Feature Writer: TimeWise /
Published: 28.02.2015
Story Codes: Erotic Horroe /
Synopsis: A convent of nuns are abducted by demonic forces /


Conversion 1

Milyn looked around the room hopelessly. There was no way out that she could see. The door was sturdy and locked, and there were no windows. The only piece of furniture in the room was the simple stool she was seated on. Folding her hands together in supplication, she knelt on the hard stone floor, bowing her head in prayer. Only the One God could save her now.

It had been four days ago that the Convent of the Precious Gift had been taken. She had lived there for most of her young life, dedicating herself body and soul to the One God. The calm, regimented life was all she could remember. As the nuns were brides of the One God, she could not even remember what men looked like, as they were never allowed inside the holy grounds of the convent. But that day, she had finally seen men in all their horror.

Rough, grinning brigands had somehow got in past the tall walls and strong iron gates, pillaging and killing at whim. The Flames of the One God, elite nun warriors who protected the holy place, had somehow been overcome. Milyn had seen little of it, for she had been sent to hide in a storehouse with a few other young nuns, in the hope that they would be safe there until the trouble was dealt with. But instead, blood-stained bandits had found them there, bound them hand and foot, and loaded them in carts like sacks of grain. Milyn’s last view of the convent was of it burning, growing smaller and smaller as she was taken away into the wide cruel world.

Her captor’s destination was a stone-walled town a few days journey away. They only made a few stops on the way there, as the bandits untied and fed their captors as quickly as possible. Out of the near two-hundred nuns who had lived at the convent, Milyn could see that only about thirty-odd had been taken captive. The greater part of those were the younger, more comely nuns, and she despaired when she realized what that probably meant as to their captor’s intentions. There were at least twice as many of the ruffians, and no chance for escape ever presented itself.

Honestly, even if she had seen a chance Milyn was unsure if she would have taken it. She was just too afraid of the consequences when they inevitably caught her again. Truly, she was shocked that none of these vile men had forced themselves on any of the Sisters. While she had never been out in the world, there had been many sermons preached about the filthy lusts of such evil men.

When they had reached the town, it seemed only half-filled. Many houses lay silent and presumably vacant. Still, there were a number of people up and about, going about their business. Strangely, none of them seemed at all perturbed at the sight of the bound sisters being driven down main street in carts. A few of the young men did crane their necks to get a better look, hungry looks on their faces, but that was the extent of their reaction.

The town was formed around a sprawling, elegant manor building which lay at its heart. The carts stopped in the stone-flagged square in front, and the brigands set to work at once hauling the battered and frightened Sisters out and lining them up facing the building, while one of their number went within. Milyn whimpered in pain as she was roughly pushed to her feet. She felt light-headed from a mixture of terror and gnawing hunger.

The one who had entered the building soon returned, bringing with him a tall man in rich clothes of black and gold. He came towards the line of bedraggled Sisters, high black boots clicked softly on the stone with every step. His brown, wavy hair framed a broad forehead, large and penetrating green eyes, and an aquiline nose. He was slender, with pale skin, and his hands seemed unusually long-fingered. In one black-gloved hand, the stranger casually gripped a rod about two feet in length, capped with the snarling visage of some great hunting cat.

Milyn could clearly tell that this man was in charge. The rough brigands treated him with a deference tinged with a hint of fear, as if he were more dangerous than all of them put together, despite the man’s almost cheerful demeanor. As he walked down the line of nuns, he examined each one closely, peering into their eyes and running his gaze critically over their bodies. Cowed, none of the Sisters would look him in the eye… until he came to Mother Selcrie.

Mother Selcrie was one of the only two senior nuns who had been taken by the bandits, rather than slaughtered; the other being Mother Elantine, who was further down the line. A stern-faced, strict, middle-aged woman, Mother Selcrie had been the harshest disciplinarian at the convent, quick to assign hours of reciting Acts of Contrition while kneeling directly on hard stone floors to young nuns who giggled, gossiped, or let their attention wander from their duties. Before the attack, Milyn would have said she was the most fearsome person in the world.

When the richly dressed stranger arrived in front of her, Mother Selcrie looked him in the eye, and spoke out in a firm, loud, angry voice. “I know not who you are, but you have made a terrible mistake in violating the sanctity of holy ground and assaulting those dedicated to the One God. In this world, the Church will hunt you down and put you and yours to the sword, and in the next, you will burn forever in a river of hellfire! Not one stone of this place will be left standing atop the other when the soldiers of the One God finish with you!”

She pursed her lips, breathing hard, then lowered her voice from the near-shout it had been, looking about at the other men in the square. “However, if you release us and repent, mercy might yet be granted. Any man who does not wish to die a terrible death and spend an eternity in torment must make a stand now, or be forever damned. The full weight of these sins rests upon the head of he who ordered the deed done. For others, there might be clemency, provided my Sisters and I are brought to the nearest Church unharmed.”

Milyn drew in a short, sharp breath. She really, really didn’t think that had been a wise thing for the Mother to do. These men were not going to be cowed by threats, however much truth was behind them. She could see they respected and feared the tall man too much. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach for what would be coming next. This was just the same as if a foolish young nun had tried to challenge one of the Mothers publicly; the reaction would no doubt be swift and brutal retaliation, to drive out any further thought of defiance in all those who watched.

The tall man drew back a step, and a wide smile stretched over his face. It was a strange expression that Milyn didn’t think she’d ever seen before; he looked genuinely happy, yet there was a fierce, smoldering anger lurking in his eyes. “Ah, a bit of backbone! But… no flexibility, no adaptation.” He shook his finger at her. “Same old story, different day,” he continued in a sing-song voice. He sighed, then abruptly snapped his fingers and clicked his tongue. “We’ll have to deal with you directly. Object lesson and all… no offense.”

Mother Selcrie’s eyes flashed. “Do with me as you will, you filthy heathen! You only prove your own iniquity and ensure your own damnation! Sisters, regard this vile sinner with no fear! Whatever evil he visits upon us, our souls will in the end reside with the One God, and he will scream for all time in the deepest pits of Hell!”

The man tutted at her. “Now then, Sister, you operate under a slight theological misapprehension! While your God cares only for the totality of his worshipers – slaves would be more appropriate, actually – I have Friends who care for me above aught else. Thus you stand here spiritually naked, aside from your perverse obstinacy, while I am armed with the most potent of weapons.”

Mother Selcrie spat full in his face. Milyn winced and looked away, expecting him to strike her with his rod, or order his men to attack her, steeling herself against whatever sick sound of abuse she heard. Instead, she just heard laughing. She looked back up in wonder.

The tall man had subsided into a chuckle as he wiped his face. “All this righteous fury! Good, good. You, and you, hold her.” He indicated two of the bandits, who rushed forward to seize each of Mother Selcrie’s arms. The tall man pointed at her belly, and his wrist rotated, fingers moving as if he was tracing a strange symbol in the air. His lips moved, framing soundless words.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, and Mother Selcrie smirked back at him in smug disdain. Milyn thought it foolish. This strange man had control of all their fates right now, and to needlessly provoke him seemed reckless at the least.

A moment later, the tall man finished with a satisfied air, and folded his hands in front of him. The corner of his mouth quirked, and he cocked a sardonic eyebrow at the defiant nun before him.

A frown touched Mother Selcrie’s lips, and she shook her head as though trying to dissuade the attentions of some buzzing insect. A tremor ran through her body, and her hips twitched. Her head shaking became constant, now a steady denial as her crotch began thrusting forward, just slightly at first, but increasing in frequency and vigor.

“Nooo…” a protesting mutter escaped her, as her body began to bend forward, shaking. The tall man gestured to the bandits holding her, and the two pushed her forward as they stepped back, retreating to a safe distance. The young nuns on either side of their thrashing superior drew back as well, gasping and whimpering in fear. Their captors did nothing to stop them.

Mother Selcrie was groaning almost constantly now, and Milyn realized in shock that it was not in pain, as she had first thought, but undeniably in pleasure. The older nun’s face contorted as she panted out shuddering breaths, and then she threw her head back and keened in ecstasy, her hips juddering with the force of her release. It was clear that whatever was driving her did not relent, because she immediately began to groan again with increased fervor, eyes squeezed tightly shut as her body bucked and shuddered.

“When the pot comes to a full boil – not before, mind you! – you will then reduce the heat to a low simmer, and add the ingredients,” the tall man said jovially, giving a few quick passes with his hands. Milyn noticed his fingers touched and twisted a ring on his right hand, a band of twisted crimson so deep it was almost black. Mother Selcrie sighed and hung her head, her body relaxing a little. Behind her, the air roiled, split, and rotated apart, revealing a screaming infinity of seething darkness. A hulking figure stepped through, and the rift sealed itself behind.

Milyn was not alone in taking an involuntary step back as they all took in the creature the tall man had conjured from nothingness. It was huge, at least seven feet tall, and looked like some sort of huge wolf, if the beast walked upright like a man, had human-like hands, spikes jutting viciously out of its muscled body, and coruscating red eyes. Its tail, a fleshy appendage that must have been at least four feet long, seemed prehensile, twitching back and forth with purpose, and was tipped with a long, slender, tube-like stinger.

The tall man did not seem in the least concerned. As the unholy thing approached on its spurred paws, slavering jaws gaping wide, he pressed his palms together in front of him and bowed respectfully, speaking a few measured sentences in a harsh, guttural language. He ended by gesturing invitingly at Mother Selcrie, who was still whining faintly under her breath as she fought off whatever lingering stimulation his magic had inflicted on her.

The demonic creature looked down at the woman on all fours in front of it, and its jaws gaped wider in a horrific grin. For the first time, Milyn noticed the thick, leathery organ that swung between the beast’s thighs. The member twitched and shifted as it began to expand, rising steadily upwards. She gaped in disbelief at the massive thing, fully as thick around as one of her slender arms. Was this what all men carried between their legs? A surreptitious look around her assured her that if there was anything like this on the other men in the square, it would have to be smaller, or she would be seeing some kind of very noticeable lump beneath their breeches.

Milyn looked back at the blasphemy unfolding before her, at once horrified and strangely fascinated. She had only a vague idea of what was going to happen next; when any of the older sisters had talked about the perils of the world and the savage lust that lurked in the hearts of men, they had never really discussed the specifics of the act. A few of the other young nuns had once gossiped with her about seeing two of the goats mating. Apparently it had somehow involved the male’s genitals becoming inflamed and swollen, and then he had shoved them into the female. Milyn wasn’t sure if she believed them. It sounded painful, disturbing, and downright filthy!

The beast snarled and lunged forward, seizing Mother Selcrie’s habit near her rear and tearing it completely asunder. The nun’s eyes shot open and she screamed in terror, scrabbling at the ground to get away, but it hooked one thick arm around her throat and snarled viciously in her ear, causing her to freeze in panic. Brutal claws shredded her underclothes, and her firm ass and dripping sex were bared for all to see. The thing growled in what sounded like satisfaction as its fully erect organ rubbed against her soft rear, drooling a clear, thick discharge from the tip.

The creature’s tail coiled lazily, then struck with the speed of striking snake. Mother Selcrie screamed again as it buried itself at the nape of her neck, but her exclamation was cut off half-way as it tightened its grip around her neck, leaving her choking and gagging for air. The tail flexed and quivered, and an audible pumping sound drifting from it as some sort of fluid was forced into the wound. Foam began collecting at the corners of the nun’s mouth, and her eyes rolled back in her head as her body began to shake uncontrollably once again.

The demon roared in satisfaction as its tail withdrew, and shoved the jerking woman down on her face, shifting its weight into both hands so that its hips were lined up with those of the defenseless woman. Mother Selcrie was making constant, dumb grunts as her body twitched rhythmically, glistening fluid leaking from her swollen cunt. With a triumphant growl, the beast thrust forward, impaling her half-way on its rampant member with one lunge. The nun’s head lifted and her body arched as she screamed out the loss of her virginity, a string of spittle hanging from her mouth.

Paying no attention to her feeble, muttered protests, the creature began to rut into her, hunching forward again and again into her soft wetness. Soon, the creature’s whole organ was buried inside her. It began to draw its member back to almost its full length, shining with the Mother’s juices, before slamming it back in again. Milyn could hardly believe her own eyes. How did that huge thing fit inside the woman?

Milyn gasped in horror as she realized a horrible change was coming over the senior nun. Beneath the rutting monster, her skin writhed and darkened, her natural body hair thickening and lengthening as it became fur. Muscles jumped and bunched as they grew, and her nails lengthened and twisted into vicious talons. Mother Selcrie threw her head back and screamed piercingly as bone cracked and shifted while wet, fibrous tearing sounds attested to the violent shifting of unseen ligaments.

At last her abused habit, no longer able to contain her new demonic form, hung in tatters from her newly powerful shoulders. She had always been flat-chested, but now ten pendulous teats swung from her furry chest, each the size of a ripe melon. Selcrie now seemed cast from the same mold as the beast that mounted her; albeit decidedly female, with fur the same chestnut brown has her former hair, and a bestial face that seemed drawn in caricature from her former body. She snarled and grunted through her new fangs, bucking her wide hips back against the thrusts of the male covering her, clearing savoring every second of her brutal rape. Her newly formed tail coiled dexterously around the base of the demon’s member, squeezing and milking it. One of the younger nuns fainted dead away, unable to cope with the sight of their respected superior so hideously transformed.

Suddenly the beast howled, burying itself to the hilt in the corrupted nun’s swollen pussy, every muscle in its body tensed and straining. The orange-sized, furry globes hanging below its member expanded and constricted spastically, and Selcrie screamed in tandem, little shudders coursing through her body as her tail contracted rhythmically. Thick, white fluid seeped out of her engorged lower lips and dripped down slowly onto stone. Her belly visibly expanded as she was filled to the brim.

The demonic creature withdrew, its member leaving her with a slick, sliding sound, and Selcrie collapsed, unconscious. It saluted the tall man with a taloned fist to its chest, and he returned a courteous nod. A moment later, the beast began to blur around the edges, growing less and less distinct until it had faded away altogether.

“Would any of the rest of you like to threaten me?” the tall man inquired pleasantly, looking up and down the ranks of frightened nuns. “Good. You four, take her to the breeding wing. Take care she is not harmed, now! Her litter will be… quite useful.”

As his men hurried to obey his orders, their leader continued his interrupted review of the prisoners. Milyn had ended up at the far end of the line, and her heart felt as if it would almost beat its way out of her chest as he made his way closer and closer. She had resolved to keep her gaze respectfully directed downwards, but curiosity won out over sense, and as he came to stand in front of her, she was unable to resist peering up into his face.

His eyes were the most incredible thing she had ever seen; an intense, depthless green that seized her gaze and held it fast. Breaking through the fear and hopelessness, strange feelings that she could not put a name to stirred within her, accompanied by a sudden surge of excitement that sent her blood pulsing heavily through her veins.

His eyebrows shot up as he looked at her. After a moment, he smiled warmly, an expression that reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. “And what is your name, little one?”

She gaped for a second, unable to find her voice. None of her Sisters had been asked anything. For an instant, she considered casting defiance in his face and refusing to tell him, but then she thought of Mother Selcrie, and that course of action suddenly seemed very foolish. “M-Milyn.”

“Singular,” he said softly, as if to himself. Then he shook his head slightly and stepped back. “Captain! That one, that one, ah, and those two there are for you and your men. The rest escort to the holding pens in the dungeon… except for little Milyn here. Put her in isolation for now.”

As the bandits bustled to follow his orders, the tall man stepped in close and leaned down to look her in the eye. “You and I, little one, we are going to get to know each other very well indeed.”


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