Fools' Gold

"I am going to MURDER that priest," Tulio declared, scraping what felt like the seven-hundredth layer of Altivo's contribution from her hair. "Slowly. With tiny obsidian knives. One... toe... at... a time."

The bathing chamber echoed with splashing as she ducked beneath the steaming water for the fifth time, emerging with a gasp that sent droplets flying. Around her, wide-eyed attendants hovered with scented oils and bristle brushes, having long since given up asking why the "divine vessel" had arrived covered in a substance that had dried to the consistency of plaster and smelled like a stable floor after mating season.

"More soap," she demanded, holding out her palm as a timid girl approached with a cake of something that smelled of honey and vanilla. "And maybe some lye. Or acid. Anything stronger than whatever THIS is."

Miguel poked his head through the doorway, eyes covered with one hand. "Is it safe to come in? Are you decent?"

"No, I'm furious," Tulio snapped, scrubbing her arms with manic vigor. "And covered in... in... YOU KNOW WHAT."

"That's why I brought reinforcements," Miguel announced cheerfully, stepping aside to reveal Chel lounging in Tulio's lanky frame, chewing what appeared to be some sort of tropical fruit with casual disregard for the crisis at hand.

"YOU!" Tulio hurled the soap, which Chel caught one-handed without missing a beat. "This is YOUR fault!"

"My fault?" Chel raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who decided to take the scenic route through the underworld. I found the emergency exit in like, five minutes."

"There was an emergency exit?!" Tulio nearly levitated from the water in outrage.

"Of course there was an emergency exit," Chel rolled her eyes, tossing the fruit pit to an attendant without looking. "It's an initiation labyrinth, not actually Xibalba. The priests need a way out when they're done terrorizing initiates."

"And you didn't think to MENTION this before we got separated?!"

"You two were making such heroic faces about facing certain doom," Chel grinned lazily, stretching Tulio's gangly limbs in ways that made the real Tulio wince. "I didn't want to spoil the moment."

"I hate you," Tulio declared, sinking deeper into the water. "So much."

"I like what you've done with my hair, though." Chel gestured to the tangled, stiff mess that was currently being attacked by three determined attendants. "Very avant-garde. Like you styled it with paste and left it to set for a week."

"Oh, it was PASTE alright," Tulio muttered darkly.

Miguel cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt this charming reunion, but we have more pressing issues. Like the fact that Tzekel-Kan is currently telling everyone how your miraculous escape from Xibalba proves you're the chosen vessel for some kind of... what was it again?"

"Divine Conjunction," Chel supplied, suddenly serious. "It's a once-in-a-generation ceremony where the vessel channels the gods' power directly into the bloodline of El Dorado." She paused meaningfully. "Through the Chief."

The bathwater suddenly felt much colder. "Through the... you mean..."

"Yup," Chel popped the 'p' with obvious relish. "Tonight's supposed to be the night he knocks you up with the future ruler of El Dorado. Mazel tov."

Tulio submerged completely, releasing a stream of bubbles that the attendants politely pretended not to notice were actually muffled screams.

"The good news," Miguel continued when she surfaced, sputtering, "is that the Chief seems genuinely thrilled. Tzekel-Kan's little murder attempt has backfired spectacularly. Everyone's calling it a miracle, saying you were tested by Xibalba itself and found worthy."

"The bad news," Chel added, "is that now there's no getting out of tonight's festivities. The whole city is already celebrating your divine... compatibility."

"Compatibility?!" Tulio yelped as an attendant attacked a particularly stubborn spot on her shoulder with a brush. "There's nothing compatible about any of this! I'm a MAN! With a man's... sensibilities! And parts! Or... former parts!"

"Former being the operative word," Chel smirked. "And from what I heard about your night with the Chief earlier, those new feminine 'sensibilities' were working just fine."

"That was different!" Tulio hissed, face burning. "That was... survival!"

"Well, consider tonight more surviving," Chel replied, her tone softening slightly. "Look, I get it. This body comes with a lot of... expectations. Why do you think I was so eager to trade up?" She gestured to herself--or rather, Tulio's former self. "Every feast, every ceremony, every time some noble got drunk enough to grab my ass or 'accidentally' brush against my tits, all while I smiled and danced and played along."

For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across Chel's borrowed features--a genuine bitterness that even the body-swap couldn't disguise.

"Y- yeah," Tulio said quietly. "That's tough."

Chel shrugged, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. "El Dorado sees what it wants to see. Which is why tonight is going to work out just fine."

"How exactly is getting impregnated by the Chief going to 'work out just fine'?!" Tulio demanded, earning concerned glances from the attendants, who she hoped for the sake of the plot didn't understand what she was saying.

"Because," Chel leaned in, lowering her voice, "you're NOT going to get pregnant. You're going to get the Chief absolutely hammered on the ceremonial wine, let him think he's planted his royal seed, and then sleep it off while we plan our next move."

"And what exactly is our next move?" Tulio asked suspiciously.

"Getting out of El Dorado, obviously. With a boat full of gold."

"And switching our bodies back," Tulio insisted.

Something flickered across Chel's face--or rather, across Tulio's stolen face. "Of course. The Mirror of Xibalba. Full moon cycle. Just like I promised."

"Speaking of," Tulio climbed from the bath, water sluicing off her borrowed curves as attendants rushed forward with plush drying cloths. "What happens if I CANNOT EMPHASIZE THIS ENOUGH end up pregnant in your body? Will that make the swap... impossible?"

Chel's hesitation was brief but noticeable. "I... don't know for sure. The legends aren't specific about that part."

"Great. Fantastic. Brilliant." Tulio allowed himself to be wrapped in soft linen. "So not only am I at risk of being permanently trapped as a woman, I might also end up carrying the next ruler of El Dorado. Just... perfect."

"That's why you need to master the thigh trick," Chel said pragmatically.

Tulio paused mid-toweling. "The thigh trick?"

Chel made an obscene gesture that caused Miguel to choke on air. "Let him fuck you at first to seal the deal, but when he's drunk and getting close, shift just enough that he's rutting between your thighs instead of inside you. Clench those thick legs together like they're a pussy. He'll be too far gone to know the difference."

"That's..." Miguel looked torn between horror and admiration. "That's diabolical."

"That's survival," Chel corrected. "And it works. Like eighty-five percent of the time."

"Eighty-five?!" Tulio's voice hit a pitch only dogs could hear.

"Relax! The Chief will be absolutely plastered by the time you get to the bedroom."

"Why does that not reassure me?"

"Because you're being a pessimist," Chel said briskly. "Now come on, get your gorgeous ass out of that water. We've got a feast to prepare for, and these ladies need to transform you into the most fuckable divine vessel El Dorado has ever seen."

As if on cue, a group of women appeared bearing what looked like wisps of gold-embroidered fabric and pots of shimmering paint. Their expressions ranged from reverent to envious to openly curious as they surrounded Tulio.

"Oh no," she protested, backing up. "That is NOT clothing. That is... that is a sneeze away from..."

"That," Chel corrected, "is the traditional attire of the Divine Vessel during the Conjunction ceremony. Specifically designed to showcase your fertility."

The garments--if they could be called that--consisted of a strapless bandeau that was designed to push Tulio's already generous breasts into even more prominence, creating a pillowy expanse of cleavage framed by gold-dusted skin. The bottom was even more scandalous--a tiny loincloth that dipped low in front, the fabric so thin it left nothing to the imagination, adorned with beads and tiny golden bells that chimed with every movement.

"We're meant to hear the gods' approval," one attendant explained earnestly as she fastened the jangling bells at Tulio's hips. "When the Chief fills you with his blessing, the music of your joining will please the heavens."

"Th-that's..."

"Thoughtful?" Miguel suggested, earning a glare from Tulio that could have curdled milk.

The outfit was completed with a sheer golden wrap that draped over one shoulder, providing the illusion of modesty while actually drawing more attention to what it pretended to conceal. Gold dust was brushed across Tulio's décolletage and shoulders, while her hair was styled into an elaborate cascade of curls adorned with tiny golden flowers.

When the attendants stepped back, Tulio caught her reflection in a polished silver mirror--and barely recognized herself. The woman staring back was a fertility goddess made flesh--lush curves accentuated by the strategic placement of gold and fabric, skin glowing with honeyed warmth, hips made even more prominent by the placement of delicate chains and tinkling bells.

"Holy..." Miguel breathed, staring openly.

"Stunning," Chel agreed, looking smug. "I knew I had a great body, but damn, you're working it."

"I look like a... a..."

"Like a woman about to get very thoroughly fucked by a very enthusiastic Chief?" Chel supplied helpfully. "Because that's the general idea."

"I can't go out like this!" Tulio protested, her hands flying to cover her exposed midriff. "Everyone will see... everything!"

"Yeah, that's the point," Chel examined her nails casually. "The whole city knows what's happening tonight. This is just... advertising the main event."

"Advertising?"

"Fertility symbol. Divine vessel. Future mother of El Dorado's next ruler," Chel explained patiently. "People need to SEE the gods have blessed you with... everything necessary for the job."

"This is a nightmare..." Tulio whispered.

"This is politics," Chel corrected. "And right now, you're at the center of a power struggle between Tzekel-Kan and the Chief. The priest tried to kill you to expose us as frauds. He failed. Now the Chief sees your survival as proof of divine favor. If you reject him tonight, Tzekel-Kan will use it to prove you're not what you claim to be."

"She's right," Miguel admitted reluctantly. "We need the Chief on our side. Especially with Tzekel-Kan gunning for us."

"So I just... what? Let him do whatever he wants to me? Again?!" Tulio's voice rose in panic.

"No," Chel said firmly. "You follow the plan. Get him drunk. Use the thigh trick. Make him think he's planted the divine seed, and by the time he realizes you're not knocked up, we'll be long gone with more gold than we can carry."

Tulio took a shaky breath, looking down at her borrowed body draped in gold and gauzy fabric. The bells at her hips jingled mockingly.

"Fine," she said finally. "But I want it on record that I hate every single part of this plan."

"Noted," Chel grinned. "Now let's go give El Dorado the show they're expecting."

---

The feast that awaited them made all previous celebrations look like tavern meals. The great plaza had been transformed into a wonderland of flowers and torchlight, with tables groaning under the weight of exotic dishes and golden goblets. The entire city had turned out, their finest clothes a riot of color against the ancient stones.

But it was the offerings that truly took Tulio's breath away. Gold--mountains of it, piled high before the raised dais where Miguel and Chel were already lounging like particularly self-satisfied cats. Golden statues taller than a man, delicate filigree work that must have taken lifetimes to create, jewelry and platters and artifacts beyond imagining.

"Look at all this GOLD," Miguel crowed as Tulio approached, his hands already adorned with several new rings. "They just... GAVE it to us!"

"Divine tribute," Chel explained smugly from her cushioned throne. "The more evidence of your 'miracle,' the more they give to appease the gods."

Tulio opened her mouth to respond, but the words died in her throat as a massive hand settled possessively on her lower back. She turned to find the Chief standing beside her, resplendent in ceremonial robes, his broad face alight with pride.

"My vessel," he murmured, his hand sliding lower to cup the curve of her ass in a gesture that would have earned anyone else a swift kick to the groin. "You honor me with your divine presence."

"Oh! Um, yes. Very... very honoring. All around." Tulio tried not to flinch as those thick fingers squeezed appreciatively.

"When I heard of your trials in the underworld," the Chief continued, guiding her toward the dais with that hand still firmly attached to her posterior, "my heart nearly stopped. To think Tzekel-Kan would subject you to such dangers!" His grip tightened possessively. "He has forgotten his place."

Indeed, the high priest was conspicuously absent from his usual position of honor. Instead, he lurked at the edge of the celebration, his skull-painted face unreadable as he watched their procession.

"Yes! Terrible!" Tulio chirped, hyper-aware of how each step caused the bells at her hips to chime suggestively, drawing every eye to the sway of her curves.

"But you prevailed," the Chief continued, his voice dropping to a rumble that she felt more than heard. "Proving beyond doubt that you are blessed by the gods themselves." His fingers traced idle patterns on the small of her back. "Blessed... and chosen for me."

Tulio swallowed hard as they reached the dais. The Chief guided her to a cushioned seat beside his own, his hand never leaving her body. As she sat, he leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

"Tonight," he murmured, "we create a miracle together."

The feast began in earnest, an explosion of music and dancing and food that seemed to overwhelm all senses at once. Tulio tried to focus on the plate before her, but found it impossible with the Chief's constant touches--a hand on her thigh, fingers playing with her hair, a thumb tracing circles on her bare shoulder.

Across the table, Miguel and Chel were reveling in their divine status. Miguel had a giggling attendant perched on each knee as he regaled them with increasingly improbable stories of the gods' adventures. Chel, meanwhile, was demonstrating exactly how thoroughly she'd embraced Tulio's male form, her arm draped around a lovely girl whose top seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

"Drink," the Chief urged, pressing a golden goblet into Tulio's hands. "The sacred wine will prepare your body for our joining."

Tulio eyed the steaming liquid suspiciously, remembering Tzekel-Kan's drugged concoction. But the Chief took a deep swallow from his own identical cup, his eyes never leaving hers. Seemingly safe, then.

She sipped cautiously. Sweetness exploded across her tongue, followed by a warmth that spread through her chest and settled low in her belly. The taste was intoxicating--honey and spice and something deeper, earthier.

"Fertility wine," the Chief explained, watching with satisfaction as she drank. "Made from the rarest fruits of the jungle, fermented with sacred herbs." His hand returned to her thigh, higher this time. "It ensures a fruitful coupling."

"Delicious," Tulio managed, already feeling its effects warming her blood. She glanced at Chel, who mimed drinking deeply, then subtly pointed at the Chief's cup.

Right. The plan. Get him drunk. Thigh trick. No creampies.

She raised her goblet in a toast. "To... fertility?"

The Chief laughed, a booming sound that vibrated through his massive frame. "To new beginnings!" He drained his cup in one impressive swallow.

Tulio stealthily poured more wine into his freshly emptied goblet, letting her curtain of hair hide the movement. "New beginnings," she echoed, pretending to sip while mentally calculating how much alcohol it would take to incapacitate a man built like a small mountain.

The festivities grew more raucous as night deepened. Dancers whirled through the plaza, their movements increasingly abandoned as the wine flowed. Musicians played wildly, their rhythms infectious. The torchlight caught the gold dust on Tulio's skin, making her glow like a living flame.

Through it all, Tzekel-Kan lurked at the edges, his skeletal face rigid with barely contained fury. Occasionally his gaze would lock with Tulio's, and she would feel a chill despite the warm night. He was planning something. She was sure of it.

"Look at him," the Chief murmured, following her gaze. "Like a serpent waiting to strike."

"He tried to kill me," Tulio replied, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The Chief's expression darkened. "I know." His hand closed possessively over hers.

As if on cue, Tzekel-Kan stepped forward, raising his arms for silence. The music died away, conversations trailing off as all eyes turned to the high priest.

"People of El Dorado," he intoned, his voice carrying across the hushed plaza. "We celebrate tonight a... miracle." The way he caressed that word made it sound like an accusation. "The vessel's survival of Xibalba's trials."

The crowd murmured approvingly. Tzekel-Kan's smile tightened.

"Yet I ask myself," he continued, "what kind of gods would subject their chosen vessel to such dangers?" His gaze slid to Miguel and Chel, who suddenly looked much more alert. "What divine purpose is served by sending a fragile mortal into the underworld?"

A ripple of uncertainty moved through the crowd. Tulio felt the Chief tense beside her.

"Perhaps," Tzekel-Kan's voice dropped to a theatrical whisper that somehow carried to every ear, "there is more to this 'miracle' than meets the eye."

"Do enlighten us, Tzekel-Kan," the Chief's voice cut through the growing murmurs. "What explanation do you offer for the vessel's triumphant return? What power but the gods' could have guided her through Xibalba?"

The priest faltered, clearly caught off-guard by the direct challenge. "I merely suggest--"

"You suggest doubt," the Chief rose to his full, impressive height. "You suggest questions where there should be faith. You suggest looking gift gods in the mouth!" He turned to address the crowd. "Has Tzekel-Kan not preached for years that the gods would one day walk among us? That their vessel would be chosen from our people? And now that his prophecies are fulfilled, he questions their divinity!"

The crowd's mood was shifting, confusion giving way to indignation as they considered this perspective. Tzekel-Kan sensed the change, his skeletal features tightening.

"I question nothing," he backpedaled. "I merely seek to understand the gods' will."

"Their will seems clear enough," the Chief gestured broadly at the piles of gold, the feast, the celebrating city. "They bring prosperity, joy, life! While you, Tzekel-Kan, have brought us only blood and fear."

The priest bristled visibly. "The Age of the Jaguar requires sacrifice!"

"The Age of the Jaguar is over," the Chief declared. He turned to Miguel and Chel, who were watching with increasingly delighted expressions. "If the gods permit?"

Miguel exchanged a quick look with Chel, then rose dramatically, striking a pose that managed to be both ridiculous and strangely impressive.

"The Chief speaks truth!" he proclaimed in his best divine voice. "Tzekel-Kan's vision of blood and sacrifice displeases us!" He fumbled for the right words, then seemed to find inspiration. "We're kinda over the whole jaguar thing. Very last century."