DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not reflect 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 portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times. All Rights Reserved © 2026 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Supernatural, Witchcraft, Transgender, Age-Play/Young, Demonic/Satanic, Transformation, Non-consensual, Rape, Sodomy, Incest, WS, Scat.
CREATED: 01.05.2026 (FINAL — V12)
The ShaWoman 2
SYNOPSIS OF THE SHAWOMAN
What is a ShaWoman? A ShaWoman is a gender-inclusive term, recognizing the ancient healing practices of women and the modern world in which we live. It refers to a practice that embraces the feminine and women’s ways, which, in their essence, embody creation, intuition, nurturing, and sharing. These are qualities that have endured since time immemorial, and if we embody their true capacity, we represent the paradigm shift the world needs now.
Women and their healing practices are largely excluded from history within the contemporary ‘shamanic’ movement. So this narrative explores this in a non-binary construct. By this I mean, not simply male or female, ‘either or’, but inclusive of diverse genders and physiologies. As with ‘shamanism’, being a ShaWoman involves working with spirits to find answers that heal us and the earth physically, emotionally, sexually, and spiritually.
THE SHAWOMAN — CHAPTER FOUR (2,162 WORDS)
Transsexuals come closer than anyone else to a complete recognition of their “Demonic Element” — The Satanic Witch, Anton Szandor LaVey (1971).
The world as we know it, the conscious world, sometimes feels so dreary, don’t you think? It can be so dull and unsatisfying. Day after day. Unchanging. Boring. Whilst the unconscious world sometimes feels more like my preferred reality. In which everything tastes better, sounds clearer, is more vibrant and colorful, and of course, is so much more sexually pleasurable.
Lately, my lucid dreams have felt so real. It felt as if I was really there, physically, I mean. That, whatever occured, felt more real than my reality. Had I probably overstayed my welcome in the dirty old trailer park in the middle of nowhere? Was it hell, or heaven, or something else? The jury was still out on that question.
I told you about the toilet throne. It had been vile, but interesting. I still could feel the Head-job Girl squirming on her knees at my loins. My ass still ached from being sodomized by her. And by her, I mean the evil ShaWoman, the so-called sexual medium, that had awakened my mind to the possibilities of the supernatural ….
“Mom says you have an evil spirit in your cock,” her faggot son had said.
Was that true? Was there an evil spirit in my loins? I could clearly remember that dirty, effeminate creature, masturbating his little, girlie cock in front of me. Teasing me. Taunting me with his faggot salaciousness, all wrapped in the pretence of juvenile naivety. There wasn’t anything naive or any innocence about the wicked, little fucker. He had the evil spirit. And he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
There had been that dank odor of the toilet block. And the appearing, and disappearing, drawing of the transgendered demon painted in human excrement. Belphegor, the twin-sex devil of waste. Shit and piss! Alluringly dressed in fishnet stockings and stilettoed heels, self-fellating its own serpent-like cock.
How could I not be moved by the vision of an incestuous mother and son, late at night, fucking like wild animals, as I watched and masturbated voyeuristically? The ShaWoman’s cock, so thick and hard. An angel or a demon? A conjurer. A satanic witch. A succubus. I could feel her transgendered cock throbbing against the roof of my hungry mouth. Night after night in her den of inequity. The sounds, smells, and tastes of the most depraved and perverted sex.
My daymares were always accompanied by that infernal buzzing sensation. I had truly sunken beneath a wave of utter filth … No. No. No … My head began to buzz angrily again.
xxxxx
I awoke and stirred in my bed.
Why was it always so hot here? So damn fucking hot! My body never stopped smelling of sweat, sex, and cock.
It felt as if it were the early hours of the morning. Maybe 3.00 AM? The devil’s hour. It was still dark, but with the curtains wide open, the monochrome light of the full moon fell across my bed. I realized then that I was not alone.
Asleep, next to me, was the ShaWoman’s son. Dirty little fucking pansy! We were both naked. I pulled back the damp sheet. He lay there, just comatose. So soft and girlie. I couldn’t remember how he’d got there. Then I remembered we’d been having sex that evening.
His effeminate body felt warm to the touch as my miscreant hand couldn’t resist reaching across his concave stomach to start fondling his small, flaccid penis. It wasn’t soft for long. It wasn’t small for long either. Even in his sleep, the faggot boy seemed constantly horny. I leaned across his flat stomach, positioning myself to take his cock between my lips. I wanted to kiss him, to taste him, to suck him, and have him blow his cum-load into the back of my greedy mouth.
I was hoping this wasn’t just another salacious dream or just another frustrating fantasy. I wanted this to be real!
“Arrghhhhh …” the boy moaned softly in his faggot-girlie voice, stirring under my sexual touch, kisses, and cock-sucking, “Mmmm … Daddy … mmmm … yes, suck me, Evil Daddy …“
I continued to stroke his stiffening flesh, taking his bulbous cock-head between my lips — sucking his thickening cock deeper into the back of my mouth, feeling the solidness of his cock-flesh, while my tongue did somersaults around his sensitive gland.
“Ohhhhh … Suck me hard, Evil Daddy … ohhhhh … yes, oh yes! Do your dirty incest thing, Daddy … ” he moaned more urgently.
I felt his hand on the top of my head, gripping my hair tightly in his fist, urging me to take his cock deeper. His narrow girlie hips began to jerk and pump back and forth, fucking my face harder and harder, impatient to reach his orgasm.
I tasted his watery liquids squirting into my throat. It wasn’t his cum. No, the perverted fucker was pissing in my mouth. I swallowed his acrid urine as he continued to face-fuck me. More salty piss. Now, there was too much to swallow. It ran out of the sides of my mouth, soaking our skin and the bedsheets beneath us.
“Fuck me, Piss-Drinking Daddy … Aaarghhh … Fuck me, Daddy, I know you want me!”
I lay back down on the urine-soaked bedsheets. Breathing hard, we began to kiss, mouth to mouth. His slippery tongue seemed eager to taste his own piss on my lips and in my mouth. Dirty little fucker. I fucking loved fornicating with him. So sinful. Such delicious sin. It was time for sodomy.
He climbed on top of me, so that my throbbing cock rubbed hard against his, as we wrestled together and frotted hard against one another. Our piss-wet cocks pressed together. He continued to piss more between our bodies as we wriggled around. I stank of his urine as he bathed me in his golden elixir.
“There’s an evil spirit in your cock, Evil Daddy! I want you to give it to me! Infect me. Spear me with your evil cock!”
He had been sliding back and forth across my wet stomach, but now, with his anus positioned perfectly above my cock, I felt him push backwards and downwards against my cock-head, so that the first two inches of my cock had sunk easily inside his bowels. Then, sliding deeper and deeper. Yes, until my entire cock was buried, balls-deep, inside of him.
“Ohhhhh, Evil Daddy, it hurts my little-virgin-boy-ass!” he pretended.
He sat upright above me, with his knees on either side of my thighs. It felt so tight inside him. He had begun rubbing his boy cock, as he rose and fell, impaling his girlie torso upon me. Sliding slowly up and down. His anal muscles continued to squeeze my cock tightly inside his guts. And looking down at me in the moonlight, his mouth was in a grimace of pleasure and pain, as he continued to ride my cock.
“Fuckkkkkkkk!” I moaned.
Now it was my turn. I pissed angrily inside his ass. My hot urine squirted upwards inside his dirty bowels.
“Oh, yes, Daddy! Baptize me in your dirty piss and seed! Mmmmm .., release the demon in your cock inside me!”
Fucking horny little runt. We were both burning up. The stench of sweat and piss was overwhelming.
“Fuck!” I grunted over and over.
I gripped his narrow boy-waist. I lifted my hips to meet his downward thrusts, driving every inch of my meagre cock upwards, inside him, as my orgasm began to build.
“Yes, Daddy, do it! Use me! Fuck me! Sodomize me! Yes, fuck me to death!”
My cock momentarily slipped from the grips of his greasy anus, all covered in his filthy, ass-slime. I quickly pressed it back inside him.
“Arghhh … Don’t stop! Arghhh … More! More, Daddy!” he screamed.
Faggot Boy fell forward, kissing my mouth hungrily, as we continued to fuck again like wild animals.
Just as I was about to cum, I turned my head to one side, and in the mirrored reflection, I saw her — the enigmatic ShaWoman was there — watching us both under the moonlight. I don’t know how long she’d been there, but her evil eyes twinkled with her obscene approval … her consent … her permission …
Just then, Faggot Boy’s cock exploded over me.
“Oh, my fucking gawd!” I screamed.
His gooey seed splashed over my face, just as I began to jerk uncontrollably, spurting my cum upwards inside his dirty, tight bowels.
xxxxx
Immorality. Salaciousness. Sexual perversion. Was that all I could think about? Well, to be honest, everything else seemed to be dull. It seemed to be, the darker and more depraved, the better.
“You see things differently, don’t you?” she asked.
She smiled with evil intent. More like a bloodthirsty vampyre about to devour me. My shattered mind just remained in the moment. Not thinking too much. My hard cock seemed to do most of the thinking since arriving at the dirty, old trailer park.
“There is an evil spirit in your cock.” she mocked her son’s naive words, “You must do more than just obey it. You must do its every bidding. You live now, only to serve its perverted purpose.”
The ShaWoman’s salacious incantation had me captivated. My head buzzed loudly like an angry insect. Fuck. It was hard to breathe. She had untied the front of her long, elegant gown. Now, I watched it, as it fell slowly, from her slim, elegant shoulders. Her eyes were as black as coal. The ShaWoman was the most beautiful creature I could ever imagine. My eyes traced the shape of her sexy torso, downwards to between her legs. No longer a woman, but both feminine and masculine, all in one. Her Baphometic maleness rose upwards from between her legs, like a magnificent flesh sword of sinfulness. She wore her transgendered nakedness as her unholy shroud.
“See, you cannot resist your own wickedness,” she said, “You are a demon, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I felt my head nodding in recognition. I felt out of control. More like the passenger, rather than the driver.
The delicate, painted nails of her long fingers drew scratches across her tiny, bubble breasts. She pinched her nail-hard nipples, stroking her pale skin, ever downwards, over her concave stomach. Then, gripping her low-hanging testicles, her fist closed around the magnificent girth of her wet-tipped, erect cock.
”Our demons seek a union,” she moved closer as I knelt, shaking before her, “Their evil lust must be sated. And our seed must be split. Satan and Lilith must be served. Our sodomistic devotion to malfeasance, temptation, corruption, immorality … must all be honored.”
I wanted to say something. Anything, but my lips were no longer for talking. She placed her left hand behind my head, gripping my hair, and guided my mouth forward to meet the tip of her horn-like cock.
“Suck my cock. That’s it. Worship it with your unworthy lips. Show me how you can shed your useless humanity. End your ridiculous struggles. You came here, to me, the ShaWoman, to embrace your true malevolence,” her enchantment continued, “Become there is an incubus within you. Rise! … Rise! … Rise! … give into your deviant desires, and feel the demon’s strength fill your loins, with infinite depravity!”
My mouth dropped open at her command.
I began to fervently kiss her demonic cock. Yes! Satan must be served. It quivered and twisted in my grip as I lavished and licked its greasy cock-shaft. My hands eagerly cradled her heavy testicles, which were filled with her evil seed. The semen of sin, that I desired to devour. I gorged myself, sucking her cock-head. Licking it feverishly. My tongue lavishes it. Adoring it. Yes, I could feel my true being emerging, like a snake shedding ecdysis … my inner demon emerging to her omnipresence.
Now her hands gripped me by my shoulder. She steadied herself. Her narrow hips thrust back and forth, using my mouth as a fuck-hole.
“I am your sexual medium! Transcend, O Great Evil One! Use this worthless vessel as your host! Come to me! Come to me, O Satan!”
My mouth was filled with the veined thickness of her possessed cock. Face-fucking me like the devil. Stabbing me over and over, as she gripped my upper body like a vice.
All the time, my own fist had been tightly wrapped around my throbbing cock. My precum flowed over my fingers. Then, as I fucked myself furiously, she suddenly came in my mouth.
“Aaarghhhhhh … fuuuuuuuuuuk … yerrrr!” she screamed.
The ShaWoman’s hot seed pumped into the back of my throat. There was far too much to swallow; cum literally poured from the sides of my mouth, as she exploded over and over. An inhuman volume of cum. At almost the same instance, it triggered my own meagre orgasm. I almost fell backwards, trying to catch my breath through my cum filled mouth.
xxxxx
THE SHAWOMAN — CHAPTER FIVE (2,359 WORDS)
Knock. Knock.
There was a sharp knock on the front door. My head wasn’t right. I ignored it at first. I’d fallen asleep on the couch in the transvestite’s house. My recollection of events seemed to get worse. It had been like some kind of porn movie with literally one sex scene after the other and very little narrative. I think we’d been sucking and fucking that afternoon. I had become addicted to cock. Anyway, I wasn’t dressed for any daytime visitors.
Knock. Knock.
There it was again. Fuck, my head hurts. Why can’t you leave me alone? Where was the fucking transvestite when you needed him? Probably getting off in his perverted cellar.
Knock. Knock.
Whoever they were, they were damn persistent, I must give them that. Reluctantly, I finally got up off the punched leather couch and stumbled over to the front door of the transvestite’s house in just my boxer shorts. I half-opened the front door and squinted in the brightness as I peered out.
Standing there, on the veranda, was a youth in a white shirt, black tie and suit pants. He would have looked very smart, but it was way too hot outside. He looked uncomfortable and thirsty. His once nicely pressed shirt was now stuck awkwardly to the midday sweat of his narrow frame. His tie hung crookedly. His name tag said that his name was Christian Walker, of the LDS Church.
Even without his name tag, it was very obvious that he was a fucking Mormon missionary boy, proselytizing in the wrong place.
I knew only a very little about the Missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, often referred to as Mormon missionaries. I knew that they had a strict adherence to the law of chastity (sexual purity), a health code that eschews alcoholic beverages, tobacco, tea, coffee, and any addictive substances. Poor fucker, I thought — And their lives consist of payment by tithing, spiritual diligence, and the testimony of their Abrahamic God. Something about, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations” (Matthew 28:19–20).
“Good afternoon, kind sir,” he said.
He was way too polite. Annoyingly so. He was carrying a large black Bible in his left hand and some scripture pamphlets in the other.
“What do you want?” I asked, waiting for his religious blah.
“I come with a message from our Almighty God,” he began.
My cock seemed to find him attractive for some damn reason that I couldn’t fathom at the time. Maybe it was his silky-slick voice. The demon inside me seemed to want something from him. Maybe I just wanted to fuck his awkward mouth. Piss down his throat. Maybe yank his pants down and eat his meat? My cock stirred restlessly and pressed awkwardly outwards against the thin material of my shorts. If he’d noticed, he didn’t remark, just poised there to begin his verbiage.
“Don’t you missionary dudes travel in pairs?” I asked.
“Er, actually, my colleague is using the public conveniences at the moment,” he answered.
“The toilet block …” I said out loud (more to myself than to the Mormon Boy).
Mormon Boy subconsciously licked his thin, boyish lips. He looked parched.
“Why don’t we invite him in? Maybe he needs something to drink. Some special lemonade, maybe?” It was the sing-song voice of the transvestite.
Special lemonade. Right. That should fix him right up. How to argue with the hostess with the mostest?
“Sure,” I answered without turning away from the hopeful missionary.
“Thank you, sir. It is certainly a hot and humid day,” he answered as he stood on the edge of the doorway.
He was poised to enter the transvestite’ house, but he seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if crossing the threshold would somehow be hazardous to his health. And of course it would be, knowing the way the perverted transvestite thought.
And then he was inside. I closed and locked the door behind me.
It was much darker inside than out. And with the curtains drawn, I guess his young eyes were still adjusting to the low level of light. Then, he saw the transvestite dressed like a perverted Gestapo officer —wearing one of their distinctive peaked caps, beneath which he wore black fishnet stockings, a tiny pair of g-string panties, a latex corset, and thigh-high boots.
The Mormon Boy seemed to be rather disturbed by this sight. I could see his mind trying to grasp at what was going on. That’s when I remembered that the Mormons didn’t take kindly to homosexuality. They had it in for queers, gays, and transgender folks.
“My apologies,” he stuttered as he turned to leave.
I was blocking his way to the door.
“Don’t you want some special lemonade?” asked the perverted transvestite.
“Well, thank you, kind sir. I would actually appreciate some refreshments, but I cannot stay long, as I should be getting back to my colleague,” he pretended unconvincingly.
My bladder reminded me that I needed to piss badly. Maybe piss down his pretty throat.
“Come now, sit down. It won’t take long. I promise,” lied the kinky transvestite, pouring him a large glass of his special lemonade.
Mormon Boy was obviously thirsty. Against his obvious revulsion, he sat down on the tatty old couch, and I sat down next to him. The heat of the day was stifling. Even the ceiling fan in the transvestite’s house did little to cool the room. They just recirculated the hot, putrid air.
Mormon Boy drank the special lemonade down in several gulps.
My arm rested on the back of the tatty, leather couch, slipping behind him. He seemed unaware of my proximity. That gnawing feeling began again. My head was buzzing loudly, and my cock was extremely hard and dripping, making an obvious wet patch in the front of my boxers. The transvestite sat down on the opposite side of me, putting Mormon Boy between us.
“Why do you call it special lemonade?” he asked, making small talk and looking towards the exit.
Maybe it was an unwise question. I knew how powerful the ShaWoman’s recipe was. She made it herself. An evil concoction. I knew how it felt. His libido would soon overtake any rational thoughts. I waited to see what the transvestite would say.
“It’s just a social lubricant, you could say. But, I prefer to call it Satan’s Rape Juice.”
Mormon Boy seemed to blink momentarily, his mouth hung open, as he was still processing the transvestite’s blasphemous words. The effects would be almost immediate. I moved closer, and my hand rested on the top of his trousered thigh — my fingers pressing against his crutch. His cock was hardening beneath his pants. I could feel his bulge growing against his will. He made no resistance as I opened his flies and took his stiffening cock into my hand.
The transvestite’s hand gently guided Mormon Boy’s face towards him as he began to kiss his mouth amorously. I could see the tansvestite’s long, penile tongue penetrating the Mormon Boy’s open mouth.
“We intend to make you a willing toilet slave for Satan,” the transvestite whispered in his ear, “Argh. And my bowels are so full right now! You’re gonna love the taste of our golden rain and the devil’s sacred mana. And I will be your Toilet Goddess. Yes, your place will be beneath my scat throne. Your lips pressed to my anus. Your tongue will penetrate my dirty-brown flower. And your mouth will be my receptacle of Satan’s most precious gifts! Ah, the brown offering to the Dark Lord brings such depraved joys!”
”I need to … go … I cannot stay …” he bleated hopelessly.
Almost on cue, the front door opened, and the ShaWoman entered. She appeared pleased at what she saw. How did she know? Supernatural shit, I guessed. She quickly pranced around to the front of the couch, inspecting our handiwork. She stroked the Mormon boy’s damp hair and then bent forward and kissed his mouth, just like the transvestite had done.
“Please … Blessed God … Stop … I have to be leaving … can’t do this … can’t …“ he weakly whined.
With his black pants and underwear around his ankles, I had begun to stroke his erect cock, which had become incredibly hard. I rolled back his loose foreskin, leaned over his lap, and began to suck his delicious, young missionary, cock-head.
“Oh, my God! Stop, this is wrong! Homosexuality is wrong. In the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ … Stop … it’s … it’s …” he continued.
“Look at me, Boy. I’m your God now!” interrupted the ShaWoman, “Bring him downstairs.”
xxxxx
It seemed that our Mormon Boy had brought together quite a little gathering. There was I, the ShaWoman’s son, and Head-job Girl. We all stood back and took in the scene. We were all naked and masturbating ourselves until I pushed Head-job Girl down on her knees in front of me, so I could use her mouth to fuck again. She seemed eager to serve both the ShaWoman’s son and me as we eagerly watched, anticipating the demise of Mormon Boy.
Meanwhile, the Gestapo transvestite, had pushed his tiny g-string panties aside, was stroking his thickened cock with one hand, and holding a leather riding crop with the other. He used the tip of the whip to prod the genitals of Mormon Boy. Mormon Boy had been stripped of all his Mormon clothing. And was now on his knees, before the toilet throne, where the ShaWoman was seated.
“Mormon Boy, wakey, wakey,” said the transvestite in his falsetto voice, “Now stop crying. Your dumb-fucking gawd cannot save you here. Mmmmmmm. This is Satan’s domain. And guess what, it’s almost time for your Cock-Mommy to empty her stinking bowels into your naughty, little, potty mouth.”
“Let me go,” he cried, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Mormon Boy, as we seemed to refer to young Mr Christian Walker. He looked up at the transvestite, hopelessly. It was as if his young mind and body were disassociated, working separately, as he struggled to comprehend his predicament.
“Please,” he begged.
The transvestite laughed out loud, adding insult to injury.
The ShaWoman’s face was concealed behind a particularly evil-looking goat mask with a pointed snout and large horns. Her eyes looked wild as they peered through the narrow eye-slits of the mask. She sat naked and impatiently on the toilet throne. She was stroking her erect nipples with one hand, whilst the other gripped her serpent-like appendage, vigorously rubbing it up and down, to the sound of devil’s drums.
I gripped the long hair of Head-job Girl, and fucked her mouth harder to the same crazy drum beat, pumping my hips back and forward, into her gob-hole, as her small fingers penetrated my greasy anus.
“Fuck yer! Satan be praised! Fuck the Holy Spirit! Fuck Gawd!” l aughed the twisted transvestite.
He aimed his stiff cock downwards towards Mormon Boy and began to piss over his face. As the hot, salty piss struck his skin, soaked his hair and face, the Mormon Boy could do nothing to resist.
“Blessed are Satan’s gifts! Open your potty mouth and drink the Golden Elixir of Sin!” he proclaimed as if giving holy communion.
Mormon Boy’s mouth just hung open as the transvestite continued to piss directly into his mouth, not actually swallowing it, but just letting it run out over his chin.
“I am ready,” she farted loudly, “Get him beneath me! I must defecate!” the SheWo man ordered to the transvestite.
Having emptied his bladder, the transvestite rubbed his piss-wet cock. He seemed eager to please the ShaWoman, but at the same time, looked disappointed that it wasn’t him sitting on his diabolical toilet throne.
”Get on with it! NOW!” she growled.
Her voice seemed agitated and annoyed with his delay.
Mormon Boy moved as if in a trance, sliding his head beneath the base of the toilet throne. The rest of his body lay on the carpeted floor, his legs extending outwards before the throne. The transvestite parted Mormon Boy’s legs wider, and he positioned himself so that his cock was pressed against Mormon Boy’s anus. He lifted Mormon Boy’s buttocks, holding him up, to get his cock inside his virgin ass.
The ShaWoman’s son, Head-job Girl, and I all moved closer.
The ShaWoman paid little attention to us or to whatever the transvestite was doing.
“Get your mouth to my ripe asshole, Mormon Boy! Kiss it. Lick it. Worship me as your new God! Show me your total adoration, complete servitude, and unholy homage!” the ShaWoman ordered.
From our front row seats, I could see Mormon Boy’s head lifting to the task. His mind and body no longer needed to coordinate his actions. I could see his tongue lavishing the ShaWoman’s rectum with depraved passion. Head-job Girl had turned around, facing the throne, offering me her ripe anus. I wasted no time and pressed my cock-head against the wrinkled circle of pouting ass-flesh.
“Arghhh! That’s a good Mormon Boy! Hail Satan! Hail Lilith! Fuck Gawd! Get your tongue right up my brown flower!”
We heard the ShaWoman fart loudly into Motman Boy’s face. The smell was pungent! It was a greasy, spitting kind of sound. She was pounding her cock at the same time, whilst squirming on the toilet throne and grinding against his face. Then, I saw her dark mana begin to emerge from her anus. The smell intensified. We were all fucking furiously, watching as the ShaWoman began to shit over Mormon Boy’s upturned face.
“Eat it! Eat it, you fucker. Eat my gawd-damned shit!” she screamed.
The transvestite was pumping Mormon Boy’s ass as if he were possessed. Mormon Boy’s body was shaking violently from the transvestite’s thrusts against his virgin prostate. The ShaWoman’s son had climbed on the toilet throne, positioning himself above his mother’s cock. She grabbed his tightly, pulling him downwards, spearing his anus with her hungry cock.
Mormon Boy was the first to ejaculate. His watery semen sprayed over his stomach and chest as the transvestite pounded his ass.
“Gggrhhhhh …” He groaned through his shit-filled mouth.
xxxxx
THE SHAWOMAN — CHAPTER SIX (2,210 WORDS)
It had been another rather interesting day in the dirty, old trailer park. Well, that’s one way to describe it, I guess. The scatophilic orgy in the basement of the transvestite’s house — his little toilet-sex dungeon — had my head spinning. The Mormon Boy, as far as I knew, was still there in a tiny cage, down in that putrid place.
I had gone outside for a smoke. The weather was still overly warm, but I found a shady spot under a large tree on the edge of the trailer park property to sit. It had been almost a week since my first arrival. The time had passed so quickly. I realized that I actually hadn’t really left the place since then. A few odd trips to the petrol station on the corner of the block to get my essentials. But that was about it. Night and day, it had been all about this evil ShaWoman.
That’s when I saw Mormon Boy’s companion. I was right. They always traveled in pairs. Poor fuckers. I expected it to be another young guy, but it wasn’t. I think they call themselves “Sister Missionaries”. She was a bit older than Mormon Boy, maybe his senior by about a couple of years, but still in her early twenties.
She was conservatively dressed in a plain, black skirt that reached over her knees, a white blouse, and flat shoes. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a single ponytail. She wore thick-lensed glasses, similar to Mormon Boy; she carried a Bible and scripture pamphlets. Like her male counterpart, she looked somewhat bedraggled from the heat and seeing me sitting under the tree, she casually walked over.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said, “May I join you in the shade? It’s a very hot day.”
“Be my guest,” I answered, taking a long drag from the remains of my cigarette.
“I don’t suppose you have come across a colleague of mine?”
She was, of course, talking about Mormon Boy. Mormon Boy, who’d been smeared with stinking feces and thoroughly fucked. Yes, I thought. I fucked him in hard the ass after the transvestite. I blow a nice big load in his bowels and pissed over his shit-coated face. Then, we tied him up and beat his cock and balls, black and blue, with the riding crop, before throwing him into a small cage (only large enough to be on all fours)— we had more depraved plans for him tonight.
“He’s a missionary, like me,” she explained, “His name is Christian Walker.”
“No, I have seen him,” I lied, “He must be somewhere in the trailer park. Did you try the toilet block?”
She looked at me with a strange expression. Revulsion, maybe?
“Yes, I did. A rather blasphemous place, I must say …” she added with a strange sense of excitement in her tone. “I mean, these places must be a magnet to deviants, perverts, faggots and queers. All those homos, sodomizing each other. Unmarried mothers incestuously molesting their own. You know what I mean?”
I did not comment, but found her use of foul language a turn-on. My cock began to stiffen in my shorts.
“My apologies,” she said, “My name is Sapphire. Sapphire Heat.”
I had already figured that one out by looking at her name tag. She offered me her limp-wristed hand to shake. Her eyes looked so beady and rather deviant behind her thick-lensed glasses. More like a pervert than a missionary.
I took her hand in mine and pressed it against the bulge in my shorts. She went to pull her hand back, but I held it fast. Then, she seemed to relax. Her fingers began to grip my stiff cock, rubbing it.
“You could be right about places like this. Filled with evil, lust, and debauchery. A place where you’d go looking for such unholy pleasures. Rape, sexual abuse, and even devil worship. Did you masturbate in the toilet block? You soiled your knickers, didn’t you?”
Her chest was heaving, and her breathing seemed ragged, as if her display was giving away her true intentions.
“How did you know?”
I didn’t answer. I pulled her closer and put my hand up her dress. Yes, she was knickerless, and her hairy crutch was extremely wet.
“I picked this place for Christian and me to visit. Prayer is not my ambition. I wasn’t sure what to expect. One can only hope to find a place to live out one’s most secret desires. I saw the demon on the toilet wall. The cock-demon. Draw in human feces, self-sucking her gorgeous cock. I knew it was a sign. I kissed it, and it made me cum so hard!”
We had an understanding. She was like me. Longing to break the boredom. We immediately began to kiss. It was a real sloppy, wet, tongue-duelling kiss. I groped her ample breasts through her tight, white blouse as she continued to masturbate me through my shorts.
“Is there somewhere we can go?” she asked.
Of course, there was. I was wondering what she’d make of her missionary colleague, who’d been less than willing to join the Satanic orgy-party.
“What about your colleague, Christian Walker? Don’t you want to find him?”
“He was just clickbait. I imagine he’s found trouble somewhere. Fuck him. My cunt is on fire. I need to offer myself to the devil. Take me to the ShaWoman.”
She knew about her. I was surprised that some fucking, lame-ass, gawd bitch would know anything about my Goddess. I didn’t ask how she knew. I guess, like a lot of things around the trailer park, the supernatural works in strange ways.
xxxxx
There was not much of an introduction. The ShaWoman was waiting for us as we entered the transexual’s house. Sapphire looked nervously excited as we stepped inside the darkened room. The Head-job Girl was there, she stood naked and masturbating in one corner, while the ShaWoman’s son stood on the opposite side.
“I have been waiting for you, Sapphire,” she said, “I feel your energy. The dark halo of a succubus!”
“Are … are… are you the one they call the … Shawoman?” Sapphire stuttered nervously, her voice trembling as she spoke.
The ShaWoman was dressed simply in her elegant gown that extended to the ground, only revealing her bare feet.
“You know the answer to that. Undress, before me. Shed the trappings of your old, dead religion. And come forward and kneel before me, your Goddess, if you dare.”
Sapphire looked at me. I nodded in silent acknowledgement.
I watched her as she awkwardly removed her blouse and bra, allowing the flesh of her ample bosoms to be free from their constraints. Then she stepped out of her flats and undid the zipper on the side of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. I swear, I could smell her hairy minge from where I stood. Wet and slimy. I undressed quickly, anticipating the debauchery, and knowing that the ShawWoman would want me to.
“Tell me, Mormon Girl, why do you seek out the darkness?” asked the ShaWoman.
“It’s a long story, but I was inducted into the LDS Church by my strict parents. I had no choice in the matter. I have never believed in all their shit. I just had to pretend I did while I searched for a way out. I have always had evil fantasies … masturbated and prayed to sexual demons … fucked myself with my crucifix … found the dark joy in blasphemy … soiling my Bible in private … even imagining fucking young ones in the Black Mass!”
The ShaWoman laughed. “Having evil fantasies is one thing,” she said, “But living them out is another story. Are you truely ready for this?”
Sapphire knelt before her. Her head lowered humbly, as if in complete devotion. The ShaWoman extended her right hand, and Sapphire kissed it. Then, the ShaWoman shoved two of her fingers into Sapphire’s mouth, moving them back and forth slowly, as if it were a cock, and Sapphire was performing fellatio for her.
“You intrigue me,” she added.
The ShaWoman opened her long gown. Sapphire audibly gasped as she saw the ShaWoman’s cock was already stiff and pointing upwards over her flat stomach. The ShaWoman leaned forward, holding her cock upright, taking the crown of her erection into her own mouth — self-sucking herself with perverted glee.
“Does this look familiar?” the ShaWoman asked.
“Yes! Oh! Yes,” answered Sapphire. Her excitement was obvious, “Just like the image of the transgendered demon that was painted on the wall of the toilet block.”
“The one that you kissed, masturbated, and prayed to?”
“Yes! Yes! The very same!”
The ShaWoman closed her gown.
“Bring me the strap-on dildo,” she ordered her young son.
He scurried off. He returned quickly with a long, black latex, double-ended phallus that had a buckled harness to hold it in position.
“Put it on,” ordered the ShaWoman to Sapphire.
The boy gave Sapphire the double-ended, strap-on dildo. I could see her looking at it closely. She eyed it with a sense of awe, as if she’d dreamt of touching something like it, but had never dared to.
“Aaggghhhhrrrrr … Fuck Gawd. Fuck the Holy Spirit,” she moaned and blasphemed, as she sank one end of the phallus into her hungry cunt, pressing it to the hilt.
Sapphire was quivering as she fastened the harness straps around her hips. Filled with fake cock. Now, with the strap-on dildo in place, I thought that Sapphire resembled the ShaWoman, with the dildo’s black-ribbed length, curved upwards from her hips. It looked so fucking hot. She smiled evilly at her own transformation. Her beady eyes glistening through her milk-bottle-bottom glasses.
“You look delightful — just like a demon!” remarked the ShaWoman, “Why don’t we join your Mormon Boy, downstairs, in our little dungeon? Why don’t we play a game?”
xxxxx
I wasn’t sure what they whispered to each other. But I kind of guessed at the game that the ShaWoman had in mind.
The transvestite had pulled Moron Boy from his tiny cage. It was one that you could only be on your hands and knees in. He looked bedraggled. He smelt of shit, piss, and semen. The whipping from the transvestite, had left his groin covered in small, red lacerations. As he was pulled from the cage, with a dog leash around his neck, he began to cowl, to whimper, and then cry.
“No more. No more,” he cried, “Please! Let me go … I promise to God that I will say nothing. Please!”
“Hang him up,” ordered the ShaWoman.
Then, Mormon Boy saw his colleague, Sapphire. For a moment, there was a glimmer of hope. He looked puzzled. I could see his mind reeling. Why was she naked, and what was that evil contraption between her legs?
The transvestite and I grabbed his hands and secured him by his wrists above his head, hanging from the ceiling, and by his ankles to the floor. He was completely immobilized.
“Sapphire! Sapphire! Please tell them to let us go. We’ve done nothing to them. We mean no harm!”
The ShaWoman held Sapphire tightly in front of her.
“You see, Mormon Boy, your colleague here has been told, if she doesn’t do exactly what we tell her, that we’re going to kill her.”
Sapphire pretended to cry.
“Please! Let us go!” she cried, “Don’t make me do it! Please … We’re God-fearing people. His blessed children. We’re good people. Kind people. Not perverts and demons.”
She was putting on quite an act. It was making me very horny.
“If you don’t fuck him hard,” growled the ShaWoman, “I mean, really fuck him hard. Sodomize his ass properly. If you hold back one bit, I will kill you. I will kill both of you. Do you understand?”
Sapphire nodded ( maybe a bit too enthusiastically).
The ShaWoman turned to Mormon Boy.
“”You see. She doesn’t have a choice. And you’d better enjoy it. Otherwise, I may be disappointed and kill you anyway!”
Mormon Boy just hang there, dangling like fishing bait. All hope had gone.
Sapphire, in the meantime, was eager to get started. She stood immediately behind Mormon Boy as he hung helplessly. Her hands traced the naked form of her missionary companion, as if sizing up the opportunity. Her hand touched his cock that had become hard, against his will. Fuck, this was turning me on so much. Sapphire pressed the tip of the ribbed dildo between Mormon Boy’s buttocks.
“It hurts! Please, Sapphire, don’t! No more! Let us go …”
“Death or sodomy?” asked Sapphire as she leaned against his bare back, kissing his neck, and gripped his hips.
She licked her grinning lips, then thrust the dildo a couple of inches inside Mormon Boy’s ass. A true succubus. Evil incarnate. Not the daughter of a Mormon family, but the daughter of the devil. The dildo was far bigger than either the transvestite’s cock or mine. Far thicker. Ribbed and curved. Completely evil. It was going to make a mess of his bowels. Maybe it would rip him apart? I couldn’t wait!
“Aarghhhhh .. For the love of God, STOP! Arghhh … It’s … it’s too big! Too big!” he cried.
“Do it!” ordered the ShaWoman.
xxxxx
THE END?
xxxxx
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