BITCHCRAFT 1

DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The characters in this story have been made up. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2022 LITTLESALLY666.

Bitchcraft 1

CHARACTERS OF BITCHCRAFT

• Chloe Smith — Veterinary student attending Old Town Christian University, orphan, 20
• Chas Smith — Brother of our female protagonist Chloe, 24
• Louise — Tenant on 2nd floor of Wellington Street, lactating single mother, 28
• Harry — Louise’s baby, 4 months
• Ms. Thelma — Tenant on 1st floor of Wellington Street, woman in her late 70s
• Ms. Harriott — Tenant on 1st floor of Wellington Street, woman in her late 70s
• Tina (Christina) — Tenant on 3rd floor of Wellington Street, trans-woman, 26

 

“Omne ignotum pro magnifico.” [All that is unknown is sublime.] — Publius Cornelius Tacitus

 

PROLOGUE — BITCHCRAFT (243 WORDS)

Present day.

Chas stood on the side walk of Wellington Street. He looked again anxiously at the scrap of paper in his hand that he’d scribbled the last known address of his sister, Chloe. She was four years his junior and had arrived in Old Town, to attend the Old Town Christian University in the Autumn. But that was two months ago. It was now mid November and the icy wind whipped around him. He pulled his coat collar up tighter around his neck.

She had qualified for a full scholarship (provided by the church to only the most gifted of students), as Chloe would never have been able to afford the fees. And she’d worked so hard for so long … there was no reason he could think of that would have prevented her from being at school.

What had happened?

Somehow he’d lost contact with the impetuous young twenty-year-old. Where could she be? The address she’d given to him was just a burnt-out, abandoned lot. The fire damage left only the building’s blackened brick skeleton. And the old four-story apartment buildings either side of it looked almost as decrepit. Obviously they had seen much better days.

He scratched his head.

And after some investigation, as far as he knew, she hadn’t attended any of her lectures yet. She was missing-in-action. Still no response from her mobile. Damn! It was as if she’d vanished into thin air.

xxxxx

 

CHAPTER ONE — BITCHCRAFT (3,187 WORDS)

Two months earlier.

Chloe was excited to begin her veterinary studies at Old Town Christian University. She’d worked hard through senior school to keep up her grades and in the back of her mind, she knew that university would only be accessible, if she qualified for a full scholarship. And she’d succeeded at that. Without a mother or father, Chloe only had her brother’s love to encourage her in her endeavors. But in a way, her misfortunes had been her inspiration. She had excelled in most of her undertakings — even in her religious studies and contemporary dance studies — as she believed that it was about mind, body and soul.

She was determined to say the least. And she was going to be the best veterinary student in Old Town Christian University.

Old Town Christian University wasn’t exactly the most prestigious place to study — but it was at least, “A place.” And Old Town lived up to its name. Old, decrepit and rather run-down. She’s found lodging in an apartment block on Wellington Street, that was about twenty minutes walk from the campus. The streets were poorly lit. And the daylight fell starkly on the tombstone-like structures. It was far from luxurious, but then again, living in foster homes and orphanages had taught Chloe not to be too particular about her situation.

The apartment was a four-story walk-up with a basement. Maybe pre-war? But she wasn’t sure which war? It looked like it needed more tender-loving-care than it got, but at least the apartment block felt clean and safe. She had taken a small loft apartment on the top floor that looked down the length of Wellington Street. In the distance, she had glimpses of the campus church bell tower.

There was a single mother, Louise, and her four month old baby, Harry, on the second floor; and the first floor was occupied by two old women in their seventies. The third floor of the apartment block was taken by a trans-woman, who kept mostly to herself, Chloe knew her just as Tina — short for Christina, maybe?

The old ladies — Ms. Thelma and Ms. Harriott — seemed to be friendly enough. Unassuming, they seemed to keep an eye on things. Chloe thought that they maybe sisters or lonely widows. She wasn’t sure.

And Chloe wasn’t really that nosy or curious — as she was really thinking about her course of study and starting of the academic year that started in just a couple of weeks.

xxxxx

This was the first time that Chloe had really been on her own. There had always been carers and nuns and foster parents around — and of course, the foster homes filled with tons of needy children (just like her). Though she hadn’t been away long, she did miss her older brother, Chas. She’d texted him, to let him know that everything was alright. He always been in the background, looking after her and she’d given him specific instructions not to fuss over her — she was twenty now and could take care of herself. This was her chance to be more outgoing.

She really hoped to make some new friends in her veterinary classes.

It was on the third day in Old Town that she first bumped into the young mother, Louise, and baby Harry in the apartment basement, where the communal washing machine and dryer were located. It was poorly lit and the sound of the washing machine reverberated throughout the basement space.

“Hi, I’m Louise,” said Louise, “You’re new here, right? Oh … and this is little Harry,” she added nodding to the sleeping baby in her arms.

“Yes, I arrived three days ago. I’m just getting ready to start my studies.”

“So you’re attending Old Town Christian University?”

She seemed to emphasize the word “Christian” as if it were a blight.  

“Yes,” replied Chloe, speaking louder to compete with the sound of somersaulting clothing as they thumped and bumped noisily in the front-loading dryer.

Chloe sat down oppose Louise and looked down at the sleeping child. Harry looked so sweet all wrapped up, in a powder blue baby blanket, in Louise’s arms.

“I’m on the second floor, above the two witches.”

“Witches?”

Louise laughed, “Sorry, that’s what I call Ms. Thelma and Ms. Harriott. The two old dykes on the floor above us.”

Louise pointed upwards with her finger and laughed again. She liked Louise’s immediate familiarity — they felt like old acquaintances. She hoped they could be quick friends.

“Dykes?”

Louise laughed, “Lesbians.”

“Oh? They seem nice enough?” responded Chloe.

“Yer, they’re kind enough to offer to baby-sit little Harry, if I need to get something done. It’s not easy bringing up a child on your own. And lately, poor Harry has been so cranky. Not the happy baby, like he used to be.”

“What could it be?”

“No sure. Too early for teething? Could be colic? The nappy rash? He’s been different ever since I moved here, three weeks ago.”

Just as she spoke, Harry turned restlessly in Louise’s gentle arms. Louise lifted her top, exposing the delicate flesh of her right breast and erect nipple, before guiding it into Harry’s hungry little mouth.

Chloe felt a little strange witnessing this.

Louise’s nipple looked thick and swollen. She knew, of course, that breastfeeding was perfectly natural — but Chloe found that she couldn’t help but stare — like her, Louise was a petite young woman in her late twenties; but her creamy white breasts looked really oversized against her small frame. And watching her baby suckling  — seemed to Chloe to be almost sensual.

Her stare didn’t go unnoticed by Louise, who didn’t seemed to mind the fact that her new friend was intrigued by her breastfeeding.

“It feels so nice,” said Louise trying to break the awkwardness, “The sensation is …”

“… B-b-beautiful …” interrupted Chloe, “I mean … it’s beautiful that … that you can bond with your child … so intimately …”

Chloe sounded more than a little cottonmouth in her clumsy explanation. But the truth was, for that strange moment, that she felt a strong urge to suckle upon Louise’s breasts herself. To slid her firm nipple between her hungry lips. She wanted to taste the mother’s milk. She wanted to feel it’s warm creaminess; and to feel it squirt into the back of her throat; as her hands eagerly groped the attractive woman’s ample breast flesh. Chloe felt an unexpected spasm between her legs.

Very uncomfortable with these unusual and unchristian thoughts, Chloe stood up, intending to go.

“Don’t leave,” said Louise quietly. For a brief moment, for Chloe, it felt as if time had slowed down. Standing almost completely still … as if she was a spectator in their conversation, “… Why don’t we go upstairs to my apartment where can be more … comfortable … together …”

Was it said innocently or was it an invitation to something salacious? Did Louise sense these unchristian thoughts of lust? Was she that obvious? Chloe wasn’t sure. All she was sure about was that temptations were a bad influence.

“Sorry Louise … er … I forgot something urgent … I have to go …”

And with that she took hold of her unwashed clothing back upstairs.

xxxxx

It was later in the evening. Chloe was reading as she sat on the wide windowsill as she looked down the street. The Autumn days were getting shorter and outside it was raining — not hard, but more like a faint drizzle against the panes.

The gloom of autumn seemed to come very early this year in Old Town. Her fingers delicately held her small gold crucifix that hung around her neck. It had been a parting gift from one of the nuns.

Ding. Dong.

Chloe was still dressed in her dance sweats (after doing a little workout) when the door bell rang. Who could it be at this hour? She looked through a small peephole in the front door to see who was outside on the fourth floor landing — It was just the older ladies from downstairs. The witches? She laughed to herself, thinking about Louis’s explanation of them being old dykes.

Ms. Thelma and Ms. Harriott had brought Chloe a welcome basket filled with the most delicious smelling baked delights. She opened the door gingerly.

“Sorry to disturb you at this late hour my dear,” said Ms. Harriott as her beady eyes looked the young student up and down.

”No, not at all,” she answered. 

“Oh, your a dancer. Well, look at that Thelma,” said Harriott, drawing attention to Chloe’s tight fitted clothing and physique.

”It keeps me fit! No, I’m a student at the university … well, going to be … I haven’t started yet,” she answered. 

Chloe immediately began to feel a little conspicuous in her body hugging dance gear in front of the two old dykes. She hoped they didn’t notice her moist camel-toe.

“Well, we will not keep you my dear. I hope you like the cookies,” said Ms. Thelma,

“Home cooking is so much better for a studious young dancers, like yourself.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” answered Chloe, as she stood holding the door open awkwardly.

“Well, good night my dear … and the sweetest of dreams …” said Ms. Harriott with a crocked smile.

They seemed nice. But there was something a little weird about the pair of them — Chloe really wasn’t sure what it was — But, then again,  if Louise trusted them to baby-sit young Harry, they couldn’t be really be, “Witches,” at least. And the baked goodies smelt absolutely divine. Maybe they were just a little noisy and a bit eccentric?

And then they were gone.

xxxxx

Chloe brought the plain wicked basket inside her threadbare apartment and laid it on the bland kitchen table. The baked bread and other goodies smelt so damn nice. She slipped from her dance top, intending to jump into the shower and discarded her bra-top on the back of the old fabric couch. She picked up a cookie and eat it. It was absolutely delicious. She eat another. And another. And yet another.

Chloe had collected her text books from faculty and was in the process of reading up on her study program. She liked to be ahead on things, “Get it done,” was always her philosophy — but after eating the yummy home-baked cookies, she suddenly felt very sleepy and strangely horny at the same time. Her head was beginning to spin. She needed to lay down.

For no apparent reason, the thought of Louise’s creamy white breasts appeared in her mind. Another unwanted unchristian thought. Yes, Louise’s breasts looked so delicious. So full of creamy milk. Her nipples ripe for the sucking — and even stranger, Chloe found her right hand down the front of her skin-tight leotard, touching herself — this was something she never did. No. Masturbation was a sin before God. 

Chloe sat herself down on the edge of her single bed. Very tired … but very horny. She lent back against the headboard. The desire to sleep and the urge to masturbate seemed to be intermingled — as her mind seemed to slip into an uneasy unconscious state.

A dream began … A strange dream …

The sleepy sexual feeling washed through her body as she found herself completely naked, standing by a large fireplace in the middle of an unfamiliar room. It was an old room. Antique looking and filled with dreamy oddity. The walls of the room were dimly lit with crimson and yellow hues from the fireplace.

It felt overly warm. Chloe could smell the sourness of her dance sweat and her distinctive sexual arousal; without conscious thought, she found her fingers burrowing eagerly into her hot, wet, itchy cunt.

This wasn’t her? But … it was only a dream, right?

“It feels so nice …” said the voice of someone familiar, “The sensation is … so sexy … it makes me cum hard every time I feed my little fucking runt … my cunt is so wet and needy now …”

Chloe turned. In the light of the fire, she could see her new neighbor, as she lounged salaciously on a large oversized leather couch. Louise was also completely naked and Chloe’s guilty eyes strayed over Louise’s sensuous body. Small and petite. The baby was naked too, as it hang in her arm and suckled the milk from her over-ripe bosoms. Louise’s breasts looked disproportionately large for a small frame — like enormous pale balloons.

Chloe had never seem a young woman with such enormous breasts. Chloe looked at her carnally. Guilt and lust intermingled. Chloe’s cunt throbbed. Louise held the naked child in one hand and was frigging herself with the other. Her fingers alternated between vaginal penetration and clitoral rubbing. Faster and faster. Chloe was mesmerized by what she saw — her own cunt dripped with girl juices as she watched.

The dream moved as dreams do; and Chloe found herself sitting next to Louise on the old punched-leather couch. A strange compulsion suddenly overcome her; and Chloe pulled the crying baby away from its mother. Louise seemed not to mind. And Chloe guided the child’s mouth to feed upon her own erect nipple.

“Mmmmm … That’s it … feel the baby suckle upon you … feel the suction of its little lips … its hungry mouth … feel it, as it tries to drink your milk,” encouraged her neighbor perversely, as she continued to masturbate herself furiously, “Feels so fucking sexy … doesn’t it?”

It did feel good.

Yes, the sensation of the baby’s small mouth on her erect nipples felt amazing. Chloe felt dizzy with sexual arousal … she was almost close to being orgasmic. But without any actual milk in her breasts, the baby soon stopped and began to cry.

“Give him to me …” Louise said as she took the crying baby from Chloe’s arms. Instead of feeding her crying runt, she almost throw it in the bassinet.

“I’m so glad you chose to come back with me.”

Chloe remembered the ambiguous invitation.

“Chloe. Oh Chloe. My cunt is so fucking wet. I do love hard cock. Sex with men is so much fun … but it’s all over too quickly … once they cum … they bore me. Who knows better than another woman, to truly satisfy her hungry cunt.”

Baby Harry cried incessantly. Louise seemed not to care about the crying child at all. She completely ignored its piercing wails of hunger in pursuit of her own carnal interests — and just held her breasts forward — as if to tempt and lure Chloe’s mouth to suckle upon her milk-filled breasts.

“Suck my fucking tits … and make me cum!” she groaned lewdly, wriggling in her Sapphic ecstasy.

Chloe wanted them. Her mouth was salivating as she looked on. Her heart raced. She remember how she had longed to suckle on the woman’s enormous milk-filled breasts in the basement laundry.

Chloe’s hands were trembling. She nervously took Louise’s breast flesh into her sweating palms. Fuck. The nipples dripped with milkiness. They felt so heavy and full between Chloe’s small fingers. She squeezed the underside of Louise’s heavy bosoms and lowered her head to suck upon Louise’s pronounced nipples that looked a lot like little hard cocks.

The textured flesh of Louise’s nipple was a new sensation between Chloe’s pursed lips. Soon she found herself suckling hard upon her neighbor’s bosoms. And as she sucked harder and harder, she found she was rewarded with the warm cascade of “Mother’s milk,” as it squirted unevenly into the rear of her mouth.

“Aaaarghhhhhhhhhh …” groaned Louise in the throws of orgasm.

Chloe fingered herself as she sucked Louise to her first climax.

“Fucking Christ, that’s so fucking good!” Louise groaned, “Now my cunt … lick my cunt Chloe … I’m so fucking wet!”

Louise put her hand on the back of Chloe’s head and pressed her down between her quivering thighs. But Chloe didn’t require much coaxing. Her face was soon buried In Louise’s hairless crutch. The smell of the young mother’s arousal was intoxicating as Chloe eagerly lapped her sourish vaginal opening. 

“Aaargghhhhhh … Yes! Yes! Deeper. Deeper!” cried the amorous woman. 

Chloe felt Louise shift her position, so that both their faces were filling with moist cunt. She’d never felt another person ever touch her genitals — let alone suck her clitoris and eat out her vulva. Louise’s practiced tongue made Chloe quiver all over. From her head to her toes — her body shook in pre-orgasmic delight. 

“Ggggrhhhhhh …” groaned Chloe, “I’m … I’m … I’m going to … cummmmmmmmm …” 

xxxxx

Guilted from her bizarre dream, Chloe hoped she wouldn’t bump into Louise or Harry the next day — Luckily for her — the young sexy mother wasn’t around.

Chloe had always considered herself to be strictly a heterosexual woman. She’d never had Sapphic thoughts before. Her dream and their unnatural sex had deeply troubled her. It didn’t sit right with her. Coming from a strict Christian orphanage where all the children were taught that sex was only between a married man and his obedient wife — in the sanctitude of a Christian marriage — sex was only for procreation; for the making of a family; under the tyranny of their omnipresent God.

She hadn’t washed, dried and pressed her clothes, due to her rapid departure from the basement facilities room the day before. She collected her basket and headed downstairs. On the way down, she bumped into Tina from the third floor. 

”Hi, you must be my new neighbor,” said Tina, “I’m Tina, your neighbor from the floor below you.”

”Yes, yes … I’m Chloe and … er … hi … nice to meet you,” replied Chloe awkwardly, as they passed casually in the stairwell.

Tina wasn’t very tall and looked overly thin — maybe even a bit too gaunt — her makeup and blunt fringe gave her a very androgynous appearance. A very pretty, but pale, girlie face? And a rather kinky outfit? But her voice wasn’t completely convincing, and gave her away as being something … in between.

“Are you attending the University?” asked the effeminate trans-woman.

”Er, Yes … Veterinary studies. I’m an undergrad. It’s … my first year,” she mumbled, excited to talk about her studies.

Chloe looked at Tina. Her eyes scanned the trans-woman’s entire body — as if to try and figure out the whole transsexual thing. Of course she was, kind of, aware of the whole LGBTQ agenda … but she’d never met anyone that was actually transgender before. Why would a man want to be a woman or a woman want to be a man? Does she have breast implants? Is she gay? Does she still have a penis and testicles?

“I’ve heard that it’s expensive,” said Tina.

Chloe’s thoughts returned to the moment.

”Er … Yes … but luckily I’m on a full scholarship.”

“Wow, girlfriend … you must be very talented? They don’t give those out too often.”

Chloe blushed unexpectedly. “Talent,” wasn’t a word she would have used. Hard work. Dedication. God’s blessing … maybe?

“Hey, can I catch you later … I really must get my laundry done … or I’ll have nothing to wear,” joked Chloe.

”Oooooh … interesting,” replied Tina suggestively,  “Well girlfriend, you can always borrow some of mine …”

Chloe smiled nervously and then hurried away. 

xxxxx

 

CHAPTER TWO — BITCHCRAFT (2,139 WORDS)

Present day.

Walking through the burned out building, Chas spied something sparkle.

He bend down to the broken floor and retrieved, what appeared to be, a small gold crucifix on a broken chain. He rubbed the slightly blacked surface. It was Chloe’s? It looked familiar. He remembered the day that Chloe was leaving for Old Town; and Sister Morgan had given her a parting gift from the nuns. Was this categorical proof that she’d been here?

He tucked the small crucifix in his pocket and continued to look around. Everything else seemed to be ashen.

xxxxx

Two months earlier.

Chloe suddenly thought about her older brother, Chas. She instantly missed him. They had been close growing up without parents. He’d been the strong one. They’d often shared a bed. Chas. A pang of instant guilt for an incestuous thought. Chloe hadn’t contacted him since her arrival. She made a mental note to call him tomorrow. Her excuse was that she’d just been so preoccupied with all the new things in her world.

Arriving back at her lonely apartment, she realized that there was another basket on her doorstep … it was simply labeled “Sweet dreams.” Freshly baked cookies and warm milk. How sweet, she thought, knowing that the old couple downstairs was trying to make her feel welcome.

Chloe picked up the basket and stepped into her darkened loft apartment that seemed to have a peculiar new smell. Not unpleasant, but just a bit funky. She wondered where it came from? She took a drink the warm milk and eat a cookie. Yummy. She sipped again and then eat another two cookies.

She hadn’t blinked, before she suddenly realized that she’d eaten them all. They were that good. She really needed to get on with her pre-studies, but again, she felt so listless, tired … and oddly horny. Actually extremely horny.

She flicked off the lights and proceeded to undress, leaving a trail of her clothing on the floor as she trudged wearily over the dirty old couch that faced the open windows. The curtains were fully open. The moon was almost full as it shone straight into her room. It looked like a big glowing ball against the dark inky sky. She all but flopped down upon the couch — and was almost asleep even before she’d completely settled.

Another dream began … An even stranger dream …

Chloe stood naked in front of the roaring fireplace.

She could feel the warmth of the fire licking against her naked form. The fire light caste a strong scarlet hue over everything. Her arousal seemed to quake between her shuddering legs. Chloe’s cunt was already wet and open. She felt so incredibly horny. Absolutely naughty. Her clit was hard and pronounce. It felt itchy as hell. The desire to touch herself was almost overpowering.

She sensed that she was not alone. The tiny hairs stood up on the back of her neck with the thrill of sexual anticipation.

She turned, half-expecting to see the naked form of her neighbor, that sexy young mother, Louise, and her crying baby again. Did she actually want to see Louise again? Her dreamy experience of sucking the perverted woman’s milk laden-ed tits had been so exhilarating — and totally went against everything she held sacred. Louise’s cunt had been clean shaven, like a tiny young girl (a pedophillic desire seemed to blossom at that thought), and Chloe had found the pair of them in a sixty-nine eating each other out. Each grunting and groaning into the other’s slimy passage. The delicious smell of horny cunt had been all over her face. Girl juice soaked her fringe. The aroma been so intoxicating — like the taste like salty pineapples. 

No, it wasn’t Louise sitting there. Instead, she realized it was the shadowy form of the trans-woman that she’d met on the stairs earlier. Tina … Christina.

Tina was lounging in the middle of the old leather couch. The naked trans-woman sat upright — her arms extended out along the top of the punched leather couch. She grinned at Chloe’s recognition of who she was.

Tina’s expression was one of complete carnality as she looked hungrily at her. Like a carnivore waiting to devour its prey. Maybe it was a reflection of the fireplace, but Chloe could swear that there was a burning flame in her androgynous eyes.

Chloe felt her cunt juices dribbling down the inside of her thighs. 

Tina’s breasts were nothing more than tiny little cones of white flesh, crowned with small dark nipples. They were nothing in comparison to Louise’s huge melons. But still Chloe felt the urge to suckle upon them immediately … not that they would have milk like Louise’s huge jugs. She recognized the strange blend of maleness and femininity in one. She was attracted to Tina’s ambiguity. She remembered a half memory, half dream … that she’d been secretly masturbating to images of transgendered demons … Baphometic demons … it couldn’t have been? But the dream made the false memory feel absolutely real … she’d wanted to be fucked by a twin-sexed devil. A shemale succubus. 

Tina uncrossed her sexy thin thighs slowly — revealing her enormous erect shecock — as it sprung upwards into clear sight. It stood completely upright from between her open thighs. So big. So long. In real life, Chloe had never seen an erect cock before — let alone a transgendered cock. Of course in the orphanage she’d seen naked boys (she’d even wondered what her brother’s cock would like) … but this was totally and utterly different … Tina looked so thin and gaunt … so effeminate … yet her cock looked enormous, angry and throbbing. The cock of an evil sex demon? She was cut, so there was no foreskin to hide the thick bulbous mushroom head that topped her long veined shaft.

It made Chloe feel weak in the legs … desirous of falling down between Tina’s thighs … to somehow worship this strange androgynous creature. This wicked succubus. This sexualized cock demon. 

“You see something you like? Something you want?” the demon spat.

Her body screamed, “Yes,” but her mind felt unsure.

Chloe’s dream state made her to horny to resist … after all, it was just a dream, right? No harm done. It couldn’t be a sin, if you have no control over your circumstances, right? Even fucking the devil? Worshiping Lucifer or Lilith or both in one? Yet, there was this sinking feeling in her guts, that this didn’t feel anything like any dream she’d experienced before … except the dream about Louise.

Was she crossing some invisible lines here?

”Don’t be coy now, darling. I’m the best of both worlds. I’m Satan’s playmate … a deviant sodomite … a perverted queer fuck … and you need to come here … between my legs and pleasure me!” 

Chloe’s mouth was watering at the sight of Tina’s aroused sexual organ. So big. It would be impossible to take such a thing into her virgin cunt. It would split her in two. 

And then, Chloe found herself before Tina. Kneeling and salivating at Tina’s precum dripping cock. 

“You know you want to pleasure me … pleasure me with all your dirty little holes!” 

Yes she did. She desperately wanted to taste this strange exotic creature … this blasphemous thing that was making her so fucking wet between the legs.

How could she be held accountable for something that was just in her mind. It was just a naughty wet dream … but didn’t Deuteronomy 5:21 say something about covetousness? To covet means, “To desire,” or at least to take delight or enjoy a sinful thing … wasn’t it covetousness to allow oneself to indulge in thoughts that lead to sin?

“Be covetous,” ordered the sex demon, as if reading Chloe’s hidden thoughts, “Come now … come to Satan …” beckoned Tina, as she began to slowly stroke herself.

Chloe was almost hypnotized by her long fingers … with their black nail varnish … as they slid so deliciously up and down her giant demonic fuck stick.

 “Come closer, now! Come and worship the devil!” 

Chloe small hands nervously rested against Tina’s parted thighs. Just touching her alone, gave Chloe such a shivering thrill. Chloe started to slowly stroke the trans-woman’s smooth legs … closer and closer to her throbbing erection. 

“Don’t be shy! Kiss it!” commanded Tina, “Kiss the devil’s cock!” 

xxxxx

Chloe awake abruptly.

She found herself still laying across the couch in her loft apartment. The window allowed the morning light to fill the room, as the curtains were drawn back. She sat up. Her clothing was still scattered unceremoniously across the apartment floor. She could smell that strange aroma again. Salty pineapple? Her mouth tasted of semen. She really desperately needed to take a pee and shower … but instead, she remained comatose and lay back down again.

Her fingers danced across her hard little pointed nipples. Thoughts of her dream encounter left her feeling immediately aroused again. A moistness lubricated her labia. The wet dream? She felt flushed recalling her own promiscuity … the demon had ordered her about, like some kind of temple prostitute, and she’d responded shamelessly to her every wicked command. It was as if she had been hypnotized by the demon’s unnatural lust. Or so she tried to console herself. To have been attracted to that “Thing,” … that huge inhuman appendage. 

“Kiss the devil’s cock!” 

Those were the words ring in her mind. But she’d done more that just kiss it … Chloe blushed at the thought of what had taken place in her dreams … what she’d actually felt she’d experienced. With that thought, her body twitched at the memory of her imaginary ordeal. And unbelievably, her body actually ached from it. The abuse. Her anus felt sore and tender, just as if the sodomy had been real. A dream of the devil’s intercourse …

Tina had laid face-upwards upon the pinned leather couch that had transformed into something that appeared more like a bed. Chloe had straddled the trans-woman’s groin. Her cunt had been so wet and so eager for the demon to impale her upon that “Thing”… Chloe had not crouched too low before she’d felt the demon’s huge cock press against her sensitive perineum … but instead of fucking her needy cunt … the demon had held her by the hips and pressed its organ against her well-oiled rectum. And then as the demon thrust upwards — there was a moment of searing pain as devil’s cock punctured her bowels.

“Gggrhhhhhhhhh!” she’d screamed at the top of her lungs. 

Even in her dream state — it all began to quickly turn into nightmare — as the throbbing pain in her intestinal track became overwhelming. As the demon cock pressed upwards against the base of her spine; flashes of white light filled her eyes. The devil’s cock relentlessly in penetrating her. Its unstoppable thrusting punctuated only by the demon’s screams.

“Die bitch! Die bitch!”

Chloe felt as if she was dying as its claw-like hands, or had they been talons, gripped her sharply as she bled? Her bowels felt as if they were on fire. Still the talons held her tightly, pulling her even further downwards upon the veined length of the devil’s appendage. Thrusting ever more powerfully upwards, now the demon seesawed in and out of her burning guts. 

But then, suddenly the pain was no more.

Had she died? No, she was in full control of her senses. Her body seemed to welcome the demonic invasion — she began to fill with a bizarre bliss — her fingers dig into her juicy cunt hole … one finger became two … two became three … three became four … her clitoris too, it poked outwards as she frantically rubbed its swollen nub with her other hand. Urine flowed over her fingers from her urethra. Their was pungent smell of urea as she pissed over her demon-lover.

Warm waves rippled through her, replacing the pain, with powerful jolts of orgasmic pleasure. Instead of resisting, she found herself pressing downwards to meet every one of the devil’s thrusts — fucking and pissing both at the same time.

The memory seemed too complete. How could a dream feel so real? It was as if she had full recall in every tiny facet of their perverted encounter.

Her bladder ached and her cunt was still drenched. She pulled herself up from the couch and made her way to the shower. Cold water. That what she needed. A freezing cold shower.

As she turned on the water from the shower facet, she caught her reflection in the full length dressing mirror. Scratches, bruises and cuts covered her entire body. It looked as if she’d been subjected to a brutal rape — “Die bitch! Die bitch!” — She turned around and looked closer at herself. As she blinked, they all seemed to vanish. All the cuts and bruises just simply disappeared. There was nothing there? Nothing at all. Her skin was unblemished.

Tina had been much stronger than she appeared. Chloe remembered Tina pulling her shit-streaked cock from Chloe’s rectum … pulling Chloe to her knees and forcing her vulgar cock into Chloe’s mouth … just in time, as Tina convulsed … 

“Aaarghhhhhhh … Christ be fucked!” Tina screamed as she shoot her ropy cum, first filling Chloe’s mouth, then spurting over her face and hair … more spurts filling her eye sockets and covering her neck and tits. 

No, she didn’t want to remember. No more. A cold shower. Crazy? It’s a sign of craziness, she thought to herself. 

xxxxx

 

CHAPTER THREE — BITCHCRAFT (2,949 WORDS)

Present day.

The Old Town police station was very quiet. Chas waited patiently for someone … anyone to come to attend the counter. Maybe crime wasn’t rampant in Old Town, he thought to himself. He rang the bell, that sat on the high wooden counter.

“Can I help you young man?” came a gruff voice.

“Errr, yes. My name is Chas. Chas Smith. I’m trying to locate my younger sister, Chloe Smith. She’s supposed to be attending Old Town University. But she hasn’t attended any classes … her phone isn’t answering … and her last known address … is a burned out building.”

xxxxx

Two months earlier.

She had wanted to thank the old ladies for their amazing baked goodies. Well that what she told herself — but in reality, she knew that would have been a lie.

After all that had happened over the past two nights … She could say, that she was truly curious about Ms. Thelma and Ms. Harriot — The old witches or dykes from down stairs. What was going on? She really needed to do a little snooping around too.

“It was nothing my dear,” answered Ms. Thelma, as she took back the empty wicker basket, “We’re just glad you enjoyed your s—weet dreams.”

Your dreams? The word rolled around in her mind.

Chloe knew it wasn’t possible, but it really sounded as if they had sometime to do with her wet dreams. She almost laughed at the preposterous thought. The “Dyke witches,” were turning her into a milk drinking lesbian and a cock-sucking temple whore? “Evil cookies,” that made her horny?

No. It was her overactive imagination. Besides, she was a Christian woman, that didn’t even believe in things such as the supernatural … let alone acknowledge anything heathen as witchcraft, paganism, black magick and spells of enchantment.

“Come in my dear,” said Ms. Harriott, “ You look a little pale. You need some tea and cookies.”

Before Chloe had a chance to object, she found herself pulled in the middle of the old ladies’ apartment. It was much larger than her meager loft apartment on the top floor. The ceiling were higher and it was furnished in an eclectic style of strange things that made the place the look of an antique fair during Halloween.

There was an enormous fireplace with a heavy iron hearth. It looked somewhat like the one in her wet dream. A chilling thought. Along the mantle were hundreds candles, all at different stages of usage, their black wax blending together like bizarre stalagmites hanging over the sill. Over yonder, she noticed the light from a small courtyard and something that looked like a billy-goat tied up outside. Everywhere she looked there were exotic plants and bushy herbs. It smelt so earthy. The entire kitchen looked something like a greenhouse or maybe the laboratory of a mad alchemist.

“Have a cookie.”

She eat the cookie. And another. And another.

Her eyelids began to feel very heavy. She blinked to keep her eyes open. Chloe was suddenly overcome with a maddening sleepiness. She tried to fight it. Then, for some weird reason unbeknownst to her, she felt very horny. Her vagina was so itchy. Needy. It felt almost impossible to keep her eyes open.

“You look tired my dear … my dear … my dear … m-m-my d-d-dear …” a voice echoed in the distance. 

She fought the sensation. She felt gentle old hands guiding her to a bed. To sit down. To lie down.

“Sit … sit … sit … down :.. down … d-d-down …”

Fatigue? Wet? Oh, that horny feeling. She sat down dreamily. She felt so wet between the thighs.

A dream began … An even stranger dream …

Again, Chloe appeared to stand stark naked in front of the roaring log fireplace. She noticed for the first time, the heavy iron hearth with the thousands of black candles … it reminded her of the old ladies’ first floor apartment. 

Her dreamworld seemed more real each and every time she closed her eyes. The smell of burnt things filled her nostrils as the fire popped and so cracked angrily. Its fierce heat made her body sweat profusely.

But she wasn’t alone. Oh my God, she felt so horny. Incredibly aroused. Her body was pulsating.

She turned, half-expecting to see the naked form of Louise and her child; or maybe it was that demonic trans-woman again. There was something about the fact that she could recall both experiences so vividly, as if they had really occurred that made her feel unsettled — dreams, especially wet dreams, were supposed to be strange and unexplained — but these erotic episode were not like that … they felt so incredibly clear … more like a real life experience than some random encounter in a foggy illusion or hallucination. She remembered how her body had been scratched and marked … a how the wounds had just disappeared.

To her surprise, sitting on the couch were the two old ladies. They looked so very old and haggard … there eye sockets looked deep and sunken … near death … almost corpse like, with their wrinkly skin, saggy breasts and ugly lumps of cellulite. Both had wide areolas, as wide as saucers. Their thick penal nipples that hung vertically downwards. Their cunt were covered in sparse wiry greyed hairs.

They looked anything but erotic … but still Chloe felt flushed with sexual arousal. She had come to terms with her attraction to another woman, sucking Louise’s breasts and licking hungrily the young woman’s vagina. Stranger still, she had accepted her desires to fuck the trans-woman’s huge penis and then impale herself upon it — taking her anal virginity. 

These thoughts should have revolted her, but instead they all drew her towards them — and now, suddenly she felt the urge to stand before the two old voyeuristic women.

“That’s it my dear,” croaked the twisted fat lips of the witch that looked something like Ms. Thelma, “Dance for us. You know what we want … you know why you are here … why you must do the devil’s bidding!”

But she didn’t know why she was there? She shook her head.

”Don’t lie to us,” they both laughed out loud, “You only deceive yourself. Now take off your crucifix.”

Chloe gripped the fine chain and pulled it from her neck.

“Stick it in your cunt. Stick the fucking Nazarene in your cunt hole where he belongs!”

Chloe should have been shocked at this blasphemous request — but she wasn’t — instead she pressed her precious gift from the nuns inside her wet fuck hole … so that only the broken chain hung loosely from her labia.

“Now dance you little fucking harlot …”

Chloe found that her body began to slowly sway. She raised her hands above her head … shaking her hips and gyrating promiscuously before the dirty old perverts. What was she doing? There was no music to dance to? But, just as that thought formed in her mind, a sonic of carnality began to fill the room — disharmony of beating grunt and sensual moans — that rhythmically matches her slow and provocative movements. 

“Ohhhh … Yessssss!” moaned the ugly dyke that resembled Ms. Harriott. 

“Oh, yes my dear … you’re so young … so freshhhhhhh …” hissed Ms. Thelma.

Chloe pranced around … opening her legs … her hands mulled her breast-meat … thrusting her hips back and forth … air-fucking an imaginary lover. 

“Yessssss …  so beautiful … now stamp upon your crucifix as you touch yourself for us … show us how you pleasure yourself for the devil’s joy …” grunted the eager old pervert, Ms. Harriott.

Chloe removed her gold cross from between her legs and discarded it. As she danced, her bare feet trampled upon it, as if to say, fuck God … fuck Jesus Christ.

“Oh yes, you fucking little whore … more … MORE!”

Both the old women had their nobbled old fingers buried inside each other’s ghastly hairy slits. Their cunts made sloshing sounds as their fingers moved in and out of each other, as their mutual masturbation became even more urgent.

Their clitorises … or what Chloe assumed were their clitorises, were both overly pronounce, pocking forward as they feverish pinched them hard between their thumbs and middle fingers like nobbled gherkins.

”AAaaghhhhghhhhhh … that’s it … yerrrr … fuck the Holy Spirit!” 

The unabated groans of the two women joined the chorus of rhythmic guttural sounds. Chloe’s cross-stomping and erotic swaying movements portrayed her own bizarre arousal and rapture, caught up in the perverted eroticism. The sight of the witches rubbing their thick cock-like clits; their gaping assholes that quivered like a pair of ugly mouths; all seemed to conspire in exciting Chloe in a way she’d never expected. 

“Finger yourself … you fucking bitch. Dance for Satan’s pleasure!”

The old women whipped off the wigs from their heads, revealing the virtually balding scalps, where only a few thin strands of sparse white hairs remained. Their skin looked scabbed and blemished. They both seemed to have small, but noticeable symmetrical horns on either sides of their foreheads, more like pointed bumps that were no larger than an inch. Their faces were now snarling, piggish and grotesque — no longer under any misconceptions — Chloe knew they were both witch-hags.

Despite all she knew and felt … Chloe found herself drawn to them. Her body thrust back and forth in renewed vigor to the rhythm that echoed her shamelessness. The fingers of her right hand fervently masturbated her hot wet crotch; while the fingers of her left hand invaded her dirty anal hole (that seemed primed by her exploits with the shemale succubus).

The witch-hags grunted as Chloe entertained their increasingly perverted desires. Without thinking about it … as if the thought had been put into her mind … Chloe began to leak pee down her legs as she danced closer and closer to the old masturbating witch-hags. The smell of her piss made the witch-hags’ nostrils twitch.

“Yes my dear .. The sacred waters! The sacred waters!” they both screamed, both licking their ugly deformed lips, with long forked tongues.

The orgy of grunts became more insistent — as if approaching their mutual climax.

The witch-hags’ fists had closed around the girth of their huge pronounced clit-cocks, beating them faster and faster as stood out from above their cunt holes like two blacked and deformed cucumbers — both as long and thick as the trans-woman’s sex organ.

”Yes my dear … piss thy self for us and taste your sacred waters … let it be a sign of your complete obedience … Hail Satan! Hail Satan! You belong to us … you are ours to use and abuse!” croaked the witch-hag that was Ms. Thelma. 

Chloe did as she was told. She cupped her fingers beneath her open thighs as she continued to fuck the air. Her palm quickly filled with a puddle of her dark yellow pee. She brought her soiled hand to her mouth and tipped her urine into her mouth.

“Now kneel, our little disciple,” groaned the other witch-hag, “And tomorrow you will make a sacrifice to us … we have wanted that delicious baby (of Louise’s) for some time … you must bring little runt to us … now the time is right for human sacrifice … the goat with no horns … for the full moon arises … you will bring her offspring for the witch-hag feast … so that we, both, may be reborn once more … “ 

xxxxx

Chloe still felt drowsy and exigent. 

She couldn’t believe that she’d actually fallen asleep in the old ladies’ apartment. How she’d got back to her own place was still a little hazy. The apartment door was closed. She was alone. The curtains were still drawn back, so that the moonlight filled the eerie old loft. It felt hot. And there was an unmissable odor in the air. 

Chloe undressed herself, and without much conscious thought, found herself laying naked on the dirty old couch. Its textured fabric felt slightly rough against her limbs. She still tingled all over. Her body seemingly unsatisfied. Her fingers felt the wetness between her legs. She was glad to be back in the sanctitude of her own loft apartment — as she couldn’t help but contemplate the devilment of her epic day dream.

Even as she began to think about it, her fingers slipped in and out of her hot little cunt hole — she knew she should be completely revolted by the contents of her own lewd imagination — but somehow, she didn’t feel that way at all … she thoughts about the circumstances and the crazy connection with the “evil cookies” … it would have made her laugh to herself, if not for that fact that she now half-believed it. 

As she laid on the smelly old couch, her thoughts returned to the sensations of being aroused by the wet fur. There had been a gross animal smell. The ugly old goat. The black furred belly of the witch-hags’ creature that they had brought with them into her strangest of dreams.

She’d found herself sprawled there, on the floor, naked beneath the animal’s hairy guts — as the witches guided its deformed pestle — into her throbbing and aching cunt hole.

Was this the Goat of Mendes? Were these images and associations all connected to the devil and devil worship? Was she going completely insane?

The smell of the amorous creature had been so overwhelming. Vile in fact. It pinned her down with its body weight. It grunted and snorted as the hermaphroditic witch-hag that looked like Ms. Thelma, pulled it’s long snort hard against her slimy vagina hole — urging the animal to pleasure her. The witch-hag groaned lewdly, as the evil creatures penal tongue licked her cunt and anus and then penetrated her disgusting wet gash.

The other hermaphroditic witch-hag had straddled the animal from above and was frotting her thick cock and greasy cunt back and forth against the furry rear of the creature’s hindquarters — encouraging the animal to penetrate Chloe as she lay helplessly beneath it.

Chloe began to actually orgasm as the possessed animal entered her sex.

“Fuck the Holy Spirit!” cried the witch-hags as the masturbated their huge cocks.

She convulsed in orgasmic waves as the goat’s pestle continued to thrust further and further into her. Impregnation — she screamed out loud — even as she cried “No,” she knew she meant “Yes!” 

Her loft apartment seemed to hum with something unclean in the air. The stench was far more obvious. She recognized what the smell was. It was urea. The funky odor seemed to getting even stronger and urge a thought in her mind as she masturbated herself, imagining the demonic creature fucking her, as it tried to impregnate her with its evil seed. 

She had thrown her legs over the back of the smelly old couch as she lay, tilted backwards, her face looking upwards at her own fingers as they moved furiously in and out of her needy cunt hole. The words of the witch-hags seemed to dominate her thoughts, “Piss thy self for us and taste your sacred waters … let it be a sign of your complete obedience.” 

An orgasmic glow filled her groin. Chloe pressed down hard against her bloated bladder. A gush of salty urine sprayed through her fingers in almost all directions, over the couch, over herself, over her stomach, tits and face — and into her open mouth.

“Aaaarghhhhhhhhh … obedience!” she cried.

She twitched and convulsed uncontrollably, in the sudden grip of most powerful of orgasms. 

xxxxx

Chloe sighed at her pathetic attempts, to subdue the nightmarish memories of her erotic dreams, as she sat out on the porch step in the dull autumn sun.

Classes would start in less than a week and she had done nothing to get organized for it. She promised herself, that there would be no more cookies, no more weird dreams and no more excuses — she’d worked too hard for too long to loose out on her scholarship — and there would be plenty of students just waiting to take her place.

She sighed again. She’d somehow lost her crucifix. The one that the nuns had so kindly given to her. It fitted with the sequence of her dream … but how could it have gone in reality, as she never took it off? 

”How’s the study going?” asked Louise. 

Chloe looked up from her textbook. She’d been sitting outside on the veranda of the apartment block to get away from her unwanted lusts. 

“Not very well,” she admitted, “I’ve been a little distracted. New place. New school. New beginning I guess ….” 

“Yes, I know what you mean,” confided Louise, “Hey, it’s getting a little cold out here, why don’t you join me for a coffee upstairs?” 

Chloe noticed how radiant she looked. Different make up? Maybe she’d colored her hair? 

“Sure,” replied Chloe.

The two of them made their way inside and up the stairs to Louise’s apartment. 

“How’s Harry?” asked Chloe, noticing the baby was fast asleep.

”He’s okay,” answered Louise.

Strange wheels turned in Chloe’s mind. The witches. Something about the full moon, a sacrifice … the baby … the witches’ feast … and rebirth? 

“I haven’t been sleeping well …” said Louise.

It sounded more like a confession than a complaint. 

“Yes, I have had some strange dreams.” 

“You too hey?” Louise said, almost like a clandestine whisper. 

Chloe hesitated. She could never divulge the content of her strange erotic dreams. Well, not to Louise. Not to anyone. Not even to her priest. They would think she was some kind of sexual deviant. 

“Okay, if your strange dreams are anything like mine,” added Louise, “… I would fully understand why you wouldn’t say anything to anyone … But may I ask? Do … do you get them, when you eat the cookies?”

Chloe was on the edge of her seat. Obviously, if Louise had had the dream about the witches, she would not let the witches near her baby … dream or no dream … the whole thing was so creepy. 

“Well, I did wonder about it,” Chloe answered.

 

CHAPTER FOUR — BITCHCRAFT (1,198 WORDS)

Present day.

Chas’ phone rang. 

“Mr. Smith?”

”Yes,” said Chas.

”I’m Detective Withe from Old Town Central.”

Chloe’s brother, Chas, had his heart was in his throat.

“There’s nothing specific to report yet; but we did want to let you know that we were able to confirm that the building on Wellington Street had been the scene of a recent fire. But there had been no fatalities though. Your sister’s mobile hasn’t provided any additional information either. If you hear anything further, please let me know.” 

Chas guessed the inference was that she’d just disappeared of her own accord. But that wasn’t Chloe. Chloe was a diligent, hardworking student. With her scholarship — she had everything on the line. It just didn’t add up.

xxxxx

Two months earlier.

Chloe was in two minds.

Should she tell Louise about their weird elderly neighbors and their plot to use her child in some awfully insidious ritual of devil worship? Maybe Louise would think of her as being completely insane? But then again, she’d all but confessed to have experienced the strange dreams herself. Were these as sexually depraved as her dreams. Louise had been hesitant to share the exact nature of their content — so that wasn’t an affirmation or a denial.  

And there was no way, Chloe was about to open herself up by revealing her own wayward visions to her sexy young neighbor. A demon impregnating her. The ritual of “The goat with no horns”. An actual human sacrifice. Incest and infanticide. Some kind of sexual cannibalism, witchcraft and black magick … And not to mention the sex with the devil incarnate; in both human and animal forms.

The insane thing was, that Chloe had to somewhat admit that the whole crazy fucked up scenario had left her feeling so incredibly hot and horny. That couldn’t be a good thing? 

Chloe had changed — of her own accord — she had noticed how she’d become an obsessive masturbator … allowing herself to fantasize about the most unlawful, unnatural and unholy things.

Her Christian upbringing haunted her, and only a few days ago, she would have been completely horrified at the thoughts that seemed to fill her conscious and subconscious mind … that now brought her unexpected thrill and filthy delight. 

The door bell rang. Through the peep hole — she could see it was the two old ladies from downstairs. 

“We just wanted to know that you got back upstairs alright?” asked Ms. Thelma.

”We were worried about you my dear … as you had almost passed out in our place,” interjected Ms. Harriott.

“And then you’d insisted in going straight home after we’d awaken you,” added Ms. Thelma.

They held a basket between them. 

“How did I get home?” Chloe asked as she genuinely couldn’t remember.

“We helped you, of course. But you still look so pale my dear? All that study must be taking it’s toll on you. Here, we made you those … specially for you …” 

They held out the wicker basket filled with delicious baked goodies. The smell was so enticing. 

Chloe couldn’t help but stare at their hairlines. Could they really be witch-hags in disguise? Was there something evil at work here or was it all in her head? She was looking to see if they wore wigs upon their crowns — if, indeed, they were hiding their small demonic horns — but there was nothing untoward; nothing that appeared to be out of place. 

“Good night …” they both said, “Sweet dreams.”:

Their breathy voices seemed to echo and recede slowly as Chloe found herself along inside her loft. Alone. Yes she was alone, but still she felt their eyes upon her. The basket was empty. She’d eaten the cookies?  All of them? She didn’t remember gorging herself upon their baked delight, but so obviously had done. Now, her cunt was hungry. An infernal heat. Wetness. Salaciousness. Wickedness. Masturbation — she needed desperately to finger herself.

“Yes my dear … undress yourself … obedience, the sacred waters of obedience … that’s it, finger yourself … drink your piss and fuck your dirty little cunt for us … bring us what we want … we need a sacrifice … the “goat with no horns” … bring the child to us … and let the ritual begin …”

A dream began … A bizarre ritualistic dream …

She wanted to scream. No. She wanted to moan. Yes.

The heat from the fire stroked her over-boiling libido.

”Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. Foul Nazarene suffers as angels cry. We need no savior. No holy grace. For us … we seek a sacrifice of unbaptized blood,” chanted the witch-hags. 

Her eager fingers worked feverishly in and out of her dripping wet sex. The evil chant mixed together with the shamanic beat to fill her ears — urging her to join the masturbatory dance.

“Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. We renounce all that that good and holy. We embrace all that is evil and vile. Bring us the sweetness of innocence to quicken our flesh.” 

Chloe’s hips thrust vulgarly back and forth. She was their sex puppet. Her audience anxiously watched and willed her to their evil bidding. 

“Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. By the light of hell’s fires. To the odors of sulfur. Before the serpent of sin, we do fornicate. Fill our mouths with the waters of shame.” 

She turned and was confronted by the sight of the naked witch-hags as they both sat on what appeared to be twin thrones of blackened leather. Their horns looked more pronounce — no longer just small bumps — but more obviously demonaic, curling around like the billy goats.

“Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. We seduce and defile. We rape and sodomize. We suffocate and chock. We rip and tear … only sate upon a murderous death.” 

Before the first witch-hag, knelt Louise. She was naked with her back to Chloe. But Chloe knew it was her. Louise’s head was lowered in unholy prayer as her mouth worked up and down the witch-hag’s enormous cock. The witch-hag bucked her hips, face fucking the young mother.

“Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. Transform us. Renew us. Restore us. Revive us. Oh Lord of Infernal Darkness — take our humble offering — so that we may do your bidding and serve your will.” 

Before the other witchcraft-hag, knelt Tina. The trans-woman was similarly, orally pleasuring the ugly horned witch-hag. Her claw-like fingers gripped Tina’s head in a vice-like grip.

Chloe looked down and in her arms lay the naked child, Louise’s baby. It began to cry. Hungry? She guessed.

“Oh wickedness. Oh wickedness. Lay the unbaptized brat across the black stone altar. Honor the twin-sex goddess. And make the offering … Make the offering … MAKE THE OFFERING!”

They were almost screaming as Chloe placed the naked child upon the black stone altar. She found herself standing above the wriggling baby that looked distressed. Chloe was standing, with her legs parted, looking down upon “The Offering”. The others were no longer seated. All eyes were upon her. They all seemed to be willing her to “Make the offering” … they all were in arms reach … the two witch-hags at either side of the black stone altar; Tina and Louise standing at either end.

xxxxx

THE END?

xxxxx

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