DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. All Rights Reserved © 2023 LITTLESALLY666.

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Cohesion, Corruption, Young, NC, Rape, Snuff, Sadism, WS, Scat, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, and Evil themes.

CREATED: 11.05.2016 / REVISITED: 21.07.2023

Devil 2


The Devil. Lucifer the Angel of Light. Father of lies. This card, the fifteen cards of the Major Arcana represents Satan’s excesses and extremes. It foretells careless and unrestrained sexuality. It is the card of perversion; giving in to one’s temptations; exploring one’s darkest of fantasies; and the fruition of one’s most debauched desires. The Devil helps us unleash the repressed animal instincts we all have inside. This Devil is Pan, the Goat God, known for his extreme appetites. The chains around the necks of his “captives” are so loose they could easily remove them, but they choose to remain on the Devil’s leash.


Samael is twelve. He is gay and rather effeminate. A lecherous priest, Pastor John, befriends Samael. Pastor John invites young Samael to join him at a rather special summer camp that is filled with like-minded boy recruits and predator priests. He experiences what it is like to worship the ‘Pan, the God of Masturbation’ with the help of the Pan’s perverted priesthood. His eyes are opened to strange new possibilities and during an even stranger ritual involving black magick and devil worship; Samael has become inspired by the Devil in the guise of The Grand Goat. He is inspired to think evil thoughts; and perform evil acts. In fact, he is convinced that it is the Devil himself that is inside of him. Whether he is or is not the Devil incarnate, is not really relevant – it’s what young Samael is capable of that will unfold; infecting his family; corrupting his church; and perverting his village community – all guided under the dutiful eyes of the Priesthood of Pan.



I am Samael and I am twelve and a half years old. You can call me Sammy. I live with my mom, Leanne, and sister, Lucy, on the outskirts of the city in a small town. I never knew my dad. I am rather small for my age and quite effeminate; in fact, most people say that I look like I’m only ten-year-old – but I don’t really care what they think of me anymore.

My story began with what I have come to think of as my rebirth. Whilst attending a summer camp run by our local church, our new local priest, Pastor John seduced me and exposed me to a whole new world that secretly encouraged homosexuality, sex between the priests and under-aged boys, and many other sexual depravities. Not only did the pedophile priests involve us in many perverted sexual acts with them and each other, but they also encouraged us all to worship sex demons with them and to perform pagan sexual acts for their entertainment. During this unexpected experience, it seems that I was chosen… chosen by the Devil.

Their spiritual leader, The Grand Goat, had enacted a strange ritual in which he had infected me with his ominous desires. He was transformed in the process and so was I. It was now like, having two minds inside one. On one hand, I was still the miscreant little boy that I have always been, effeminate and interested in all kinds of sex with other boys (and now older men); but on the other, I had been infected with evil vampiric desires and had acquired the nocturnal cravings of the Devil incarnate.

It was a lot to take in. The Devil had bestowed upon me something that was beyond explanation. Upon returning home, things were not the same. They couldn’t be as they were anymore. I saw many things in a very different light. Pastor John and the other ‘Goat Priests’ seem to hold something about me in high esteem as if I held some secret power over them – fear and reverence combined – and though I was brought back to my home again to continue my life as it was with my older sister, Lucy, and mother, Leanne, they were never far away, watching and waiting for something to happen.


My first realization that I was no longer the mild-mannered Sammy happened immediately during the first night back. It was early evening and I told my mother that I was feeling very tired, so predictably she sent me to bed early. It was still light outside, so I drew the heavy curtains and lay in the darkness. Usually, I was scared of the dark and would have laid under my bedclothes with the sheet and blanket drawn up close to my chin. But I didn’t even don my flannel pajamas and instead laid stark naked across the top of the bedspread my boy cock raged. I could smell my own sweat and felt unusually hot and damp from arousal.

I gingerly touched my genitals enjoying the process of arousal – I couldn’t wait to start stroking myself. Through the paper-thin walls, my acute hearing could make out the muffled sounds of canned laughter and clasping from unintelligible television shows from downstairs, as I knew my mother would be occupying herself with her favorite soap operas. I could hear my older sister, Lucy, as she moved about, busying herself with her beauty routine and preparing to take a shower in the small-shared bathroom down the end of the first-floor landing.

It was then that I noticed my bladder felt full and I really needed to take a piss badly, but as I began to stroke myself, I imagined myself looking at her masturbating in the bathroom, naked and excited, her long hair stuck to her immature lithe body. I never much cared for girls or women – let alone think about my sister. Girls never really excited me before, but tonight it felt different as I pictured Lucy fingering her disdained little baby cunt desperate to reach multiple orgasms – to cum over and over – her fantasy to fuck her feminized little brother dressed in her trainer bra and sheer panties.

A word formed in my head; a word that I had never heard before – incest. It was taboo, unnatural, and forbidden. I liked that word and I kept repeating it as I stroked my cock – the Devil’s cock. My inner devil wanted me to commit incest with her, to corrupt her, pump my spoilt seed inside and impregnate her. I began to wonder what her urine would taste like.

My lips kept repeating the repugnant word over and over … incest, incest, incest … I felt an orgasm building as I said it – but instead of allowing myself to reach its natural crescendo, I stopped short and got out of my bed. My bladder badly needed to be emptied.

I opened the bedroom door and walked almost dreamlike naked and hard down the landing passageway towards the bathroom. The television was insanely loud. I tried the door but it was locked from the inside. I was momentarily disappointed. I wanted to enter. I needed to enter. The words formed in my mind … incest, incest, incest. A sound left my mouth, a powerful word that I understood without understanding as if it were second nature to me – a commanding and demanding word that nobody could deny.

Sheepishly the bathroom door unlocked and creaked open. Standing there on the other side of the bathroom doorway was my older sister Lucy. She stood before me completely naked, her body wet from her recent bathing. I could smell the fresh scents of perfumed soap, and shampoo but also something else – she had been masturbating and I could detect a slightly bitter odor of discharge between her boney thighs.

She said nothing but looked at me unblinking, her tiny little brother, Sammy, standing also naked and rampant on the upstairs landing. Her eyes dropped downwards from my face and focused on my rigid cock that pointed up at her without any apologies. She reached out with her soft wet fingers (fingers that had been coated in her own vaginal fluids) and touched my flesh for the first time.

She shivered slightly and then her fingers continued to fondle my small cock and balls, drawing me over the threshold and into the sanctum of the steamy bathroom. I stepped forward towards her and placed my own hand on her tiny child-like breast, my fingers exploring a girl for the first time, touching her aroused nipples, stroking their hardness as she tightly gripped my cock – pulling me as if it were a handle. Her breathing was shallow and panting.

I leaned forward and sucked one of her rosy-pink nipples between my lips, suckling on my own sister’s underdeveloped teat. It felt so deliciously wrong. Incest. I looked up at her. She hadn’t released her hold on my cock; in fact, she now stroked me quite vigorously, pleasuring me, drawing my foreskin back and forth at an increasingly furtive rate. Incest. I draw closer and kissed her sweet mouth.

I tasted her cunt on her lips (as she had been sucking her dirty fingers whilst masturbating). We pressed our lips urgently against each other for a moment and then I felt the tip of her pink tongue. It snaked into my mouth, prizing my lips apart and then beyond until our tongues began to coil around each other with incestuous passion. Our tongues twisted over each other like two oily eels. Incest. She groaned into my moan with a strange kind of longing – as if this was what she had wanted for the longest time.

We said nothing to each other. We didn’t need to. The Devil inside me told me that she was now my perverted slave to do as I would with her. She could not resist my power word – the Devil’s command was all it took to make my will happen. Even if she was just a girl (and had no cock), she would provide some sinful fun – to destroy all that is sanctimonious, to pervert and corrupt – this was my new purpose. I was to make her do unspeakable things, disgusting things, degrading things … her and my fucking churchgoing mother … they were both to be my slaves … slaves of Devil … slaves of incest, incest, incest …

We backed up into the steamy old bathroom that comprised of a square room with a porcelain bathtub on the far side against the wall a long mirror that ran down the entire length of it, a sink under the window, and a toilet against the near wall. In the center of the bathroom, lay a thick white toweling mat that my sister drew me towards.

There she knelt down in front of me. She had not taken her hand from my excited little cock, which she stroked as she made herself comfortable in front of me. I pressed my hips forward and she took my cock into her small warm mouth and started sucking it while her hands steadied themselves against my narrow boy hips. I loved having my cock sucked – I imagined it to be my beautiful Lilian doing it and that immediately increased my enjoyment – his soft feminine mouth wrapped around my girly cock as we both prayed to the god, Pan.

I had an incredible urge to urinate and without any further thought on the matter, I pissed a small jet of my urine into her open mouth. I was half-expecting her to recoil in disgust at my actions, but no, her mouth seemed to suck with even greater gusto, as if my perverted act increased her enjoyment of our taboo incestuous act. Emboldened, I let out another short jet of hot tangy piss into her mouth and again she grabbed my hips to pull me tighter against her orifice – not wanting to spill a droplet of my salty waste.

My mind whirled with new possibilities and I held onto her bony damp shoulders for support as a wave of perverted pleasure passed through me. I stepped back, pulling my cock from her soft wet mouth, and looked down at her. Her fingers were jammed deep inside her cunt opening, doing whatever they do with female parts. I never cared much about vaginas – I had to imagine that a vagina was just like a sexy anus – another place for the pleasure of the devil’s penis. No, I would never be able to stick my beautiful cock into one of those disgusting things. No, she would have to pleasure herself. I closed my eyes and imagined Lilian before me.

I pressed down on my bloated bladder. I farted and its pungency filled the steamy room. I held my still rock-hard cock downwards as hot piss sprayed out of the eye of my boy cock over her stupid smiling face as I aimed the amber flow directly into her open mouth. She closed her eyes and masturbated furiously as I emptied the contents of my aching bladder into her cock-sucking mouth. My slutty fucker of a sister – my new piss slave – my toilet mouth bitch.

Hot salty piss sprayed over her re-wetting her all over, drenching her in the devil’s unholy waters. I felt a dribble of ass slime seeping from my rear as I farted loudly again. A Latin prayer passed my lips, its meaning binding my incestuous lover to me, to serve the devil in any way he saw fit. As my piss flow eased I turned around, grabbing her piss-wet hair and pressing her face to my grimy asshole.

She pulled back ever so slightly, but I said the word and she immediately responded by heartedly pressing her open mouth and pointed tongue into my stinking brown hole. I farted a third time – right over her face. It smelt foul and rank and my cock throbbed with the devious pleasure that I took in making my bitch sister lick my filth shit-filled asshole. My colon flexed and I pushed slightly and more ass fudge oozed over my sister’s tongue as it tried to penetrate my tight little anus.

I released my hold on my sister’s hair and turned back to face her. Her lower face, mouth, and chin were stained brownish with streaks of whatever had exited by boy-pussy. I leaned forward and kissed her rank mouth. She tasted like bitter chocolate. Standing up again, I pushed my cock back into her dirty little mouth to satisfy my urgent needs – despite my dislike for cunts, I would impregnate her later – fuck a child into her, but for now, I just wanted to spunk all over her stupid face, humiliate her, break her, see her kneel before me – covered in shit as she sold her soul to the Devil.

Her lips closed around the head of my boy cock and her fingers squeezed and pulled the loose flesh of my shaft back, bringing me ever closer to my first incestuous orgasm; the intensity of the pleasure increased by the knowledge of the act was being performed knowingly with one of my own. Tingling all over, I know I was close now. I was about to pull out to spray my pathetic sister’s shit-coated face with my cum, when without warning the bathroom door opened and I heard a gasp from my mother as she stood on the threshold. As I turned, I could see that her eyes were wide in horror at the sight of her two copulating children on the piss-yellowed bathroom mat.

As she stood there dumb-struck, I stepped slightly sideward and let my cum stray over Lucy’s soiled face. I groaned unashamedly in my perverted euphoria as several long salty ropes of gooey semen pumped from my little testicles over my sister’s slutty shit-face.

“Oh, my God!” my mother cried out in abhorrent disbelief.

Her nostrils flared at the unpleasant aromas that assaulted her senses.

As I climaxed I looked directly to my mother’s eyes and said the command word. Her hands immediately pressed against her groin through her nightgown stirring her thirty-something cunt in a way she never would have expected. New arousal burned there. She looked scared yet excited in the same breath.

She looked shocked at the feelings that were taking her over… as her self-control fell away, she tore at her flimsy clothing, ripping it apart to expose herself before her demonic son. My mother must have been very young when she had the two of us – she was really young to be a mother of two and her body still looked youthful. Naked before me, she entered the bathroom and knelt down next to her debauched daughter.

“Incest seems to run in the family,” she whispered.

I looked at her closely – now it was my turn to be surprised.

“You never knew your father … because he was my brother (your uncle) … incest is so beautiful. Praise the Devil.”

Turning to face Lucy, she immediately took to licking the semen, piss, and shit from her slutty daughter’s pathetic face. They kissed deeply, longingly as if she had wanted to do this act for an eternity – mother and daughter – an open-mouth tongue kiss, exchanging the disgusting flavors that I had bestowed upon them – my demonic gifts of this unnatural sexual union.

My sister was still desperate to reach orgasm, the slim fingers of her right hand thrusting in and out of her disgusting little cunt hole, while the thumb and forefinger of her left rubbed and twisted the delicate and sensitive nub of her clitoris. My mother too, began doing that disgusting female thing – touching her own juicy cunt hole. I laughed.

My cock was stiff again. I felt tightness in my ball sacks. My baby cock felt as hard as nails. I squeezed the throbbing veined length of my kiddy sword. It felt longer and harder than before, twitching impatiently as its needs were not met.



Pastor John looked nervously across from the pulpit as I sat next to my incestuous mother and sister in the long wooden pew. We are all dressed dutifully in our Sunday best as it was the only service of the day at the village parish and mostly everyone from the village was in attendance.

It was still warm inside the humid church, as summer had not yet given way to the cooler autumn days. I could feel the sweat trickle down my spine as I sat impatiently watching everything. It seemed that every color, shape, aroma, sound – every animate and inanimate object and every living thing purred in my new demonic mind. They all seemed to resonate at an unfamiliar kind of frequency. All my senses amplified to the point where I felt the thoughts of those around me – as if I could truly sense their sins calling me.

My eyes danced across the crowded room sampling here and there, without losing sight of Pastor John’s face, as he stood rather jittery before the small congregation. The willingness to do evil seemed pervasive – even in the sanctity of their holy parish. So many blasphemers, liars, cheaters, manipulators, masturbators … all thinking vile and wicked thoughts … young boys sharing pornographic pictures; malevolent peeping toms preying on their unsuspecting neighbors; men scheming their adulteress affairs; incestuous parents fantasizing about their vulnerable children … vice and sin was everywhere and it sang like a rhapsody of inspiration.

Turning my attention back to the corrupted pulpit. The church seemed darker and more sinister as the Pastor began.

“I want to talk today about the Devil’s efforts to destroy the pearl of sexual desire. The Devil did not create sexual desire. No. He never produced anything good. His whole aim is to ruin what Almighty God created to be good. There are two ways you can ruin a pearl. You can cut it out of the oyster before it matures or you can feed it to the swine. The Devil does his best to cut off sexual desire from the oyster of God’s grace and truth. If he can get people to isolate sex from God, he can destroy its meaning. He takes the pearl of sexual desire and feeds it to the swine of fornication and adultery and pornography and incest and child abuse and homosexuality.”

He paused dramatically.

“If you were a devil worshiper, and you wanted to know what the goals of your vulgar master were so that you would know how to pray, where would you go to learn? You would go to the Bible because the Bible gives a true picture of what the Devil is about in the world. He is about the corruption of all that is sanctified in heaven. He is totally committed to sexual perversity and depravity in all its forms; to the promiscuous activities of gays; to the secreting of rape and child abuse.”

He was right about the Holy Bible being the key to the destruction of all that was good and holy. But my thoughts also focused on a different bible – Pan’s Perverted Bible and the revelation that it held for us as the seeds of demonology.

As Pastor John spoke, I could feel the hypocritical hairs standing upright on the back of Pastor John’s neck; the sweat trail inside his frock; and his raging hard-on that longed to be sucked by the three young pre-pubescent altar boys that stood before him in their bright white gowns. I could sense their feelings too.

Two of the altar boys, William and Matthew, were uninterested in sermon about the Devil’s efforts, they both waited impatiently for it to end so that they could escape play elsewhere; the third boy, Clinton, was much more interesting; stirred by what I could only imagine as self-imposed guilt; ashamed of something and deeply fearful of the wrath of God Almighty – the uncompromising and unpermissive God. He sparked my interest. I wanted to know more. Clinton’s childish face was flushed and showed the depth of his religious conflict.

My eyes returned to meet the stare of Pastor John. My demonic appetites seemed only to increase. After watching my prudish mother bend to my wicked will; getting her and my slutty sister to lay between each other’s legs and eat each other shit – sucking and licking each other’s filthy cunt and ass holes until they climaxed on each other’s faces.

I was bored.

I had made Pastor John the keeper of Pan’s Bible and now I felt a compulsion to see it, to open it, to witness what I had imagined between its leather-clad cover. Only I knew how it was to be opened and only I was able to do so. Pastor John had hoped that I would have allowed him to also know this secret – but it was no ordinary secret, no human secret, it was demoniacal.


As the service came to an end, I left my incestuous sister and mother behind and slipped out of the wooden pew, and stepped to the rear of the church. I had already explained the role that Pastor John and the other goat priests had played in my ascension. My mother now knew about the devil cult within the church and the true nature of the summer camp, both were excited at the sexual possibilities – wanting nothing more than to sate their newfound demonic appetites among the corrupt young boys, pedophile priests, and their androgynous sisterhood.

Pastor John was waiting for me patiently in the quietness of the poorly lit refectory. It was an old church and everything about stank of a staleness of a dying god and a dead religion. He had dismissed two of the three altar boys but held back the one I knew as Clinton. As I entered the stuffy refectory, I could see that Clinton looked forlorn, confused, and conflicted. He was a delicate thing – very young and unsure.

Pastor John turned to notice my sister, Lucy, and mother, Leanne, there at the doorway behind me. He quietly ushered them in and locked the refectory door behind us all. Clinton had not noticed the two female newcomers and as this is where all the choir and altar boys undressed, Clinton thought nothing of the sound of the locking of the door other than it was for privacy. My mother and sister kept their distance, lingering back, watching and waiting for Pastor John to bring them into the lewd situation that was about to transpire.

Pastor John joined me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“This is Sammy,” said Pastor John as he introduced me to the nervous altar boy, “And this is Clinton.”

I extended my hand and Clinton took it. He held onto my hand and did not let go.

“Sammy had a wonderful time at our church summer camp this year. Didn’t you Sammy?”

I nodded attentively.

“Yes, I did Pastor,” I said in response, and then turning to Clinton, I added, “And Pastor John taught me many new things that older men and young girlie boys can do together. Pastor John is a special priest of the god Pan.”

“Pan?” Clinton looked even more confused.

“Pan is the God of Masturbation. When we touch ourselves we must pray to him … worship him … for the gifts of self-pleasure,” I said in a matter-of-fact way.

Clinton looked kind of shocked by my frankness about the obviously touchy subject. His eyes flicked back and forth between Pastor John and me. His anxiety was palpable. I could tell that part of him wanted to run far away, but another part of him was intrigued by the situation.

“I don’t understand … I thought that masturbation is a mortal sin?” H=he said in a small mousy voice.

Pastor John had stepped out of the conversation and looked on as he began to undress slowly, saying nothing as he wanted me to take the initiative.

“Don’t be afraid Clinton. The look was just like you. Of course, Pan the God of Masturbation, wants his girlie boys to touch themselves and each other. Look, my girlie cock is very hard right now.” I said pulling down my pants and letting my hard little cocklet stand upright in his clear view, “I was just imagining touching you and sucking you during the church service … taking your lovely cock into my mouth while we both worship the true god Pan together … I bet you’ve got delicious cock to suck.”

“I … I … I don’t understand … Pastor Matthew beat me for touching myself. He said I was a disgusting little pervert, that it was a dirty sinful thing to do, and that God Almighty would punish me by sending me straight to hell if I ever did it again!”

“Pastor Matthew was wrong to beat you for just having some fun with yourself. Pastor John said that there is nothing in the Bible that says it’s a sin to masturbate. Why would god want to punish you for doing something that feels so nice and so pleasurable?”

“I don’t know?” Clinton was at breaking point.

I pulled my top and pants off, standing completely naked and very erect before the young altar boy. Pastor John threw me one of the naughty little devil masks and I put it on. I rolled my hips and began to masturbate myself before Clinton. And as I did, my eyes never stopped staring directly into his. I groaned unabated and unapologetically. I could see behind Clinton that Pastor John, my mother, and my sister were all naked now and touching themselves as they watched. Pastor John was now dressed like the goat priest with his half mask and goat-like leggings – his magnificent cock stood upright and was beading with pre-cum juices.

“Fuck! It feels so good to pray to Pan … All hail to the God of Masturbation. Fuck, I don’t care if it’s sinful or not … I just love to stroke myself until the white stuff spurts out … don’t you? ” I cried as I stroked my cock faster and faster whilst thrusting my hips against my wrist, masturbation dancing before Clinton and the other secret onlookers.

Clinton stood dumbstruck. Pastor John had moved in behind Clinton. He now held him, so that his arms were pulled back behind his back. I stepped forward and caressed his excited genitals through the thin fabric of his white altar-boy gown. He made no attempt to resist Pastor John or my fondling – in fact, he seemed to lean back against Pastor John and push his hips outwards toward me, encouraging my sweet molestation.

I began to lift his gown upwards over his waist and kneeling before the excited boy, I took hold of his hot sticky flesh and brought it to my eager warm mouth. As I sucked his hard little cock he bucked uncontrollably but before he could ejaculate, I stopped and knelt back. His breathing slowed down and he looked at me – goading for more.

Standing again, I pulled his gown away exposing him completely so that our nasty little initiation could truly begin. I kissed his mouth and then pressed our hard little boy cocks together, rubbing my flesh against his, making him squirm for more. I spat on my palm and used the wetness to lubricate my movements as I grabbed both our cocks and mutually masturbated them both together against each other. Clinton quivered and groaned quietly – afraid to make his enjoyment too obvious.

Pastor John pressed down and forced the boy to his kneel before me as I continued to pleasure myself. The Pastor chanted lowly.

“And the great God Pan made the waters of heaven fall, drenching the earth below it, and his worshipers drank from the water of ecstasy – his divine urine, the sacrament of the Devil’s faithful.”

This was my cue. Aiming my cock at the boy, I began to urinate over Clinton’s face – trying to aim my piss flow toward his mouth. To my surprise, Clinton opened his mouth in an effort to drink from my dark yellow flow. My hot salty piss sprayed into his willing mouth, over his tongue, and down his throat. As my bladder began to empty, I aimed the remaining fluids over Clinton’s face and hair … all the time; I continued to stroke myself harder and harder.

“Hail Pan,” cried Pastor John.

My eyes lifted momentarily from my piss-soaked newest recruit to observe that the Pastor was now being serviced by both my naked slut mother and sister – my mother was kneeling behind him, groveling her mouth against his filthy anus, whilst my sister’s mouth and fingers pleasured his thick long cock and low hanging ball sacks.

Clinton held his cock in his hand and pointed it upwards as he urinated over himself – his piss sprayed like a bright yellow fountain, glistening in the dull light of the refectory. Then, he got on all fours, lifting his anus towards me.

“Fuck me demon. Fuck me and make me yours. I care not for god, but for my faith because I know it’s not for me. I want the perverted pleasures that come from serving the Devil. I always have. I just denied it until this moment – I have masturbated in extreme guilt as I fantasized about only the most depraved sexual things – I am your devoted servant. You, Pan, and the priest.”

His eloquence had not gone unnoticed by the goat priest, who now brought my slut mother and incestuous sister out from the shadows.



Had the world gone crazy? Had I lost all grasp on reality? Ever since I returned from the perverted church summer camp, things had changed fundamentally for me. Sammy was no longer just the village girlish boy, looking three years his junior – who was prone to be bullied because he was effeminate and attracted to other hot young effeminate boys.

Now I felt it was my time. I couldn’t explain it. Something about having sex with that strange old man during his even stranger transformation; something about The Grand Goat’s depravity that had infected me like a sexually transmitted disease; a sexual infection? Something in the human sacrifices that were made in the worship of the wicked sex demon, Pan. I was not well.

I was twisted. I was a sick bastard. Overcome by their profane sexual desire. I had acquired an insatiable sexual appetite that knew no taboos – in fact, the more taboo it was, the more perverted it was, the more sinful it was – the more it attracted me. I was once afraid of the dark, but now the night was mine. The darkness around me felt welcoming – I was the black flame inciting the darkness inside of those that I was to infect in turn.

It was a hot moonless night. On one side lay my naked sister. She turned sleepily in the cot next to me. We both smelt of sex and were streaked in dry body fluids. We were not alone; on the other lay Lilian. My love. How I had missed my true lover, Lilian. My Lilith. The union between two sissy boys had been my greatest joy. I had enjoyed the corruption of the altar boy, Clinton, and would continue to use him for my pleasure – but this was more than simply the destruction of innocence, this was the unholy trinity – my incestuous sister and my lover, Lilian.

The three of us had fornicated continuously all night until they had simply run out of energy. We had unashamedly prayed to the Devil for the blessing of perverted desire. Our two sissy cocks had been so eagerly in each other – shooting our semen over and over, deep in each other’s filthy bowels. We had both taken to fuck and sodomize my incestuous sister, stirring our fleshy rods in a cesspool of menstrual blood, urine, excrement, and our semen. Now the two of them were silent. As they slept prostrated from the sheer exhaustion of it all, I still felt the rage of sexual frustration.

I let them be as I continued to rub myself vigorously as I hummed the lyrics to a strange little song that had crept into my mind:

It’s time to go now, on the very last flight.
We’re invisible below these cloaks, made of night.
It’s time to ride and follow, the devilish knight.
To a place where we both know, we won’t ever need a fight.
And if the devil set me free, long live the Devil.
And if the good becomes the bad, long live the evil.


I wanted to see the bible, Pan’s Pornographic Bible and made my desires known to Pastor John. He would do as I commanded.

Gathering once again in the old chapel basement – its painted perverseness had not diminished; its disgusting walls still covered and emblazoned with all manner of obscene pornographic graffiti; and its perverted odor of fornication felt familiar and reassuring.

He had summoned the other two Pastors, Michael and Ethan. They were already dressed as The Goats (priests) in their scary masks and goat-like leggings when I entered the old chapel basement. I could tell that The Goat (Pastor John) was as eager to view the true nature of Pan’s Bible. My sister, Lucy, and mother, Leanne, and Clinton all wore demonic masks, as did I. Kneeling up together with them was Steven, Billy, and my delicious little Lilian – all little demons awaiting the Devil’s blessing.

Without further ado, Pastor John brought forth the impressive large leather-clad bible that was sealed with a locking mechanism. He lay it with reverence before us across the low altar dedicated to the sexualized image of ‘Pan… the God of Masturbation’.

I remembered how The Goat had told me that it could only be opened by the most loyal of Pan’s priests and had promised at the summer camp that if we had done what The Goat’s instructed us to do, we might get to see Pan’s pornographic testaments for ourselves. We didn’t. And now I realized that none of the priests had actually seen its contents either – no, this was the most sacred of testaments and had remained elusive to The Goat Brotherhood; maybe with the exception of The Grand Goat himself, but there was no asking him about it, as he had since vanished into thin air – or had become one with me? I was not truly sure anymore. And it didn’t really matter.

I was sure that they all itched to see inside, to glimpse it, to behold it – just as I did. My deviant imagination had ran riot. I remembered how The Goat had blessed the Bible with ropes of gooey semen and how they had forced-masturbated each of the acolytes until they each shot their heavy loads over the manuscript’s greedy cover. I swear it. It seemed that this living parchment was hungry for their seed – that it drew the semen into its enchanted substance. It was then that I realized that it was both evil and sexually magical.

The three goat priests had begun their chanting in ancient tongues. I had no way of knowing what it was that they were saying, but something deep inside of me began to understand their rhetoric. It was an ancient love story between the Adversary and Lilith (his unholy bride). If Pan was then the god of masturbation, pornography, bestiality, and sodomy; then Lilith brought forth a duality in the form of the gifts of menstruation and the monster births of Cambions, the sons and daughters of succubae and incubi – half-human, half-demon. They called her Lilith, the Mother of Witchcraft. Their words were demonically poetic …

“Mother, Darksome and Divine, Mine the Scourge and Mine the Kiss, The Five-point Star of Love and Bliss.”

Yes, I realized that this was part of the binding. They were all young Cambions, Steven, Billy, Lilian, and Clinton – now they all danced naked beside their little demon masks. They teased their hard little boy cocks with eager slimy fingers, rubbing themselves excitedly as they cavorted around the low altar praying before the image of the great god Pan and his perverted old bible.

They prayed for the Bible to open its pages and grant us the gifts of whatever lay beneath the wicked semen-soaked cover of this living document. Its malevolence was subtle, but everyone felt its dark energies that seemed to wash over us like ocean waves hitting us with a furtive force that broke over us, and each successive surge brought only stronger and stronger orgasmic pleasures that built towards the ultimate climaxes.

The moment came in a whiteness of light. I saw them all joined together – all ejaculating simultaneously in the climax of climaxes. It was a fountain of semen spraying from each and every cock – beautiful and divine. I felt the same divinity of pleasure reach its absolute crescendo as The Goats, my incestuous family, and the little demons all bucked wildly as the power of demonic orgasm coursed through their genitalia, whole bodies, and soul. But I witnessed something else even stranger as the bible, Pan’s pornographic testament, now lay open upon the low altar before me – its semen-drenched pages revealing Pan’s strange and wicked vision. It was only my eyes that were permitted this sight. All those around me fell into a deep sleep. Unmoving. They lay still and comatose.

I stepped forward and discarded my demon mask. The heavy cover lay open to the simple words of the first chapter. Again the written language was unfamiliar but the meaning burned against my forehead – it was my responsibility and no other to know what lay next. Only the Devil reborn among men would be able to appreciate this surrealistic manuscript and its arcane dark magick. Whether it had been wisdom, knowledge, or something else that they sort – only I was to bear witness.

Pornographic it was and as I touched each of its debauched pages, I sampled the pleasures that it depicted – a simple recipe for every sexual sin displayed in the full color of its illuminated scriptures. Torture, defilement, incest, fornication, bestiality, adultery, lesbianism, blasphemy, idolism, bondage, pedophilia, corruption, erotic cannibalism, rape, murder, ritual abuse, objectification, vampirism … an endless parade of gross fetishes, each designed to shock and out-do the previous – some vile but most extreme. There was beauty and symmetry in its chaos. The message was clear – that evil must prevail!

There, among the sexual chaos, before the image of the baphometic daemon stood a solitary figure – a small young boy who was naked and hard. His legs seemed to have been drawn with a fine coating of hair and he stood upon cleft toes. From between his hairy thighs, his erection stood upright and was disproportionately long compared to his lithe boyish physique.

I remembered the first time I had encountered The Grand Goat …

“The texture of his skin was slimy and his stark white body excessively thin – as if he was just skin and bone. His thin grey hair, what was left of it, barely covered his skull-like head and was slicked back over his white cranium. He seemed, slow, inert, and lethargic – like death warmed up. As he stood with his black gown open from the front, his disproportionate penis hung limply between his slightly parted legs – even limp it reached almost the full length of his bony, fleshless thighs.”

The thought of The Grand Goat triggered another dream memory …

“My cock was as long as Pastor John’s. It looked deformed, so huge against my smallish body size. When erect I could take it in my own mouth, sucking myself as I watched the orgy ritual before me. As I sucked, I stroked my shaft at the same time. The self-pleasuring was so intense – rubbing and sucking me until I was close to ejaculation.”

Among the hellish phallic dreamscape, I was once again transformed. The illustrated boy on the pages of Pan’s pornographic Bible was a depiction of myself … as if this were my destiny.

My hands nervously traced the edge of my thighs. I felt the fine lanugo hair that felt more like down than fur. I dared myself to look down. Seeing myself standing on the legs of a goat was truly a surprise. My heart was thumping so loud I thought it would burst. And there, between my puny boyish thighs, hung the flesh of a well-endowed man – it was the Devil’s flesh. I touched it – as if it was not mine to behold and more thoughts of The Grand Goat flashed my mind …

“His pendulous penis twitched like a long convulsing snake.”

My new fleshy appendage felt cool and slightly slimy to the touch, but my small fingers could not resist stirring my snake-like flaccidity, willing it to its upright potential and bringing me to my full and glorious erection. As my phallus rose, so did the images from the semen-soaked pages of the evil book. There was no need to turn the pages or read the strange incantations because these were not notations, descriptions, or illustrations of depravity, but were alive before me – every filthy perverted sinful act imaginable – performed over and over for my divine pleasure.

As the procession of pornographic testaments unveiled, I stoked the long fleshy ophidian cock and feed it to myself, pulling back the loose foreskin and wrapping my eager mouth around the bulbous purple-wet fleshy knob. My delicious fuck rod.


I sucked myself, luxuriating in the completeness of being one with the masturbation God – the God of self-love, of auto-eroticism … God of all SEXUAL perversions!

I pressed down on my blotted bladder and peed into my own mouth. Tasting my hot salty piss fluids as they filled my mouth intensified my wantonness. I let the fluids escape my lips, to repeat this again and again and as I did, I thrust my small fingers up and down, quivering as I clenched the rigid thickness of my pleasure pole. Hot spurts of semen pumped across my tongue. I reached orgasm repeatedly, directly into my mouth, like the serpent eating its tail.

They say that God moves in mysterious ways – by which they are really saying that his miracles are sometimes unseen and his direct hand in the affairs of man is mostly unfelt or at least misunderstood. Some may even go as far as saying that God’s ways are baffling and bewildering. Pastor John was absolutely right; I could draw many inspirations from the fucking old Christian bible.

It says in Genesis, chapter fifty, versus twenty — when Joseph says to his brothers, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

I laughed to myself, sucking and rubbing my enormous phallus even harder. God is absent. God was ambiguous and they try their best to read everything as benevolent about his so-called actions. I say that they are all confused. No, correction there – they are all stupefied and blinded by their absurd little beliefs. It is the Devil that sets them free. The Devil brings them the freedom of choice, the true power to live their lives. Samael was the first of the fallen angels. Some have called me the God of Luciferian Witchcraft or Seth-an, or Set (the same as Samael, Satan) or the Prince of Darkness, or the Lord of Chaos and sorceress power – I have been known by so many names.

Now I am Sammy, plain old Sammy. I live with my older sister and mother. Did I mention that I was born of incest and that now my sister is with child – my child? May we wait until it’s almost full term, then kill it and eat it together? Maybe you will join us?




If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email xpanther2019@protonmail.com