Look for a 3rd choice

You turn your attention to the elaborate carvings covering the walls of the antechamber, hoping to find some clue about what lies beyond each doorway. The symbols are intricate—depictions of writhing bodies, swollen bellies, and strange geometric patterns that seem to pulse with inner light.

You trace your fingers along a sequence that appears above the left doorway—the path of the vessel. The carvings depict a progression of female forms, each with increasingly exaggerated fertility features. The first figure has enlarged breasts, the second shows wider hips, the third displays an engorged belly. The sequence continues, showing a woman giving birth, then nursing multiple infants.

"Physical changes," you murmur, milk droplets forming at your nipples as your body responds to the imagery. "This path transforms the body."

Moving to the right doorway—the path of surrender—you study its different iconography. These carvings show women with expressions of increasing ecstasy, their faces contorted in pleasure as they're taken by male figures with exaggerated phalluses. The final carving shows a woman with a blissful, vacant expression, her belly swollen with child, surrounded by adoring males.

"Mental changes," you realize. "This path affects the mind."

As you attempt to decipher more complex glyphs between the sequences, you press your palm against a circular pattern that begins to glow. Before you can pull away, the glyph flares with golden light. A thin needle extends from the center, pricking your palm.

"Ow!" you cry, yanking your hand back. Blood wells from the tiny puncture, and to your horror, it's drawn back toward the glyph as if magnetized.

The droplet of your blood is absorbed into the stone, and the entire wall begins to pulse with a reddish light that matches your heartbeat. The symbols around you start shifting, rearranging themselves into new patterns you can't comprehend.

A sudden, sharp pain lances through your head as the temple attempts to **** understanding into your unprepared mind. Images flood your consciousness—women with impossibly swollen bellies, creatures with multiple phalluses, rituals of fertility so ancient and primal they predate civilization.

"Stop!" you gasp, clutching your temples. Your vision blurs as blood trickles from your nostril, your inexperienced mind unable to process the information being **** into it.

The **** on your consciousness stops as abruptly as it began, leaving you panting on your knees. The walls return to their previous state, but something has changed in you. Between your legs, you feel a new sensation—your labia have grown slightly fuller, more sensitive, their color deepening to a richer shade. Your clitoris throbs with increased sensitivity, now more prominent and responsive.

"What's happening to me?" you whisper, touching yourself gingerly through your pants, shocked at how different you feel. Even that light touch sends shivers of unwanted pleasure through your core.

The doorways pulse insistently, the temple growing impatient for your choice. Your failed attempt to understand the symbols has only resulted in another transformation—your body continuing its steady march toward the temple's ideal of fertility, whether you consent or not.