As the crier completed his initial announcement, the crowd began to take their seats, from the men closest to the emperor to those of lowest rank in the back. The priests of Mars were seated farthest back, for their spiritual rank did not afford them high standing in the court. The set of dour men, dressed in ceremonial armor, awaited their turn, secure in the knowledge that, though they held minimal rank, their words carried great weight. As the crier began the second verse and the middle rows sat, they set down ceremonial staffs that had been sword sheaths attached to their belts a moment before.
Their armor shimmered for a second and then faded to white, loosing its stiffness as the priests' motions caused the material to descend into long robes, the collective height of the men dropping as hair became longer, in some cases sprouting from heads long bear, worn boots plunging into strappy sandals attached to dainty feet. As the next verse was read, they took their cue, pulling off their diaphanous, see-through robes as their arms shrank and their chests puffed outwards conically as they bared their femininity to the world. The priestesses firm, high breasts stood proudly in tribute to their goddess Venus as they lay down on the bench, two to a spot, and began licking each others' cunts, feeling each others' boobs, driving each other towards their holy orgasm, crying out their pleasure to the court, to let them know that the goddess smiled on them. |