Feature Writer: Quixerotic1

Feature Title: THE CRIMSON MILK 14

Published: 12.12.2019

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A insidious change begins with a drink of crimson milk.


The Crimson Milk 14

To the east of Cloverdale, in a different small town mostly overlooked by history, a plaque marks the spot where the Church of the Holy Lady once stood. The history of who originally built the church had long been forgotten in favor of two contentious legends. The first, and likely the truer, told that a missionary group became separated from a larger settlement, traveled further west into the unknown wilds, and settled. They formed a small community and built the church from the surrounding timber, even before they built their own homes. The settlement grew over the years as the country formed around it.

The second version of the tale is the favorite to be told around campfires. A family of five, parents with their adult children, two sons and a daughter, fled from the persecution of other settlers over who could be called the most righteous. Though it likely derived from petty local competition, the family supposedly bore the mark of witches. They ran into the woods, away from mapped paths and known civilization. Their pursuers did not follow them, content to let the family be devoured by the wild beasts in the forest beyond.

The family took refuge under the thick canopy of oaks and pines, relieved they had escaped. They had lived in the New World long enough to know how to survive with nothing. They established a small camp, scrounging for berries and fresh water. Safe, but wary, they soon realized why the woods had been unexplored. The mother worried about wolves or panthers or other creatures that find it amusing to prey on the weak, but the forest was silent. No sound except the crackle of their own fire, which seemed to be on the verge of vanishing into the encroaching darkness. And then, whispers.

The family did not talk about it for days. None of them wanted to be the first to admit hearing the disgusting suggestions. The father would look at his wife, and the words would snake through the air like a faint smell, “Wet and hot underneath her dress…delicious snatch hungry to be fucked by your cock…or someone’s cock…” His eyes would cast over to his two sons, who shared the same tormented gaze.

On the sixth morning of their stay in the forest, the family woke to find the patriarch sawing down a nearby tree. They had stopped talking on the the third day, but each understood the man’s goal and went about various methods of helping. By the end of the sixth day, the foundation timbers had been laid down. Days passed, and the work continued.

On the ninth day, the elder son washed himself in the nearby stream. He heard the whispers for the first time during the day. “Watching you…running your hands across your body, running her hands across hers, mimicking your touch, imagining it trail across her body, her breasts, her tits…wanting to be squeezed, slapped, pinched…aching for the feeling of you pressing down on her, taking her breathe away as you fuck into her…its what she deserves…what she wants…what she’s always wanted…she’s close, she knows you’re hard under the water…” He shook his head and noticed movement in the bushes behind him. The familiar blue hue of his sister’s dress. He returned to work, feverishly trying to erect the sanctuary.

On the eleventh morning, the younger son had vanished. The mother wanted to cry out for her son, to run shrieking through the woods until he called back to her. The others did not seem to notice. The church was almost finished. The father ended the day nailing together two sturdy dogwood limbs in the shape of a cross. They took shelter within its walls for the first time, sealing the makeshift door behind them. The building was roughly made and did little to keep out wind or rain. The floor was mostly dirt, but it housed the makeshift cross. The father knelt before it all night, uttering prayers while clutching the family’s prized book of scripture. None of them slept. The mother wept for her lost child, and the remaining children huddled in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes.

The twelfth day’s dawn brought a strange sense of relief. As though they forest had taken from them what it needed, and they were now free of its torments. The family went about mundane chores, while starting to dream about leaving the woods and putting their dark period behind them.

The daughter rummaged through the shredded limbs of the trees used for construction, gathering the leftover wood and leaves for fuel. She saw the man standing about ten yards away from their camp. He was familiar, but still a stranger. He wore no clothes, and his cock stood rigid in front of him. Slowly, he stroked it while watching her, an unholy grin on his face. She noticed that the oppressive silence had returned and harsh whispers filled the air. “Suck him off, fuck him, stick it in your juicy ass, let him fuck your creamy tits you little cumslut you always wanted it give in touch your dripping cunt your pussy your snatch let him spill seed spray cum on you lap it up from his cock feel it trickle down your leg spread your fucking legs you wanted it always want it want it” The words bombarded her. She turned her eyes down and, with deliberate steps, went back to the church and joined her mother on her knees to pray.

Night came. The four remaining family members huddled around a small fire within their new sanctuary. The father continued his prayers, calm in his zealotry. The mother and son stared blankly into the flickering fire. The daughter watched the door, peering through the cracks in the timbers through which darkness seeped in like ink, oozing over the timbers until the direct light drove it back.

With a loud crack, a brilliant red light illuminated the clearing outside of their church. The rays scattered through the cracks in the building, dancing across the stunned faces of the family. From outside, they heard a clear, laughing voice. Curiosity drew the daughter to the door, she pressed her face against the wood, looking out into the night. The others huddled closer to their praying father.

A woman stood next to a large, brilliant fire. Nearby, the man she had seen earlier waited, dressed in a dark suit, like she had only seen in picture books. The woman wore a flowing red dress, which seemed not to touch the dirty forest floor. Red gloved hands reached out to playfully touch the flames. Despite the oddness of the strangers, the daughter’s eyes were drawn to a small table placed directly between the church and the fire. Though she had little experience in furniture or worldliness in general, she could see that the table was ancient and lovingly kept. On it, an ornate crystal glass sat, helping to splay the light of the fire, and within a dark red liquid.

Behind her, she heard the faint murmur of her father’s prayers, and the gentle sobs of her mother, her older brother clinging to her hem. The bar on the door lifted so easily, though her limbs were so weak. She faintly heard a cry out from behind her, trying to stop her, but the door flung open, and she happily walked out in the warmth.

The story, as it was told by campfires with different embelishments depending on the audience, hinged on the idea of never letting in the devil, no matter what temptations are laid before you. Warmth, companionship, greed, or lust – only the strongest in faith can survive. In some versions of the story, the father’s faith kept them safe. In others, the daughter’s weakness led to the downfall of the whole family. In all the versions, the church burned either in contemptuous demon’s fire or in righteous fire to repel the darkness.

The remains of the church itself leave legend and follow a much more tangible path. Over time, other settlers moved west. They discovered the burned church. While they thought it curious, failed settlements and lost families were common in those days. The foundation remained solid, despite the fire and the years of wear. New people built a new church right on top of the old one.

Congregations grew and shrank, and more than one fire took that church down to its base timbers. The Revolution saw the entire town razed by the British, and after that no one wanted to return to the area. But solid wood wasn’t easy to find, and none seemed more solid than the remnant of the old church. They were loaded up into wagons and sold off to various builders and entrepreneurs looking to start new lives. One or two made it as far west as Colorado, but the majority of them all wound up in one place, Cloverdale. Where they were used, coincidentally most people thought, as the foundation of a brand new church, one that would stand for hundreds of years, even as the world around it fell into commercialized ruin.

The basement of the church still has the timbers exposed. For decades after its original construction, men would dare each other to touch them, claiming that the wood retained an impossible warmth, as if it had only recently been pulled from a fire.


Father Edwards stood at the door of the church, greeting his congregation as they filed by. He shook their hands with glee. None of them had seen him so pleased or excited on a Sunday morning in years. He gripped Candice’s hand with a broad smile on his face as he welcomed her, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. She walked into the old church and took her normal seat on the fifth pew.

Candice had been coming to the church as long as she could remember. The old building got more attention from ghost stories and tourists than worshipers for most of that time. She always told herself that things went in cycles, eventually people would come back around. She remembered when Father Edwards first started. He had been youthful and charismatic, but Candice, like all the others of the congregation had his spirit dwindle as he faced budget problems and an uninterested public. It had gotten significantly worse since that club opened on the edge of town.

Candice helped where she could. She actively recruited her friends to attend, but none of them ever came. Newer churches had more funding and “better” worship experiences, with projection screens showing the preachers and a choir sporting a full audio system. Candice did not begrudge them their style, but she loved her church and wanted to see it continue to serve the community. The city wanted to declare it a historical landmark and funnel money into its preservation, but that would mean an end to their small congregation. The vote had come up many times, and each time it was shot down by a slim margin. To finally see the pews filled brought Candice a good bit of hope.

All around her, in between the familiar faces of the usual congregation, sat numerous new visitors. She did not know what brought them all to the service, but she soon shared Father Edward’s enthusiasm. One thing did strike her as peculiar, they all seemed so…vibrant. All of them were quite attractive. The women wore pretty sun dresses, and the men in sharp, if old fashioned, suits. They all seemed so out of place that she considered wild ideas of their origin. Maybe paid models planted to give the illusion of the church’s popularity, but the church couldn’t afford that. The Crimson Club came to her mind as well. Perhaps that sinful place had caused people to examine their lives and turn in the only logical direction.

Father Edwards took his place at the pulpit, “Good morning, good morning! What a beautiful morning this is! Amen?” The crowd roared back a loud “amen”. Candice struggled to get her own voice heard, realizing that she had always enjoyed the sound of her voice cutting across the stagnant room. “Amen, Amen,” Edwards continued. “We’re excited to be in our master’s house today, here to share the good news with all these new faces. I had a little warning about the size of our flock today, and so I prepared a very special service. We’re going to start today by taking communion. We have so many of us today that we’re going to do it an old fashioned way that I used to practice when I was in a little church down south.”

He waved his hands, and a few people came forward with trays. They handed each pew a silver platter which quickly made its way down the row as each person plucked out a small piece of cracker. A second wave of platters soon followed, and each person took a small shot glass of red liquid. Candice took hers and gave it a small sniff. It seemed more viscous than wine or sparkling grape juice, and smelled of strawberries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Edwards took his own portions. “Now then. Our Lord said, this is my body take of it and eat and remember me.” He held up up the small cracker and then irreverently popped it into his mouth, as one might a kernel of popcorn. Candice thought it odd as she demurely slipped her wafer in her mouth and listened to the crunching all around her. Maybe he was trying to keep it light to get everyone interested.

Edwards took his small vial of red liquid and held it up for everyone to see. “Our master said, this is my blood. Drink it and be forgiven.”

Candice lifted the vial to her lips. A strong wave of horror swept over her. “Throw it away,” her mind screamed. “Run! Escape now before it’s too late!” She almost did it, but then she thought of those people around her. They were watching, how would it look if she threw aside communion and ran shrieking from a church. With determination, the vial came again to her lips. She poured the sweet tasting liquid down her throat, feeling warmth spread through her body.

Roger Edwards peered out at the church with a fiendish grin. “Amen and Amen. Now, today I’m not going to be preaching from any of the New Testament or the Old Testament. Today, I’m going to tell you a story, a story that starts many, many years ago in a distant part of the world that we have long forgotten the name of. We had been cast out of the garden of Eden. Cursed to toil our lives away in the harshness of the great and vast wilderness. God and the Devil sat on either side of us shaking their fists at one another while we broke our backs and labored to survive. Until a clever woman decided that we had gotten a raw deal. Her true name is gone now, but we call her Lilith.

“Lilith saw an opportunity. In those days angels strode across the earth, doing more or less whatever they pleased. They took women they found and did what they wished with them, making offspring that would necessitate the destruction of the world by flood. We all know that. An angel came to Lilith, as well, but Lilith was clever. She convinced the angel that she loved him and that he loved her, and she pulled from that creature’s lips the secrets of creation. And the angel gave them willingly, of course it did, it whispered them to her as it fucked her.”

The word seemed foreign to Candice, but she couldn’t remember why.

“Lilith learned magic from the lips of an angel, arcane secrets of creation not meant for human ears. Even the angel realized his error, but Lilith cast him out with her new power. She bound her strength to her body and became a goddess in her own right. She spread her new magic to as many as she could, human, angel, demon, any who came willingly to sup from her breast could experience the ecstasy of her creation. Others grew jealous and contemptuous and sought to destroy her. They hunted her flock and cleansed them from the earth, but it wasn’t enough. We have survived. The blood of our mistress has flowed for eons. Not subject to any cosmic conflict, Lilith’s progeny exist outside of the mortal struggle. Basically, we don’t give a fuck about it all so long as we can stay neck deep in pussy or cock or both.”

He laughed. “It’s a nice story ain’t it. Too bad it’s all horseshit. Who knows where it started or where it’s going. The beauty of existence is how simple it is. See, want, fuck. All of this boring shit just fades away when you have a supple set of lips wrap around your cock and you feel that first flick of the tongue. Or when you’re buried in the folds of a bucking young piece of ass, her thighs pressing you further and further into her bald little cunt. So we brought it to the most repressed and out of touch people that we could find! My mistress will liberate everyone in this city, but today we strike at the heart, at the holiness in the center. Cast down your boring idols and take up my mistress!”

Candice realized something was wrong. The decorative doors to the sanctuary, immense wooden things older than the town most likely, had been barred with a large plank. All around her, the air shimmered. In the pew in front of her, an older man stared at his hands. The wrinkles melted away, turning into young, smooth skin. His hair turned a dark shade of black, and his posture corrected itself, allowing him to sit up straight for the first time in ten years.

A few seats down, a middle aged woman watched her breasts swell in her dress, pulling at the old fabric. All around the church, mild changes were taking place. Beside her, Candice watched a young man reach into his pants and start to stroke himself. She knew she should be horrified, but she could only watch with fascination as a small wet spot appeared on the front of his dress pants.

A woman stood up in the second row, she clambered over the few people in her way as she tried to get into the aisle. She was flushed and desperate as she walked up to the pulpit. Edwards watched her approach with eager eyes, “What is it, my child?” The woman let out a wild noise of pleasure as she ripped open her dress, displaying her breasts to the corrupted preacher. She fell to her knees in front of him, pulling his rigid cock into view. She took him into her mouth, feeling the throbbing flesh drag against her tongue. It made her feel more alive than she had in years.

A wave of heat pulsed through Candice’s body. She could tell that everyone around her had felt it as well. A woman screamed and everyone turned away from the spectacle at the front of the church. A man was changing, thick hair spreading all over his body. His face contorted and lengthened into a snout as his canine tongue lolled out of the side. A bushy tail sprouted out from a firm rear, while an enormous pink cock briefly grew into sight. The woman who had screamed quickly changed her opinion on the monster. She desperately pulled up her dress and almost ripped off her underwear, determined to be the first to display a wet target for the monster’s cock. He happily obliged, slipping into her with a swift stroke. He clamped his teeth in a firm grip on her shoulder as he fucked into her. Others backed away, mindlessly stripping out of their clothes.

Candice saw that the newcomers to the church were all changing. They were all gorgeous before, but they oozed sexuality as they stripped. The men’s cocks were ridiculous in proportion, and the women’s asses ballooned out behind them while their breasts doubled and tripled in size. The man in front of her could not contain his joy at the changes taking over his body. He had been sixty a few moments before, but now his body coursed with the energy and fitness of a twenty year old. One of the changed harlots came over to him and sat in his lap, pulling him into her chest. He latched onto a spurting nipple and sucked deeply. The woman squealed with pleasure. Her hands deftly worked his belt off and grabbed hold of his rock hard dick. With a quick thrust, she slipped him inside her. His mind exploded with pleasure. He had long forgotten the velvet feeling of young, hot pussy.

Jealousy took hold of Candice. Beside her, the changed middle aged woman was on her knees sucking off the young man’s new nine inch dick. A bull man had another woman bent over a pew, fucking into her ass as it flared out wider and thicker with each thrust. Her breasts swelled and swelled, filling the gap between the pews and staining the floor with her milk. At the front of the church, a youthful Father Edwards had the first convert on her back across the alter. A young woman had taken over the convert’s mouth, bucking on top of her as the new tongue slithered in and out of her cunt.

Candice heard a voice, a sweet soothing woman, “Don’t worry. It’s your turn now. It may hurt slightly, but you will love it in the end.”

A pang of heat exploded in Candice’s stomach, causing her to leap to her feet. She held on to the end of the pew as the heat spread through her body. Clothes? She tore at her dress in a frenzy, surprising herself with her own strength. In moments, she was standing in the middle of the church in her white lacy underwear as around her the churchgoers rutted in demonic heat. Sweat poured down her body and her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Several of the unoccupied denizens watched her body grow firm and toned. Her hair started to turn white, while her skin became as smooth and silky as ivory. She calmly reached behind her and took off her bra, letting her breasts free. Her hands caressed them, teasing slightly at her nipples as they started to grow.

Noticing her audience, she started to run her hands over herself, admiring the new color of her own skin. One of the newcomers caught her eye. He looked human, still fully dressed in a dark blue suit and a red tie, but his skin darkened as he watched her. Her lips stung as they swelled and grew a permanent shade of red on an otherwise alabaster body. She turned around and bent over slowly, showing her perky little ass to the changing man. She hooked her thumbs in the lace edges and pulled slowly, letting the material graze over her round butt, cool air rolling over her skin as she undressed. She looked over her shoulder at her man, pleased to see his glamour fading as horns grew from his head, and his clothes began to bulge with muscle. As the cloth pulled away from her wet sex, she moved one hand over to her dewy pussy, pleased to find all of her troublesome pubic hair smoothed away. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Phillip,” the man growled back. Whatever the others were, and whatever she was becoming, this perfection of creation was surely a demon.

“Come on big boy, don’t you want to fuck this sweet little virgin pussy?”

Phillip pulled off his shirt, exposing his thick, muscular chest and its demonic red color. His taloned hands delicately removed his belt and slid his pants down as muscular thighs and a girthy cock came into view. He could only grunt at Candice as he placed his hand on her ass cheek, relishing the feeling of her nubile flesh. She cooed at him, grabbing hold of his long, dark, red dick between her legs. She let it push down her panties further. Bending at the knees, she pushed her bald pussy lips down the length of his rod as her ass squished against his stomach. He grunted at the slick feeling and had to use all his strength to restrain himself from throwing her on the ground and ravishing her.

Candice stood up and turned to Phillip, admiring the clash of color between her hand and his chest. She ran her finger along his shoulder, up his neck, and through the mane of dark black hair. She lightly touched his horns, smiling at him with innocent eyes. With a sudden firm grip, she pulled his head down roughly so that she could whisper in his ear, “I’ve never had a cock like yours in me. What will it feel like to have that fat cock of yours fill me up. All your cum won’t fit in me, I bet.” Her tongue flicked against his earlobe.

With a quick motion he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up in the air. She grabbed onto his horns with both hands, pulling him into her tits. She felt the head of his dick nestle itself between her lips, and he hesitated with a low growl. Candice sighed as the last vestige of the pure girl who had woken up that morning disappeared. She wrapped her legs around the thick torso of the demon and impaled herself on his cock.

The air was thick with the smell of sex. All around the church, the newly corrupted were in various stages of transformation. A new werewoman was happily getting fucked by a mostly human, eighteen year old man while he tried to figure out which set of tits to suck on. Others from Mandi’s initial converts played with the transforming humans. Adonis had two women pinned underneath him, fucking one with his cock and the other with his tail. Wolf and Hound took turns fucking the same woman over and over, keeping her transformation as slow as possible as their cum pooled between her legs.

Candice reveled in the debauchery, feeding off of the sexual frenzy as she fucked up and down on Phillip’s pole. The burning sensation returned to her, spreading along her back. She knew what was coming and urged it on, desperate to feel Phillip’s seed burst into her. He roared as he came, emptying his balls into the virgin pussy. She didn’t let him slow, pushing him down onto the floor and continuing to ride him as his cock only briefly deflated. He slapped her ass to encourage her to continue as his cock swelled again.

The knot in her stomach exploded, and her whole body shook. Her mind filled with a bright light, and her toes curled. Phillip’s rough hands continued to explore her body, running up her perfect ass checks to her back where he encountered a strange joint. Candice unfurled her new wings to their full span. Brilliantly white, they fluttered in the center of the church garnering aroused cheers from several of the other newly changed.

“I still need to suck my first cock and have my ass fucked,” she said feeling Phillips cum sliding down her thigh. “Who wants a blowjob from an angel?”



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.