My Own Goddess

“She’s cute… I wish I could be with her… maybe forever…”

Another 3am, another night spent with the glowing screen. I was drowsing, drowsing like I would be out of the world, wretched. A few sheets of note are scatter around my desk, waiting for me. The mind was almost blank except for her. Praying in the deep. This tab, this item on Amazon… It’d change my life. No, it’d take me to a life I’d never dreamt of. Reborn, maybe. In the mirror I now see the reflection of her body, my angel’s body… my body.

I am my own angel. 

She was an angel. An angel in my heart. An angel from my first sight of her – when I was in a corner, far from the teacher and other boys. Her pristine voice penetrated me from outside the wall I made with my notebook, carrying me from my seclusion to her heavenly face… Love at the first sight.

The face… it was softly pressed on my brain, coming up from time to time. Day after day, even with her sitting over the corner, lively and fluttering, I’d better be left alone. I gazed her from behind my books, her aura radiantly shining – with her best pals, alone, or barely away. Not a boy in class ever approached her. She wasn’t just a lowly angel, she’d be too sanctified to be molested! I wasn’t brave enough to ask this goddess out even if I wanted to make a girlfriend out of her.

“I wish I could be with her… maybe forever…” One day, the classroom was emptied, except for a daydreaming me. The day was almost gone. What were left were light breezes, a tilting sun and drips of dew. I dreamt of her, the sunlight all over her, halo-like. And as I dreamt, she was really there, standing over the whiteboard… gazing at me. The face she had, I didn’t know if she’d be cozy with me… And she left, leaving me behind. I wasn’t going to ask her. I couldn’t… What’d she say? Would she even accept me? Her flowing hairs, still glittering under the gilded light, drifted away. Her voice echoes on… If I couldn’t be with her, I’d better get her. Her mind and body… What if I could get a hold of both of them, not by catching her by surprise, but… something else? With her, I’d be god-like…

I’d like to be my own goddess. 


That dream was strange, just like what I thought at the end of it, but I no longer lied to myself. My heart throbbed and the blood gushed every time I remembered the time I dreamt about a girl that almost never existed. I vowed find a way to reach her someday, and that day came when I was holding a strange vial, half a grand apiece. But even with the damning eyes of my other friends (real or online) I was determined. I gulped the honey-colored liquid down, fully. 

The memories of the process are haphazard when I think about it, now that the flurry frenzy is long over. At once my mind was wavering, hopping out and in consciousness, and quite trippy for seconds. If there were real ascensions I would have experienced the of it. Pretty quickly, the whole room around me wasn’t the same stuffed place I knew for months. It was still deep in the night, but under the mystical grey veneer bright wall paint and a few pastel plushes. I fell into her place. 

Getting to the bathroom and lighting the dim lamp over me, the amber eyes I see in the mirror are hers. I used to imagine seeing, or even touching her in close. But this was something else altogether. My mind was now a permanent part of her, elevated, now joined with me in the past and for the future. 

“Gorgeous me…” my pajama’s bottom piece was slipping off my thighs, leaving one side with only hole into my lushly colored panties. Suggestive of my body’s decent figures, eh? The whole of that had a dim, heavenly aura to it. I’m lucky enough to start owning and appreciating this body, or just more proactive than anyone in claiming the girl for myself. The 2-pieces easily stripped off…

“Aha…!” Just as I smiled “her” face also smiled in the mirror. A few more weird faces, and even an ahegao, the face in the mirror did nothing but followed, with “her” fresh cheeks. Her flesh felt miraculously real. “Cute me…” I closed onto the mirror to meticulously glean over every spot of my spotless body. The nearer my face was to the mirror, the girl in the mirror leaned closer to me, until we made a “mwwwu” with my lips and the lips in the mirror… “me kissing myself, my girl and myself, one and the same…” I finally got the kiss her in the least imaginable way her potential boyfriends could can up with, and with the kiss we’d forget time passing. 

What would her – my parents think when they would wake up in the morning? The mark of my drool, all over the mark on the glass? I’d tasted her “forbidden fruit” (remembering what I said when I first admired the body) – why shouldn’t I “fall into earthliness”? “Show me everything you have on your body”, I murmured to myself… And my right hand reminded me of my places I could touch. “Mmm… soft boobs… so soft… aww so soft and gigantic…” I moaned sweetly and lustfully while I grabbed and rubbed my chest. I’ve brought a goddess’ flesh into reality… so serenely… and I couldn’t wait to see how lewd I’m easily capable of! As all the cushioning on the top went on two fingers snap inside… “Ah!” louder I cried when a lightning shocked through my body and numbed every part except the most enticed ones. So touchy and addictive… Down here my slim fingers ticked and harnessed my sexuality, slipping and clicking, mixed with my singsongy moans in the bathroom. “Great, awesome, honey…” Calling my old name I’d be more than amused at experiencing sex the first time, in this unknowable way. “keep entering and seeding in me, I’m so lovely… mmm, mmm, ahhh~” I didn’t need a boner to get her aroused, just her own fingers finding their way, and being both sides of sex this time burned more intensely on my head, totally blinding me. “Ah, Ah~” Ascension in a split second… fumes of heat and pulsated from where I was on the tiles, and over it (and at my fingertips too) I found puddles of “drool” coming from my second mouth - my “nectar”.


 
I only gained all her memories when I threw myself on the bed. Maybe if her mind was still around in my head, used to be hers, she’d be listening to all my lewd thoughts and be truly loving to who her body ended up with. 

The desk of my old self was empty the next day I entered my classroom. He’d finally found his goddess, and I’m finally with her forever, a perfect couple with my mind and her body.

Price to Pay

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Exposed Bitches

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Turned Into A Flower Girl

1st April

The train going on my way to the ancestral home was stuffed with far more people than other times of the year, as far as I could know. It’s the local Spring Festival, but the festivities stretch from the spring solstice to the 3rd so the locals grab more tourism money when they have not much else to cash in from in other seasons. Obviously, there’s another season based on the folklore here, I’ll get on it soon.

I’m here because this is my ancestral home that I had never visited, and my grandpa insisted that everyone of the land’s blood must visit the Spring Festival once in their lives – even for me who’s just on a vacation away from work in Brazil. “Without seeing the long-lasting cherry blossoms of our origins, we are not genuine descendants of the land,” was what my grandpa told my dad and me – probably calling back to our cultural origins.

If he was alive, he would say it’s even more important for me personally when the last day, coincidentally, is my birthday – so he actually said I’m also the son of the blossoms. He seemed to be hiding something of the last day about the procession – of his memories attending the festival, he never went into detail on the secretive ritual. This will be my chance to find out the truth, and it might be my first time seeing the cherry blossoms. I’m eager, but not so much enjoying the time here.

*ACHOO* Just outside of the rustic station I had a running nose, because of the pollen from the cherry trees everywhere. By everywhere, I mean not just this square, but along many of the roads and paths of the small town, in some of the backyards, *ACHOO* and even in some of orchards. As you can guess, cherry trees are important here because of the Spring Festival.

I did my research on the town’s history, here’s the folklore that explains the whole thing:
Centuries ago, when the forefathers of the town came to the place and opened the coastal plain for farming, they met a stubborn cherry tree under a jealously burning sun *SNEEZE*. They’ve vowed to protect the tree from being logged or ran over, to which, reputedly, a tree spirit appeared and thanked the aspiring pioneers, giving the gifts of a bountiful harvest every year and the signs of blessing. *ACHOO*

That’s how the folks here explain why, every cherry tree here start blooming at the same time as the others ones in Kanto, but only withers after the end of the Festival. As far as there’s still a last cherry tree left, the tree spirit will still reside in the town’s main shrine and bless the town “with splendor and happiness” *ACHOO*. And for the spirit or goddess the Festival is now held in her honor, there is one big procession on the last day, and the 2nd sign is in it – I said it’s my birthday, and something’s going to happen, right?

Damn, the pollen’s *ACHOO* close to choking me. I just can’t realize the spirit of this custom with my itchy nose.


2nd April

I’d been to some places around – there aren’t much to see except for my family’s ancestral home (which a distant relative of mine lives in) and the shrine. *SNEEZE* The home is my lodging for my stay here – it’s not much except for the tallest cherry tree in the town, which is definitely a great thing to be proud of.

*ACHOO* I instantly understood why my ancestor emigrated to Brazil. Giving up the boring procession for the Carnavals I guess. That might be a good thing for me – if I had been born here, I would have been a rural *ACHOO*… you get the idea. What a nuisance for me to be in this town, but the ancestral home’s standing here, and it’s the Spring Festival that’s important for my dad and granddad, or maybe the even more important ritual. I might still need the experience here that’s turned into a dream for my family, for good or bad. *SNEEZE*

Now onto the shrine. The main hall does have a dignified tree spirit as its main goddess, and even more nondescript gods are housed on the sides. I was slightly surprised to find my surname on the row of the donators to the shrine’s renovation – apparently belonging to one of my ancestors who was a landed dignitary in the village. *SNEEZE* and just for that, to keep the memory of the donation and our roots alive, he was passing that custom of homage to me. It was not like this place was indispensable for his descendants like me, apparently, when I’m growing up as a Brazilian.

*ACHOO* The blessing’s may be good. The town is animated, brought by the tourists who truly appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossoms. A bountiful harvest, which was needed by the subsistence farmers of the past, isn’t the most wanted thing for now. The cherry trees, with their abnormally long blooming season, is getting some good tourist money.

But this feels a bit hollow – without the trees and the tradition, the town’s just another one south of Tokyo. I can even say, in the past, the harvest was just the fertile soil and frugality. *Breathes deeply* The cherry blossoms – what magic’s up with those that keeps attracting tourists unlike anything else in the average park? What have they hidden in the procession? Maybe that’s it.


3rd April

My sneezing was getting worse and worse by the day. Most of the morning I was just rolling in my futon, with the occasional sneezing. Good thing it was far less than the last 2 days.

“Please be awake, it is 5 in the afternoon and the grand procession will proceed in an hour.” The relative gently spoke to my weary ears.

“Isn’t it bad for me to sneeze for the whole procession inside the crowd?”

“My boy, have faith in the Sakura Goddess. Pray and she will bless you will the right spirit.”

A cherry petal drifted softly onto my face, and naturally I sneezed again. My relative was right, no matter how bad the sneezing would be, have faith in myself, even if I had wanted to be in a field of flowers as a child and my family doctor had kept me back. I would definitely hold my own breath in the crowd. Picking the petal up, even without the right nose, I was ready for the procession and unravel its secret.

---

5:55pm. I was squeezing past the gathered bodies in front of the shrine.

Under the warm light the cherry trees were reflecting something for me. A reflected light guiding me into the hall.

The procession might start anytime now, but something in my mind clicked.

I flied up the good number of steps to the modest structure, skipping and barely scratching at once, as if tree branches were propelling me.

Entering the hall, my heart was glowing for little reason than something.

To enjoy the procession…

Without rinsing my hand or offering, I quickly clapped my hands and, without myself thinking, I heard myself saying a prayer:

“Oh Goddess of Cherry Trees, for my allergy, please claim, and for the procession, please direct…”

I was barely aware of what was happening. Was I praying to some figure the villagers of old projected onto the cherry trees? Why would I pray when I could simply hold my breath from time to time?

I turned back to the torii, barely noticing the gust of wind swirling around me. With those and the cherry petal flashing around me…

---

The motionless body was like a constantly shifting mannequin. Petals of tints of pink pushed and attached themselves to the body, morphing for the skin and bulk to match what the petals had in mind. Or rather, what the tree spirit had in mind. She had finally found the body of the as a vessel, with the birthdate exactly aligning with this year’s procession. The petals clustered to reshape the torso, with the right chest size here and the favorite short hair up there. 2 cherry buds strapped onto her bangs, radiating a warm, sharp light. A few more loose petal were strung onto a few threads of soft scarlet, with much more providing the texture of the stamped fabric in the top and skirt – this year the spirit preferred an exposed mid-riff.
With an almost magical hop, the girl disappeared from the grounds of the shrine…

---

All in a sudden, the “Hana-Hime” appears at the starting point of procession, right in front of my eyes. You can always recognize her from the flamboyant dress. I’m calling a Brazilian friend of mine who’s coming for his birthday just to see this. The phone rings for a few seconds and is cut.

This is the “Hana-Hime”, said to be the incarnation of the Cherry Tree Goddess herself, but with different faces every year that the locals have never recognized as the daughter of someone they know. Just like how she arrived, out of thin air. As she ascends the float, she will be shaking to the drum beats with her second nature and be the attention of the crowd – some pious townsfolk even kneel and chant before the float, as the Hana-Hime smiled and waved to the fullest.

The cherry pollen reminds me of the missing guy instead of the mysterious centerpiece here. Where’s the Brazilian? He just visited the spring market yesterday, and said he’s risking choking to death for the secret of this. Is he too sick from allergy to be out now?

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Costume Once Again

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Mental Injection

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The Great Body-Hopping: Landing onto Wrong Territory

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The Great Body-Hopping: Best Yuri Friends

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The Great Body-Hopping

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