Trying to repress her own growing corruption, a nun receives a helping hand from a farm girl. An immediate sequel to Filthy Habits.
guest story by reluctant-ronin
tags: corruption, demon, girl penis, nsfw, transformation, village of nightmare
“Goddess, sister, how did you let yourself get so pent-up?”
Sister Ophelia could only writhe beneath the other woman’s ministrations, struck dumb by the unfamiliar sensations that the seductress’ mercilessly slow, skillful caresses produced in the recently grown male anatomy between her legs. She bit her lip to suppress a moan, kicking at the bundle of blankets at her feet.
Her companion, of course, knew very well why she’d so diligently avoided relieving the infernal pressure in her loins. She’d told her all about the events that had brought her to this farmhouse almost a week ago: how Sister Natalia, the kindest, most devout nun in her order, had transformed into some sort of depraved succubus; how her fellow sisters had bowed down in worship of the she-beast’s demonic shaft; how all of them (herself included) had sprouted corrupted members of their own upon being “baptized” with her tainted seed; and how she’d managed to resist joining the ensuing orgy long enough to flee for the farmlands on the city’s outskirts, running until she succumbed to exhaustion and passed out in a wheat field.
Ophelia cursed her ill fortune. In the three days since she’d woken up, it had taken every ounce of her willpower to keep her hands off of her constantly erect cock… and now, those efforts were being rendered utterly meaningless by the very person that had nursed her back to health. She looked into the warm, friendly blue eyes that had greeted her when she regained consciousness… and now found them glazed over with lust.
The nun shuddered, suddenly unable to tear her gaze away from the woman that regarded her with such shameless, unrestrained desire. When she’d first glimpsed Martha, she thought she was the most captivating creature she’d ever seen—not gaudy and artificial like the whores back home, but naturally beautiful. Her fair, freckled skin was kissed a light shade of pink by the sun. Her hair was tangled up with bits of straw and hay that were nearly indistinguishable from her own curly, golden locks. She smelled of earth, sweat, and livestock.
And her tits! By the Goddess, Ophelia had never encountered such a magnificent pair; they were easily the size of watermelons, and probably just as succulent…
The nun shook her head—which now felt significantly heavier, thanks to the sinister ram horns curving around her pointed ears. She had to banish these alien urges; they weren’t hers, they were…
Ophelia’s thoughts were immediately silenced when Martha gently kissed her bloated testicles, numbing her mind with an unexpected jolt of pleasure.
“Mmmm, so full,” Martha chuckled, running a forked tongue across her blackened lips. “I feel sort of guilty that you’ve been holding back… because I sure haven’t. I’ve finger-fucked myself to sleep every night since I laid eyes on this beast.” While her right hand continued to furiously pump Ophelia’s increasingly inhuman manhood, her left drifted towards her own nethers, plunging into her dripping pussy.
Just as Ophelia had dreaded, the pretty farm girl’s fevered self-pleasure accelerated her changes. The pinkish hue of her sunburn darkened to a rich crimson, while her blonde hair developed a silvery sheen. A pair of short, stubby horns pushed through the front of her skull. The base of her spine lengthened into a spaded tail that lashed happily behind her. She closed her eyes as her body quaked with orgasm—and when they opened again, they burned with a sinister yellow glow.
Martha grinned, baring her gleaming, razor-sharp fangs. She extracted her claws from her thoroughly ravaged cunt and licked off the lingering fluid, savoring the flavor of her rebirth. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so free,” she panted. “Honestly, I never really wanted to be a farmer. I only moved back from the city to help out when Pa got sick. And after he died… well, I was kind of stranded out here. But this,” she purred, giving Ophelia’s throbbing prick a particularly firm squeeze for emphasis, “reminded me of all the fun I’d given up.”
Ophelia remained silent, even as a fresh trickle of pre lubricated her twitching cock. Something in her rescuer’s words resonated deep within her soul: When had she last been truly “free?” After all, she had not joined the convent by choice; her father—a moderately successful merchant that had promised her to the son of a much wealthier businessman—had banished her there to avoid a scandal after he caught her… “experimenting” with a local stable girl. She’d played along, putting on a pious façade and performing her sacred duties without complaint… and now, her church was a den of sin, and her years of sexual repression and inhibition amounted to absolutely nothing.
“Oops, I think I broke my toy,” Martha said with mock concern—only to gasp as her erstwhile prey pounced, forcing her off the bed and onto her knees.
“You talk too much, slut,” the former nun growled, her eyes blazing red with hunger. “Let’s put that mouth of yours to better use…”
And so, the damsel in distress and her would-be savior fell together, exploring every inch of their perverted forms until well past daybreak.
GOOD END
Author’s Note: Believe it or not, this little story has been in the works for about two years. I first had the idea around the time I released History Repeats, when I decided I wanted to go back and flesh out some of the other nuns from Filthy Habits. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I scrapped it and started fresh, the plot just kept losing momentum toward the middle. Finally, I figured out I was trying to spread it too thin, so I whittled it down to the bare essentials (focusing on the psychological aspects of the transformation—I’ve toyed with the idea of “corruption” as a metaphor for sexual liberation before, but this is probably my most direct expression of that theme) and turned it into an experiment in shorter form storytelling. I think it ended up being a good learning opportunity: my day job is getting pretty hectic, which means less time and energy to devote to writing; hopefully, being able to produce this sort of trimmed-down content will help keep my creative juices flowing… and keep me from vanishing off the face of the earth again.