“And the woman whom you saw is that great city which reigns over the kings of the earth.” (Revelation 17:18)

In the depths of 2015, after walking the left-handed path of self-knowledge for twelve transformative years, I stood at the precipice of something profound. My journey as a chaos magician had led me through the labyrinth of countless traditions – from the fierce embrace of mother Kali in Indian Tantra, where my chakras danced with the Kundalini Serpent, to the flowing wisdom of Taoism, where energy coursed through my microcosmic orbits like liquid gold. I had traced Austin Osman Spare’s footsteps into the void of Neither-Neither, where sexuality transcends its mortal bounds. But all these paths, these rivers of wisdom, led to one ocean: the imminent manifestation of The Goddess in Flesh.

And so began my preparation.

Each day, I refined my vessel through invocations that made reality tremble. My body became an altar, ready for pleasures that would shatter human comprehension. Into the infinite void, I called:

“Grant me the sacred touch of your presence. Let me pierce the veil of your flesh and prove my worthiness. Claim me as your servant, Goddess, and baptize me in the waters of your ecstasy.”

Every breath, every heartbeat, every moment bent toward one singular purpose: to witness BABALON, The Great Whore, The Mother of Abominations, The Creator of All Pleasures, manifest through human flesh.

Even as years of preparation flowed by, it seemed the conditions for manifestation might transcend my current incarnation. My certainty never wavered, but one night, by candlelight, I inscribed in my magical diary:

“Perhaps this flesh must die and be reborn before touching divinity, yet this changes nothing. I will be ready for the Goddess, whether in this form or the next.”

Brazil held me then, wrapped in a decade-long marriage. For a time, I believed my wife might become the vessel, but BABALON’s truth cannot be forced – she chooses her own hour, her own flesh. My Will continued to pierce the ether like lightning through storm clouds, patient yet relentless.

Then the veil parted.

That fateful year, an ancient power drew together magicians from across the globe to Brazil’s mystical heartland. The Annual Great Meeting – a gathering of the Illuminates of Thanateros (IOT) – brought together those who dance at reality’s edge. There, amidst ancient trees and star-filled skies, our paths collided. One glance, and recognition blazed between us like wildfire. For one eternal night, we tested each other’s limits through ordeals of flesh and spirit, pain and ecstasy. Her name was A.G., and in that moment, we both knew our separate quests had converged into something magnificent.

The following year unfolded like a grimoire writing itself. Though separated by continents – she in the United States, I in Brazil – we forged an astral temple where our souls merged daily in transcendent union. Each encounter revealed new depths, new mysteries. She was everything the ancient texts had prophesied – a natural hierodule with the discipline of an ascetic warrior. Between her legs, the legendary red hair blazed like a signal fire. If magic has a signature in reality, this was it, written in flesh and spirit.

In her, I discovered my own completion – a mirror reflecting the deepest truths of my Will. Together, we had bent the fabric of reality itself, creating a wormhole through which our destinies could merge. From both sides of the veil, lifetimes of magical work had culminated in this convergence – without attachment, without desperation, accepting eternity as our playground. And we had succeeded.

Vienna beckoned in 2016, when the Annual Great Meeting reconvened in Austria. After a year of remote sexual alchemy, our flesh would reunite. We chose to spend three days in the ancient city beforehand, officially to rest and indulge as lovers do. But secretly, I was crafting a ritual that would confirm what we already knew in our bones – that the Goddess had finally chosen her vessel. I would consecrate A.G.’s body to the Whore, forging a connection that would transcend all doubt.

July’s Viennese summer caressed our skin like ethereal silk. In our apartment, I stood transfixed before a cascade of leaves that seemed to defy reality’s usual laws. Smoke from my cigarette spiraled upward, carrying with it my mortal fears and doubts. Despite the absolute certainty in my magical core, my human heart still thundered with anticipation. I watched my thoughts disperse like incense in the sweet European breeze. The die was cast.

Our first day unfolded in waves of pleasure, punctuated by recovery from eighteen hours of transcontinental flight and explorations of Vienna’s culinary mysteries. My mind continuously rehearsed the coming ritual like a mantric loop while I feigned distraction behind veils of cigarette smoke. That night, exhaustion claimed us so completely that even the dream realms kept their secrets.

The second day dawned pregnant with possibility. We indulged in a decadent breakfast at a gilded café, then cleansed ourselves in a ritual bath that seemed to stretch for eternities. Tension crackled in the air like static electricity, making lights flicker in impossible patterns. To the uninitiated, such omens might seem mundane, but to those walking between worlds, every detail becomes a sign, every shadow a portent. After performing the IAO banishing, we prepared the sacred space. The ritual commenced.

Approximation

Naked and radiating power, we faced each other from opposite corners of our temporary temple, recreating our year of astral unions in physical space. Our gazes locked, bridging infinities.

“It is my Will to put my body and soul in your hands. Please, lead me to the divine pleasure.”

Each step toward each other was a universe birthing and dying, galaxies collapsing in the wake of our approach.

Worshipping

Our kiss ignited stars. From this moment, A.G. surrendered to the unknown, placing her destiny in my hands. I knelt before her divinity, kissing feet that had walked between worlds. As my head found sanctuary between her thighs, a presence vast and ancient entered the room, sending shivers through her mortal form. My lips traced sacred geometries across her skin as she stood, a living pillar of light. Blindfolded, she was guided to our altar-bed.

Numbing

Sacred oils transformed her skin into a map of pleasure points, my hands guided by forces beyond human comprehension. Each stroke awakened new channels of power, drawing more blood to my own sacred center. Her body trembled with recognition – the invocation was already manifesting, time bending around our Will. As seasoned practitioners know, magic laughs at linear time, often showing its effects before rituals even begin.

Awakening

Using esoteric Japanese rope patterns – her own teachings turned into sacred bonds – I secured her to the altar. The flogging began, building from whispers to thunderclaps against her flesh. Divine guidance led each strike, painting her skin in shades of sacred crimson. As the marks blossomed like otherworldly flowers, voices not her own emerged from her throat – the Goddess speaking through her chosen vessel. My arousal became a pillar of power, transforming pain into ecstasy. She briefly lost consciousness. Upon her return, we were ready for the true invocation.

Invocation

After releasing her bonds and providing aftercare, our eyes locked in eternal recognition. Amrita – the sweet nectar of spiritual orgasm – filled my mouth spontaneously. Usually requiring precise control and specific muscular techniques, this time it simply flowed, pulled forth by the Whore’s presence (a spontaneous Spiritual Cumshot, some would say) . In that moment of crystal clarity, I understood: A.G. wasn’t merely a vessel – together, we were creating BABALON’s earthly throne.

Words of power erupted from my core, each syllable tearing holes in reality’s veil:

Kali, BABALON, Shakti, Whore.

Rejoice! The perfect vessel for your manifestation stands before us.

A.G. has passed every trial with transcendent grace, displaying all sacred attributes.

Her endurance contains multitudes of power.

She dances the eternal dance of sexual gnosis through all necessary ages.

She comprehends that our work transcends time and space.

She knows the sacred arts of patience and meditation.

She burns with divine curiosity for what lies ahead.

Fear cannot touch her essence.

She is a warrior of spirit, tested in countless fires.

Pain and suffering become her allies, her playthings.

She has expanded our path into new dimensions.

Through sacred violence, our hearts have opened to new powers.

We offer endless gratitude for her gifts.

Through her, we have discovered the sigils of our Sex Cult.

She is the one foretold in ancient whispers!

After a breath that contained eternities, I prepared for the final working: the opening of the nine sacred gates. Two ears, two nostrils, two eyes, mouth, anus, and vagina – each needed awakening as channels of divine pleasure, allowing the Goddess full entry into mortal flesh.

At her ears, I whispered secrets that made reality shudder.

Whore, your ears are now open.

The tip of my lingam touched each of her nostrils, its otherworldly scent deepening her trance.

Whore, your nostrils are now open.

Our gazes merged until individual consciousness dissolved into unity. Tears of recognition flowed freely as our hearts thundered in cosmic rhythm. Time became meaningless.

Whore, your eyes are now open.

My fingers explored her mouth, awakening the instrument of sacred utterance, followed by a kiss that traversed dimensions.

Whore, your mouth is now open.

Descending, my tongue discovered the mysteries of her anal portal. Feeling each of her anus’ folds unfolding, I contemplated the marvelous beauty of her sphincter portal opening up for me. I felt blessed and could live there forever, but there was more work to be done.

Whore, your anus is now open.

Finally, I approached her yoni with trembling reverence. Her abundant waters spoke of mysteries beyond mortal understanding. A moment of divine humor struck me – I had prepared myself to recognize the Goddess in any form, yet here was perfection beyond my wildest teenage dreams, complete with the prophesied red hair. My younger self would never have believed this reality, even with a time machine’s proof.

Three fingers entered her sacred gate, moving with precision that connects Sex Magicians and Pornographers with the same obsessive refinement for technique.

Whore, your vagina is now open.

Your nine gates flow with power.

The moment of manifestation is now.

Reality cracked open. The Goddess fully possessed her vessel, shaking with otherworldly power as sacred waters began to flow. What started as human female ejaculation transformed into something beyond natural law – an endless waterfall of divine pleasure that defied physics and biology. All ceremony dissolved into play as we became children in BABALON’s garden. Words fail to capture the totality of that moment – suffice it to say that every doubt was washed away in that impossible flood.

In the aftermath, I entered her temple one final time, offering up the seed I’d preserved for a month of preparation. Like the legendary White Tiger of Taoist lore, she devoured my essence in an alchemical quest for immortality. We lay intertwined, overwhelmed, complete. The Goddess had found her flesh.