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

STORY CODES: Voodoo, Witchcraft, Transgender, Interracial, WS, Anal, Blasphemy, Devil Worship, Transformation, Huge Clits, Young.

CREATED: 01.09.2023 / REVISITED: 19.11.2023

The Dark Mambo’s Curse


Our protagonist seeks the aid of a mambo to cast a curse over his overly religious wife — to bring her into his dark world — to remake her into his androgynous object of demonic desires. Will he get what he wants or has he unwittingly unleashed something that he cannot control?


“When visiting the exotic New Orleans’ French Quarter, one must pay homage to the Dark Mambo’s establishment — Its official title is the Mambo Queen’s Voodoo, Witchcraft & Demon Worship Emporium — and you find it in the center of Bourbon Street.

From the moment I stepped into her shop, I felt my “little white cock” harden in my tight jeans. The slow pulsing Pedro beat made my balls contract and twitch, and the eye of my cock began to leak with precum.

The frontage was in a narrow alley, and without prior knowledge. One can easily miss it. From the outside, it looked small and quaint. But once I stepped through the door, I could see that it was deceptively voluminous with many cluttered shelves and racks — to get one’s sexuality lost among — it smelt of incense and burnt things.

Everywhere I looked, the walls, the shelves, hanging from the ceiling, were instruments of her dark erotica. It was a bizarre melting pot of tribalism, Haitian Judeo-Christianity, witchcraft, phallic worship, and transsexualism. Like a bizarre sex fantasy. It had an energy that was definitely evil — dark and inspirational in its own perverse way.

Behind the glass counter, I saw her sitting. You didn’t have to guess. It was the ebony cock goddess herself. Dressed in a somber robe, her hair was dreadlocked. She wore a bone fragment necklace. And her black-on-black tattoos had the appearance of serpentine skin.

I immediately imagined her naked. I could taste her as I looked at her. Thin and flat-chested. Her cock would be so black and hard. Her balls would be so full of her unholy nigger seed. My desire to copulate with her oozed from the tip of my cock.

Her eyes were downcast. She seemed preoccupied, shuffling a pack of Tarot cards. But I knew she was watching me the entire time. It was I that was the intruder into her dark and unholy world. I touched her merchandise. So many raw, blasphemous, and forbidden things on display. My sense of smell detected a melting pot of unfamiliar aromas. Of herbs, moss, ointments, and other bizarre preparations.

There was a curious collection of strange voodoo relics. Of human skulls and carved bones. Of sacrificial knives. Other strange oddities were preserved in clear oils in small glass bottles. There were books of spells and incantations. All the instruments of black magick that any witch could need. There were objects intended for anal penetration. Voodoo dolls with mixed genitalia. Satanic-like pentagram talismans and devil masks. A red-skinned demon with a pregnant stomach. Things belonging to phallic worship. Black penis-shaped candles that promised increased fertility, bliss beyond normal sexual ecstasy, or even higher potency and fuller erections.

I looked back guiltily at the counter. She was no longer there.

There was a moment of panic. My heart was beating fast. Like seeing a tiger missing from its cage, while the cage door appeared wide open.

And then I felt her behind me.

I heard her breathe before I felt her body lean against my back. I felt her thing. Her wand of evil. It was pressing hard against the clef of my bottom, and her hands held my hips tightly. My cock lurched in my pants and before I had a chance to collect my thoughts — her hand gripped my hard little cock through my jeans.

“White boi. Don’t resist me … I can read your thoughts,” she whispered with her heavy Creole accent. Her voice sounded more like a hissing snake across my ear, “Go into da back room and undress, while I close da shop.”


The room at the rear of the shop was a continuation of the store … only much darker … it felt sinister. My skin prickled with a new kind of deviant anticipation. There was some kind of altar there — probably dedicated to one of the Mambo’s evil androgynous Loa — a rather disgusting-looking serpent-like idol made of blackened wood, its surfaces were smeared with slimy layers of bodily fluids.

I did as she told me. I felt compelled to. As I undressed, I felt completely exposed, more than just in my own nakedness. It was as if the room seemed to crackle with its own kind of mysterious dark energy.

Supernaturally charged.

She entered.

“Kneel before da altar,” she muttered, “If you want me to curse … her.”

She spoke of things as if we’d had a deep conversation … yet they had been only thoughts in my mind … So, I did exactly as she instructed. But as I sank to my knees, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from looking at this dark goddess.

It felt like slow motion. I watched in awe as her thin black robe fell from her shoulders, sliding slowly over her black skin to expose her shiny nakedness beneath. Her entire skin was tattooed like the scales of a serpentine beast. Her breasts were no more than just cones, crowned with pitch-black nipples. Her body shape, though overly thin, was obviously feminine. Her hips were bony and narrow. Her groin was completely hairless. She moved with the elegance and gracefulness of a dancer.

Rising from between her skinny thighs was her erect nigger penis — like a sword or maybe her ramrod — with a golden cock-ring around its base and scrotum.

“Kiss it,” she demanded.


“How was golf?”

It was late. I had taken the precaution to put the clubs in the back of the car.

So I lied about my whereabouts to my dear wife. I wasn’t about to tell her that I had sought the supernatural assistance of a mambo to grant me a sexual curse on her. What do you think this deeply religious woman would have thought, if I had told her that I had prayed naked before an androgynous god; that I had orally copulated with a transsexual witch with enormous black veined member her; that I had lapped and sucked her scrotum and dank anus, then swallowing her salty semen?

The mambo’s cock had been so thick and hard. I could still feel it throbbing in the back of my throat. I enjoyed every second of our bizarre encounter. Just thinking about it made me erect immediately.

The Dark Mambo had given me strict instructions on what to do next. It was now up to me to follow them to get what I had always dreamt of.

We both had our evening showers. And got ready for bed as usual. My wife had said her evening prayers and had done her usual nightly Bible reading with her Rosary in hand. She had put on one of her usual shapeless nighties, and I just slept in my t-shirt and shorts.

My wife was very pale and petite. Standing only four foot, ten inches tall, with her short shoulder-length mousy brown hair and almost flat chest — she had the body of an under-aged boy. Maybe that was what had drawn me to her initially.

She always wore a large gold crucifix that was huge and limply against her bony chest. A loathsome thing that she kissed frequently. The twisted body of Jesus Christ received more affection from her lips than I ever did.

She fell asleep almost immediately, leaving me with my rock-hard cock. I gripped my girth through my night shorts, saying my own dark prayer to Satan.

My wife was mostly a heavy sleeper. Usually, nothing woke her once she was sleeping.

On the occasion when she caught me masturbating, her comments had been so stern and austere. It was a sin in the eyes of her Abrahamic God. Nothing worse than the sins of the flesh. How dare I do such a disgusting thing in her bed? Her house. Of course, I apologized profusely and made some feeble excuses. I pretended to be remorseful and promised to confess to her priest — I just knew I had to be more careful next time.

Tonight, her breathing told me that she was out for the count.

For a while, I just blinked in the semi-darkness. Then, convinced of her comatose state, I pulled down the bed sheet. I got up and stripped naked. I needed to watch porn. Shemale porn. Cock-sucking porn. I looked through some of my favorite videos of shemales pissing over themselves, soaking their own faces, and gulping down their own salty yellow spray. Yes. I loved shemale cock. Vaginas really didn’t do it for me anymore.

I quietly groaned to myself as I slowly stroked myself toward a powerful orgasm. As I watched my favorite shemale videos, I couldn’t help but recall the events of the day. The taste of nigger semen returned to my tongue.

“Swallow it. Swallow it all. Pray to Ayida-Weddo. For she is the Snake Goddess. Pray to Met Kalfu. For he grants dark curses. Pray to Baron Samedi. For he resides over perverseness and sexual pleasure.”

I bucked hard and cum all over myself. I got up and added my fresh semen to the secret concoction given to me by the mambo. In the ambient light, I looked at my Christian wife. She was sleeping on her back. I gently lifted her nightie exposing her hairy vagina. She never shaved it. It looked so unappealing.

I took the sourish-smelling mixture and carefully applied it directly onto her labia, with specific attention to her tiny clitoris. Her breathing was still steady. I wasn’t expecting any immediate reaction. The mambo said that I was to repeat this over several nights. So that’s exactly what it did.


The church service was as boring as ever.

I hated the fucking pastor. He was such a condescending prick. He was talking about the sins of pornography and how our society was changing for the worse with the acceptance of homosexual sodomites.

”They should be stoned to death,” he said.

He called the gays the ‘Devil’s servants’ and the acceptance of their deeds was corrupting our good, decent ‘white’ folks. He talked about the downward spiral of social media and exposure to the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah.

“I pray for us, for the good law-abiding white folks, like you,” he said.

He went on about the loose morality of today — sex shops in our neighborhoods, drug addicts, cross-dressers, and effeminate behavior.

“Better in the past when we chemically castrated these perverts.”

To him, transgenderism and androgyny were a “modern-day plague” brought about by sickness in modern society, as we turned away from his one and true God.

“The Devil was real …” he cried out.

He quoted Revelations.

“If anyone worships the beast and its image and receives a mark on his forehead or on his hand, he also will drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured full strength into the cup of his anger, and he will be tormented with fire and sulfur for eternity …”

Fuck him. Fuck his church. Fuck his useless and irrelevant faith.


It had been only a few days, but I had been surprised at the change in the demeanor of my wife.

I diligently applied the black magick potion provided by the mambo. The changes had been very interesting. Subtle at first. She stirred more at night, moaning softly, as if in some darkly erotic fantasy. I could smell her sexual arousal. She would awaken during the night and be demanding sex. This was a first. And instead of our sex being the usual quick and quiet affair in the missionary position — it had been far more passionate, more demanding, more animated — and increasingly more participative on her part.

Yes, her clitoris had become thicker and much more prominent. I loved it. Without me saying anything, she began to shave her cunt. This actually made it easier for me to keep applying the Dark Mambo’s potion. Now her clitoris poked out so deliciously … maybe even half an inch or so.

She no longer espoused her demonizing of the act of masturbation. A changed woman. In fact, she seemed to be addicted to it herself — touching herself incessantly, before and during our sex. It seemed to be that she was actually enjoying this supernatural transformation. She gripped her tiny penis-shaped nub between her thumb and forefinger, as I forcefully fucked her dripping wet cunt.


It had been about two weeks.

”Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I just can’t seem to have the energy,” apologized my wife.

She missed church for the first time in years, claiming that she didn’t feel well. Yet we’d wasted no time returning to the bedroom for some really loud sex. She’d never performed oral sex on me. And had been outraged when I had attempted it on her — but now she demanded oral copulation for the first time — this was something that she’d never initiated, saying previously that it was dirty, disgusting, and unchristian-like.

She lifted her short dress and proudly showed me her freshly shaven cunt-hole. It looked different. Inflamed with sexual passion with her labia open and wet. As I went down on her and licked feverishly at her soaking cunt, her clitoris began to throb and extend against my mouth. I was surprised at first. No, I was delighted.

I immediately took it into my mouth sucking her one-and-a-half-inch cocklet between my eager lips. A dream came true. She bucked and talked dirty … demanding that I suck her, “demon horn” … We quickly shifted into a sixty-nine and she began to feverishly suck my little white cock, like there was no tomorrow.

“Aaarghhhh … suck my demon horn …” she groaned unabated.

That’s when she soaked me as she bucked and squirted cunt juice and urine all over me.

Afterward, she apologized, saying that she wasn’t sure what had come over her. To do such a thing. To say such a thing. Of course, I was impassioned by her increasing depravity. So I encouraged her, saying that it was the best sex ever. I said her piss tasted hot and salty. She giggled and said she really wanted to taste mine too. Dirty little slutty bitch. I loved it. She began to masturbate her freakishly long clit as I pissed directly over her upturned face and into her open slutty mouth. My urine was watery and transparent. Next time I would make sure it was dark amber and heady.

Masturbation hadn’t been something she did. I mean never before I had enacted the curse. Now, as we lay back against the wet bed sheets, the smell of urine was very evident, but she seemed to not be bothered by its aroma. I offered to change the sheets, but she said that she liked it. In fact, why don’t we just leave the dirty sheets on for a while, she suggested, as the aroma of stale urine and sex was so naughty.

During our mutual oral play in sixty-nine, she came so hard, bringing herself to orgasm. I had pissed in her mouth and as we passionately kissed, we shared our mutual sourish taste. That’s when she first confessed to me an interest in anal sex.

“But … isn’t sodomy such an awful sin? … isn’t it the domain of devils?”

“Yes, previously,” she paused excitedly, “I know … isn’t it so sexy to be so wicked? I don’t know why, but lately evil things turn me on … You know the thought of it … excites me almost as much as our dirty piss-play,” she confessed with a sly expression.



“When visiting the Mambo Queen’s Voodoo, Witchcraft & Demon Worship Emporium — you should be clear about what you wish for … her spells, incantations, and curses have been known to be extremely potent.”

I couldn’t believe the speed of my wife’s orphic transformation — both physically, mentally, and dare I say, spiritually.

She’d always been such a pain with her staunch Christian ideologies. A die-hard religious type. It was in her blood. Her father had been a preacher and her mother had been a missionary. Her life had always been about a commitment to her Abrahamic faith. She was fully committed to Christ — to her Lord Jesus Christ — Amen. The parish, prayers, confessions, and the Bible had been her life.

I don’t what was going through my head. What made me think that our marriage would change any of that? I must have been completely delusional.

For so many years, she’d served as a Sunday school teacher, preaching the Lord’s word to the very young. Indoctrination, I think, or brain-washing? It was her duty, she would often harp on.

Why did I marry her? Why her? Well, she was beautiful, a petite and well-kept woman. It wasn’t until we were actually married (as there was no sex before we were husband and wife), that I discovered her truly staunch attitude towards life, also extended to the act of sex. I soon learned that, to her, sex was only meant for the process of procreation … to have children as the Lord intended … there was never a thought that sex could actually be pleasurable or desirable.

What a fucking mess!

I, on the other hand, had always been a total masturbator and porn addict since I was very young. You could say that we were polar in many ways. I had always gravitated towards the more sordid, the perverted, the evil, and the wicked. Sleaze and perversion fueled my frequent masturbatory orgasms.

In sharp contrast to my wife’s apathy towards lust, I had always fantasized about the darker side of sex … finding my bisexual pleasure in the phallic worship of the androgynous Satan … the twin-sex Baphomet. And it was completely by accident that I happened upon the Dark Mambo. It was a very oblique way that I happened to hear about her spells, incantations, and curses. I cannot even remember who it was that had mentioned it — that this Dark Mambo was able to cast lust spells that had both physical and metaphysical outcomes. At that time, I was completely skeptical … it sounded too far-fetched to be anything but complete bullshit … but I must admit that I was curious … maybe even a bit desperate … so I pursued the opportunity to find out more.

But of course, I kept all of this to myself. Who would believe me anyway?

Now, after being married — I had suffered her church — and her fucking pastor for so long. I hated it all. I hated the sufferance of their sexless doctrine; which in turn, hated all non-believers, non-whites, no-heterosexuals — they were all so fucking hypocritical. They professed forgiveness and inclusion — but in reality, they were all bigots of the worst kind.

I never sought revenge or dreamt about enacting this obsessive behavior. How could I? I didn’t have the balls — yet, here I was — and my wife’s clitoris was already about three inches long. So delicious. She seemed to accept her abnormal appendage as if it were a part of her true self. The transformation was nothing short of a miracle in my estimations. It was as if it had always been there. But, of course, it hadn’t … and with it, came a complete reversal of her religiosity and her attitude toward what was permissible in our sexual activities.

All I could say was, “Hail Satan.”

As she lay completely naked on our pissed-soaked bed, I noticed for the first time that she wore her beloved crucifix upside-down. She smiled when I noticed. I asked her about it and she told me that it seemed to be the right thing to do. What a turn-around. Literally. She said that she hated him. Him, being Jesus. He’d made her feel weak and inept … that she had been having many unchristian thoughts of sex with the devil. The devil made her feel so horny and so sexy.

So, with that inspiration, I initiated her interest in demonic porn.

I had started with more conventional sex … between what appeared to be consenting adults … but that had been quickly surpassed with much kinkier sex acts that included lesbians, bisexuals, then transsexuals … I added auto-fellatio, water sports, gang-bangs, buttake, cosplay, nylons, anilingus, strapless dildos, pregnant fucking … the final vestal of her faith would be burned away with an introduction to religious porn with blasphemously naughty nuns and wayward priests fucking in actual churches and masturbating with religious icons — she soaked it all in.

Her pupils seemed to wildly dilate, especially at the vivid images of gender fluidity … transvestites, fembois, transsexuals … nigger girls with large cocks … she stroked her huge clit which was almost as long and thick as my own cock. She no longer just used her thumb and forefinger but gripped it tightly in her fist.

We watched together as they sucked each other’s tits and cocks, performed anilingus on each other, and orgasmed wildly, their cum and piss spurting over each other. It was a cathartic experience for my newly sex-crazed wife.

“They have the demon horn too … I want to be just like them,” she said, “Now give me the devil’s pleasure … fuck Jesus! Fuck the Virgin Mary! Make me your sodomite!”

Up to this point, we’d been mutually masturbating each other, swapping spit and tongue kissing the entire time. But now she was on all fours and was begging me to fuck her dirty little ass. I was in my element. My lubricated cock moved between penetrating her juicy cunt to pressing my engorged cock head against the wrinkled eye of her tight anus.

Finally, I began to penetrate her. It was tightly delicious. My cock sank deeper, slowly at first. She groaned in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. I loved it. It was better than her mouth or loose cunt. Her anus gripped my cock so tightly, it was hard not to blow my load immediately. And soon I could no longer control my dark passion to use her ass to satisfy my deviant lust.

“Deeper, fuck my ass, deeper.”

I reached beneath her belly, gripping her demon horn … I couldn’t say for sure, but honestly, it felt as if her bowels were actually milking me. Her anal muscles seemed to convulse and ripple down the length of my cock. It was like a ribbed chamber purposefully made for the most glorious of all fucks.

“Piss up my ass!” she begged.


Against my own trepidations, I had returned to the “Mambo Queen’s Voodoo, Witchcraft & Demon Worship Emporium”.

It had been as if I was drawn there. Like the proverbial ‘moth to a flame’. Maybe in my fucked-up mind, I had wanted to simply say ‘thank you’ for her blessed curse. But nothing is ever that simple. Not with the nigger goddess. Her dark magick had my cock immediately in my hands, worshiping her groin almost immediately on my unworthy knees.

Her evil lair seemed even hotter, wetter, and even more perverse than on my previous visit.

Everything about this seemed to scream danger to me. But it was too late for me. I was already like the proverbial fly in the spider’s web. There was no way that I could resist the temptations within. It was dark and dank. It had the aroma of wickedness. As I looked up the evil idol seemed to look down on me. It was as if I was anything but a mere morsel to be consumed.

Somehow, I seemed to have lost all sense of time. I could have been there in her grips for a few minutes or a few hours — even a few days. The Dark Mambo’s twisted occult magick was so powerful. My dull little mind had no comprehension of what lay ahead — I was completely lost and confused — yet still, I was filled with an unquenchable lust for her.

Now, the Dark Mambo drew her long cock out from my tight boy-cunt.

“Aaarghhhh …” I groaned as if breaking the surface after a deep dive.

I couldn’t remember what had come before that moment. Had I been hypnotized? Drugged maybe? The pain in my rear was awful. It hurt so much. Yet my little white cock remained rampant and dripped with a constant stream of clear precum. Only my ass gaped with a kind of emptiness.

The Dark Mambo’s enormous curved cock was still half erect, even though she’d just spurted, what had felt like, a gallon of nigger cum, deep inside my colon.

“White boi … Clean me,” she demanded.

Her long black cock hung between her thin tattooed thighs. It was coated with a mixture of ass-slime from the inside of my own bowels and her nigger semen. Like a good little student, I licked at its bulbous tip, then cleaned the length of her limp cock with vigor and the enthusiasm of a man possessed.

It was then, that I remembered that had been telling her about my wife’s transformation from religious zealot to shecock lust-whore. I had told the Dark Mambo about my wife’s demon horn that was now as big as my own cock. I had told her how much I loved to rub it against my own cock flesh, and that she was the most perfectly deformed creation I could imagine.

The Dark Mambo didn’t say much. She had only nodded. To her, it seemed exactly as she had expected.

As the curse was taking hold, I wondered what would happen next. Would this truly be the answer to my darkest of prayers? Would she become my personal Succubus and do everything depraved act that I imagined? In a way, I felt we were not that far from my wishes — Not far at all.


As the days passed, it seemed that our every waking moment had become dedicated to exploring our darkest of sexual impulses. Porn and sex. Sex and porn. Dirty talk. Drink each other’s urine and sexual juices. We swapped my cum back and forth. We no longer bothered with vaginal sex … only blasphemous sodomy could satisfy my evil wife.

I turned up the kink dial, and her enthusiasm only increased too …

“Show me more …”

Soon we were into the territory of total perversion. We watched videos together of non-consensual sex; various forms of bestiality; dungeons, bondage, pain, and sexual torture; extreme age play; lesbian scat play; and of my personal favorite … ritualized sex, black mass, the Baphomet, succubi, and demon sex that spiraled into concoctions of object rape and sex with very young ones … and even forced abortions, castration, necrophilia, and snuff.

… We were beyond any kind of limits.

”I like this. It makes me so fucking hot,” she said.

She forced me on my knees to suck your thick demon horn again. She’d cum half a dozen times already. Her strong hands gripped the back of my head as she began to skull-fuck me.

“Aargh …” she groaned, “I want to fuck you.”

Fuck me? Another dream came true. We’d talked about pegging and even strapless. But now we didn’t need a fake strap-on or dildo, as her demon horn was perfect for this new adventure. The anal play had become an essential part of our nightly rituals, from licking and tongue fucking, to fingering and to even light scat play.

She had greased herself up in lubricant, and as her demon horn began to sink into my anus, my fingers gripped my own cock — pumping myself in anticipation. She gripped my shoulders. There was the sensation of fullness. Stretching me from the inside. I was jacking myself furiously, as her unnatural appendage began to press upwards into me, filling my virgin rectum. I was breathing heavily as her cock seemed to reach into the nether-deeps my bowels until it touched the base of my spine.

“Oh, my fucking gawd!” I cried.

Flashes of whiteness.

”My fucking gwad!”

“Aargh …” my wife groans, “You’re so fucking tight!”

My wife was fucking me like her little bitch. She grunted like a wild animal. I was almost breathless.

“I’m … I’m … Fucking cumming! Aaarrghhhh …” screamed.

More flashes of white.

I was in a mess as her wet groin slapped loudly against my buttocks, andfuck her abnormal clitoral flesh fully penetrated me with a throbbing mixture of pleasure and pain — I could almost hear the crackling of the Dark Mambo’s wicked magick around us. A shadowy darkness surrounded her lustfulness. Like an evil whirlwind, twisting our minds and bodies together.

More white flashes.

I could hear her labored breathing. She jerked harder and harder into me. Her fingernails ripped at my flesh. I could almost hear her teeth gnashing viciously as she was on the brink of exploding inside me.

“Ahhhhhh … Fuck!” my demon screamed.

The powerful thrusts that had been driving her demon horn further and further inside me with every movement of her hips suddenly came to a stop. My body was in the middle of convulsing through the mixture of dull agony, together with the constant bombardment against my prostate, in anticipation of my first anal orgasm.

And then it suddenly happened. With one more final jerk of her demon horn. I began to climax.

“Pphgggggghhh … Fuck Christ! Fuck gawd!” I cried in the sheer shock of the power of orgasmic pleasure — as my untouched cock began to spurt semen over the floor. I felt her clit-cock slide out of me.

But, it seemed that my wife had not finished. Not just yet. As I lay on my back. She stood up over me, looking down. I could see that her demon horn was smeared in brown filth. She grinned evilly and gripped it tightly, pointing it towards my face. With a few vigorous strokes, she suddenly ejaculated. She actually ejaculated like a shemale. Thick wades of demon semen literally spat from her demon horn, across my face and chest.

She began to laugh.

“Bet you didn’t know I could do that!” she cried.



“After visiting the Mambo Queen’s Voodoo, Witchcraft & Demon Worship Emporium — I can assure you that this is no sleight-of-hand show. Her black magick is real. And the outcome is never exactly as you imagine.”

She didn’t actually say much about it … but my wife’s next suggestion shocked me. It involved a boy from her Sunday school class. I wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but she told me that the young lad was having problems at home — they were a seriously broken family.

My wife said that she’d spoken to our local priest to seek his permission to look after the boy for a few weeks. Apparently, the boy’s home life had been shaken up through a serious domestic violence situation. Actually, the priest expressed his gratitude for my wife’s timely intervention — so as to save the boy from any potential trauma.

That said, my wife also added that the boy was also very unreliable. One minute he would say it was his father’s fault, then the next, it was his mother’s. He changed with the wind. He had also been caught out on more than a few occasions lying about things. He’d apparently made up stories over several incidents. And now serious doubt was cast upon his reliability, to tell the truth. Maybe that was to be expected from his dire situation — but honestly, nobody was sure what to believe anymore.

Maybe it was the young boy’s unreliability that also made my wife consider this twisted plan. It certainly meant that he would never be believed if something happened whilst in our care. I wasn’t sure what exactly she had in mind, but my thoughts quickly became fixated on something dark, evil, and definitely abusive.

The boy was cute. He was small-framed and acted unnaturally feminine. On the outside he appeared to be a sweet young thing — but there was something about his demeanor that was more than a bit off. It was almost as if he knew too much for his age … sexual things … even before things had got started.

“Isn’t he sweet?” asked my wife insisted as she stroked his shoulder-length hair.

Of course, he was. My cock was reacting in all the wrong ways. I wanted to fuck his tight little sissy-boy-ass.

”You like videos don’t you?” she asked the boy.

He nodded so innocently. But again, smiled with an anticipation that didn’t match his demeanor.

My evil wife pointed to my laptop where I kept all my sickest porn. She wasn’t in the mood to waste time on niceties — we were going straight for the jugular.

”His poor mother was very disturbed. She was catatonic in fact. She recently confided in me. She’d caught him masturbating himself to porn the other day. She’d told me, not in so many words, that the dirty little fucker was rubbing his dick looking at videos of twink cock videos,” she turned to the small boy, “You’re an evil little fucker, aren’t you?”

The boy looked at me … as if he was faking his embarrassment. His downcast eyes seemed to say that he was deeply ashamed … but his grinning mouth said that he was an eager cock sucker. Did his father use him? Was it his mother? Or a close family relative?

“God doesn’t like dirty little fuckers like you … he hates faggot bois … God wants to rid the church of queer fucks … but wait a minute … we’re not in church now … are we?”

“No, we’re not,” I added, trying to get with her perverted little game.

I had plugged my laptop into our big screen television and immediately found some femboi sex videos. Young boys with hard turgid cocks — sucking each other. It was one of my latest finds — several young sissy boys performing a satanic-like ritual with little demon horns upon their heads. It was perfect for the occasion. I forwarded to the scene where they had tied up and mock-raped another young sissy boy, seemingly against his will — but you could see that it was all just acting.

”Isn’t that what you like?” she asked the young boy.

He didn’t answer.

She’d put the boy’s his shoulder-length hair into two ponytails with a slight bit of eyeliner and a shimmer of pink lip gloss. He looked even more pretty. Just like a little slut.

I pulled the boy onto my lap, so he could feel my erection pressing upwards against his bottom through our clothing. He giggled like a girl and deliberately rubbed his little bubble butt back and forth against my stiffness. He obviously performed like this before.

“My old Daddy was so mean … you know … Can you be my new Daddy?”

“Of course,” I replied.

”Kiss me, Daddy.”

We kissed momentarily, mouth-to-mouth. My tongue parted his soft pink lips so that it filled his buttery mouth. He sucked on my invading tongue as he was giving me a head job.

“Mmmm … do you want to do dirty things to me, Daddy.”

“Of course we do,” I said looking eagerly at my wife.

My hand slipped beneath the elasticated hemline, inside his little boy pants I played with his hard little cock.

“Mmmmmm …” he groaned as we kissed more.

He was enjoying me molesting him.

“That’s it, you incestuous pervert … Give your sissy-son what he needs …”

My wife was smiling evilly and rubbing herself through her short skirt.

“He’s Daddy’s little cum-slut … aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mommy… I want to suck Daddy, just like I sucked you.”

Obviously, my wife didn’t wait to indoctrinate our new plaything together. There had been a part that I had missed. She’d got the little mite to blow her while I wasn’t around.

I noticed that her voice sounded different. Her inflections were somewhat deeper, more powerful, more deviant, almost masculine. She seemed to change more and more with each passing day.

She stood up and pulled aside her tiny g-string knickers to allow her rock-hard demon horn to spring forward. Fuck, I thought … It now looked much bigger than my own cock. All purple, wet, and very hard. Its appearance was almost exactly like a male sex organ with the foreskin drawn back to reveal its angry wet crown. I remembered the taste of her sourish cum — that she’d spurted over my face only the night before — that had taken me by surprise … almost more than having sex with her Sunday school pupil.

“Get naked, both of you. I want to see Daddy fuck his little slut boy … Fuck his dirty little ass-cunt for Satan.”

For the first time, it felt like things were beginning to get out of control. I mean this was my fantasy. And it seemed that my fantasy was no longer mine. It was as if my Succubus wife had taken over. I felt like a passage and not the driver. Strangely, I felt a spasm of guilt. What had I done? Maybe I had unwittingly brought forth more than I could handle.

But as that thought formed in my mind, I got completely sidetracked as my mouth watered with an unquenchable desire to suck up her evil cock. She just stood there, stroking herself and talking blasphemously — encouraging me to rape this young, little sissy-slut for her.


My Succubus wife was finally sate.

It was already the early hours. She had cum again and again and yet again. And now she’d fallen fast asleep together with my new sissy-son. I say ‘my’ … but really I could see that he did whatever it was that my wife told him. He was her little wet pet.

My mind still reeled from the evening’s events. It seemed implausible, unreal. Impossible.

As I recalled, my cock had been balls-deep in the effeminate boy’s impossibly tight anus. His bowels gripped my cock as I rocked back and forth, enjoying the simple pleasure of his anal corruption. Initially, he’d been all so eager for my cock, but then he quivered with some trepidation and resistance to the awful pain of my penetration as I fucked him as hard as I could.

”It hurts, Daddy … It hurts, Daddy …” he cried over and over.

”That’s it! Fuck him hard! Harder! Fuck the little faggot for me!” cried my evil wife.

Her right fist slid up and down her engorged demon horn and her left hand fingered her soaked cunt. She bucked in orgasms over and over — multiple orgasms wrecked her glowing nakedness — sometimes dry and other times with a full force of a cum-soaking.

Now the house felt cold and quiet — I wasn’t sure of the ramifications of this.

What if the boy told his real parents? Would they believe our version or his? Would we be exposed to our criminal behavior? Arrested and charged? Were we going to be sent to prison? Convicted and labeled with the stigma of being sex offenders for evermore? There seemed to be a focus these days on this sort of thing — to catch perverts and lock them away.

The young sissy boy stirred and cuddled up naked against my wife as they both lay spooning so innocently together. His cute bubble butt pressed back against her flat groin. Her demon horn was nowhere in sight, only her hairless vagina pressed against his ass-flesh. Like mother and child.

My cock stirred as I thought back to the cum-drenched sex. Both my wife and I had fucked him multiple times. We’d fucked his ass and his mouth. Spit-roasted him. Both of us, Daddy and Son had worshiped her demon horn. Daddy and Mommy had used him as our special little toilet mouth. His piss-wet body was sandwiched between us as our cocks all rubbed and frotted endlessly together.

I remembered my first taste of sissy urine. His young boy piss had been so sweet and clear. It had been such a delight to suck upon his dirty little boy cock. He’d even laughed out loud when he peed in my mouth — as if it were a sign of Daddy’s humiliation.

It had been a threesome dedicated to every perversion we could indulge. His fresh boy-semen had tasted like the food of the gods. I was completely hooked on this. Where was this taking us? All I knew was that my strange fantasies had taken us to an even stranger place — a place where I felt there was no way back.


Things took another twisting turn, just when I thought I had reached my limits.

“I have a surprise'” said my naked horny wife, “But first you must close your eyes.”

How could I refuse? I closed my eyes and felt a thick hood being pulled over my head. Blindfolded, really? What was she up to now? I didn’t really like surprises. Actually, that was an understatement — I hated them. She undressed me as I stood obediently still (despite my compulsion to remove the hood).

I had a really bad feeling about this.

“Come. Walk this way.”

She helped me walk forward with my bare feet.

I felt the bristle of dark magick as my naked body tingled all over. It wasn’t a pleasure feeling. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I strained against the inside fabric of the hood for a hint of what the hell was going on. But I just couldn’t see anything. It was just too dark under the hood.

Suddenly, the aroma changed. I detected the strong scent of nigger sweat, a pungent mix of toilet sex, and that distinctive mingling of strange herbs, incense, and putridity.

The temperature felt hotter. It was as if I were close to naked flames.

There was the distinctive pounding of Pedro drums — that sexual pulsing native beat, so raw and so ritualistic.

I went to remove the blindfold.

“No,” said the voice of my wife, “Wait now … Be patient.”

I felt both my hands being held tightly, restrained, then lifted wide and above my head. Someone was binding me. My ankles were bound the same. I pulled against my rope-like restraints. I could not move, even if I wanted to. Now I felt totally helpless.

“Relax, white boi.”

It wasn’t the sound of my wife. It was the voice of the Dark Mambo.

What the fuck was going on? My mind was reeling with the insane possibilities. I tried to move again, but I couldn’t. My wrists and ankles were fastened far too well to allow me to slip through the knots.

The crazy drumming had my head spinning.

“I want to be depraved with Daddy!”

It sounded something like the voice of the young sissy boy.

Again the prickle of evil gave me goosebumps. What did this mean? I felt small hands groping at my exposed groin — but instead of enjoying the sensation, I felt so naked and vulnerable. I wanted out of this evil game.

I felt the softness of small lips, kissing my nipples, sucking them gently. Small hands cradled my testicles softly and rubbed the flesh of my dick back to half erection. It felt so good. Really good. But I was still so apprehensive. How to be excited when you’re so apprehensive? Then I felt a hot tongue licking my balls and around my perineum, and up into the crack of my anus, bathing me in warm saliva. More small hands joined in, touching me, fondling me, masturbating me.

“See … nothing to fear … only pleasure,” said another voice that I didn’t immediately recognize.

I felt other small hands stroking my body. More small hands. So many small hands.

“It’s time,” said the reverberating voice of the Dark Mambo.

Someone pulled the hood from my head.

I blinked to focus better. My surroundings were dark and dank. A reddish glow illuminated a scene that I hadn’t expected. It resembled the Mambo’s lair. Fires lit the indistinct surroundings. There was something very primal and raw about my location. A decrepit, old graveyard with overgrown, broken, and unkept tombstones. How I got there was another mystery that I cared not to know.

I was dangling by the arms beneath the branches of a twisted old tree. Before me was the Dark Mambo’s ugly phallic idol.

The idol seemed larger and more pronounced — as old and unsightly as the rest of the graveyard. It looked to be crudely made of animal and human parts, bones, and flesh. It was covered in excrement and dripping with semen. Its face was that of a goat with curved horns and an ugly long snout. Its long curved phallus stood upright between its feminine breasts — A tribal kind of baphometic devil, I guessed.

I saw the Dark Mambo standing to one side of me (just in my field of vision). She was dressed in her long black flowing gown, stroking her huge black cock. The same black cock I’d had in both my mouth and ass.

There were others there too. I saw the young sissy boy kneeling naked in front of me … he looked up as he pleasured his Daddy … keeping me in a state of constant arousal. He was not alone, there were more young ones (just as effeminate as him), all naked and excited about whatever it was that was about to transpire.

There were six or maybe eight other adult-sized figures. They all looked like horned succubi with both ample breasts and large erect cocks. They all masturbated in time to the Pedro drums and danced on cloven hooves. Their tails swished back and forth. Their predatory eyes stared at me … as if I was too consumed.

“Let me down,” I cried.

“But your curse … It must be completed,” said a voice that barely resembled that of my wife’s.

That’s when I saw my wife among them.

Her vagina was no more. Her cock curved upwards towards her perky breasts, like an ophidian creature. But in that same instance, I came to the realization that she was no longer my wife. She was one of them … the curse was not about her … I was the one that was cursed … a victim of my own perverted persuasion … and now helpless before their depraved priestess, the Dark Mambo, and her demonic idol that seemed to demand that I be offered as their human sacrifice!




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