Huitzilopochtli first came to me as I lay on my mat in my single room adobe hut. The aroma of drying herbs filled the space, taking me deep into my meditation, deep to the place where only a bruja can see. The rumbling earth beneath my back shook my eyes open. And there he was. A statue of brown flesh and wet clay glistening in the sun. The hair on his body curled like fiddlehead ferns. The hair on his head so thick and black it almost looked blue. Shocks of blue veins bulged from beneath his skin like otherworldly tangled vines.
He did not greet me or ask me my name. But I knew who he was, and I wanted him. I wanted the power of the sun he possessed. I parted my legs to welcome his hummingbird tongue.
He wiped my body clean with his mouth, made me shiver with every lick until I had no choice but to guide him all the way inside. I tightened my thighs around his waist, squeezed my pelvis withholding all my magma, until my ass and lower back ached. His body became slick with blood and sweat as he rejuvenated me thrust by thrust, his sun bursts leaking into me. Its rays illuminating my skin until the brown turned to bronze. The heat was fever and thirst as we tumbled in sexual war. I fucked this war god, the living sun, until my quaking body spewed its own flare and Popocatepetl, the volcanic giant I lived beneath, roared to life. Our tectonic fucking made it rain ash and our hot breath evaporated the lake in the crater of the volcano.
He lay next to me dimmed in my shadow, his sunlight now belonging to me. “Why did you come to me?” I asked. “Are you lonely as a God?”
“I have seen the future, cihuatl. Your blood is destined to be drained into this land by pale clouds crossing over the sea. But do not fear, you will be like this forever. You will outlive the wars and the plagues, and you will one day rebuild my temple after the ash. Go forth and build my congregation from the fires.”
“I will never die?”
He seemed to be shrinking before my eyes, his skin cracked and dry.
“You died at the foot of a Popocatepetl, choked on the lava. But you have found favor in her eyes. Her nature is yours. Lava and ash stored in your breasts. Explosive power that can’t be harnessed or predicted by man. Let that rage go. It is too beautiful a thing to keep hidden. Volcanos can go dormant. Some even die. But you will be like her, immortal.”
“And you? Where are you going?”
He appeared smaller, still. His dark eyes saddened. “They will smash your skulls and the countenances of all the gods. The pale clouds have only one God and one belief and no room for us unless it is beneath their heel. I must flee to the world where I am from if I am to return. For now, you a half human, half immortal; and you will carry the final sun. Survive and live until the final days even if you must wait in the shadows.”
He kissed my lips one last time, leaving the taste of my own nectar on my tongue before I fell to sleep.
I woke up to rumbling beneath my back, but instead of the ceiling of my hut with hanging yarn and drying herbs, it was a cloudless blue sky and blinding sunlight. My body jerked upright gasping for air. I scanned my surroundings to see everything covered in ash and smouldering black rock, including myself. Everything gone except for me and the sun warming my brown skin. With nothing left, it was time for me to leave with my human magic and immortal blood. On my own to make my way the best I could until the end of the world and the start of a new one. One for those like me.
Curves with softness of feathers beneath perfect lighting. A candid snapshot hides an ancient spell to keep you coming back for more. A secret in those bedroom eyes that hold your gaze until it wanders down to my black lace body suit. If only you could reach out to touch me.
I promise to make you feel like my only fan when we are alone. Just you, me, and my altar I call a screen for all my other Only Fans to see.
Only Fans. My congregation. Every new subscriber receives exclusive content. The more you pay the higher you climb up my pyramid of rewards. After the final climb, when you make it all the way to the top, I will be there, waiting behind one of the doors at The Pink Agave Motel.
Every night, you can watch me switch on my camera and hear Minnie Riperton or Anita Baker playing in the background. Sometimes I wear nothing at all but red lipstick and the shadow of an only fan in my arms. They are willing participants, sacrificing a small part of themselves so those like me might live. Their bodies ready to receive my mouth filled with obsidian blades and a hummingbird tongue. Ready for the sacrificial bite?
After, I let them go to be forever my fan to offer blood when I need it. The select few become like me. An army of others who can’t be stopped.
This is only for the fans. Only for the flesh eaters and blood drinkers. Only fans know it is time to drink your masters, pour yourself another cup because the veins of the world are opening and there is no going back. Mistaken prophecy and misinterpretation of the cosmos brings us to this exact moment in time when the sun will rise once more.
Remotely I will help you stroke out your worry when you can’t sleep in these sleepless times. The time before the sun rises again to release its dark and bloody radiation of revolution.
Be an Only Fan.