PETE’S MEAT 3 by Satan’s Fist

Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent 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 unlawful activity as the story describes. 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 they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.

Writer: Satan’s Fist

Subject: PETE’S MEAT 3

Link: LS666 Email / 10.04.2025

Story Codes: Orgy, Satanism, Snuff

Characters: Bobby (13), Pete (13), Sindy & Beth (11), Ivan – Bobby’s Grandfather (58), Mary – Bobby’s Mother (32), Wendy – Pete’s Mother (33), Robert – Bobby’s Father (35), Rebecca – Bobby’s Grandmother (55), John – Pete’s Father (39)

Synopsis: Seven months have past. Rebecca has AIDS. She has become terminally ill. It is time to do the reincarnation ritual on her. Sindy is to be impregnated by her brother, Bobby.

Pete’s Meat 3

Seven months had passed since the fateful night when Pete, only thirteen years old, had been sacrificed to the dark lord Satan. The ritual, led by Bobby’s grandfather Ivan, was a pivotal moment that had forever changed the fabric of their small town.

The eerie whispers and strange occurrences that had once been a rare phenomenon were now a daily reality, a testament to the demonic pact they had forged. Bobby, now equally devoted to the incestuous satanic lifestyle, had fully embraced his role as the chosen one. His once innocent eyes now gleamed with a sinister spark, hinting at the depravity that dwelled within him.

Despite his age, the weight of his actions bore heavily on his soul, as if the very essence of darkness was seeped into his marrow. His body had become a battleground for the disease that coursed through his veins, a super strain of AIDS that had transformed him into a living abomination.

Yet, his father, Robert, a man of medical expertise and twisted faith, had kept Bobby’s condition at bay with a cocktail of ARV drugs. The bio-hazard tattoo that adorned Bobby’s chest served as a stark reminder of the curse that had become his birthright, matching the ones that marked the rest of his family members who had succumbed to the same fate.

The tattoo was a symbol of their allegiance to the dark arts, a declaration of their immoral union with the unspeakable forces of hell. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk, Bobby’s mother, Mary, and sisters, Sindy and Beth, all shared in the same fate, living under the shadow of their demonic lineage. The family had grown closer in their shared perversion, each member playing a twisted role in the unfolding saga of their diabolical legacy.

Flashback to seven months prior …

The next few days were a blur, Bobby awoke to a house that felt eerier than usual. The lingering scent of candle wax and incense clung to the air, a haunting reminder of the night’s events. His grandfather Ivan, with a stern expression, called him into the study. The room was dimly lit, casting macabre shadows on the walls, which seemed to dance with the flicker of the candles.

With a heavy sigh, Ivan began to reveal the twisted tapestry of their family’s history. The truth unraveled before Bobby like a nightmare come to life — Ivan and Rebecca, his grandmother, were not only devoted followers of the dark arts but were also siblings. This revelation sent a shiver down Bobby’s spine as he realized the implications of their union.

His mother, Mary, his father Robert, and Pete’s parents, were all born from this same incestuous bond. The gravity of the situation grew heavier as he learned that Pete, his best friend, was not just a neighbor but a cousin, both born of the same tainted bloodline. The family’s twisted legacy had led to Pete’s brain tumor, a tragic byproduct of their unnatural pairings.

As Ivan spoke, Bobby’s mind raced, trying to comprehend the monstrosity that lay at the heart of his existence. The bond he had felt with Pete grew even stronger, tainted with guilt and a newfound understanding of their shared fate. The burden of their secrets grew heavier, but the call of the dark lord was too great to resist.

Ivan’s comforting hand landed on Bobby’s shoulder as he spoke with a surprising tenderness.

“Our love for each other, Bobby, is not diminished by our unconventional lifestyle. In fact, it is amplified by the power of the dark arts that we share. Our bond is unbreakable, and together we will face whatever fate has in store for us.”

His grandmother Rebecca, her eyes sunken and frail body a stark contrast to the fiery spirit she once embodied, shuffled into the study. Her once radiant skin was now a canvas of sickness, a living testament to the ravages of the AIDS that had consumed her. Ivan’s expression grew solemn as he revealed the grim truth to Bobby.

“Her medication is no longer working,” he whispered, his voice thick with sadness, “Her time with us is limited, but fear not, for we shall grant her the same gift we bestowed upon Pete. A rebirth through the power of our dark lord.”

The room grew tense as the gravity of the situation sank in, the flickering candles casting ominous shadows across Rebecca’s face. Despite her weakened state, a flicker of hope kindled in her eyes at the mention of the ritual, a chance to escape the relentless grip of death and perhaps find peace, or perhaps something far more terrifying, in the embrace of the demonic realm.

With trembling hands, Rebecca, Bobby’s grandmother, began to remove her clothing, revealing her emaciated frame to the flickering candlelight. Her once lush skin was now marred by the grotesque purple blotches of Kaposi’s sarcoma lesions that danced across her body like a morbid tapestry. Ivan’s gaze grew intense, his eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and reverence as he beheld his sister’s withered form. He turned to Bobby, his voice a seductive hiss.

“Look, my boy, see the beauty in her decay. These marks of the plague are not just signs of her mortal frailty, but a testament to her devotion to our lord Satan.”

Bobby’s stomach churned, but he forced himself to gaze upon her, the dark allure of the ritual entwining with the horror of her condition. The lesions, once a source of pity and revulsion, now held a strange fascination for him. He couldn’t deny the perverse power they seemed to emanate, a power that was as much a part of his lineage as the blood that flowed through his veins.

Ivan’s words echoed in his mind, a siren’s call to accept and cherish the dark beauty that lay before him. Despite the nauseating sight, Bobby felt his arousal growing, his body responding to the warped reality that was his new normal. This was his family’s legacy, a twisted tapestry of love, disease, and the divine, and he knew that he would soon be expected to play his part in this macabre dance of devotion.

Ivan’s hand moved with a disturbing grace as he plunged the syringe into the soft flesh of Rebecca’s arm, the crimson liquid filling the chamber with a sickening gurgle. The sight was both mesmerizing and repulsive, and Bobby felt his heart hammering in his chest as the reality of his family’s depravity grew clearer. His grandfather held the syringe aloft, the blood shimmering in the candlelight like a twisted elixir of life.

“This,” Ivan said, his voice thick with reverence, “Is the essence of our power, Bobby. The disease that ravages our bodies is a gift from Satan himself, allowing us to perform the sacred rites that grant us immortality. Without this,” he continued, gesturing to the blood-filled syringe, “Our bond would be nothing but a twisted mockery of love, and our legacy would be lost to the sands of time.”

Rebecca’s eyes, though weak, held a fierce determination as she offered her arm to Ivan, her sacrifice a testament to her unwavering faith in the dark lord. The room was suffused with a palpable energy, a heady mix of fear, excitement, and the anticipation of the unspeakable acts to come. Bobby watched, torn between the urge to run and the seductive pull of the power that lay before him, a power born from the very essence of their damned lineage.

With a fervent look in his eyes, Ivan took the syringe filled with Rebecca’s tainted blood and plunged it into his own arm without hesitation. He squeezed the plunger, watching the dark fluid disappear into his veins as if it were a sacred communion. The room was silent except for the hiss of his breath and the quiet gurgle of the plague-ridden blood passing from one body to the next.

Ivan then gently guided the syringe back into the soft, diseased flesh of Rebecca’s arm, the needle sliding in with an ease that spoke of a disturbingly intimate familiarity. He drew back the plunger, filling the chamber with the thick, dark liquid that was the essence of their shared curse. Turning to Bobby, his expression was a mix of pride and expectation, the candlelight playing across his features, painting a picture of a man who had dedicated his life to the service of the Dark Lord.

“Now, Bobby,” he instructed, his voice low and resonant, “Offer your arm to me. Join us in this sacred bond. Let the power of our family’s legacy flow through your veins and fortify you.”

Bobby’s heart raced as he tentatively extended his arm, his eyes never leaving the syringe that held the key to his transformation.

Rebecca’s eyes glinted with mischief as she noticed Bobby’s involuntary arousal, a side effect of the dark power coursing through his body.

“Hold, Ivan,” she croaked, her voice a whisper of what it once was, “Let the boy revel in the beauty of our union.”

She shuffled closer to Bobby, her skeletal hands reaching out to grasp the fabric of his shirt. With surprising strength, she began to strip him, her eyes lingering on the bio-hazard tattoo that marked him as one of their own. The candlelight played over his skin as the garments fell away, revealing his youthful form to the room. His erection grew more prominent, a silent testament to the power that bound them all.

“Look at him,” she rasped, a twisted smile playing on her lips, “Our legacy lives on, strong and vital.”

Ivan stepped back, watching the scene unfold with an expression that was equal parts hunger and pride. The room was thick with a tension that was not entirely unpleasant, the air crackling with the anticipation of the ritual that was about to take place.

Rebecca, her body a living canvas of disease, knelt behind Bobby with a surprising grace, her trembling hands spreading his ass cheeks apart. The room was a tableau of depravity as the candlelight danced over their exposed flesh. Her eyes, though weak, gleamed with a perverse hunger that matched the eager expression on Ivan’s face. Bobby felt a shiver of excitement mingled with fear as he looked over his shoulder to see his grandmother leaning in closer, her breath hot and ragged. Ivan, now fully naked, approached Bobby from the front, his own arousal evident as he gazed upon the boy’s young, tainted form.

Ivan stepped forward, his once robust body now a mere shadow of its former self, his erect 13-inch cock standing tall and proud, a testament to the unnatural power that surged through his veins. He offered it to Bobby, his hand guiding the boy’s head towards his groin. Bobby’s eyes widened, but the dark thrill of the moment overrode his fear as he parted his lips and took Ivan’s cock into his mouth.

The taste was strange, yet familiar, a blend of musk and the metallic tang of his own disease-ridden blood. Ivan’s breathing grew heavier as Bobby eagerly sucked and licked, his grandfather’s hand gently cupping the back of his head, urging him to take more.

Meanwhile, Rebecca had moved behind Bobby, her tongue tracing the outline of his tight, virgin asshole, her mouth watering with the anticipation of what was to come. She could feel the power of the ritual building within her, the dark energy that would soon be passed on to her grandson, sealing his fate as the next in their unholy lineage. As Bobby’s cheeks hollowed with his efforts, Ivan’s cock grew harder, the veins pulsing with the corrupted life force that would soon be shared.

Rebecca’s hand slid down to her own sex, her fingers probing her slick folds, the diseased fluids coating them as she began to fist herself with a fervor that belied her weakened state. The sight of her grandson’s innocence being claimed by the Dark Lord’s embrace was intoxicating, fueling her own depraved desires. She worked her hand in and out, each thrust bringing forth a fresh wave of slime that coated her fingers, a vile lubricant for the unspeakable act that was to come.

The room was alive with the sounds of their perverse worship – the wet sucking of Bobby’s mouth, the slick squelch of Rebecca’s hand, and the heavy breathing of Ivan as he watched his sister prepare their offering. The air was thick with the scent of disease and lust, a potent incense that seemed to summon the very demons they served. Bobby’s body was now a living altar, his youth and vitality about to be sacrificed to the dark gods in the most profane way imaginable.

Ivan’s grip tightened on Bobby’s shoulders as he flipped him onto the table, the wooden surface cold against the boy’s back. With a grim determination, he positioned his engorged member at the entrance to Bobby’s tight, unblemished asshole, the head glistening with pre-cum.

Meanwhile, Rebecca’s trembling hands searched for a vein in Bobby’s arm, her eyes alight with the dark euphoria of the impending act. The room was a symphony of depraved sounds —  the wet smack of Ivan’s cock against Bobby’s skin, the rustle of Rebecca’s withered body as she leaned in closer, and the desperate gasps for air that escaped Bobby’s mouth around the thick shaft filling it.

With a final, deep breath, Ivan pushed forward, penetrating Bobby with a single, swift motion that elicited a muffled cry of pain and pleasure. At the same moment, Rebecca found the vein she sought, and with a deft twist, she plunged the needle into Bobby’s arm. The tainted blood, a twisted testament to their family’s pact, spurted forth, mingling with the precum that leaked from Ivan’s cock and lubricating the unnatural union. The boy’s body convulsed as the toxic cocktail of fluids invaded his system, his own disease-ridden blood mixing with the dark essence of their legacy. The ritual had begun, and there was no turning back.

The present day.

The candlelight flickered across the walls of the dimly lit room, casting eerie shadows that danced with the heavy, anticipatory silence. On the makeshift deathbed, Rebecca lay, her once vibrant skin now a sickly pallor, her breaths shallow and labored. Her eyes, though sunken, gleamed with a fierce, almost triumphant light.

The air was thick with the scent of impending transformation, a heady mix of disease and dark magic. Sindy, her fourteen-year-old granddaughter, stood at the foot of the bed, her own body ripe with the promise of fertility, her young breasts swollen and her abdomen distended slightly from the life growing within her.

Despite her youth, Sindy had been initiated into the twisted rites of their family’s worship, and she knew that her time had come to play her part in the dark saga that was their inheritance. Bobby felt his heart race as he watched Sindy, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she too bore the same bio-hazard tattoo and the same curse.

Their mother, Mary, held Rebecca’s hand, her own eyes filled with a quiet resignation and a hint of pride at the thought of her son continuing the family’s legacy. Robert, Bobby’s father, his own body a testament to the ravages of the disease, stood solemnly by the window, his gaze lost in the inky night outside.

Wendy, Pete’s mother, her belly swollen with her nephew Bobby’s child, looked on with a strange mix of revulsion and fascination, her own hand resting protectively on her unborn baby’s bulge. Her expression was a silent testament to the horror and the allure of the life she had chosen, the knowledge that she too would soon bear the fruits of their dark union.

John, his face a stoic mask, gripped Wendy’s hand tightly, his eyes never leaving the scene before them. Despite the fear and disgust that roiled in his stomach, he knew that this was their fate, a destiny woven into the very fabric of their beings.

The room was a tableau of decay and rebirth, the candles casting an unholy glow on their diseased flesh, each breath a silent chant to the dark lord they served. The family gathered, bound by blood and blasphemy, ready to witness and participate in the next chapter of their twisted story. The air was electric with the anticipation of the unspeakable ritual that would soon unfold, the culmination of their perverse pact with the forces of hell.

The room grew even more tense as everyone began to strip, revealing the various stages of their AIDS-ravaged bodies. Ivan, his muscles still strong despite his illness, carefully lifted Rebecca from the bed, supporting her under her arms. Robert and John, Pete’s father, each took a leg, their grips firm yet gentle, and together they carried her to the center of the room where the pentagram lay drawn in thick, black ink.

The candles cast an eerie glow over the ancient symbol, the flickering light playing off their skin in a dance of shadows. They placed her over the small padded bench in the pentagram’s center, her legs spread wide to expose her ravaged orifices. The sight of her diseased genitals, a stark reminder of their shared fate, filled Bobby with a mix of horror and a strange, twisted fascination.

Sindy and Mary stood to either side, their own naked forms a testament to the family’s enduring devotion to the dark arts. The air grew thick with the stench of decay and the sweet scent of the candles, a potent incense that seemed to call forth the very demons they had invited into their lives. Bobby’s erection grew painfully hard as he watched his relatives arrange his grandmother’s body, the dark power of the ritual pulsing through his veins, demanding that he embrace his role in this macabre ceremony.

The adults’ bodies, once robust and vibrant, were now a canvas of lesions and wasted muscle, a visual symphony of the plague’s destructive path. Yet, as they positioned Rebecca for the final act, their expressions were not of sorrow or despair, but of a twisted anticipation for the power they were about to unleash. The room was alive with the whispers of their ancestors, their perverted love and faith in Satan echoing through the generations. Bobby knew that he was about to experience a transformation that would forever seal his fate as the chosen one, a vessel for the dark lord’s will.

With trembling hands, Beth, the youngest and most innocent looking of the three sisters, picked up the ancient sacrificial dagger that lay gleaming in the candlelight. Her eyes shone with a mix of fear and determination as she held the blade to her palm. With a swift motion, she sliced it open, drawing a crimson line of blood that trickled down her arm.

The room grew quiet, the only sound the soft hiss of the blade cutting through flesh. She offered the dagger to Sindy, who took it with a solemn nod, her expression a mirror of the grim resolve etched on Beth’s face. One by one, the women in the room — Sindy, Mary, and even the heavily pregnant Wendy — each took the dagger, cutting into their own palms and allowing their tainted blood to mingle with the others.

The act was a silent pledge, a vow of unity and a declaration of their willingness to partake in the dark rites that would soon unfold. As they handed the dagger around, the blood grew thick, coating the blade in a gruesome sheen that seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own. Each drop that fell to the floor was a silent invocation, a call to the dark forces they sought to placate and empower.

The air grew thick with the scent of iron and disease, a potent reminder of the pact that bound them all. Bobby watched, his own excitement and terror building, as the women completed their preparations, their hands now sticky with the lifeblood that linked them in this twisted web of incest and demonic worship. The stage was set for the final act, the culmination of their unholy union, and he knew that there would be no turning back.

The room was alive with the sound of hushed whispers and the smell of coppery blood as the women took their positions around the sacrificial bench. Wendy, her own pregnant belly a grim reminder of the consequences of their actions, inserted her hand into Rebecca’s withered vagina, her eyes never leaving Bobby’s. Mary followed suit, her hand disappearing into the gaping maw of her mother’s disease-riddled orifice, her face a mask of determination.

Sindy and Beth, the youngest of the siblings, approached their grandmother’s asshole, their own blood-slicked hands trembling as they pushed inside her, the wet squelch echoing through the tense silence. Bobby felt his stomach lurch, but the power of the ritual was too great to resist. He dropped to his knees before Ivan, his mouth watering with a mix of fear and lust as he took his grandfather’s thick, pulsing cock into his mouth.

The taste of the blood was almost metallic, the dark energy coursing through him as he eagerly swallowed Ivan’s length. Meanwhile, John and Robert, Pete’s father, watched with a mix of horror and fascination as their son and daughters embraced their foul destiny.

The room was a tableau of depravity and worship, a twisted testament to the unholy pact they had made with the forces of hell. And as Bobby’s cheeks hollowed with each deep, greedy suck, he felt the power of the dark lord surging through him, transforming him into a creature of shadow and disease, the chosen one to carry on their family’s legacy of sin and corruption.

The room was alive with the sounds of wet, tortured flesh and the desperate gasps of those who served the dark lord. Bobby’s head bobbed up and down on Ivan’s cock, his eyes glazed over with the power of the ritual. Meanwhile, the women’s hands moved in a synchronized, feverish rhythm inside Rebecca’s body, the sickening sounds of their fisting echoing through the room.

Suddenly, Rebecca’s body convulsed, her back arching off the bench as the most intense orgasm of her life ripped through her withered form. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a keening wail of pleasure and pain tore from her throat, the sound a siren’s call to the demonic forces that watched over their twisted union.

Her fluids, a noxious stew of disease and dark magic, spurted from her openings, mixing with the blood of her daughters and granddaughters. The women’s hands were coated in the vile substance, a farewell gift from their beloved matriarch, a symbol of the unbreakable bond they shared through blood and depravity. The energy in the room reached a crescendo, the air crackling with the power of their shared climax, and as their hands withdrew, the lesions on Rebecca’s body grew more pronounced, the disease consuming her from the inside out.

Sindy, her own youthful body trembling with excitement and fear, positioned herself between Rebecca’s frail legs, her face a picture of concentration as she lowered herself onto the bench. Bobby, his eyes alight with the dark power of the ritual, stepped up behind her, his erection a testament to the corrupted love that pulsed through his veins.

With a sense of urgency driven by the dark force that had overtaken him, he aligned his engorged cock with Sindy’s stretched cunt, Meanwhile, Mary and Wendy, their expressions a mix of revulsion and determination, each inserted their own blood-covered fingers into Rebecca’s vagina and anus, their movements deliberate and methodical, pushing the boundaries of their own humanity.

The room was a tableau of perversion, the candlelight playing over their diseased, intertwined bodies, each action a silent declaration of their undying devotion to the dark lord. The power of the ritual grew stronger with every thrust, the very air seeming to vibrate with the anticipation of the unspeakable act that would soon be complete. The family’s legacy of incest, disease, and worship was about to be reborn, the ultimate expression of their love and fealty to the demonic forces that had claimed them.

Beth, her eyes wild with the power of the dark rites, raised the crimson-stained dagger high above her head, the candlelight glinting off its wickedly sharp blade. With a swift, precise movement, she brought it down, slicing through the air and into the soft, yielding flesh of Rebecca’s cunt.

The sound of the blade cutting through the diseased tissue was sickeningly wet, a macabre counterpoint to the rhythmic grunts of the incestuous union happening before her. Sindy’s own excitement was palpable as she felt the tip of Bobby’s erection probing at her opening, the head of his cock parting her folds as he pushed into her with a ferocity driven by the dark forces that had taken hold of them all.

Meanwhile, the dagger’s blade plunged deeper, the skin around Rebecca’s anus giving way with a final, wet pop. The women’s collective gasp filled the room as the two orifices became one gaping maw, a foul union of blood and sex. Sindy’s head was pushed down by an unseen force, her face disappearing into the bloody abyss as Bobby’s thrusts grew more erratic, his own climax approaching.

The men took their cue, their own desperate need to claim their place in the ritual driving them forward. With a coordinated effort, they thrust Rebecca’s limp body onto Sindy’s head, her ravaged orifices now a horrific conduit for their depraved worship. Bobby’s hips bucked wildly as he pounded into his sister, her muffled screams of pain and pleasure resonating through the room.

The air grew thick with the stench of blood and disease, the candles flickering erratically as if in time with the obscene rhythm of their incestuous rite. As Bobby’s orgasm approached, his seed boiling within him, ready to pass on the tainted legacy, he felt a surge of power unlike anything he’d ever known.

With one final, primal grunt, he erupted deep inside Sindy, filling her with the dark essence that was both a curse and a gift. At the peak of their union, as Bobby’s semen painted the walls of Sindy’s womb with the promise of a new, twisted life, Beth stepped forward, her grip firm on the sacrificial dagger.

“Bye, bye, Nana,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and excitement.

She plunged the blade into Rebecca’s heart, the sound of the steel breaking through bone and muscle a chilling finale to the unholy symphony that had played out before them. The room was bathed in an eerie red light as the candles grew brighter, the flames licking the ceiling in a fiery embrace. The air grew still, the only sound the gurgling of blood as it poured from the fatal wound, drenching the floor beneath the bench.

The dark energy in the room peaked, and for a moment, it seemed as if the very fabric of reality trembled with the force of their blasphemous act. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the room fell silent, the candles dimming back to their usual flicker. The family, bound by blood and sin, stood in awe of the power they had invoked, their hearts beating in unison with the pulse of the dark lord they had so eagerly embraced.

THE END OF CHAPTER THREE