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.

AUTHORS NOTES: Inspired by a close friend who is going off to Seminary School very shortly.

STORY CODES: Supernatural, Demonic, Satanic, Ritual Abuse, Rape, Corruption, Evil, Devil Worship, NC, Sexual Sin, Sex Demons, Young, Cross-dressing, Transgender, Transformation.

CREATED: 13.09.2021 / REVISITED: 21.10.2023

Seminary for Sissies 4


Peter’s father was a deeply religious man and he hated his twelve year son’s effeminate behavior. He had thought that discipline and prayer would be the answer — but it hadn’t had the desired effect. So he packed Peter off to St. Andrew’s Evangelical Seminary, hoping that the learning experience in an institution of God would make him a righteous boy … maybe even follow into the priesthood. Unfortunately, the St. Andrew’s Evangelical Seminary is filled with pedophile cross-dressing priests that parade as the “nuns” — these sexual predators use a three-stage process that they call “XXX” — Xpose, Xcite, and Xperience — to systematically abuse and molest them. Peter quickly discovers that he is not the only sissy in the school. In fact, all the boys are specially selected for their effeminate qualities and latent homosexual tendencies that feed the network of pedophile priests in the corridors of the Holy See. It’s a corrupted place where they will learn that their true god is not benevolent or holy — in fact, the priesthood serves the darkest of Gods and offers no excuses for their excesses in sexual depravity.


  • Peter – effeminate and bisexual (12)
  • William Gallop – Peter’s father, a staunch Christian (45)
  • Coleen Gallop – Peter’s mother (36)
  • John – An effeminate boy that Peter meets at the seminary school (12)
  • Matthew – An effeminate boy that Peter meets at the seminary school (12)
  • Mark – An effeminate boy that Peter meets at the seminary school (12)
  • Father Samuel – Effeminate priest and sexual predator who runs the St. Andrew’s Seminary School (36)
  • Sister Angelina – An effeminate cross-dressing priest who dresses as a “nun” (35)
  • Cardinal Angelo Becciu of the Vatican – supporter of the school, fat pervert (60)
  • Rhonda and Jeffrey – Mark’s parents, deeply religious (40s)
  • Stanley – Mark’s brother (13)
  • Timothy – a boy from Mark’s Sunday school (12)
  • Catherine and Ernest – Timothy’s parents (40s)
  • Miss Stella Jarvis – a small bookish woman, Mark’s Sunday school teacher (27)
  • Bishop Paulo Romeo of Firenze – part of the Fallen Ones (52)
  • Deacon Betori Giuseppe – part of the Fallen Ones (36)
  • Mother Superior Santa Maria – true hermaphrodite (28)
  • Leonardo Battista – President of the Council of Cardinals (65)


“But Lot insisted so strongly that the angels did go with him and entered his house. He prepared a meal for them, baking bread without yeast, and they ate. Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom—both young and old—surrounded the house. They called to Lot, “Where are the angels who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them.” — Genesis, chapter 9, verses 3 to 5.

Cardinal Angelo Becciu‘s trusted aides opened the double doors to his formal meeting chamber. The horny Cardinal sat regally upon his cathedra. He did not get up to welcome his audience from Firenze. Instead, he waited for their complete subservience.

The Bishop Paulo Romeo of Firenze and his small entourage, which consisted of a shapely young nun, and handsome young priest, and a small unnamed eight-year-old boy, entered and stood before the Cardinal. Paulo Romeo was a gaunt man, overly slender and skeletal in physique. He bowed his head and knelt on one knee before the cathedra. He took the Cardinal’s proffered hand and bent further, pressing his lips to his skin to kiss the Cardinal’s plump fingers. His index finger pressed against the palm of the Cardinal’s hand as he initiated the secret handshake of the “Fallen Ones”. His eyes looked up at the Cardinal.

“Your Excellency,” started the Bishop, “We thank you for your audience at such a late hour. May I introduce Mother Superior Santa Maria and Deacon Betori Giuseppe — both loyal subjects to our cause.”

Both the nun and the deacon looked very young for these senior appointments — obviously they had won the sexual favor of the Bishop, and were now enlisted in Satanic activities for the Cardinal’s plots. The young boy must be some kind of offering that he would use too.

”Welcome Mother Superior … Deacon … what news of the situation in Firenze … and your Arch Bishop?”

“We bring you joyous news, your Excellency from Firenze,” he said in a low tone.

The Cardinal looked over his head and signaled to his aides.

”Maybe … we should continue this delightful conversation in my private bath house,” said the Cardinal.


The trip to Vatican City was not a short one. Father Samuel had organized a private cabin for their six hour train ride — so that they would be guaranteed some level of privacy. They each had a small two-wheel cabin bag for the “outfits of the day”. He had said that they should all get some rest on route — as he was sure that the Cardinal would require their presence immediately upon arrival (for his perverted entertainment).

Father Samuel had sent Sister Angeline to accompany the two boys, as it was their first trip away, to keep an eye on things and to make sure the Cardinal was kept appeased.

They had drawn the cabin curtains and in the darkness, both Sister Angeline and Peter, were already napping with the rhythmic movement of the train. Mark felt tired too. He closed his eyes as he rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. He had never been happier. Though happiness was a relative term.

He thought about his immediate family. His mother, Rhonda; his father, Jeffrey; and his older brother, Stanley. They had been happy once. All of them holding hands, their heads bowed, around the dinner table while his mother said grace.

“Our father who art in heaven, we thank you for our daily bread. Bless this family. Save us from temptation and deliver us from evil. Ahem.”

”Ahem,” they chorused.

Rhonda was the matriarch of their family. A strong woman. She was the daughter of a minister — Mark’s paternal grandfather had died before he was born, but his memory and righteousness lived on through her. She constantly read passages from the Bible (especially the old testament) as a strange form of recreation; as neither Stanley nor Mark were allowed to read normal cartoons or children’s books. “The devil makes work for idle hands,” was her motto. Everything good was attributed to God’s grace. Everything bad was the devil’s doing.

It was black and white.

“Your namesake, Mark,” his mother would say, “Wrote the first of the gospels — he told the world of the power of Jesus — how he was our messiah, the Son of God and the chosen one. That is why your father and I chose to name you after him. And … You too, can do good for the world and not waste time with childish foolishness.”

And Mark genuinely tried to live up to his name’s sake. He wore a little gold crucifix around his neck. He said the Lord’s Prayer before sleep. He listened to his mother’s religious ramblings. He tried every day. He had tried to be good and be everything his mother had wanted him to be. But alas … trouble was brewing. He was ten at the time. Of course he got erections, like every little boy. It was part of nature. But it wasn’t soon before he discovered the “secret” pleasure of squeezing his little erections could bring. It wasn’t bad? He tried to tell himself. But in his heart, he knew he shouldn’t do it … God saw everything.

As he shared a room with his older brother, there was no real privacy. Even the bathroom had no lock on the door. And his mother was on a constant vigil over every aspect of their life. But Mark still found times and places to indulge in the “secret” pleasure … and within no time … squeezing lead to rubbing and rubbing lead to his first orgasm. It was a shock. Instinctively, Mark felt bad. Bad things come from the devil. But why did it feel good to do bad things? He didn’t understand it.

In Sunday school at the age of eleven he began to realize his attraction to other boys — especially a young boy called Timothy. Timothy was the same age as Mark. He had light sandy-brown hair, freckles, blue eyes and was thin as a matchstick. Mark thought Timothy was really cute. He liked the way the boy smelt. He liked to sit next to him in class, pretending to pay attention to the teacher and all the time, was enjoying how their bare legs would bump against each other – their bumping seemed to become more and more like pressing against one another. But neither said anything to the other. But neither pulled away either. In Mark’s head, it was like a secret ritual between them.

This was a discovery that would lead to many early dilemmas for Mark. He really liked Timothy. He liked him so much he couldn’t wait to see him every Sunday. But he knew that homosexuality was bad. Forbidden by God. Homosexuality was the devil’s work.

“In Mark, chapter 1, verses 12 to 13, Satan tempted Jesus in the wilderness for forty days and forty nights,” said Miss Jarvis, the Sunday school teacher as she used a slideshow to depict the biblical scenes that showed Satan as a mischievous character with a wicked grin, forked tail and horns.

Maybe it was Satan that was tempting him with Timothy. Satan wanted Mark’s soul. Isn’t that how it worked? And Mark wanted to touch Timothy desperately. In fact, it was Timothy that he thought about while he touched himself discreetly under the bedclothes at night when the lights were out. He would listen to his brother’s breathing. Waiting for his brother to fall asleep before he would masturbate. He wondered what it would be like to touch Timothy’s stiff little cock. He imagined touching Timothy’s bare bottom. To kiss his brown anus and to lick his sweet balls. It was the thought that made him ejaculate. Mark liked to eat his own cum and it helped to avoid detection … Yes, he wanted Timothy to ejaculate in his mouth too.

After Sunday school classes, before their mother’s came to claim them, there was always about thirty minutes of play. Mark and Timothy would play fighting games in the field behind the church refectory, often wrestling one another. Unsupervised it was the opportunity for them to be alone in the overgrown grass; and for Mark, it was an opportunity to be even closer to Timothy. They both called each other stupid names and laughed hysterically as they gripped each other in a battle of strengths — trying to pull the other off balance — and then falling to the ground on top of one another. This was when Mark got a boner. Timothy also had a boner and as they rolled together in a “mock” fight — their hard little erections accidentally rubbed against each other. Mark froze. Timothy also froze. But as they realized that neither pulled away, they seemed to understand their secret attraction to one another.

For the longest time they lay there together. Neither really moving. Their hard little cocks pressed against one another. Mark listened to Timothy’s breathing. He wanted to kiss his mouth. He wanted to suck his cock. He wanted Timothy to masturbate him. But he was scared and it was time to go … their mothers would be arriving anytime soon. They both got up and grinned at each other.

Mark couldn’t wait for Sunday school. They predictably sat next to each other. Mark was hard immediately. They pressed their bare legs together knowingly. It felt different. This time neither of them were afraid of what was happening. As soon as class finished, both of them knowingly slipped away to the field filled with long grass. Timothy said nothing. He laid down and looked at Mark longingly. Mark could see the tenting in his shorts and he made sure that Timothy could see the tell-tale bulge in his pants.

Mark lay on top of him, pressing their erections together purposefully. They both were breathing heavily as they deliberately ground against each other. Frotting together for the first time. Mark leaned up on his arms pressing their pelvises so they rubbed harder and harder against one another. Mark lent forward and as his mouth closed around Timothy’s and they began to kiss open mouthed. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths with a passion that said that both had been waiting for this moment for the longest time.

Mark broke their kiss and sat back on his calves. His hands were shaking as he undid Timothy’s fly. Timothy sat up on his elbows and watched as Mark fished Timothy’s cock from inside his shorts. And without a word took it into his mouth — sucking Timothy’s cock gently between his lips — as the boy moaned unabated. Mark’s fingers reached into his own pants and he began to masturbate himself as he sucked Timothy down to the root. Timothy gripped his shoulders firmly as he wildly fucked his face … groaning as he spasmed and shot his watery load into Mark’s eager mouth. Timothy’s body went stiff and then shook with orgasm. Mark swallowed Timothy’s load. It tasted so sweet and delicious.

It was then that all hell broke loose.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

It was Miss Jarvis. Standing over them, they were both caught red-handed.

“Get up. Both of you,” she sounded very pissed.

Mark and Timothy scrabbled to get up. Timothy pulled his pants up to hide his wet erection. There wasn’t much to say. She’d seen it all. Everything. Mark sucking Timothy’s cock. Mark masturbating. Timothy ejaculated into Mark’s mouth.


Mark could taste the bitterness of the soap that Miss Jarvis had used to scrub his mouth. She called them “disgusting little perverts” and looked scorningly upon them both.

Rhonda and Miss Jarvis talked for the longest time. They frequently looked back over their shoulders at Mark and Timothy. Timothy’s mother, Catherine, was there too. Catherine was not happy either. Both mothers looked deeply embarrassed by their child’s unforgivable behavior. They shook their heads and talked in low tones together. The two boys just stood there with their heads bowed. They were both crying. What else could they do? There was no hiding about the true nature of their hideous crime. Homosexuality was a sin.

They would be banned from coming to Sunday school. They would never see each other again. And when Mark got home, his father gave him the leather belt. His tender young buttocks stung from the punishment. He was sent to bed, with no supper.

His mother was red-faced and furious. Embarrassed by her son’s wickedness. Where had she gone wrong? What evil had overcome these children? A demon infestation most likely. Evil was everywhere. Why hadn’t they seen the signs? She had been too lenient, most likely. As they say … “Spare the rod and spoil the child”. From now on, there will be punishment galore.

“Young man,” said Rhonda, “There are rules and there are rules. Look at the crucifix.” Mark looked up at the crucifix on the wall of their living room. “You think God doesn’t know what you have done? Do you think that he doesn’t see the disgusting things you do? … The wicked things you think?”

Rhonda stood with her arms folded. Her face was flushed. The little veins in her forehead bulged and sweat poured from her brow. Her hair was a wild mess. Her eyes were wild with abject anger.

“Hhhmmm … I spoke to the priest,” interjected her husband Jeffrey, “He says that a religious intervention is the only cure for … for … their sins of the flesh.”

”Call it what it is Jeffrey,” shouted Rhonda, “Homosexuality. Our son. Our very own son. How shameful. Perversions of the soul. You know what you have done? Look at me when I am talking to you, boy!”

Mark’s eyes were blurred with tears. He had fallen to the lowest of lows. God knew his sins. They all knew his “secret” … he would go to hell … and burn in the fires for eternity. There was no redemption for what he’d allowed to happen. He wandered about poor Timothy. He was probably going through the same torturous episode, right at that very moment. Mark hated himself. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him … anything to get away from his parents and the way that the both of them looked upon him (as the spawn of the Devil).

“Father Samuel is the priest in charge at St. Andrew’s Seminary,” stated his mother, “It’s an evangelical school where they take care of homosexual miscreants. Father Joseph from the vicarage, said that he will get in contact with him about the problem. He said that they had a treatment program called “triple x” or something like that … where they get faggot children to repent and be cured.”

”Don’t use that term dear,” replied Mark’s father.

”What, ‘faggot’? But that’s what he is Jeffrey,” rebuffed Rhonda in an indignant tone, “He’s a screaming little faggot! A sodomite! In the olden days we used to castrate them. Cut their sinning balls right off. That would kill them or cure them.”

“Nobody is going to cut anyone’s balls off,” said Jeffrey.

“Not until I have spoken to this Father Samuel,” responded Rhonda as she slapped Mark viciously round the back of his head, “You’ve brought our family great shame boy. You’re no longer any son of mine. Now all that’s left is to save your mortal soul … if that’s even possible.”


Rhonda listened intently as the priest spoke.

“Rhonda … May I call you Rhonda,” asked Father Samuel.

She nodded.

“You are doing the right thing. We have caught it at the right time. St. Andrew’s Evangelical Seminary is one of a kind. We take cases like yours frequently and our results are proven. One hundred percent. You will not regret your decision.”

”But what’s involved?” asked Jeffrey.

He seemed more hesitant than his determined wife.

”There are three distinct stages in our Triple-X process — Xpose, Xcite and Xperience — Xpose is to firstly make them aware of their sinfulness — this is the start of their journey of discovering the truth. Then, through Xcite, we get them to understand the difference between right and wrong; between good and evil. Then and only then … the intervention, Xperience, can truly begin. They will see ‘the way’. They will learn ‘the way’. They will become ‘the way’.”

“The way,” mumbled Jeffrey, his head nodding affirmatively to everything that the priest had said.

“Thank Christ we found you, Father Samuel,” said Rhonda, “When does he start?”

”Now,” motioned Father Samuel, holding up some papers, “Today. Sign the papers and I will take him to St. Andrew’s immediately.”

Rhonda and Jeffrey signed all the paperwork without another word. And with that, Mark and the priest left.



“We know that the law is good if one uses it properly. We also know that the law is made not for the righteous but for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers, for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality, for slave traders and liars and perjurers.” 1 Timothy, chapter 8, verses 8 to 10.

So here was Mark, on his way to Vatican City. The center of the religious world. How had he been affected by the Triple-X program at St. Andrew’s? Cured? Absolutely not. Mark smiled to himself. He hated his parents. He wondered about Timothy. He sighed. He had asked Father Samuel about him. If his parents had come forward to St. Andrew’s, as his parents had. But the priest had said that they hadn’t heard anything about Timothy … but he added that he would look into it. That had made Mark feel a lot better.

The train carriage rattled loudly.

Mark’s hands slipped under the travel blanket that covered Peter and himself. His fingers found Peter’s limp cock and fiddled idly with the foreskin until it stiffened and became slightly moist against his palm. Three inches long and hard as a nail. Mark wanted to pull back the blanket, close his lips around it and suck it in his eager mouth. But instead he gently masturbated his lover and cupped Peter’s testicles. He heard young Peter moan in sleepy pleasure. Hail Satan, thought Mark. Fuck his mother and father. Fuck God. Fuck Jesus. Fuck it all.


The Cardinal’s private bathhouse was all underground and consisted of a series of inter-joined rooms hidden away from prying eyes. The main bathhouse had a sunken pool large enough for a dozen naked guest with an attached steam room, changing rooms and toilets. Obscured from plain sight, there was a more secretive room with a padded floor, filled with the trappings of Satanic worship, that the Cardinal used for his deviant sex parties.

On this occasion, the Cardinal was dressed in a pure white dressing gown, as were the rest of Bishop Paulo’s perverted party. The overweight man lounged upon a white marble chair. He indicated the others could sit upon low stools that made them look subservient before him.

“Be seated,” he said confident of their secrecy, “We are alone. You may talk openly now,” replied the Cardinal.

The Cardinal was sweating in the heat of the steamy bath house. It began to turn the delicate fabric of his robe, translucent as his persistent erection tented the front of his gown.

”Hail Satan. Your Excellency. With the Archbishop removed, as you wanted, the “Fallen Ones’ are now in control of our city.”

”And how did this good fortune befall us so soon, Paulo?” Asked the Cardinal, as he eyed the pert breasts of the nun that were now clearly visible through the damp fabric of her gown. She was yet to remove her wimple, that remained the last reminder of her commitment to a failed God.

“It was most ironic, your Excellency,” answered the excited Bishop Paulo, “The foolish Archbishop came to me. He trusted me. He claimed that there were certain evil elements within the hierarchy of the Blessed Firenze Church. He talked specifically about the rumors of Satanism, black magic, occult pedophilia and even human sacrifices — right beneath the eyes of his beloved administration — so he appointed me as the ‘champion’ to root the devil worshipers out.

He sought me to expose them all and bring them to justice, restoring his version of sanity and dignity to his failing church. Of course, I was very diligent, your Excellency. I protected the real sinners and perverts; and only accused all those that opposed the ‘Fallen Ones’ … I appointed a ‘witch hunt’ and expelled all those that were not corrupt as us and promoted the followers of the Black Pope.”

“Impressive. This is indeed good news.”

Excited to hear the news, the Cardinal could not help but to begin to touch himself through his gown.

”There is more, your Excellency,” hastened the Bishop, his eagerness to please the evil Cardinal was obvious.”

”Go on,” asked the Cardinal.

“That was over a month ago. Since then, the Archbishop met with an unfortunate mishap … a mystery illness … a tragedy that’s left him completely bedridden. And in his absence, I assumed complete and unquestionable power over Firenze. We have been celebrating with perverted orgies and human sacrifices every night! Hail Satan!”

“Hail Satan! Come now — pay homage and show me your fealty.” Said the horny Cardinal, opening his gown.

The Bishop grinned as he let his thin gown fall from his shoulders so that he stood naked and fully erect before the Cardinal.

“Hail Satan!” responded the Bishop.

He knelt before the seated Cardinal, taking the head of the Cardinal’s large cock into his mouth. The deacon and nun followed — each orally copulating with the obese man. The deacon held the young boy firmly by the shoulders as the young boy watched in dismay — not truly understanding the nature of what was happening around him. The Cardinal looked upon the naked nun. She was not female or male. A true hermaphrodite, whose cock stood upright to attention, above her glistening cunt hole.

Yes, thought the evil Cardinal. If it can work in Firenze, it could work in the Vatican. He would need to immediately sow the seeds — embarrass and compromise his superior — Leonardo Battista, the President of the Council of Cardinal. This would open the door for him to succeed to his office; and then get the Supreme Pontiff to appoint him to exercise his own little “witch hunt”. Such a devious scheme. Such a plan could take years? No, he immediately thought — there was a way to expedite things — and without the President … nobody else would stand in the way of his ascendance.


Sister Angelina and the two boys were met at Stazione Vaticana by one of the many aides of Cardinal Angelo Becciu. They were escorted away from the prying eyes of the throngs of Vatican tourists, towards the Residence of the Arch-Priest close to the Southern Wall of Vatican City.

Father Samuel had made sure that the boys dressed appropriately as young novice nuns — their sweet effeminate faces looked perfectly angelic in their disguise — nobody would have suspected their true perverted sissy nature.

The party of three were brought to a private area of the Residence that was reserved for “special guests” of the Cardinal and told to wait for an audience with his Excellency. Usually the aids would remain for such meetings, but today they were instructed otherwise — leaving young novices and their escort, Sister Angelina, in the plush lounge to themselves.

They didn’t have to wait long. The double doors opened and the Cardinal marched in. The Cardinal looked at Mark and Peter dressed as young novice nuns. He smiled approvingly.

“Ah, Sister Angelina, welcome to the Vatican. There has been a small change of plan,” said the Cardinal once they were alone, “I have an assignment for our two novice nuns here — an assignment that is very important to me. An important assignment to our satanic agenda. An assignment that must not fail … Do we understand each other?”

Sister Angelina nodded respectfully.

”Yes your Excellency. We are all here to serve Satan.”

“Excellent my dear. I will fill you in with all the details. And then you must prepare these sweet young things … to do my secret bidding.”


Leonardo Battista, the President of the Council of Cardinals, was frustrated. He paced up and down along the stone walkway that looked directly onto the St Peter’s Square.

He cursed as he walked. Then looked around to make sure that nobody was in earshot as he let out a long chain of blasphemous words to purge his soul of these “unholy” thoughts.

“God damn it! Fuck! God fucking Almighty!”

A tall gaunt man, Leo had always been true to the Word of God in all matters — his reputation beyond reproach — but now? A sinful slip? No, this was much worse than that. What was he going to do? What if anyone found out? He hadn’t seen it coming?

He’d always been so careful, hiding his wayward sexual desires. He could have never managed to reach the height of his career in the Vatican, if the truth had been known. And up until now, he had never allowed himself to slip, unlike some of his predecessors.

He’d never actually allowed himself to indulge in anything remotely similar — he had always been self-censoring and self-punishing. And when wayward thoughts had entered his mind (and his loins) he had flagellated himself, almost to the point of unconsciousness with his leather knotted whip.

Was this just a momentary slip of judgment? Maybe. But he couldn’t deign the power of arousal he had felt seeing the two young nymphets — the beautiful effeminate boys in the heat of a sexual embrace.

He had watched. Voyeuristic — mesmerized by their libidos — had the pyre of secret passion been ignited; or was it the softness of the warm candlelight that licked orange and crimson flames, across their delicious young bodies, as they both wriggled and roughly frotted against each other in the most bazaar, but exquisite way.

Their depraved eagerness to sin together had been so obvious. How old were they? Certainly, no older than eleven or twelve? So young and tender. So vestal — though they both seemed charged with a taboo electricity that sparked between them as they were knowing in these devilish games. Their carnality had reached out to him … seizing him … captivating him … drawing him closer and closer … like blackened fingers to soil his mortal soul.

He wanted to turn away, but his eyes were locked. He had wanted to run, but his feet would not carry him. He wanted to scream, but his throat was dry as parchment. All he could do was dance to their erotic tune. Passion welled up and salacious desire filled his mind. Oh, to press his engorged cock against their lithe bodies. He wanted to penetrate both of them. To sodomize them … he knew that this was unnatural, unclean and unholy … but Leo could not undo the queer feelings that made his sixty-five year old body tremble, like an jittery teenager.

Then everything seemed to burn around him — as if he had triggered the very fires of Hell itself. Consuming. Devouring. Cannibalistic. Heat. Sweat. More heat. More sweat. His cock throbbed with an urgency that would not be denied. He could smell the stench of his unwanted arousal. He was completely naked. Touching himself in a way that he’d known as ungodly. This was an unforgivable sin. Wicked thoughts manifested in his pious mind poisoning him with wanton lust for the two little boys — he had to have them — to smell them, to taste them, to consume them.

His years of pent-up feelings seemed to overflow — like a boiling cesspool or a foaming sewer. The overwhelming sinfulness engulfed him, making his penis beyond turgid, leaking a copious flood of creamy precum.

The boys seemed to know. They looked at him. They saw his unspeakable lust. The lust that they had inspired. For Leo, there was no turning back. He was between them. The three of them. Together. They stroked his sweating flesh. They feed his lust. They both took turns in kissing his cock and lapped at his flowing precum. The pleasure was just so intensified.

“AAaargggggghhhhh …” Leo groaned unabated.

He knew it was the Devil’s pleasure. His hands roughly grabbed the hair of one of the boy’s as he thrust his sex spear harder and faster into the back of his tight little throat.

“Aarrghhhhhhh … Suck me! … Suck me! …. Suck me!” He groaned over and over.

Speaking the words alone was a blasphemous thing. But he was beyond redemption now.

Hell inspired, he found himself laying on top of one of the boys. The nubile young one wriggled beneath Leo’s adult weight. Leo’s cock was buried, balls-deep, into the young sissy’s anus. Oh God! It felt so tight. Like a vice, it held his overstimulated cock-flesh. He moved back and forth. Gaining momentum as the pleasure intensified even more. Every nerve in his mind was on fire. Every sinew in his body screamed for sexual release.

Would he tear the boy’s internals? Would he do the young children permanent damage? Should he stop thrusting so eagerly in anticipation of the oncoming orgasm? Hell no! He no longer cared about anything. His orgasm was everything. His polluted mind could only just handle the lustfulness and pervertedness he was experiencing.


It was in the early hours of the next day that Mark and Peter returned to Sister Angelia. They found the Cardinal there waiting with her. He stood up and both the boys knelt before him and kissed his proffered hand (as they had been instructed by Sister Angelina).

“You have done well. Both of you,” the Cardinal smiled, “See to it that they are well rewarded,” he added, turning to Sister Angelina.

“Of course, your Excellency,” she responded, standing respectfully at his side.

“This is a triumph for us all,” he continued, “You must return to St. Andrew’s on the first train in the morning. You must never speak of this deed to anyone. It is our secret. You understand?”

The boys nodded but lacked an understanding of the gravity of the situation. They were loose ends in this scenario. It had crossed the mind of the wicked Cardinal, to do away with them both. A simple poisoning maybe. But, on reflection, he may have further need of the Seminary’s support. They still may be of use.

“Sister Angelina,” he turned his attention to the sissy nun, “Walk with me. Let the boys relax for a while. We need to talk.”

Mark and Peter were exhausted from their experience. They both lay down together on one of the big comfortable couches and were asleep in no time.



“Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones. In the same way, the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed shameful acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their error. …” — Romans, chapter 1, verses 26 to 27.

Father Samuel and Peter’s mother, Coleen, arrived at the small refectory attached to the chapel.

The priest had received a call from a Sunday school teacher, Miss Stella Jarvis, about one of the children in her religious education class, a boy called Timothy. Timothy’s parents, Catherine and Ernst had heard about Mark’s parents’ discussion to put their son into St. Andrew’s; and though they definitely did not want the two boys ever being brought into contact with each other again — for obvious reasons — they were curious to know more about what the school could do to help the cure their wayward son.

“Father Samuel?” asked Miss Jarvis, dressed in one of light pink twin sets.

The bookish young teacher looked awkward and a little nervous at their meeting. Maybe she was just uncomfortable with the whole situation or maybe just unsure of what to expect?

“Miss Jarvis, yes, I’m Father Samuel,” said Father Samuel taking hold of the teacher’s small hand warmly, “And this Coleen Gallop. She’s the mother of one of our most promising young students.”

”Welcome, Coleen,” replied the jittery Miss Jarvis, “Thank you … both of you, for joining me today … please call me Stella … Timothy’s parents, Catherine and Ernst will be here in about an hour or so. I know you both have traveled a long way to be here, can I offer you some refreshment?”

“Thank you. That would be nice,” said Coleen.

Father Samuel recognized the glimmer in Coleen’s eyes. The young mother had come along way since her inoculation into devil worship and perverted sex with her own son … incest was a supreme demonic offering … and her sexual activities with the countess other young horny boys of St. Andrew’s. Her true bisexual nature lead her to be attracted to this bookish woman … The priest could see Coleen’s mind already thinking about ways to seduce her … to recruiting her to the dark side.

“Tell us Stella about the situation … and how we can help.” Asked the priest.

“Well, it’s embarrassing to say … but two of my young students … boys … Timothy and Mark … well … I caught them in the rear of the refectory after classes … they … were engaged in faggot-like behavior.”

“Please don’t feel embarrassed by what you saw,” reassured the priest, “We need to know all the details. Coleen’s son was caught masturbating in her most intimate undergarments.”

Coleen pretended to be embarrassed by the fact.

”It’s shamefully true,” added Coleen.

”So what exactly did you observe?” interjected the priest.

“Lord! It’s a blemish on my thoughts. Seeing two young boys performing such unholy acts upon each other … it was a shock … you know … they were both touching each other in the private parts.”

“Mutually masturbating and cock sucking?” Asked the priest in a matter of fact way.

Miss Jarvis hadn’t expected the priest to be so graphic.

“Er, yes,” she mumbled, “They were sucking each other’s penises.”

She seemed to be uncomfortable with the word ‘cock’.

“And you observed them for quite some time? Watched them masturbate each other? You watched one of the boys suck the other’s cock until he orgasmed in his mouth? Shot his semen into his mouth? You obviously wanted to be sure?”

“Yes,” replied Miss Jarvis, “I didn’t want to jump to a conclusion … I needed to be sure.”

“And you washed the boy’s mouth out with soap? Called the parents?”

“Yes … I wasn’t sure what to do … I mean, they’re so young … stupid really … maybe they didn’t know what they were doing … but such blasphemous behavior … it was …”

“Exciting?” Asked Coleen.

“Er, no … I mean … what?”

The bookish young teacher blinked and then stared in surprise at Coleen’s bold statement. Maybe it was something she may have thought, but never would have voiced out loud — not even to herself.

“I mean, two hot young boys together, their deliciously hard cocks … such wickedness … doesn’t it make you hot? Sexy young bodies. So lean and young. Pressed together. You watched and got turned on … your cunt juiced up … your clit hard … you rubbed yourself while you watched, didn’t you?”

“What … what … are you saying,” replied the stunned teacher, “I’m a … decent woman. A Christian woman. I would never …”

“Questions. Questions. They’re just questions,” soothed the priest as he put his arm around her shoulder, “Don’t be concerned. Coleen is just trying to understand. We’re both just trying to understand. You’ve done nothing wrong. You informed the parents, right? You intervened. You did everything in your power to help the situation.”

“Yes,” sobbed Miss Jarvis, “I felt bad. I mean, they were my students. My boys. And they did those nasty things together … outrageous things … it gives me … nightmares …”

“So you think about what they did? … All those nasty things … evil things …what you saw .. you dream about it frequently?”

Now it was Coleen’s turn. Father Samuel pulled back and allowed Coleen to sooth the shaky young teacher.

“Look, when I watched my son masturbate in my underwear, it was a surprise at first … I tell you … watching him cum hard and spraying his hot salty semen into my delicate lingerie … his sexual moans of ecstasy … but Father Samuel can help your student … Timothy, right?”

”Yes, Timothy,” confirmed Miss Jarvis.

She seemed a little lost in her own thoughts. Confused maybe. Coleen’s description of her own son’s masturbation seemed to wash over her. Maybe something she was imagining. The wayward thoughts … gathering unwanted momentum.

“But … I did … nothing wrong …I was just … I didn’t understand what I felt …”

Coleen’s fingers gently massaged the teacher’s neckline. She was perspiring. Was she aroused by their odd conversation?

“You need to know that I love my son. I love him dearly … I love his little cock. I love to see it hard and throbbing between my fingers … I love the taste of his spicy semen. And when he penetrates me, I cum so fucking hard. I have come to love watching young boys suck cock. Such devilish pleasures they bring totally mind-numbing orgasms Stella … mmmmmm … And watching them take adult cock into their naughty little ass-pussies … that’s a pleasure you cannot miss …”

Coleen’s skillful fingers were squeezing the teacher’s A-sized breasts. Miss Jarvis made no protest. She seemed to be melting into Coleen’s illicit embrace … just standing there as Coleen’s hands began to explore her naked flesh.

“You and me … we aren’t so different … that’s why you teach at Sunday school, isn’t it? … not to help educate the young ones or be some martyr for the Abrahamic liar … you get so flicking hot around them … you imagine doing all kinds of perverted things to them … taking them willingly or unwillingly to your bed? All that salty hot boy cum …All their young, slits, clits and boy cocks … so hard and erect, just for you … in your eager mouth, in your wet cunt … in your dirty little ass? You long for the devil’s playground … don’t you?”

“I … don’t … I mean … I … hot boy cum … so hard and erect … they … mmmmm …” The teacher mumbled and simply looked dazed.

Maybe it was just too overwhelming? A sexual daze? Coleen’s hands were already inside her open blouse … feeling her naked flesh … kneading her tiny flat bosoms … squeezing her nail-hard nipples … fingering her wet tight slit … rubbing her engorged, blood-filled clitoris …

“Please … I … don’t … I … don’t want … don’t want you … don’t want you to stop … araghhhhh …”

The young Sunday school teacher’ body seemed limp — as it seemed to give way to her uncontrollable state of arousal — as Coleen continued her onslaught to corrupt her with demonic intent. Coleen’s split tongue filled the teacher’s mouth as she pressed the young woman to her knees. Tearing off her dress, Coleen exposed her knickerless bare cunt. The teacher blinked hard at the tattooed face of Satan that embellished Coleen’s open cunt lips … her clitoris standing forth like a little boy penis demanding the teacher to suck it … and in doing so … pay homage to Satan himself …

”Kiss the devil …” groaned the evil Coleen as she ground her sopping wet cunt into Miss Jarvis’ face, “Praise be to Satan,” … they had to work fast now — as the parents would arrive anytime soon.


Catherine and Ernest arrived. They parked in front of the small chapel. They had brought their son, Timothy, in reluctant tow. He was very quiet and timid. His face had signs of abuse — as if he had been recently slapped hard across the face and the remnants of tears in his bloodshot eyes.

Timothy’s Sunday school teacher, Miss Jarvis, was waiting in the refractory common room, where she would be able to talk to his parents in relative privacy.

Catherine’s body language gave away her disapproval of their son and the whole faggot sex episode with the other Sunday school boy — a boy they had come to know was named Mark. The only consolation, at this stage, was knowing that his parents (like them) had severely punished the wicked child and that it would be something that would never be repeated. Thank God, they thought. However, on the part of their son, knowing what they knew, made them very concerned for the future; and even the smiling face of Miss Jarvis did little to settle their nerves.

“Welcome Catherine and Ernst,” said Miss Jarvis.

She initially did not acknowledge the presence of their shamed son (and her ex-student), Timothy.

“Thank you for contacting us,” responded Catherine in a very somber tone, “We’re both at our wits end over this embarrassment.”

”I understand,” said Miss Jarvis with only the slightest hint of excitement in her voice.

Miss Jarvis saw the irony in her words. Yes she understood. Coleen had made her understand. It had been a revelation of sorts. The pent up feeling of years of sexual frustration. Her whole “Sunday school volunteerism” thing … to be close to such young sexy children … and without any kids of her own … how it had been both sexually exciting, yet frustrating. And then the day in question, catching two of her favorite students making out … she’d been in two minds … moral and sexual … her sexual mind became overcharged with arousal watching the two young boys mutually masturbating their throbbing young boy cocks. Her cunt was on fire. Her clit demanded to be touched. Her juices flowed at the unnatural sight of her students having oral sex … but her moral mind had screamed loudly in her ears — It was a sin against the laws of God … queer behavior … faggot sex … she had to intervene!

The moment of reminiscing passed in the blind of an eye and it was then, that both Catherine and Ernest saw the priest, dressed in his distinctive long black robe with a simple silver rosary and crucifix, together with a pretty woman in her thirties, dressed a little less than conservatively, but still borderline acceptable.

“May I introduce to you, Father Samuel of the St. Andrew’s Evangelical Seminary. And this is one of his student’s mother’s. Coleen Gallop.” Said the teacher.

They all cordially shook hands.

”Thank you Miss Jarvis for the introductions. Understanding this,” began the dark priest (quoting from 1 Timothy, chapter 1, verses 8 to 11), “That the law is not laid down for the just but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for the sexually immoral, faggots, perverts, and whatever else is contrary to sound doctrine, in accordance with the gospel of the glory of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted …. We understand your delicate situation. And maybe, you would allow Coleen to talk to you about her experience with her son, Peter.”

”Hello, well …” started Coleen, “… I know all about the trauma that you are both going through …” she paused, “It happened to my husband, William, and I. And like you, we too, had no idea of what to do. Our parish priest knew of Father Samuel and the successes of the St. Andrew’s School. I can tell you, it was such a relief to discover that there was a cure for this scourge against our beliefs. God bless Father Samuel and the wonderful nuns of the St. Andrew’s. My son has been at the school for a few months now and we have already seen great improvement in his attitude and behavior.”

Catherine and Ernest looked at each other and then both gave a collective vocal sigh of relief. It was exactly what they wanted to hear.

”Dear God, we are so happy to hear this. We … we could not believe what happened between our son … and that other evil boy,” replied Ernest, implying the fault may not have been theirs.

“Ernest. Catherine,” said the dark priest, “We have a three stage process to save your son from these demonic desires. Evil is very powerful. The devil makes work for idle hands. We understand Satan’s agenda. And how much he loves the corruption of young ones. You have nothing to worry about. Your son, Timothy, will be freed from the forces that trap him. We know all about these evil compulsions that can lead to the sexual relations with other boys.” The priest looked strict and unforgiving as he stared at young Timothy. “Let me say this … little evil faggots, like you, will get what they deserve!”

“So, what happens next?” asked Catherine.

“Miss Jarvis has kindly agreed to accompany Timothy to St. Andrew’s with us. She will be a familiar face and help him settle in. And in no time, we’ll steer his mind towards the true God. He will learn the way. All that remains is for you to say yes and sign the official paperwork.”


And just like that, it was all done. Catherine and Ernest left the chapel refectory believing that this was some kind of miracle — a divine intervention. With the paperwork complete, Miss Jarvis and Coleen escorted Timothy’s parents back to their car. Father Samuel stayed behind with Timothy, who looked forlorn and down beaten.

“Timothy,” said the priest gently, “I want you to know that things are going to be very different from now on.”

Though the priests tone was warm and inviting, Timothy hung his head and looked at the floor. He said nothing. The priest lightly caressed the back of the boy’s neck.

“There is much you don’t know about St. Andrew’s … and there’s much more that your parents will never know about our school … but let me say that you will never be punished for what transpired between you and … young Mark.”

Timothy looked up at the mention of his friend’s name.

“Of course … both Miss Jarvis and I … will want to see a repeat performance of everything that you did with young pretty Mark … the only difference is that you will be accompanied by forty other horny sissy bois all waiting for their turn to suck your delicious little cock!”


The End?


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