Thumbnail was provided by the commissioner, originally illustrated by  GrineX

A lengthy commission for  ZackBarzahd who has been a saintly patient customer, and asked me to initiate his character into Selph's bathhouse lore. It was a wonderful commission to write, guiltily so because it let me work on fine tuning my own world-building. It also brought some of my issues with writing longer pieces to the forefront, and I'm glad I got to experiment with new techniques on such a robust story.

Anyway! Here it is, please enjoy and leave a comment if you liked it!

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Selph took in a deep lungful of the watery air, its moisture tickled his nostrils. He could taste a subtle hint of something othering, an unnatural taste that lingered on his blue tongue. It was electric, and popped on his pallet like exploding candy. It was the taste of violent magic, and it permeated the atmosphere with elements of its approach. A coming storm. The air pressure had already begun to drop, and the supernatural caressed the world with unwanted strokes of force that shook the trees and upset the stillness of the water. The purple mage had been sitting on a boulder adjacent a pond, flush with electric blue hues when the upset began. He watched it for signs of disturbance. The pond drew its water from a wellspring at the heart of the island, where its natural magics were strongest, this meant the pond was easily caught up in arcane floes – and would from time to time, become an exit point for beings attempting to force their way through intrusive spellcraft.


The island itself floated in a nebulous sea of violet cloudbanks. It was isolated from other land masses and continents, because it existed in a dimension of raw mana cut off from other worlds. There were other occupants of the eldritch sea, but they maintained their distance out of respect and fear. Selph kept a sizable portion of the dimension for his own, through deals he brokered with the other denizens of the ethereal ocean. This meant that he had miles of untapped space to play with, and shape in accordance with his needs and wants. Unfortunately, the scale of his lavish project drew the ire of other mages, thieves, and sometimes scholars who felt their erudite intrigue granted them automatic access to study his home. They sometimes forced their way through his defensive wards, and arrived via powerful teleportation spells. Which Selph was now watching for, expecting a rift to tear the pond asunder at any moment.


He came to his full height, rolled his shoulders, and spread his clawed hands out to both sides. To an outsider uninitiated in the supernatural, Selph resembled a great bear in the vague redolence of a human male. His height varied, depending on his mood, but it averaged out at eight feet on a regular business day. Today he was a touch anxious, so he let his height swell to nine feet instead. The bigger his frame, the more power he could store for an emergency. His snout was not too pronounced, but thick and set between plump rolling purple furred cheeks. His body was grand in width and heavy with a plentiful girth. The patterned wrap and skirt that served as his modest attire could easily have been undone, and used as a tent covering or a gauze canopy for a four-poster bed.


A crackling pulsed in the air, and the pressure finally reached its lowest point. Selph brought his clawed palms together, and spoke aloud an incantation of summoning. A wisp of pale blue fire sparked into being, then elongated into the shape of a lantern-bearing staff. He grabbed at the burning rod, and dispelled the fire, leaving its length extinguished and the lantern itself rolling with mystical fire. He waved it three times, and recited another incantation, erecting a set of translucent pillars across the pond’s perimeter. The water stopped merely stirring and suddenly started to upheave in violent waves, but the pillars began singing in a chorus of chimes to deny the churning water from broaching Selph’s imposed limits. They locked the disturbance behind a stalwart barrier.


Glass walls stronger than steel framed a whirlpool, which now formed around a central ball of pale, and distorted images. They blinked in rapid succession, showing scenes from a world that he did not recognise. The pond’s tranquil beauty was lost to a maelstrom now. He braced his mind, and reinforced the seams of his barrier by offering it a tithe of his mental stamina. He felt an ache at the base of his skull, indicating that further straining would cause undue pain. He understood the containment was losing the battle with the maelstrom inside. Selph altered his form, and became a vaporous fog that could quickly cover ground. When he believed himself safe from the potential of an explosion, he coalesced and regained his form. Even from a distance, he could see his shimmering pillars had gone askew, and the lucent walls which connected them were spider webbed with cracks. In an almighty blast of noise and light, everything came undone – displaced water came down to wet his robes and fur. An enormous figure smouldered in the remains of the pond.


Selph approached under the pretense of confidence, and kept his wits sharp. When dealing with creatures from other worlds, no one could be sure how they would react after emerging from the tumult betwixt the planes. They had their own customs, and ideas of how things worked. Some who emerged onto the island were savvy mages, and Selph could negotiate with those; or at least threaten them. But sometimes, beings of a more primal disposition found their way to the island. If this was the case, and the visitor did indeed come from somewhere where the understanding of magic as science was lesser known, then that might provide an issue for ‘negotiations.’


It looked down at him. A long way down. The visiting creature stood half a dozen heads taller than Selph, and leered at him with green-eyed suspicion. Their skin was as blue as the pond, electric, possibly contributing to the water’s unusual vibrancy by way of its coming now that he reflected on it. They were enormously fat. As many feet in width as Selph was tall. With great matronly breasts, each marked with red and golden chevrons. The stomach possessed a similarly coloured icon, of a majestic sunburst that centered their navel and spread towards its stomach’s curvature.


“Are you the master of this island?” Its voice boomed, the earth shook. Cosmic energies saturated their epic body, and a fraction of its divine force exploded along the waves of sound carrying its voice. The reverberations remained long after they had finished talking, and Selph had to struggle to remain coherent, feeling a mixture of arcane fatigue from earlier; and a tremoring caused by the blue beast’s voice which he managed to supress.


He realised now that he was in the presence of a god.


“My name is Selph, great one. You are of course, correct. This island, its flora, its fauna, its structures and residents, all fall under my watch and care. It is with great joy, that I welcome you to my humble settlement amid the ethereal ocean. Have you traveled far to reach my home? I lament the fact that you have emerged so far from the main road, I could have prepared transport if I knew you were coming.” Selph said, his words more flowery than usual. In his experience, gods were fond of dramatic speech that spoke to their ego.


“I am Z, god of the Ballanose. My shamans promised me delights beyond mortal comprehension. A feast wealthy in taste, and plentiful enough to slake even my divine appetite. Do you possess the means to appease me so?” This time they eschewed their godly articulation, and said their piece with a gentler tone.


The word Ballanose was unfamiliar to Selph, but he assumed that they might have looked akin to Z albeit humbler in stature. Z resembled the hippos of the planet Earth, but only superficially, in the same way that Selph resembled a bear. True to form as a deity, Z expressed both masculine and feminine traits. Their hips were wide, but their stomach and limbs communicated a masculine staunchness. Their breasts were full, and ample; but the shape of their eyes, throat, and jaw were strong. Even their voice was difficult to place – because it was rich with bass, but breathy in cadence.


“How may I address you, god of the Ballanose?” Selph asked.


“I have a myriad of titles, but right now, I most embody the Father of Harvests. The patriarch who blesses the fields, and – when it is time to collect – enjoy the offerings of the workers as thanks for my boon. My shamans spoke highly of you, I hope I can expect delicacies at least half as rich as those from my worshipers.”


Selph addressed the god, now confident in his use of masculine pronouns. “I will endeavour to have you return to the Ballanose with all the mirth a good meal can provide. I bid you be patient, while I summon suitable transportation.” He breathed a thick, luminescent fog from his maw. The same fog he had earlier became to protect himself. It rose and twisted into a hooded figure, waiting for its master’s instructions. Selph gave it his request, and sent it skyward to the Northwest with the urgency of a messenger bird at wartime.


They passed the time by telling one another stories of their worlds. The Ballanose deity spoke at great length regarding his ascension, and the unequivocal contentment he felt at its climax. Z used some odd descriptions, and words that had no translation in any language Selph knew, but he pieced the scenario together in his mind: Z was a chieftain, beloved by his people for his fair leadership. Their praise transcended into worship, and rose him up from the constraints of mortality to the form of a divine being. He mentioned the sensation of floating, feeling himself well up with the warm thoughts of his people, filling him like a vessel. He had ballooned to the size of a small moon, and burst with ephemeral joy at midnight, cementing his joining with the heavens. However, Selph caught a note of complaint in his storytelling. Z lost his imitating attributes when he described his transformation, it was an important memory that softened him when he shared it, and he lamented being unable to experience it again.


“Ah. Just on time… if you would direct your eyes skyward, your transportation has arrived.” Above Selph and Z, five more of the former’s hooded familiars joined the first, treading the air as if they were wading a shallow riverbank. Their robed fog-made hands gripped pole bearings, attached to an ornate dark wood and purple palanquin; large enough to carry an entire party. In this case, it was just big enough for Selph and his divine guest. With subtle grace, the familiars brought the exquisite roofed litter around for boarding. They parted the long gauzy draping that gave the riders a modicum of privacy, and waited dutifully until their master and his guest climbed in, before they moved to re-attend their posts.


“Can your wispy golems lift us, sorcerer?” Z sounded unsure of their sturdiness. He spoke with a general distaste for spellcraft, typical of cultures not acclimatised to the intricacies of magic. He wore antiquated clothing indicative of his people’s aesthetic. A feathered headdress, and a hand painted wrap of cloth around his waist to contain his genitals. Most gods would adorn themselves with powerful trinkets, a signature weapon, or at least an attire with a sturdy enchantment woven into the threads. Z wore nothing of the sort. He relied purely on his natural influences. Selph remembered the power of his voice, and understood why he would be confident enough to do away with any sort of enhancement.


“They can. Your girth is plenty, and that would prove an issue for a mage of lesser skill, but I am confident in my own abilities – if you would permit the hubris, God of the Ballanose.” Selph clicked his fingers. A purely aesthetic movement, the fog-familiars moved in accordance with their master’s will. He hid his temporary fatigue from Z, and paid the pole-bearing spectres a tithe of his mana. Enough to empower them, and have them spirit the palanquin some fifty feet into the air. Z’s eyes widened, but he offered no compliments. Selph took his subtle shock as praise enough.

“Impressive. Your sorcery surpasses my expectations.” Z said, parting the gauze to his right and quizzically trying to understand the layout of the island. An aerial view highlighted its oddities, and he found the landscape mesmerising. Everything was a shade of purple, or blue, or something at least adjacent to both. The bark of trees was in the shade of eggplant, and the leaves were royal blue and shimmering with life. The grass was similarly blue, rolling pleasantly in the wind. The hills were undisturbed with flowers, and mountain ridges were lit with alien alloys; at the far East shore, the beach was shimmering with glowing azure sand. “Your island is vibrant, and strange. If I did not know better, I would think this were a dreamscape – and you were its demon.”


Selph laughed earnestly. “That’s not the first time I’ve been called a demon, but I actually appreciate the comparison. Demons get things done, you know. They’re not tethered by morals, or good manners. They just do as demons do, and satisfy the wishes of men to receive their prize. Though you have nothing to fear from me, I believe strongly in treating a guest’s right to hospitality as sacred.”


“Mm…” Z didn’t respond, he didn’t have much to say to a mage who felt complimented at being called a demon.


“We’re here. Your shamans were not wrong, delights beyond mortal comprehension are within your view. Just look to the North-West.” Selph parted the drape on his side of the palanquin, and made himself smaller by pressing into the cushions to allow Z space to look out at their destination. A palatial fortress, built up of multiple platforms over water, settled by lacquer roofed buildings was buzzing with people. The smell of incense, cooked meats, fresh produce, and hot scented waters reached them as the pole-bearers began their soft descent. They flew over a dark bricked road, lit by lantern fire. Over a gate that almost clipped the transport, and into a large circular plaza filled with thousands of stalls dominated by the biggest tower that Z had ever seen.


“Welcome to the Bathhouse. A getaway for those seeking to explore themselves, or simply relax in luxury,” Selph explained, and stepped out first, and Z followed.


“This… this great castle town, this is a Bathhouse? ALL of it? It’s a labyrinth, and the scent of sorcery is everywhere. Even beneath the ground. How did you construct this place, it must have taken lifetimes!” Z exclaimed, overwhelmed by it all.


“Less time than you would think. As I said, God of the Ballanose. I am confident in my own skills.” Selph replied, his capricious nature returning with a wink. Stepping back into the bathhouse, to him, was like returning home after a long night of work and letting the ambience of the house nourish his being with safety and warmth. With a long inhalation, he consumed the fog from his familiars. He felt his powers grow, and he grew taller and wider. Ten feet tall, plump and happy as a festival balloon.


Wreathed in exotic glamour and tempting mystery, “The Bathhouse” drew in throngs of unexpected guests who came from worlds afar to sample its unique treatments. It catered to the common agglomeration of bathhouse patrons, but it’s greater appeal lay in its rumoured ability to allow a person to indulge in hedonisms unfound in their normal routines. To allow them to experience transformative baths that could alter their very body into a more desirable form, or to become a truer reflection of themselves that reality denied them with its taboos and rigid societal expectations.


Like any thrifty business owner, Selph had an ulterior motif to hosting people at his bathhouse. He was a beast of magic, not just a creature who willed it. He required a steady stream of raw ethereal substance to keep his primeval urges locked away, and the best way to harvest that resource without actively harming anyone in the process was to ‘please’ them. Emotions released vaporous energies into the world, which were catalysts for spell-craft. Ordinary feelings of happiness, sadness, or distress produced lackluster results. An entire complex of people enjoying rare delicacies, literally experiencing their far-fetched dreams of transformation, and relinquishing their stress to pampering treatments. That released enough to keep Selph more than well fed.


But the emotions of a god were like gold dust, and Selph planned to make the Ballanose deity so pleased he could explode with elation. That was his endgame tonight.


“Would you like to explore the premises on your own terms, or would you like me to escort you? It’s been a rough journey for you, I suspect you would like something to drink to whet your throat?” Selph smiled, “or perhaps a bath to freshen up, you may take your meal at the same time.”


“Mm. A cleansing bath and a good meal, that will do” Z stated.


Selph led the god through the plaza, and Eastwards across a rope bridge suspended over clear water. Fish inured by the island’s mystic currents swam in schools, their scales marked with lines of bright light that made it look as though fireflies were dancing beneath the surface as they swam. Throngs of people came out to watch the piscine dancing, but soon turned their attention to Z. Even among so many different types of people, species, and races, he was still the largest guest in attendance. He soaked up the attention like a sponge, and playfully drummed his belly to produce a melodic beat while his long ears wiggled to the tune.


“Are you enjoying the attention?” Selph queried.


“They may not be as thorough as my worshipers, but I can feel the whispers of their minds taken in by my grandeur. It feeds me, in a way. I can feel a warmth in my belly responding to their gaze,” Z spoke, his godly arrogance washed away by the impromptu feast of attentive eyes and the boon it gave him.


After a brisk tour of the bathing district, stopping every so often to dispense trivia, and let Z soak up the attention from passing guests. Selph escorted him through a set of painted double doors. An immediate heat wafted in their faces, and steam rose from a bath so wide and deep it could pass as a regal swimming pool. Bright citrusy smelling fruits bobbed in the water, accompanied by warmly hued petals that combined to form an inviting aroma. There were attendants on hand. Living, this time, not Selph’s fog amalgamations that had carried them here. One was an upright pig, with a wide smile and a fuchsia silk robe. He explained the healing properties of the bath to Z with boundless enthusiasm, while the other – a black and white panda – wore a cyan silk robe, indicating him as a chef under Selph’s employ.


“This is Taik. He will be our chef for tonight. Well trained, and thoroughly tested. His food is a favourite even among other deities, but I dare not presume your tastes, great Z. I’ve enjoyed his meals for years, and believe his skills will meet your undoubtedly high standards.” Selph went on, and called another set of attendants in simpler less decorated robes to help undress the god. His loincloth came away, and his headdress was placed in a safe-box for customers who preferred not to take their valuables into the water.


The bathwater rolled over the top of the pool, pouring into grates like short waterfalls. Z’s mass caused the hot pool to overflow, which was to be expected. A heavenly sigh escaped him, again shaking the walls. In the immediate pleasure of the warm liquid touching his cooled skin, he forgot himself and his divine volume returned. “You do not overestimate yourself, mage. These waters are divine.”


“In a way, they are.” Selph stood at the edge, by Z’s shoulder. A large tray was being prepared in an open kitchen, on the opposite side of the wide chamber. Smoke from the ovens plumed upwards into the night sky, through the open roof. Tonight, the ethereal sea was especially alive with spirals, and aerial rivers of unaltered energies. Collisions between the untapped flows, miles above, caused explosive reactions akin to temporary sprinklings of stars. Celestial fireworks which enraptured their viewers. Z’s pupil-less green eyes narrowed pleasantly at the sight. Selph tasted his bliss.


“I smell food. Is it time for the first course?” Z leaned forward, sloshing the bathwater down into the grates a second time. He laid eyes on the chef, Taik, loading up a tray so wide and sturdy it could have served as a raft for a regular sized sailor. He set it forward, and it eventually found its way to Z. Bobbing against his stomach, heavy and plentiful with food. The first course followed as such: Three plates of noodles, all different lengths and thickness, coated in good measure by red, pink, and blue sauces. Four types of soup, half made from meat and vegetables found on the island, the other half imported from other planes. And a generous salad, made of blue leaves, and accented with cooked poultry breast which the chef explained was “great roc,” a mythical creature from Earth.


“Dine to your hearts content.” Selph spoke, and motioned to the fuchsia-robed pig man. He was feminine in body, and removed his robe to reveal a belly-dancer outfit. He took his post by casting a spell of levitation, traversing the pool, to land on a central platform in the bath. When he danced in a smooth rhythm, the silks he wore glowing with white light, creating pleasing patterns in the air, music played. “This is Keiko, he will be providing entertainment tonight. Usually he performs in the public pools, to a full crowd, but tonight his artistry is devoted entirely to you.”


Selph tasted Z’s self-importance upon being told that he was the sole recipient of tonight’s dance. He also noticed Z’s stomach swell, with warm soup, noodle broth, and roc breast, but also with ego. A god’s ego was a powerful thing, enough to morph geography to their will – but in this moment, it made Z swell with positive feelings. He ate ravenously, but with a semblance of manners. It was clear he devoured his meals with such rapidity because he genuinely loved their offerings of taste, not out of greed or gluttony.
“Delicious! I want more of what your chef has to offer, bwahahaha!” He laughed effusively, letting his stomach pulse and wobble.


“Right away. Now we have slow cooked Bara’karian ham, taken from a behemoth war-hog. Seared with spices, and marinade overnight in juices of the Ala’quola fruit of the same planet. We cooked the entire thing, knowing you would be more than happy to savour it in its full glory.” The meal came as Selph described it. Big enough to make up half the area of Z’s sapphire expanse. A rich twist of honey and subtle fruit rose from the meat. The god pulled its flank apart with his bare hands, and tasted it. He let out that godly sigh again, his stomach bulging further.


“Your chef does beautiful work,” Z claimed between mouthfuls. “I might have to take him back with me.” The water continued to spill, as Z himself expanded. His contentment and his ego grew, and relayed their effects to his body. His double chin expanded, and his cheeks plumped even after the food that first stretched them had been promptly swallowed. His undulant stomach rose and fell with the bath, only each time it grew and shrank, it grew bigger with each pulse. Keiko’s song and dance ended, once the god’s blue belly reached the platform. Z exhaled, belched, and rubbed his stomach in long satisfied motions. He was almost wedged against the sides by this point, ruminating in the afterglow of that glorious ham dinner.


“Thrilled as he will be for the accolades, I’m afraid he has another few months left before his contract expires,” Selph teased, and leaned forward to rub at Z’s taut stomach. The Ballanose avatar cooed, and could barely contain himself. He was radiating pure bliss, enough to keep Selph well-fed for weeks. Yet there was still something in the way of total surrender, an unfulfilled wish that had to be granted for him to reap the cornucopia of the god’s emotive payoff.


Dessert arrived. “Oh, but I am already close to being sated, a few more morsels could not hurt,” Z eyed it, contemplating if he had tasted enough. He hadn’t, obviously, because he dove right in to the gelatinous green dessert. It melted on his tongue, and he lifted the tray, swallowing it all in one herculean gulp. When another tray arrived, it was an ornate goblet. Reflective silver morphed his reflection into something hilarious and childish, and bright amethysts along its rim thrummed with enchantment.


“There is another service I can provide you, Father of Harvest. We spoke at length following your arrival, about your ascension to the pantheon. It may not be quite as elegant, nor as splendid, but what would your reply be if I claimed I could let you re-experience that moment in the skies above my bathhouse?” Selph spoke his promise, and smiled as the heavy-lidded god gave an agreeable moan.


“To burst again with unrepentant glee. Such would return me to my seat in the pantheon, and exorcise me from your bathhouse for tonight, but it would be worth it. How do you propose I soar skyward? Are you sure your grounds can withstand my celestial orgasm?” Z replied, rolling his shoulders, his body squeaking like a balloon trapped in a drawer where it compressed the edges of the bath.


Selph extended a claw to the goblet. A fizzing mixture lay within, blue as Z. “Drink til you’re fit to burst, and it will lift you through the skylight. Grow big enough, and you will attract a crowd. You will be the entertainment to round off the evening, and usher in the late-night festivities. Imagine the shock and awe of my guests. A divine beast bigger than even me, occupying the skyline. Unapologetically taking its fill, until it bursts like a galactic firework.”


Z was entranced by Selph’s words, and lifted the goblet with both hands. Its contents were bottomless. Bubbling liquid lined his throat, tickling it all the way down. He kept drinking, and drinking for several minutes, until he tossed the goblet aside and released an earth-shaking rumble. True to Selph’s words, Z’s body became light as air. His hold on gravity was cut like a cord, and he popped out of the bath with a wet slapping sound. Through the skylight, and above the bathhouse. He emitted raucous laughter, that grabbed the attention of the entire complex.


Selph could taste it now. Almost infinite splendour, from a god allowed to re-experience his fondest memory.


“Turn your eyes to me! Witness me!” He called, mad with a raw pleasure that overwhelmed his senses. He went from a lascivious deity of harvest and fertility, to a fast-expanding orb of painted tattoos and reflective azure flesh. He billowed out in every direction, losing any inkling of his former anatomy to the shape of a small celestial body. His hands and feet fell into tight divots, that served as reminders for where his limbs once protruded. His extremities blew up into dexterity-deprived decorations, at the ends of a ballooning deity whose sole desire was to take up as much space as possible.


He felt them. Their stares, their astonishment. In some cases, their worship. Denizens of the permanent resident quarter, restaurant goers, owners from the dining quarter, even staff from the main tower, all came out to watch him. Watch Z. Watch the great blimp, dominate the purple sky. Casting his own radiant glow across the land, washing the island blue. The admiration that poured into him from all around was like a hot drink on a cold day, homely and welcoming and profoundly delicious.


A pressure built at his core. Whistled of divine energy, in the form of pearl-white gas, streaked out of his bulbous hippo-like nose. The corners of his mouth were upturned in a profound smile, his senses overwhelmed. He could feel nothing, but the rapid climb of his lunar form taking its rightful place in the heavens. His entire body ran hot. So sensitive, the wind massaged him erotically. He reached his critical mass, and with a loud cry of pleasure he had only uttered once before. He reached his cosmic orgasm, and detonated in a sunburst, scattered into stardust that would shimmer for hours.


“I hope he returns,” Selph said with one claw aloft. Collecting the long eddies of released mana, that had been left behind in the wake of Z’s explosion. “He was an excellent visitor.”