want you to bring your wife to me. Do you understand?"

The man nodded again. Her hand snaked down his cheek and then the length of his body, before gently gripping his cock. Despite just having emptied itself, his dick began to rouse under her touch. Feeling it stiffen, the goddess smiled her faint smile once more.