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 that 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 portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times. All Rights Reserved © 2026 LITTLESALLY666.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Wrote this as one of two earlier versions of the ShaWoman (renamed the “Oracle”) back in December 2025. I re-read it recently and want to upload it. Sorry, I never really finished this one to the level of polish, as it was a beta version — but I hope you still enjoy it — I dedicate this to my long-time friend “Hoku Lani” — who I worship and adore above all else.
STORY CODES: Supernatural, Transgender, Age-Play/Young, Demonic/Satanic themes, Transformation, Fembois, Cross-Dressing, MC, NC, WS.
CREATED: 01.08.2026 (V12)
Oracle
SYNOPSIS OF ORACLE
Simply told, our rather sissy protagonist seeks the help of an oracle to address his/her sexual issues — only to find that lewdness, perversity, and darkness are the answers to his/her troubles and frustrations, which bring him/she to an unexpected sense of freedom and liberation.
ORACLE CHAPTER ONE — (1,838 WORDS)
I was to meet with the Oracle in a nearby local park. I remember it as a warm and balmy day. As I waited there, in nervous anticipation, I watched other people walk by. They all seemed so carefree and happy! Why didn’t I feel like that?
Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect, only that I had been told that she just “knew things” that were not supposed to be known — maybe some of these were secrets that some of us may rather take to our graves. She was supposed to be an expert at untangling the troubled mind. Was I troubled? Well, some may say I was somewhat unbalanced and frustrated. Others may say I was sexually ambiguous. Male or female? Masculine or feminine. The line was sometimes blurred. Did it matter? More may say that I was a screw-up! However you described it, my mind and body just didn’t sit right with me any more.
The most remarkable claim I had heard had been that the Oracle was in touch with the preternatural. You know, like clairvoyance and extrasensory perception …. spooky stuff? Did I believe that one? Maybe. Maybe not.
Could the Oracle see into the future? Wasn’t that the point of being an oracle in the first place? Could she be something like an ogre or a witch? That one made me laugh, only because I’d seen her picture. She wasn’t ugly. Quite the opposite. She was attractive. Very attractive … sexy, feminine and petite. I know I wasn’t supposed to think of her that way. But, after all, I’m only flesh and blood.
“Hello, my pretty one,” the Oracle said without a hint of mockery in her immediately enchanting voice.
She sat right down next to me and just smiled as if she’d known me all my life. Like we were best friends. It felt so natural and relaxed. As if I had nothing to fear from her or our conversation. She grinned and flirted for a while as she convinced me that she would try to help me.
“My place is nearby,” she said, “If you’re open to it. We can start the healing process right away. Let me bring you there, where we can talk more openly about your … frustrations!”
Part of me wanted to run away. But most of me wanted to follow her. Maybe my hopes were too high? What would a cure consist of? I had no idea.
“Together, we would find the answers to your … questions,” she added.
Only, I couldn’t actually remember what the questions were exactly.
We left the park and began to walk together. She held my hand gently. Her fingers interlocked with mine. It felt like we were long-lost lovers. And as she continued to talk, her sing-song voice began to play me like her musical instrument. Enchanting me with every syllable. So convincing. So charming. Each a note that brought me deeper under her mischievous spell. I felt as if I was completely under her magnetic trance!
As she spoke of the cure, the process, the understanding … I immediately felt invisible hands touching me. It was slight to begin with but became more obvious as we continued our conversation. These ghostly hands. Though I was fully clothed and just walking beside her. I felt these supernatural fingers wrapping around my flaccid cock, stroking my miscreant flesh, until I felt incredibly hot, horny, and fully erect. These icy fingers stimulated my nipples and testicles. They even lightly penetrated my anus, finger-fucking me, as we walked together. It felt totally bizarre … but I pretended not to notice and said nothing about it … I just continued to be led by the Oracle as if I were drugged on this unexpected sensation.
Then we were there, inside her strange basement apartment. My steps were light. I barely remembered the staircase or even the front door. Inside, it was dark. The lights were low. Candles burnt everywhere. Twinkles of tiny light. There were no windows. The room smelt musky with the odor of burned incense.
Where were my clothes? I never felt comfortable without being hidden beneath my clothing. Other boys used to laugh at me in the school showers as I refused to be naked in front of them, choosing to wear my swimming costume and t-shirt instead of nakedness. It was one of those life-changing embarrassments that never seem to fade.
However, on this occasion, I didn’t actually remember undressing. But there I was, completely naked, and what’s more, I was sexually aroused in front of the Oracle. My soft, effeminate body was on full display. My meager genitals, which were nothing to boast about, made my face immediately flush with embarrassment. Was this display all part of her cure?
She sensed my disquiet.
“You’re beautiful, just as you are,” the Oracle said, “Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
We both sat, cross-legged, immediately in front of each other upon a soft rug. I could still feel those strange sensations continue that had started the minute we began to walk together, and since we entered her basement, those feelings had only intensified.
“Relax. Breathe deeply. That’s it. No need to fear anything here. This is a safe space. Now tell me about your dream!” she said, “Your naughty dream.”
Before I could say anything, I found myself back in my naughty dream. I was standing in front of a large standing mirror. I was admiring my sissy-self. It was me, but it wasn’t me. I was dressed in a short silk dressing gown with a soft fabric tie around my waist. My hair was long, silky, and black, with a cute blunt fringe. A wig? I wore light make-up. Nothing too over-the-top. Eye shadow. A little Egyptian. I looked sweet. Sexy. My shaved legs and painted toenails beneath my robe were covered in shimmering, black nylons, and I wore a pair of black patent leather stilettos — so Kate and Kate stiletto pumps … I did a slow turn in the dressing mirror, admiring my petiteness. I looked hot. A sexy succubus ready for something very naughty.
My small cock throbbed beneath the silky feeling of the nylon, as I bit my lip and watched myself undo the fabric tie around my waist. I let my loose gown fall open from the front to reveal my small, cone-shaped breasts, and bullet-hard nipples. Yes, I thought. So mischievous, so wicked. My fingers played with my nipples, pulling them, teasing them. If only I had a hot, young mouth to suck upon them.
My robe fell gracefully from my shoulders as I began to rub up and down my nylon-covered thighs. I looked so sexy in Christian Louboutin stilettos as I pranced around teasing myself. Why hadn’t I done this before? It was so impish. It felt like electricity moving towards my groin, as my fingers couldn’t resist touching my wet-tipped cock as it strained beneath the arousing texture of the nylon as I moved erotically in my self-stimulation.
I could no longer resist it, as I slipped my hand inside the elastic waistline and gripped my flesh, slowly and deliberately masturbating myself, as I watched my wayward reflection.
I squatted down to be closer to my secret self-lover’s reflection. I wanted her. I really wanted to suck her stiff cock, as I began to tear the delicate nylon around her groin, exposing her stiff, little penis.
It looked reddish and inflamed with perverted passion. I watched it pulse in my lap. The skin was fully rolled back, exposing my purple mushroom-shaped cock-head. I began to stroke myself a little faster. Precum began to bleed from my piss-hole. I wanted desperately to take it into my own slutty mouth like a cock-whore faggot — to draw the essence of my sissy passion into my throat.
I leaned forward and kissed myself in the mirror. I licked my reflection’s lips.
My self-love masturbation became even more agitated. I stood up again, dancing and playing, teasingly, with my long, shiny hair …. tempting myself.
“Yes, fuck me, fuck me, I’m a dirty little bitch boi …”
I was now panting heavily, gripping my little breasts, pulling my nipples to create that delicious little sharpness. I touched my oily boi-pussy. I began to press my painted fingernails into my neither-hole, punishing my brown flower, imagining it was my own sweet cock penetrating myself. Sodomizing me — pushing upwards into my filthy bowels. I watched myself as I sucked my dirty digit.
The pleasure began to escalate.
“Yes! Yes! You whore! Fuck, you dirty, faggot bitch!”
I could feel the inevitable rush of orgasm begin to take over. I couldn’t stop. My clenched fist thrust tightly around my eager cock-flesh — ready to take myself to the point of no return. And it happened! Ropes of milky semen squirted from the eye of my boi-cock over the mirror surface as I groaned out loud as my sissy-juice exploded.
”Aaarghhhhhhh …”
“Yes, darling. That’s the very naughty dream I was talking about,” said the Oracle.
My first reaction was to lie about it.
“Well, ummm,” I mumbled.
I started to mention something lame … you know … not so masculine… like a girl … wearing feminine things … freedom to step outside rigid everyday social norms … experience both masculine and feminine sides of my personality … the act of doing something that I knew I shouldn’t … my identity not matching my biological sex …
My description was so far from the real truth. The Oracle knew I lied, but smirked at my attempt to deceive her. Without saying it, I knew I was only deceiving myself.
“You’re so sweet … and very sexy,” she said. “You’d look so cute with mascara and a little lipstick. I know you find it difficult to be comfortable with yourself, right now. You don’t feel like a man. And yet you’re not a woman. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re sometimes; it’s definitely better.”
”I don’t feel I am …” I answered, “I feel fake. A liar. An imposter.”
“Well, darling, you’re none of those things. I’m not here to validate you, darling, or to guide you away from any self-harm stereotyping. I’m here simply to enlist you … to let you know that you’re not alone. That the feelings you have are very special …”
With that last comment, the Oracle removed her flimsy top. I could see her small, coned breasts. They looked delicious to suck. They looked like my dream. Like the tits of my dream lover’s. I immediately felt a hunger. Her brownish nipples were hard (just like mine had been in this naughty dream).
As I became more and more hypnotized by her erotism and sexuality, the sensation of being touched all over was getting stronger and more demanding — the unseen fingers continued to caress me in all the right places. My cock throbbed in my lap.
Bizarre whispers filled my ears with obscene suggestions. Not rude or impolite, but gaining provocativeness.
“Tell her. Tell her more. Tell her everything,” they seemed to say.
xxxxx
ORACLE CHAPTER TWO — (1,653 WORDS)
“Tell me about your dream!” she said, “That hungry faggot-cock dream.”
Before I could say anything, I found myself in my hungry faggot-cock dream.
I was no longer alone. There was the shrill of girly laughter. Goddaughters playing together. The sound of effeminate fun. She was there in the clothing store with me: the Oracle, herself, so pretty and sexy. We’d been trying on different outfits. Some sheer, some sexy, all rather lewd, showing off lots of flesh, cleavage, and glimpses of our secret sensuality. Latex, leather, PVC, and Lycra … some with studs and spikes … bordering on the fetish-wear of succubi. But now, we were both prancing around semi-naked.
We both wore black cupless bras and tiny, black g-string knickers, and shiny black patent-leather stilettos. We giggled like intoxicated, naughty sisters, fooling around with each other in the changing room. It all sounded fun and innocent, but it definitely wasn’t. There was something extremely taboo about it all … as if it were almost incestuous. Like sisters, sexily aroused by each other.
Strange that the floor-to-ceiling, mirrored changing room warped into something more like a “transformation” space — shifting my psyche from just a change of pronoun, to something far more feminine than I had ever felt before.
Feminine, yes … but not completely, because my lady-cock was pocking out of the top of the waistband of my g-string. In my faggot-cock dream, it felt harder, thicker, longer than it had before.
The Oracle smiled with bright, white teeth of a predator, as if she was about to devour me. Maybe I wanted to be completely devoured by her? Eat me? She groaned out loud and pressed herself hard against me as we began to embrace, like two demanding lovers, kissing each other’s mouths as if there were no tomorrows.
Our lingering kiss was more than just passionate. It had a sense of urgency. Needy. As if we were both so ever hungry. And it was a devilishly hungry. I wanted her so much. We frotted against each other as our slippery tongues duelled together like the twin baphometic serpents.
“Mmmmm … Fuck yer! Suck me pretty tits, darling,” she purred.
I was still panting from the intensity of the kiss that I never wanted to end. My mind was giddy, reeling, and spinning in all directions. But like a good student, I lowered my chin and began to lick tentatively at her nail-hard nipples. Delightful. They were so firm and pointed. Soon I wrapped my hungry lips around them, sucking them deeply in my mouth, one-by-one. I was her baby-girl thirsty for my perverted mommy’s milk.
“Suck harder!” she moaned through gritted teeth.
The Oracle’s delicate fingers began to matt in my long black hair, that no longer felt like just a wig, but was part of my girly-self, pressing down harder against her almost-flat chest, forcing my compliance.
“Look at your naughty cock, darling … Mmmmm … it’s so much bigger, don’t you think!” the Oracle claimed.
I looked down. It was. I mean, it felt that way. I pulled my tiny g-string panties aside to see how my little-boy cocklet had grown. Yes, it definitely felt bigger, much longer, more banana-like, curving upwards with a fleshy fullness. The veins seemed to pulsate in my long-nailed fingers as I slowly drew back my foreskin to expose its wet, purple head.
“Suck it, darling, goddaughter,” she suggested, “Show me how you can suck your own cock. Mmmmm … Just like the Ouroboros — the serpent that devours its own tail!”
I doubted that I could, but I obediently bent forward anyway. Self-sucking would be truly a delightful dream. And in my naughty faggot-cock dream, I found the flexibility to allow me not only to reach it and to kiss the wet tip of my girl-cock, but, with a little push, I found it between my lips. Eagerly, I pressed my hips upwards, taking my lady-cock over my tongue until it pressed against the roof of my mouth. Oh, such a deviant delight. The taste of my own precum was delicious, splashing over my tongue, as it lapped my throbbing cock-head, and open piss-slit.
My first thought was about cumming inside my own mouth. Of course, I’d tried that from lying on my back with my knees over my head, dripping my cum as I masturbated into my face. But this was different. There was something undeniably hot about sucking your own cock whilst spurting my gooey, sissy, baby-juice into the back of my throat. How wonderful that would be?
Then I thought about taking it even further. What if I was to urinate directly into my mouth, as I felated myself. Yes, the taste of hot, salty piss entrée, followed by homo-boy semen, as the main course. Mmmm, yes, what an incredible pleasure that would be. Such naughty gratifications crossed my mind, and as I sucked myself — and the Oracle continued to watch me intensely.
“Mmmmm … yes darling! I can see you’re an excellent sucker … but now it’s my turn. Kneel here before me, and suck my unholy, girl-cock!” she ordered, I want to spunk over your homosexual, cock-sucking, faggot face. Get my girl-sperm to fill your eye sockets, you whore!”
Yes, I now had more than just a taste for it. I wanted nothing more than to have her feminine cock in my mouth. I wanted to taste her delicious phallus. I wanted to suck upon her low-hanging testicles. Tasting the vinegary sweat of her ball sacks, followed by the intimacy of licking the dank and tangy cyclops of her wrinkled, brown flower. I so wanted to eat her cum and drink her piss directly from its source.
Was it a shock? I mean, knowing that she was like me. No, not at all. At some subliminal level, I always knew she had a cock or at least, I wanted her to have a cock. Despite her very convincing feminine disguise, the slight bulge in her pants had given her away as she pressed against me in the changing room. I wanted it. I had wanted it in my mouth. I wanted it in my anus. My whole being seemed to will it to happen.
“Please! Please! Please!” My mind begged! “I will do anything you ask! Just give it to me!”
The dream began to dissolve away.
”Yes, that’s the naughty faggot-cock dream I’m talking about,” the Oracle echoed.
She knew all along. All my naughty cock thoughts. My phallic obsession. It was more than just being accepted for what I was. A sissy. A faggot. A cum-drinking cock-whore. I wanted to find another woman with a cock. Just like me. A goddaughter, like me. They say we are the best of both worlds. And I wanted her to be my penis goddess. My transexual lover. A beautiful cock lady. Another, just like me … a lover who knew how to pleasure my needy cock … simply because she had one herself.
The low whispers chimed to a rhythmical chanting … like a shamanic beat … their suggestions changed … they had become more than obscene … more than just taboo … as if they were supposed to be guiding my mind towards a darker and devilish place, where only sin and blasphemy could be found.
“Masturbate! Masturbate for me!” the Oracle ordered. “Oh, sissy-sweetheart … do rub your little sex wand for me. Conjure me more perversity. Let’s create our own sexy darkness together. Depravity is so much more fun. Make it all wet at the tip. Pee a little. Yes! Oh. Yes! Let’s get piss wet together! Urine drinking … Show me how you self-pleasure to the rhythm of my evil spirits.”
The air seemed to vibrate around us. I felt the darkness around me, like electricity. There was a distinctive rhythm. Were they the drums of demons?
I began to masturbate myself. This strange beat seemed to pulse right through me. How could I refuse? My fingers gripped my erection tightly, and I pleasured myself, just as she ordered. I wanted to be hers. I stared at her tiny tits. Her waistline was narrow. Her ribcage was obvious. Her hips were bony. I wanted to spurt my faggot-cum over her teasingly, perfect nipples, and then eat my own seed from them.
“They’re mouthwatering, aren’t they?” she said. “You will suck them soon. But first, you must tell me all.”
“Tell her all. Tell her all! Don’t hold back …” the whispers urged, insistently.
I nodded in silent agreement.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I was ashamed. I’m so sissy. So, unmanly. Such a little faggot boi. I didn’t know how to ask for what I want. What I need. And … I want your queer cock. I love faggot cock. I want to worship your girlie cock.”
“Yes,” she added, “And what about the rest? Don’t pretend. Don’t hold back. You’re not telling her everything, weren’t you?”
“Oh no …” I muttered after a short pause — but the Oracle already knew.
I had to admit there was more. Lots more. It was hard to admit that you’re a complete and utter pervert. A deviant who had so many unfulfilled taboos. She seemed to anticipate it because the Oracle was one too. Like me, I realized that she had removed her skirt so that I could see that she too was masturbating her queer cock. Her hard, throbbing, wet-tipped cock stood perfectly upright, thick, and long.
I watched, mesmerized, by the sight of it. Not a dream. Not just a naughty cock dream, but for real. In front of me. She showed no fear or restraint.
“You like what you see!” she said.
But it wasn’t really a question. It was a statement. Because she knew me. She knew this was exactly what I hoped to see. No cunt involved. Just a beautiful cock rising between her shapely legs. Her painted fingernails, gliding back and forth, as she stroked herself like a veined-cock goddess.
xxxxx
ORACLE CHAPTER THREE — (2,023 WORDS)
I was disoriented between dreams and reality. Between that which I understand and that which seemed too good to be true.
The Oracle wore a heavy, antique necklace. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? It dangled between her tiny breasts. Heavy and expectant. It gleamed magically before my eyes. I was drawn to the goat-like figure inside an inverted pentagram. Was it called the Goat of Mendes? The Banebdjedet? The Sabbatic Goat? The Baphomet? Wasn’t it a sign of Satanism? A symbol of pure evil?
“Yes,” the Oracle said, answering my unasked question, “Now, tell me about your faggot ass-lover’s cock. I knew you like to dress in your sister’s fucking clothing. Wearing her nasty sheer stockings. And her used, crutchless panties. Tell me about how you masturbate thinking about all those stiff, little, queer cocks you want to drain of their homo-juice! About the sissy cross-dressers with their small, boyish phalluses. All those delicious little cocks that you crave to suck.”
My mind was an open book to the evil Oracle.
“Tell me more, you fucking, filthy faggot,” she insisted, “Tell me your fantasies about young fembois. All those twisted, little thoughts about ass-splitting sodomy, ass-to-mouth, and felching all that hot, shemale-cum from their dank anuses. Tell me about your desires for an orgy of urine-drenched, piss-play. Guzzling all that hot, salty piss down your pervert throat. To be soaked in both dark-yellow piss and slimy semen. Sharing the Devil’s sacrament.
“Incestuous acts between transgendered twins,” she grinned wider and never paused, “Tell me about your chimera of blasphemous orgies of pervert cock-nuns and pervert priests. The church of cock sex. Ah, yes, the hypocrisy of devil worship. The secrecy. The sex cult. The sins of the flesh. Their horrific rape rituals. The offerings of pain and suffering.”
I was hyperventilating at her description of all my unspoken vices — the Oracle seemed to know that sexual abuse brought me a secret kind of joy.
“Tell her … Tell her,” coaxed the whispers.
“Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. I sense your darkest fantasies involve the worship of sex demons. Tell me about your dream!” she said, “Your evil, demonic dream.”
Before I could say anything, I found myself slipping helplessly in my evil, demonic dream.
We’d stepped out of the transformation room. Drawing back the changing room curtain, to find that we were no longer in the clothing store. The room beyond was her candlelit basement. The aroma was stronger — it smelt of sexual sweat — stale urea, spent semen, and other more baser smells.
No longer a sanctuary of psychotherapy, the basement apartment of the Oracle had a magical significance. It was like a dungeon. A Vodou temple. A catacomb. A place of sacrilegious sex. A sensory hell of blasphemous proportions … It seemed to have a life of its own — metaphorizing as much as myself and the Oracle. Nothing seemed fixed or inanimate. Like a strange acid drug that reshaped and reformed everything and everyone.
There was a sex-magick altar that I hadn’t noticed before, dedicated to a feminine deity, with the long snout of a goat-like beast, the full breasts of a woman, and an enormously erect penis rising from between its fur-covered hind legs. A symbol of more than just the church of Satan. Inverted crucifixes. The deity herself. An androgynous form that featured female breasts alongside a phallic caduceus rod, that merged maternal and paternal traits into one body. My dreaming mind found it profoundly stimulating.
“Lilith,” she said, “The God of the Witches! Isn’t she beautiful? Oh, darling goddaughter, doesn’t she inspire the most perverse of sexual thoughts? Salvete Lamia!”
Lilith was portrayed as a blurring of male and female attributes. Strong, powerful, purposeful, and phallic. But soft, alluring, seductive, and sexual. She commanded our sexual worship. She demanded a sacrifice. How not to comply? How not to offer her my soul or at least the soul of another!
The Oracle first slipped from her g-string and stood before me completely naked. She then reached up and removed her wig. Funny, I hadn’t ever seen it as artificial until that moment. But her head was completely smooth, shaved, and upon her crown spouted two small, sharp horns — she was no longer an oracle but a shedevil — she was my evil demonic dream. Yes, beneath all the femininity, there was another layer, a much darker one, that demanded we do evil things together for our mutual sexual gratification at the cost of the suffering of lesser mortals.
This was no longer just a dream, but would quickly become someone else’s nightmare. Yes, I craved something non-consensual, depraved, and cruel. A shared wickedness, with my shedevil lover. The fantasy brought us closer to that young, long-haired, effeminate boy from next door. He would become one of our evil goddaughters. A special sex gift from Lilith.
He was the one who looked at me, so forlorn. Staring right back at me, not with innocent eyes, but ones that had seen things that they shouldn’t have. Had felt things he shouldn’t. He seemed to be daring me to look back at him — with sexual objectivity.
“Salvete Lamia!” she said.
Imagining his young, naked body. So fragile. His soft limbs, so thin and delicate. Ripe for the picking. His little bare toes, and oily, long hair. He knew we wanted to fuck him. He was temptation itself, dancing provocatively before our evil eyes. Yes, we could make him our first sacrifice to Lilith!
Now, my shedevil wasted no time. She kissed his open mouth, plunging her penal tongue into his orifice. She grabbed him by his flimsy arms, overpowering him, and quickly brought him before the graven idol of Lilith. There, we both quickly bound his arms and legs, stretching him torturously, as we both prepared to take his anal virginity.
“You’re hurting me,” he cried.
It was the last thing he said before I stuffed the ball-gag in place.
Despite his rough treatment, his erection gave away his masochistic delight at the shedevil’s actions. Was it truly non-consensual? It certainly wasn’t gentle or loving. No … we were acting out of pure dark lust.
“Salvete Lamia!” she cried again!
A sacrificial offering to our evil cock goddess. We wanted to penetrate him. We wanted to fuck him and fill his tight anus with our thrusting cock-flesh. Use the small faggot-boy for our evil carnality. Raping him over and over, harder and harder together for the glory of Lilith — for the pleasure of the evil mother.
“Scream you little homo-faggot. Scream as we fuck you hard, stretching your pathetic boi-cunt, with our queer spears! Scream into your fucking ball-gag, as we blow our faggot-man cum, so hard, inside you … breed you like our sissy slave!” she cried.
I mine reeled at the intensity of my pleasure in this shocking dream! Had I no sense of right or wrong? No morality? … caught up in the heat of the moment … No, I didn’t!
“Yes, darling, that’s the dream …. That delicious gay-fucking nightmare … share your most evil and darkest of homosexual dreams. Your love of the androgynous Baphomet. The Missa Niger (Black Mass). Blasphemy. Witches riding cocks instead of brooms. The tribalism of ancient fetishes. Their ugly idols that were obviously phallic. Enormous genitals. A jungle of sexual rites. Cannibals. Baby-eaters. Terrible and cruel, yet exciting and horny.”
How did she know?
“Lilith’s goddaughters, like us, live for our dark taboos,” she added. “The more forbidden a thing, the more we get off on it.”
That’s when I looked around the Oracle’s basement flat. The walls came alive with pure filth … covered in an orgy of depravity. The kind that I had only dared to see in my darkest of evil fantasies. Pure wickedness. Really sick as fuck!
Her hand replaced mine as she began to masturbate me. My hand replaced hers as we mutually masturbated each other. Moving to the synchronised deviant drums. Her copious precum coated my fingers, and I felt her lean forward and kiss my hungry mouth. Black lipstick. Our sticky, wet cocks rubbed frantically together. As if we were sword fighting. Her long, penal tongue penetrated my willing lips. I sucked it like I wanted to suck her shecock.
The Oracle pressed me to my knees as she guided me before a raised platform that served as her satanic altar. A demonic altar dedicated to sex magick. Dedicated to the true gods of the witches. Lilith and the Baphomet. The goat-headed god. With breasts and an erect phallus. The twin serpents seemed to move before my eyes. Its naked form was discolored. Smeared in offerings of blood, semen, and human waste. I kissed its phallus and tasted its pure evil. And gave thanks.
Before the demon god/goddess lay a filthy mattress that had obviously been well-used for ritual sex. I wanted to be used. I felt dark shadows move around me. Sexual demons, invisible, yet omnipresent. Spirits that the Oracle had conjured to draw me down her dark path.
“Let’s begin our celebration,” she said. “Your bladder must be full. You must feel the urgency for release. A burning sensation that cannot be ignored. Yet your he-she cock must stay fully erect. Then, you will piss in your goddaughter’s mouth,” she said with glee, “As I will piss in yours. Sucking each other. Drinking Lilith’s unholy sacrament.”
My heart continued to race at her words. Was it my heart pounding or the sound of drumming? The whispers were no longer whispers … their intensity had gained momentum … driving my psyche wild with the dark energy of these unseen, unclean spirits.
“Just because I am a goddaughter and have a nice pair of tits doesn’t mean that I don’t want to bend you over before Lilith,” the she-demon groaned, “That’s right, my darling faggot boy. And I’m going to slide nine inches of my donkey-sized dick up your virgin boi-pussy. It will start nice and slow. In and out. And as you bite your lips, taking my entire cock, bowels deep… I will slide it right in, until my balls are pressed hard up against your boi-pussy lips. Then slowly back out. And slowly back in. And once you start moaning, like a demented little bitch … because you have a demon’s dick up your ass … then I’m really going to begin to pound you out!”
I was already on my knees before Lilith. The shedevil mounted me from behind. Her strong fingers closed around my pre-cum-coated cock, thrusting my weak-flesh up and down to the rhythm of her foul words. I felt the hard tip of her cock press between my legs, under the loose skin of my balls, until she gripped both our slimy cock-shafts together in her tight fist.
“I’m going to pound you hard and deep. I’m going to fucking butt-fuck you. Harder and deeper. And you’re going to be screaming and moaning …like a little fucking punk … and then, after I stretch out your fucking little boi-pussy, and breed you. I will show you what it’s like to be a true faggot-demon worshipper … Salvete Lamia! … I’m going to spurt a hot load of succubus-urine inside you … hot piss filling your bowels … because once I have there’s no turning back! You won’t care any more … you will become addicted to Lilith’s cum …”
I was squirming in front of Lilith’s altar as she brought me closer and closer to a massive orgasm.
“And then,” the Oracle added, “Your faggot journey into darkness will have truly begun. Falling down the slippery slope of sodomistic depravity. And you will conjoin with me and the spirits of total perversity, in sick, pervert love,” she said. “We must allow the she-demons to possess us. They will use us. You will be cured, once and for all — by accepting the truth — and set free by my covenant of depravity. To worship that which we know to be evil, dark and wicked. To indulge in a faggot-piss-fairy world without limits. Where everything is permitted. Nothing will be taboo. Freedom.”
“Please,” I answered. “Set me free from the bounds of my hopeless morality.”
xxxxx
THE BEGINNING?
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