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All the villagers had gathered in the main hall of the temple to witness the first birth of the new cycle. Exactly one year ago, their god Irah had selected a ten-year-old boy to be his new Chosen, the youngest ever afforded the honour. The boy's name was inconsequential now; he would be recorded in the histories as the forty-fourth Chosen since Irah first brought the people of the village to this island paradise.
The Chosen, being much smaller than his predecessors had been, needed to be escorted to the birthing chair by two priests—former Chosen themselves—to ensure that his enormous belly did not cause him to overbalance and fall. It stuck out so far in front of him that he had to support it with both hands, and he could only take tiny, waddling steps as he struggled to move his overburdened body.
When he was finally seated in the birthing chair on the dais at the front of the hall, he was drenched in sweat and breathing hard even though the main event had not yet begun. One of the senior priests led the villagers in a prayer to thank Irah for the gift they were about to receive while another secured a ring in the Chosen's mouth to hold it open, and another removed the plug the Chosen was required wear when not being cleaned out, fucked by Irah, or birthing His child, and coated the Chosen's passage with holy oil.
Once the preparations were complete, they didn't have to wait long for the first labour pains to strike the Chosen, after which the first in a list of men randomly selected from the villagers was called up to the dais. Only Irah was permitted to penetrate the Chosen's hole, but the villagers could take part in the birth and bring themselves closer to Irah by fucking the Chosen's mouth.
The way the birthing chair kept his head angled back made it easy for them to get their cocks into his throat to muffle his pained groans as his muscles seized to urge the child towards his widening channel.
It would be hours still before the child would be born, and in that time, tens of men would take their turns spilling their seed down his throat. Irah would receive their offering, and the child would be all the more stronger for each one that was given before it was born.
As the head of the child began to stretch the Chosen's rim, his screams grew in pitch and volume, echoing off the walls and columns of the temple hall. He writhed in the birthing chair, hands gripping the sides and feet pushing against the rests. A priest waited between his legs with a basket to catch the child while others prepared water and towels to clean it, and a blanket to wrap it in.
The child slipped free from the Chosen's channel just as the final offering was given. A boy, as all children of Irah were. Once he'd been washed and dried, the most senior priest held him up before the villagers and bestowed him with his name. The priests' duties complete, the child was turned over to the villagers, and they began to file out of the temple.
The Chosen was slumped over bonelessly in the birthing chair, one priest wiping his sweat-drenched face with a soft cloth while another removed the ring gag from his mouth. Further down, his stomach still jutted out hugely from the rest of his body; Irah's seed was potent enough to grow more than one child in the belly of His Chosen at a time, and the Chosen would continue to birth them at a rate of once a lunar cycle until a new Chosen was selected.
Though the Chosen's hole was still swollen and gaping obscenely from the birth, the priests inserted a plug large enough that it wouldn't slip out when he moved, as in keeping with Irah's decrees for His Chosen.
The Chosen wailed miserably as the plug was worked into his aching hole, and tears sprung anew as he was helped to his feet to begin the agonisingly slow walk back to his quarters. The priests had to hold his arms to help him walk, leaving his belly to swing freely in front of him and pull on the already-tormented skin.
Once laid down in bed, the Chosen was to remain undisturbed for the rest of the day save to be hand-fed small sips of thin broth in the afternoon to keep up his strength.
In the darkest hour of the night, a weight settled on the mattress behind the Chosen, and a hand slid between his legs to caress the sore, stretched rim of his hole.
"Wake up, lovely boy," a voice whispered in his ear. "Time to show your god how grateful you are to be blessed with carrying His progeny."
The hand between the Chosen's legs tugged hard on the plug, and it came free with a wet squelch. The Chosen, startled awake, gave no resistance as he was rolled onto his back. Not that he would ever deny his god whatever He wished to do with the Chosen's body.
Irah ran His hands over the Chosen's swollen belly, admiring how big it looked on his tiny frame compared to the teenage and adult bodies of His former Chosen. But now that the Chosen had just birthed one of the children formerly taking up residence there, it was time to put another back in. Maybe more than one.
Irah's cock when full-blooded was about the width and length of His forearm, but it slid into the Chosen's overstretched hole with ease. If his stomach had been flat, the outline of Irah's cock would be visible all the way up to his ribs.
The Chosen whimpered as his battered walls were further abused by Irah's huge cock, but he knew better than to cry out or ask for a reprieve; it was an honour to be penetrated by Irah's cock, and even more so to bear His children.
When Irah spilled inside the Chosen, warmth flooded the inner depths of his channel, but He wasn't done yet. Without removing His cock, Irah turned the Chosen over onto his hands and knees and continued to fuck into him, hands gripping the Chosen's hips tight as Irah thrust His own hips back and forth at an unforgiving pace.
After spilling again, Irah laid back on the bed and pulled the Chosen atop Him, all the while keeping His cock buried deep inside. Even through the pain, the Chosen recognised what he was supposed to do, and began moving his hole along the length of Irah's shaft despite every movement burning him inside and out.
Irah's cock did not leave the Chosen's hole until daybreak, when He vanished as suddenly as He had appeared, leaving the Chosen's leaking hole for the priests to clean and plug again. The holy water they used for the cleaning had been blessed by Irah to contain healing properties, and the Chosen's hole would be tighter and more pleasurable for Irah when He visited the Chosen again in the night, and every night until He tired of the boy and chose another to continue the bloodline of the village.