THE SHAWOMAN

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, WS, Scat.

CREATED: 01.03.2026 (FINAL – V15)

The ShaWoman

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 ONE (2,659 WORDS)

Transsexuals come closer than anyone else to a complete recognition of their “Demonic Element” — The Satanic Witch, Anton Szandor LaVey (1971).

The story I am about to tell you probably didn’t happen. I mean, I haven’t been myself lately. My problem is that with my overactive imagination, sometimes I confuse make-believe and reality.

It all started with my frustration. Or was it just boredom? Maybe both? You know what I mean? When there’s nothing that can surprise you anymore. When it all becomes so routine and expected. Everything seemed dull and uninspiring. Like a meal with no flavor! I desperately needed something. Something new. Something different. Something crazy! So, I dropped out of everything, packed up, and left it all behind.

My unplanned journey brought me to a half-filled old trailer park just before sunset. The sky was still a burnt amber. It was a hot evening, and I had been sweating after the long walk with my rucksack over my shoulder. Sitting in a deckchair on the veranda was a slim woman. I was hoping she’d be able to give me directions. However, when I approached her to ask where I could find number thirteen, I realized that she wasn’t a woman, but a transvestite, with a short dress, high-heeled shoes, long hair, and a full face of makeup.

“Thirteen,” smiled the transvestite, “You’re looking for the ShaWoman’s place?” answering my question with a question, but then pointed towards a single-story prefabricated house on the crest of the hill.

I nodded, not knowing what a ShaWoman was. It seemed like a strange description. I had heard of a shaman or even shamanism before, but never a ShaWoman. Wasn’t it something to do with spiritual healing or some other mumbo-jumbo?

The darkness was setting in. But even in the dull illumination, I could see that it looked like a complete dump. The sign on the door said “room to rent”. I knocked.

The exotic woman who answered the door wasn’t very tall. Was she the ShaWoman? She was younger than I had expected and quite attractive. She was tattooed and dressed in a simple white gown. Her black hair was cut in a trendy, short bob. She smiled with overly white teeth and an obvious overbite. She had a pretty femininity that was very appealing to me. Maybe she was too appealing. Behind her stood a lad. Her son most likely. His hair was a greasy replica of his mother’s. He was young, thin-bodied, and dressed only in his dirty underwear.

She beckoned me in, “You came about the room?” she asked the obvious question.

“Yes, please,” I answered plainly.

“In here,” she said, pointing to the open doorway to the left of the front door.

I peered in. It looked okay. A single bed. A desk. But no attached shower or toilet. It would do for now. It looked like the rest of the place — much in need of repair. The peeling wallpaper. The uneven floorboards. The rust spots on the mirror that hug the opposite wall. From where I stood, I could see the rest of the living, dining, and kitchen. It all looked pretty shabby. Disorderly, cluttered, and eclectic. Obviously, the ShaWoman wasn’t exactly house proud.

“Fifty. In advance,” I said, giving her two twenties and a ten.

“Thanks,” she answered, “Say hello.”

“Hello,” answered the enigmatic lad.

I looked at him. He had a mischievous face that said he was always up to no good. His dirty-white Y-front showed the bulge of his young cock. The mother’s eyes were watching me, like a hawk, but didn’t seem perturbed by my sexual interest in her son. Instead, she seemed to smile encouragingly.

The laboring ceiling fan did little to disguise the scent of their unclean bodies in the sweltering heat. I guessed we all needed a shower.

“You hungry?” the ShaWoman asked, “I just made soup. There’s enough for three. Would you like some?”

I nodded. I was hungry. I took my heavy backpack and put it on the bed. I quickly changed into my shorts and singlet and then joined the mother and son at their modest dinner table. Everything looked like it was made in the sixties or seventies. The ShaWoman’s gown was skimpy. Her perspiration made the material almost seem transparent. I could clearly see her dark, pointed nipples pressing outwards against the sheer fabric. I wanted to suck them. My cock seemed to react to her unconsciously.

”Your neighbor said something about you being a ShaWoman,” I asked.

“Yes, I am. I am a spiritualist. I see and feel the world beyond. A sexual medium between our world and the next. I hope that doesn’t disturb you.

“No. Not at all,” I answered.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?” she asked.

Actually, I knew very little about Shamanism. Sexual spirits and stuff like that all sounded a little creepy, but at that moment, it seemed to only enhance my attraction to her. A sexual medium — the words conjured images of strange chanting, dark rituals, black magick, idolatry, and, of course, nudity.

”Well … I don’t know much about the … supernatural … umm … I’m kind of agnostic. You know, not sure.”

”Many don’t believe anymore. It’s an ancient belief. But spirits are real. They are all around us. Everywhere. They can have a profound influence on our lives. Some think it’s imagination. Dreaming. Hallucinations … you will see …”

She smiled at my awkwardness. But, to be honest, my filthy mind was already alive with lusty thoughts. She seemed to be aware of my attraction to her (as if it gave her leverage over me).

”Please, enjoy,” she said, drawing an end to this bizarre introduction.

As I sat at the small table, the ShaWoman served me a large helping of clear soup. It had the unexpected taste of warm, spicy … like the salty, briny, like urine. I didn’t want to be rude, so I swallowed.

As I began to drink it, I felt the lad’s bare legs touching mine gently under the small table. He looked directly at me as I drank his mother’s soup. I opened my legs, welcoming his sensual touch. At first, I thought it was just accidental, but then I felt the slightly gritty sensation of his dirty toes pressing lightly against my inner thigh, reaching up until they pressed directly against my groin, rubbing my hardening cock. Fuck, it was turning me on.

“You like it?” she asked. My mind was buzzing with the unexpected sensation of her son’s feet touching my hard cock through the thin material of my shorts.

I hesitated for a moment, then she added, “… you like my urine soup.”

I couldn’t answer. For some reason, my mind was now in a complete buzz. Like, there was something. Inside my head, blocking my ability to reason or to make better judgments. I found myself staring at her tiny, almost flat, boyish chest. Staring at the goat-like charm that hung between her tiny, pointed breasts. Was she caressing her dark, bullet-like nipples through the wet fabric? My arousal seemed to make my hips rock aggressively back and forth against the boy’s toes as they pressed more obviously against me — was he intentionally masturbating me with his feet?

And then, as quickly as the disturbing sensation had arisen, my strange trance snapped.

“I said … do you like my soup?”

It took a long moment for me to recalibrate. No, she wasn’t touching herself in front of me. Her son’s toes weren’t in my groin. Where had I been?

“Errr, yes. It’s nice,” I lied.

xxxxx

After dinner, I got undressed, intending to take a shower and cool down. My bizarre encounter at their dining table had kept my cock constantly hard. Though I was feeling extremely horny, I had lain down on the unmade bed for just a moment. I was so tired, and without realizing, my eyes closed quickly.

I must have fallen into an uneasy sleep. But then, I awoke suddenly. My cock was still very stiff. I needed to empty my bladder. I remembered the shared bathroom was down the hall. It was pitch black outside my room. I quickly used the bathroom and returned to my room. The still air in the room felt so damp, heavy, and very hot. I could hear strange sounds coming through the thin walls of the prefabricated house. Unfamiliar noises. They seemed to be coming from the direction of the ShaWoman’s room.

They sounded kind of sexual in nature. A boyfriend, maybe? Fucking. Grunting. Groaning. There was also the sound of some kind of tribal music. Honestly, it felt bizarre, but I found myself masturbating to these primal sounds, stroking my cock, as I returned to my imagined moment of the boy’s practised foot between my open thighs, as I watched his perverted mother playing with her erect nipples at the dining table.

My mouth remembered the taste of her weird urine soup. The boy’s obvious erection through his yellow-stained underwear. There was the smell of unwashed cock and dirty cunt. My hips bucked as I imagined the lad rubbing himself through his piss-stained underwear. Then, getting his uncut cock out. Stroking himself, like some kind of perverted show. I imagined myself standing naked before him as he went down on me. His mouth wrapped around my cock as I fucked his face, right in front of his perverted mother.

“Sexual medium,” in my head I heard the ShaWoman say, over and over, “Do you believe in the supernatural? Ghosts. Goblins. Spirits … Drink my piss soup. I fuck demons and pray to the devil. Come with me. Worship together with my incestuous acolyte. There are evil spirits in your cock. Sodomy. Yes, we need sodomy. My son needs your cock up his ass. Sodomize him for the demons, now!”

”Aarghhhh …” I groaned out loud.

I suddenly came so hard. My body bucked with the power of a full-body orgasm. My cum spurted angrily over myself. Drenched in my slimy cum offering. At that very moment, the guttural sounds of animalistic sex and demon drums from next door stopped abruptly. As if they’d been in complete synchronicity with my own wayward behavior. As if whoever was there also reached their climax, exactly at the same time as I did.

I was beyond reason. It felt incredible. Yes! I felt something for the first time in a long time. Depraved, but exciting! Tiredness took me. I immediately drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

xxxxx

Early the next day, I tiptoed into the shared bathroom. There was no lock on the door. I stepped into the shower and washed the sweaty stench from my body. The water was warm, and my cock quickly demanded more attention as my thoughts returned to the events of the night before.

Sexual medium. Dirty toes. Urine soup. Sodomy. My soapy fingers stroked my hungry cock. Sodomize my son. Sexual demons. Fucking. Grunting. Groaning. Just as I was getting close to orgasm, I heard a noise from within the bathroom. I turned quickly, but the dull, plastic shower curtain obscured my view. The shape of someone. The son? My imagination? I pulled back the shower curtain to find nothing and nobody.

I wrapped the thin white towel around my waist and opened the bathroom door. Yes, the lad was sitting at the table. He looked at me. I was still wet from my shower. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. I sat down opposite him at the dining table. His right hand was hidden under the table top, but by the movement of his arm, I could tell that he was obviously masturbating.

“Where’s your mother?” I asked.

His legs brushed shamelessly against mine under the table. I felt my cock stiffen immediately.

”Mom is away for the morning,” he answered with a naughty grin.

His foot pressed against me. I opened my legs and pulled my wet towel aside from my groin, welcoming his nubile toes as they pressed directly against my wet erection. This was no illusion. He pressed himself against me shamelessly. It felt so wrong, but I couldn’t resist. My hand snaked beneath the table, gripping his bony foot, and encouraging him to press harder as he rubbed against my erect cock. My hips rocked against his foot, frotting eagerly against him. He smiled at my acceptance.

”Mom says you have an evil spirit in your cock,” he whispered like a co-conspirator.

”She said that? What does that mean?”

”She said, you must use me to please it.”

”Please, the evil spirit? How?” I pretended.

Of course, I knew how. I had wanted him from the minute I spied him standing behind his mother at the door. I wanted him to suck my cock, as I sucked his. I wanted to fuck his tight little asshole, hard and fast, pumping my semen deep into his filthy little bowels.

The wicked lad stood up slowly. My mind began to buzz like an angry insect. He walked slowly around the table until he was standing right next to me. He licked his lips provocatively. Without wearing any underwear, I could see his obvious arousal. Oh, yeah. Fuck. He was naked, erect, and dripping. He continued to masturbate openly in front of me, as if he was putting on his own little carnal temptation show, just for me.

I pushed my chair back and let the towel slip from around my waist. I welcomed that strange buzzing sensation. Mmmm … more! My cock rose, eagerly awaiting his nimble fingers, as they gripped my precum-coated shaft.

“Daddy, your evil feels so hard,” he said, kneeling between my legs, and taking my wet, cock-head into his warm little mouth, “Mmmmmmm …” he mumbled with his mouth full.

I pressed forward to the edge of the chair.

”Suck it. Suck it, you filthy, little faggot … Aarghhhhh … make me cum! Make me cum!” I groaned in satisfaction as his fingers stimulated my testicles and brushed against my anus.

This wasn’t his first time. I could tell. He seemed practised at the art of cock-sucking. Yes, this evil spirit in my cock, seemed to be enjoying the depravity of it all, but wanted more. Lots more. First, I pressed his head further forward, forcing more of my cock into his mouth. He sucked enthusiastically. His wriggling fingers found my itchy anus. It felt incredible. The rush. The sinful rush.

”Fuck!” I screamed.

But that’s not all I wanted. I pushed his head back from my groin. He looked disappointed until I pulled him onto my lap. Now, my cock pressed upwards against his tight anal flower. Skin against skin.

”Oh, Daddy, is it going to hurt?”

He grinned knowingly, corrupting me. It disturbed me, hearing him call me “Daddy,” but at the same time, I found it profoundly exciting too. Incestuous faggot! He somehow knew that I could resist him. He wrapped his thin arms around my nakedness, sinking on me slowly, and kissed my mouth deeply. He tasted of my cock. I dug my tongue into his small mouth as the first couple of inches of my cock sank into his Lilly-white bottom.

”Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me like a girl. Your cock is mine!”

He began to ride me, lifting and falling, forcing more and more of my cock, to sink deeper and deeper into him, until he was balls-deep. That demonic buzzing, saying it was wrong, but there was no turning back. Gasping and crying, I fucked him on the chair for a while, then, dragging him to the old, punched-leather couch that was positioned against the rear wall of the room. I literally throw him now upon its oily surface, and I punched my cock hard and fast into his greasy boy-cunt.

”Arrrghhhhhhh,” he grunted, out of breath, “Fuck me! You filthy pervert!” he gasped, “Fuck me! Evil one!”

xxxxx

THE SHAWOMAN — CHAPTER TWO (2,085 WORDS)

What the hell happened? That damned electric buzzing feeling in my mind =made me question my grip on reality. What did I think I was doing? Had I really gone that far? What the fuck was I thinking … or was I not thinking at all?

After fucking the ShaWoman’s horny son, I wondered what would happen. Would she tell me to leave? Or was this some kind of supernatural thing — like a dream that felt so real that I couldn’t be sure if it happened or it didn’t?

As fate would have it, I didn’t see the ShaWoman that day, or the evening either. Nothing happened at all. There was no threats, angry words, or accusations. No, there was absolutely nothing.

I decided to chill. I dressed and took a short walk around the run-down trailer park, among the temporary homes of the rejects and dregs of society. On the route, a girl watched me as I walked by. She was pushing one of those Victorian-style prams. I guess she could have been a teen-mom. But as I gazed into the pram, I noticed it was filled with one of those life-like dolls inside. Not that it was anyway convincing of the real thing. It lay naked, dirty, void of clothing, on a filthy blanket.

“Hey, mister, you want a blow job?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

I walked on for a short while until I reached the washing and toilet block. There was nobody around. As I turned, I saw that the young girl had left her decrepit old pram and baby behind, and had followed me.

“Hey, mister,” she called again.

Was there an evil spirit inside my cock? Mmmm … that buzzing sensation just wouldn’t stop. It seemed to be demanding my attention. I looked at the girl hungrily and nodded towards the toilet block. She grinned back and followed me inside. The inside of the toilet block was dark, damp, and smelt of stale piss and other more baser smells. None of the cubicles had doors, and the porcelain looked stained and filthy. Obviously, maintenance wasn’t a high priority in the trailer park.

The dirty white tiled walls almost disappeared under the avalanche of vile graffiti. Besides the foulness of it all, above the urinals was an image of a feminine demon with pointed ears (more like horns), Egyptian eye-shadow, long dark hair, naked breasts, dressed in only nylons and high-heels. The demon’s cock rose from between its splayed legs and was long enough for it reach its own mouth. The demon was sucking its own cock. And it appeared to have been drawn using human feces. To my own surprise, it seemed to draw my attention, as if watching me in the dull illumination. Maybe this supernatural stuff seemed to be growing on me.

I stood in one of the empty toilet cubicles, staring at the obscene demon. The girl entered and stopped right in front of me.

I held up a well-used five-dollar bill. She went to grab it from me, but I lifted my arm higher, so it was out of her reach.

“Afterwards,” I said.

She nodded and immediately knelt on the dirty toilet floor and, with her dexterous hands, fumbled at my flies.

That crazy buzzing feeling returned with vengeance. It seemed to block any rational thoughts that could have prevented my corruption.

My cock was already hard, and as she unzipped me, it stuck outwards in front of her face. She may have looked naive, but she acted like a total slut.

I looked back again at the demon — maybe it possessed my cock?

The girl leaned forward, gripping my cock-flesh with her fingers, and she took my wet cock-head into her warm mouth.

“Mmmmmm,” I moaned in immediate appreciation.

Fuck! She was good at it. My vinegary balls tingled at her eagerness. Her tongue enveloped my sensitive gland as her hands stroked my shaft. It felt as if the eyes of the tranny demon, drawn in shit, were on me … they seemed to only encourage my depravity … and within minutes, I was already very close to orgasm.

I forcefully grabbed the girl by her greasy hair. My body shuddered all over.

It felt, for a moment, that the ShaWoman was watching me. Watching me, fucking the face of the girl, kneeling in the filth, as she so eagerly gobbled my entire cock.

“Aaarghhhh …” I cried out, grabbed the back of her head, and angrily shot my load into the back of her thirsty throat.

At last, the buzzing began to recede.

Panting from the intensity of my orgasm, I looked back at the tiled surface, where the image of the tranny demon had been drawn, only to find that it had disappeared behind the rest of the obscene graffiti.

xxxxx

That night, I awoke again to the same lewd sounds of grunting and depraved sex. The moaning and groaning seemed even louder and more urgent. What the fuck? I thought. Horny and naked, I boldly ventured out of my room. What did I have to lose?

The door to the ShaWoman’s bedroom was open. I mean, it was literally wide open. I could see the two of them together. My heart raced as I realized it was the mother and son. The ShaWoman’s son lay on his back beneath her. I could see the top of his head. She was on top of him, facing towards the open door.

Though the passageway was dark and narrow, I could clearly see her body shining with the wetness of sexual sweat. Her tiny tits looked so suckable. Her nipples, so dark and hard, contrasted against the whiteness of her skin. Her hairless cunt was filled with her son’s boy-cock. I watched as she thrust up and down before my eyes. There was something so unsettling, unnatural, and twisted about a mother fucking her own. Incest was a taboo like no other.

My ears were filled with the sound of slapping flesh, which seemed to be in tune with the strange tribal music echoing throughout the house. I stood, shaking and watching the pair of them in their depraved, incestuous act. I subconsciously had grabbed my throbbing cock and was masturbating furiously with voyeuristic joy. It was such a delicious thing, watching them fuck together like two wild animals.

Just as I reached orgasm, I heard the boy gasp loudly, and then cry out as he shot his semen into his deviant mother. I muffled my groan as my cum spurted upwards over myself. The ShaWoman’s eyes seemed transfixed — looking forward into the dark corridor, where I stood in secret. It was as if she sensed my presence there. She grinned and lifted her lithe body, so that her son’s gooey cum poured out from her bald cunt, over her son’s upturned face.

Did she see me there, in the hallway, watching them fuck? Why had she left the door wide open? Had it been an open invitation? I wasn’t sure about anything. All I knew was that this was blowing my mind.

xxxxx

I had crept back to my room and lay panting on my bed. Exhausted, a strange sleep had taken me immediately. But it had been a bizarre kind of lucid sleep.

I had found myself in a secretive place. No longer in my own adult body, but in the form of a boy, the same age as the ShaWoman’s son. He was there too. He wore that same wicked smile. Mischievous and miscreant.

Both of us were naked. Our cocks rubbed eagerly against each other as we kissed. A homosexual dream? Though I had not actually stepped inside the ShaWoman’s room, I knew intuitively that that was where we were.

Meanwhile, she sat cross-legged, watching us. Dressed only in nylons and open-toed, high-heel shoes, her face was beautiful. Her enigmatic eyes were highlighted with black mascara, like an Egyptian queen. She wet her black lips and encouraged our shameless faggot behavior.

“By the demon spirits … dance for us!”

Enchanted by the devil’s drums, we pranced around like two cheap strippers. That primal sound was raw and inspiring, as we bucked and gyrated before her. Surrounded by candlelight, I noticed the dramatic, satanic altar with its evil-looking carving of a devil with both breasts and a huge phallus. Everything was red and black. Our bodies were coated in oily sweat. Our hips locked together, thrusting back and forth, with gusto.

”Piss!” she hissed, “Hail Satan. Piss! Piss for Satan! Release the evil spirits in your cocks!”

Warm urine hit me. The strong smell of urea. I aimed my cock at the boy who was pissing over me. We opened our thirsty mouths. Drinking from each other’s piss-spray. The stench of urine, sweat, and our filthy bodies was almost overpowering.

Yes, the evil spirits seemed to fill our wicked souls, as they began to possess us with unnatural lust for each other, and for the ShaWoman. The beating of the drums filled my ears as we grabbed each other’s cocks, mutually masturbating.

The ShaWoman stood up. Perfectly balanced on her high-heeled shoes. Her cunt was an open black hole, dripping with oily juices, and gaping wide. I watched in total awe. She began to quiver as she began transmuting …

“Gggrrhhhhhhh! …” she groaned, a mixture of pleasure and pain, like a wild animal caught in a trap.

Her hands mulled her shapeless, little breasts. It was as if the ShaWoman’s cunt was turning inside out, right in front of me. Something unnatural began emerging from within her. Transforming. No longer female. Transsexualizing.

I rubbed my eyes … as I stopped and stared! My mouth hung open in disbelief.

There, between her legs, was now something that appeared to be a cock where her cunt should have been. What the fuck? She had a huge cock, hard, and erect. Was this the true power of the supernatural? She was now a he. Well hung, too.

Then, ShaWoman immediately began to stroke her newly formed cock as we knelt, piss wet, before her. Before our twin-sex demon. Her cock curved upwards as she began to suck her own cock, opening her lips, to urinate directly into her mouth. Drinking from her own fountain of golden joy. There was far too much urine for her to swallow — so that it poured down her nylon-covered legs.

”P-ppppleasure meeee!” she groaned in a deep and dark masculine voice.

We both took to the task, one of us at her front and the other at her rear. My mouth wrapped around her pis-wet cock-head, sucking it between my lips, whilst my fingers stroked her shaft. The ShaWoman groaned like an animal, fucking my face. We swapped positions. I slavishly lapped at her asshole, my fingers pressed her ass-cheeks apart, so that my tongue could slide as deep as it could inside of her grease shit-hole.

The dream shifted.

I was now standing, separated, and just watching. No longer participating. The ShaWoman’s son was not alone. There were two other boys with him. All naked, horny, and prone. Their bodies seemed filled with the ShaWoman’s carnal lust.

They seemed busy, securing a fourth boy, so that his arms were held about his head and legs spread wide. Demobilized and unable to move. He was noticeably flaccid, as if he was an unwilling to participate in this deviant game. His thin limbs were stretched wide, in an “X” shape, before the ShaWoman’s demonic phallic idol.

”Let the sacrifice begin,” I heard her say, as she continued stroking her enormous fleshy rod.

The three boys seemed triggered by her words. No, they became wildly animated. What kind of sacrifice was this? I didn’t have to wait long to find out. They were all over the bound boy as he dangled helplessly before this cock demon. Frotting themselves against him. Drenching him in their urine. All eager to pleasure themselves at his expense.

The boy seemed drugged or just languid. I heard a moan escape his lips. It wasn’t a moan delight, but one of displeasure. Maybe he was under the ShaWoman’s evil spell?

Then, the cock demon joined them. The ShaWoman. The monster. I shuddered in secret delight, willing her to take the boy from behind. To sodomize him. The evil spirit of my loins felt what the cock demon felt. Fuck him! Fuck him! I felt it both mentally and physically. She gripped his fragile body from behind and thrust into him. I immediately thought of those ancient people who worshiped malevolent idols, like Moloch and Baal, offering young ones to these lusty, greedy gods.

“Beat him!” she cried, “Beat him. Harder!”

The ShaWoman’s acolytes begin to take turns, whipping the boy’s flaccid penis, with a leather riding crop. Within minutes his whole genitals looked red raw. Their piss-stray stinging the open cuts in his skin. They laughed at his excruciating pain.

“Stop! Please Stop!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

Each time he flinched, the sodomizing demon groaned loudly with evil delight, as his anal muscles clenched against the girth of her invading cock.

”Noooooo,” I heard him scream.

My mind screamed, “Yesssssss!”

xxxxx

THE SHAWOMAN — CHAPTER THREE (2,402 WORDS)

The morning had been uneventful.

I had returned after a short trip to the local petrol station that was located just off the highway. I had purchased some smokes and cheap liquor. I arrived back at the ShaWoman’s place to find the ShaWoman’s son and the blow-job girl watching television.

The sofa had been moved away from the wall, so that it was directly in front of the television, so that they were sitting with their backs to me. It was one of those old black and white television sets, like a big box thing on legs. I didn’t announce my arrival and closed the door quietly.

Walking closer and saw that they were both completely naked, watching this weird television show. The black-and-white screen flickered. I grimaced as my head began to buzz again.

The sound was on real sound, so you could help hearing the strange monologue of the presenter. He looked a lot like the sexy drag queen that I had met earlier. He was dressed in a shiny, black, vinyl skirt, over fishnet stockings, with a suspender-belt and a tight corset. The skirt was hitched up so that the transvestite’s erect cock stood upright in front of it. He began masturbating, as he addressed his audience in a flamboyant, feminine, sing-song voice.

”Well, girls and bois. Welcome to our show. Hope you’re all naked. Got your fist around your pretty cock? Your fingers jammed up your little cunt hole? Feels good, right? Hmmm. That’s what I like to see.”

It was the same voice that had told me that number thirteen was the ShaWoman’s place. I couldn’t help but stare at both of them. The ShaWoman’s son and the girl with the pram. They were both masturbating themselves, watching the perverse cross-dresser, pleasuring his thick, hard cock.

”Now, the show is about to begin,” continued the transvestite, “Why don’t you get your sister to suck that dick of yours? Yes! Get her slutty, little mouth around your hot cock meat. You can imagine it’s another boy, if that makes it more pleasing. No, cunts are boring, right? You love the taste of cock. Big, hard, thick cocks. Like mine. You want to see them. Lots of them. Cumming hard, spurting that delicious cock juice all over the place. And, don’t forget to cum in her mouth and get her to give you that snowball kiss. Cum. It’s Satan’s gift. Not for procreation. No, it’s for bois, like you, to eat!”

I watched the boy grab the girl’s head and force it down upon his lap. Jamming his cock head into her hot, wet mouth. His movements immediately became more vigorous. Thrusting up, with his hips, into the back of her mouth. His hand gripped her hair tightly. Just as I did in the toilet block. Yes, I knew that delicious sensation.

The show on the old black-and-white television set flickered. There were an assotment of pretty homosexuals, transvestites, transexuals, and fairy boys, all dancing around a giant phallus — all sucking and fucking. Lots of cocks cumming and spurting. Orgasm after orgasm. Close-ups. Semen squirting everywhere.

”What a wonderful sight,” said the ShaWoman.

I quickly turned at the sound of her voice. She was standing right next to me. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there. Just then, the television interrupted my thoughts. I looked back. The scene had instantly changed. The ShaWoman’s son and the girl were both watching the television, but neither was unclothed, as they watched a lame cartoon.

Was I going crazy?

”I don’t … understand …” I said, plainly.

The ShaWoman walked towards the door. She paused and turned to me.

”Maybe you need to take a walk and get some fresh air? I will be back later tonight.”

xxxxx

had I imagined it — the androgynous presenter, who appeared in the perverted television show, that boy and his girlfriend were watching while they masturbated? It had been, so abhorrent. It couldn’t possibly be the same one I had met, sitting on that rusty old bench? But as fate would have it, I saw him outside the first of the shabby, old prefabs.

He was sitting on a folding deck chair on the veranda, fanning himself with a tatted, porn magazine, in the midday heat. Dressed in a black shiny corset and open-toed high heels. His hair was tied back in a ponytail. He looked something like a kinky dominatrix.

He seemed to have noticed me, too.

“Well, hello, pretty stranger. Did you find what you were looking for?” he said in his high-pitched, effeminate voice.

Interesting question, I thought. Did I get what I was looking for? I wasn’t really sure. It’s difficult to know if you found something when you weren’t exactly sure what you were seeking in the first place.

“Maybe,” I answered obliquely.

“Come. Come. Have some lemonade. It’s so hot today,” the kinky transvestite suggested, “One needs to find some relief, if you know what I mean.”

There was another folded deck chair leaning against the railing. I opened it and sat down. He poured a large glass of lemonade and offered it to me.

“Thank you,” I replied. I drank the lemonade in a single gulp. I guess I must have been thirsty and hadn’t realized it. He poured me another from the large jug.

“Oh, my,” he said, seemingly impressed with my capacity. “I do love a man with a full bladder,” he said. “Do you like my OOTD?” he asked.

I wasn’t familiar with the term.

He laughed, “Outfit of the day,” he spelt out for me, “I do so love the feeling of faux leather, and the wet look, don’t you?”

“Very fetching,” I answered.

He smiled at my remark. I wasn’t being facetious. It did look very sexy. I could easily imagine him with a leather whip or a spiked paddle in one hand and his rock-hard cock in the other. What had he put in that lemonade, I wondered?

”What can you tell me about the ShaWoman. I mean, she said she’s a sexual medium. That she is a conduit to the world of spirits,” I asked.

”A sexual medium. Yes, but she is so much more. May I ask, do you find your dreams becoming increasingly bizarre around her … highly sexualized … even more depraved?”

”Yes … it’s …” I began, but stopped short.

“Do you find it difficult to decipher between what is actually real and what isn’t? Do you feel constantly aroused? Like even now, she’s in your mind and in your loins?”

Yes, I thought. Yes. My cock was throbbing. My bladder ached. I could feel that familiar buzzing in the back of my mind. That nasty feeling that seemed to foretell something miscreant. Like a calling to do taboo things. I could hear her voice, from my dreams, telling me to release the evil spirits from my cock.

”I see things that I cannot explain. There was an image in the toilet block. A demon drawn in human excrement … it was there … and then … it wasn’t!”

”Mmmmmm,” said the cross-dresser, “Belphegor … she has called upon the sex demon of waste …”

The cross-dresser stood up and took my hand in his.

”I don’t … understand?” I lied.

”Come to my dungeon. You can call me by my rightful name. Call me your Toilet Goddess, and I will make you understand.”

xxxxx

Strange dreams. Strange nighttime activities. Stranger people. I hadn’t been one to believe in the supernatural before this. I mean, ghosts, goblins, spirits, sexual demons, or Toilet Goddesses. What did it all mean? Was it my overactive imagination?

The ShaWoman’s influence seemed to find me everywhere. No place to hide. And my head was filled with the events of the past few days since my arrival at the decrepit old trailer park.

I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about what happened in the cross-dresser’s place. I seriously wondered if it had happened at all. We descended a steep staircase to the basement. Everywhere I looked, I saw the kinky trappings of a dark BDSM dungeon. And the dank, meaty aroma of unclean things filled the still air.

In the center of the room, there was a black throne with a circular hole in the seat. It had a cushioned space immediate beneath the hole. I could only imagine its purpose involved coprophilia. It was embellished with demonic and phallic carvings, smeared in what could be human feces. It was truly the throne of the toilet demon, Belphegor.

“Your curiosity is interesting. You like our throne of shitting? Why don’t you try it. Sit on it. Go on …” the transvestite insisted in his fake sing-song voice

The mirrored walk reflected that I was no longer clothed. My bladder ached for release. I touched his nasty, toilet throne. It felt warm, slimy, and greasy to the touch.

“Sit … just for a moment,” he ordered, “… don’t you feel her with us? Isn’t as if she’s watching us right now?”

I tentatively sat down on the toilet throne. It felt so perverted. The hole was perfectly sized for my bare anus.

“The ShaWoman sees all! She wants me to prepare you for her dark and depraved ritual … will you allow me to do that?”

I nodded. Yes, I could so easily imagine the deviant faggot masturbating on his shit-coated throne, whilst defecating into the willing mouth of one of his lovers below.

The transvestite Toilet Goddess pranced around me, like a hungry carnivore stalking its unsuspecting prey, dressed in fishnets, suspenders, open-toed, high-heeled shoes, and the body-hugging black corset. His cock seemed to drip in anticipation.

”Doesn’t it feel right … being reduced to a toilet slave? Being my toilet slave …”

I stood up from the throne. Was I ready for this? The faggot pointed to the low platform bed covered in black rubber sheets. I did as the Toilet Goddess ordered and stepped on the warm rubber bedding.

His hands wrapped around my bare shoulders, drawing me closer to him, as he pressed his erect cock directly against mine. The wet tips of our cocks began to rub against one another. So much lemonade. I felt the dull ache of my full bladder.

“You must show your total adoration to me, your Toilet Goddess! The drinking of the dark sacrament. The warm golden elixir. The sharing of the sacred, bitter mana. The food of our bowels. The gifts of the demon, Belphegor. You must learn the meaning of the word, SERVICE … and what it is to receive the pleasure of my phallic wand, as we perform for Belphegor and the ShaWoman, in the unholy rites of sodomy at her altar!”

xxxxx

The evening was misty, and the full moon danced in and out between the eery clouds. The heat of the day had been passed in a blur. But come nightfall, I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck. The trailer park was quiet. Maybe too quiet. I was incredibly horny. My cock ached to be touched. I wondered what bizarre events would be in store. I didn’t have to wait long.

As I had arrived back at number thirteen, the strange ShaWoman was there, waiting for me. I entered the house and closed the door behind me. Her eyes followed my every movement. It was as if she knew … as if she was there to witness the sharp pain of my penetration. Like she’d seen his fuck me. The faggot cock deep in my dirty bowels. The taste of urine in my mouth. The smell of urea on my body. My precum dripping from the tip of my engorged cock.

I needed to cum … I had been on the edge … so close … but he’d ordered me to clean his shit-stained cock and suck it, so that he could cum in my mouth. The taste of the transvestite’s mana … then the sensation of warm faggot semen filling my mouth … I lay prostrate beneath that dark throne, lapping at his anus, and gorging myself on the dark bitterness of the Toilet Goddess’ mana. And I had done it all … so willingly … for, I knew, it was the bidding of the ShaWoman.

Now, I stood motionless before her. A small smile curved in the corner of her black painted lips. She was dressed in a strange black skirt, more like a black teal tutu, and nothing else. I could see all the tattoos on her upper body and arms. Her small breasts were fully exposed. Her nipples hard standing outwards from her small bony chest.

”Do you now believe in the supernatural?” she asked again.

“There are … strange things … that I cannot explain …” I stuttered.

”You do realize that it’s the malevolent spirits that have brought you here … to me?” she spat, ”Your conspicuous attraction to me … and to my son … your clumsy attempts at voyeurism … your extremely perverted dreams … what do they all tell you?” she asked, ”Well … cat got your tongue?”

Yes, these thoughts echoed in my mind. I wanted her. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything. The buzzing was driving me crazy. But I was speechless. She seemed to be inside my head. Where was this all leading? I had a sudden feeling of self-loathing and an impending sense that everything that had happened so far had accumulated into this very moment.

“Undress. Now! And kneel before me,” she barked, more command than request.

My body seems to move of its own accord. I found myself kneeling naked before her. My cock was harder than ever. My eyes looked up at her with complete adoration.

”Masturbate. Show me how much you want me!” she ordered.

How could I refuse? My fingers gripped my throbbing cock. I stroked my flesh.

”That’s better! Fucking pervert! Show me!”

The ShaWoman opened her thighs. There seemed to be the crackling of electricity. Something that I now knew to be supernatural. The dark material that gathered around her groin seemed to be tented, hiding something large that was protruding upwards from beneath. Like a rhino horn. Like an erect phallus. Like a huge cock. My mind reeled at the perverted possibilities.

”Yes, become one with the evil spirit inside your cock! The spirit of a perverted sex demon crying out for gratification! Show me that you’re ready! Ready to give it all to me … Everything!”

xxxxx

THE END?

xxxxx

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