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: Transgender, Interracial, Supernatural, WS, Anal, Snuff, Abuse, Incest, MC, NC, Blasphemy, Devil Worship, Transformation, Young Ones.

CREATED: 01.01.2024


The World 2


The World is the twenty-first card of the Major Arcana. The naked dancer celebrates the freedom to explore the world of the phallus. Sexually, The World is the ultimate tantra card. Sex is used as a tool for transcendence and self-gratification — whatever you desire. The balance between male and female energy combines to form the ultimate sexual being. Sex is both a means and an end. The World is balanced and complete with the ebb and flow of sexual energy. The World encompasses a sublime sense of freedom to do whatever you please, no matter how kinky or perverted.


Babylon is an independent state. It has laws of its own, including decriminalizing slavery, torture, murder, prostitution, dark pornography, rape, and underage sex.

It is, of course, a Mecca for human trafficking and sex tourism of the worst kind. A place where every sensation … every vice, and evil fantasy is possible with its twenty-four-seven adult entertainment.

It is rumored that they openly advertised their “devil-inspired theme parks” and “round-the-clock sex clubs” … where the streets are named after demons. It is a pervert’s paradise for its rich and famous visitors … a safe haven for its evil co-conspirators … and like Dante’s Inferno for its victims.

Why did it exist? Good question. Because evil exists … some say that it is governed by the Devil himself and that there is a preternatural force that keeps everything in order.


  • Bartholomew — Guest in Babylon / Husband of Angelina Lala
  • Angelina Lala — Guest in Babylon / Trans-wife of Bartholomew
  • Sedgwick Thresh — Guest in Babylon / Psychopath
  • Jesse North — Guest in Babylon / Gender-fluid / Celebrity Singer, Death Metal
  • Courtney Feral AKA Raven — Influencer with twenty million followers / Vigilante
  • Aaliyah Death — Deejay / Lover of Courtney Feral / Lives in Babylon
  • Inanne-Ishtar — Mythical character / Seen only by Courtney in a vision
  • Genevieve Washington — Guest in Babylon / Socialite and heiress to her husband’s fortune
  • Cynthia and Christina — Genevieve’s handmaidens
  • Gloria Washington — Genevieve’s daughter
  • The Doppelgänger — a double of Genevieve’s daughter, Gloria, supplied by Denton De Vile
  • Denton De Vile — Human trafficker, sexual demon
  • Sister Robin — A wayward nun of the Holy Sisters Of Mercy
  • Fiona Stone — Publicist for “The Baphomet” band 
  • Sadiah and Anansa — An Elik Witch and daughter
  • Lucy Fur — Singer from The Baphomet band 
  • Sofiya and Aase — Two young Doppelgängers from Denton De Vile




Many a newcomer to the incredible Babylon have been absolutely intrigued and thrilled by the city’s perpetual darkness; seeing our towering infernos of fire, ice, and steel, that glitter like the precious jewels in a king’s ransom. Let’s just say, that it’s all just part of Babylon’s enigmatic charm and unexpected charisma. Some religious zealots have compared Babylon to the biblical cities of sin — Sodom and Gomorrah — and say that the “forever night” is a symbol of the Devil’s influence over our exotic utopia. Well, let’s just say, that when in Babylon, you’re guaranteed a “Hell” of a time!


O Babylon by Skull Of Satan

O Babylon, Thy Evil has no equal. Thy Lust is immense. Thy perversion incurable. I lay down at your discretion. I give your enemies no quarter. I am your servant. I bow at your presence. Your word thunders through my brain. Thy’n be my pleasure. Hail the Whore of Babylon.


Angelina Lala relaxed. The shemale seductress lay completely naked by the luxuriously appointed swimming pool on the 100th floor. Her husband, Bartholomew, was otherwise engaged, as he’d met up with two old acquaintances at a nightclub, called the Golden Calf. It was a haven for perverts and mostly frequented by the younger crowd of queers, faggots, cross-dressers, flat-chested fembois, t-girls, and their male and female admirers.

Lala looked out at the view from the glass baloney. It was simply breathtaking — there must have been a hundred thousand lights, all twinkling like tiny stars in the blackness. She was the only guest at the Infernal Spire using the pool facilities tonight. She liked the peace and quiet. The pool itself was lit spectacularly from beneath so that it glowed in the “forever night” with a dull-red glow as if it were a giant cauldron of bubbling blood. Maybe the blood of the innocent?

The air was warm and humid. Lala lazily stroked the turgid flesh of her small shecock as she reflected on her first few nights at Babylon.

O Babylon. Thy Evil has no equal.

“Babylon will be a heap of ruins, a haunt of jackals, an object of horror and scorn, a place where no one lives,” … Jeremiah, chapter 51, verse 37 — But the Bible had been wrong.

Thy Lust is immense. Thy perversion incurable.

Babylon was alive, vibrant, and a thriving metropolis. Yes, a hamlet of horror, but only to those who didn’t embrace its true wickedness. Yes, Lala embraced it as a place where there was nothing shameful about being herself — a sadistic pervert — everything about Babylon took cruelty and sex tourism to its ultimate pinnacle.

Her partner, Bartholomew, had encouraged her to experience all the delights that this wicked city had to offer. There had been many shocking and sexually exciting options — all perverted, evil, and completely depraved. No wonder Bartholomew loved this place. And now, she loved it too.

She’d been so excited about taking part (as the chosen one from the audience) to castrate the so-called “Jesus-like character” at the Convent Of Baphomet. Only at that point, had she realized that audience participation was a key element of the night’s entertainment. She witnessed that this was no pretend act. And that she was not just going to witness a real castration, but was going to perform it herself upon the unsuspecting victim — who, it seemed, had no idea that he was about to have his erect penis severed at its root for the enjoyment of his perverted spectators.

The dominatrix-like shemale actress who played the role of the demonic abbess had pointed to her in the audience.

“Come hither, young plaything, with gilding knife. Come suck my cock, then take his life.”

Lala had let out a squeal of delight.

She’d been even a little apprehensive to stand completely naked and erect before the audience, but as she’d looked around, she realized that all the guests, both male, and shemale, were all similarly undressed, every one of them excited, and masturbating themselves furiously. How wonderful it had felt. The smell of unclean cock and precum had only compounded her delight as Bartholomew encouraged her to take her place as the guest of honor up on the low stage.

The transsexual abbess made Lala kneel before her and take her enormous queer spear between her quivering lips. To Lala, it was as if, she was sucking the cock of the Devil himself. Such an honor. Lala had masturbated furiously as she kissed, licked, and sucked — and worshiped the abbess’ gorgeous sex organ.

The evil abbess pulled back and spurt ropes of thick white cum over Lala’s face. Cum dripped from her hair, forehead, eyes and chin. Lala licked her salty lips. The taste of demon cum was delicious. And so much of it — a massive load. The demon abbess hadn’t even lost her erection after her orgasm. The young boy monks licked and sucked the cum from Lala’s face. She stood up and the abbess gave her the razor-sharp gilding knife.

She pondered the thought of the irony … “Second Coming Of Christ” … how ironic … the so-called Son of God was to be disposed of, so brusquely, by her own queer hand. The hand that held the razor-sharp gilding knife that would cut the cock of fucking Christ from his body. She’d felt a power surge through her, demon-inspired like a sadist dream come true. She was shaking like a leaf.

“Do it!” said the transsexual abbess, “Make the sacrifice to Satan!”

The audience were also going wild in anticipation.

Lala looked deeply into the eyes of the man who was playing the role of the so-called Nazarene. It was obvious that he had no idea, until this point, that the climax of the show involved his ultimate demise. His eyes were wide open in complete abject terror when he saw the knife in her sweaty palm.

Lala had never felt such evil power inside herself before. She was like a time bomb about to explode. She’d done many crazy, fucked-up things, but this was completely different. She was already hyperventilating in excitement. Such was the endorphin rush that it made her spontaneously ejaculate as she grabbed hold of the flesh of his rigid organ and sliced it clean off.

”Hail Satan! Hail Satan!” screamed the audience.

Blood had spurted everywhere. Lala was soaked in it.

Lala almost buckled over with the extreme power of her epic orgasm but still managed to hold onto the severed flesh of the dying man in her quivering hand. The audience went wild. The crazed screams of perverted pleasure drowned out the dying gurgles of the Jesus character as his body suddenly slumped forward, his body weight pulling against the restraints, and then just hung limply against the inverted cross. He wasn’t dead, but nobody was going to assist him as he began to bleed out.

Yes, it had been her first experience of such evil atrocities. Satan be praised, she thought. She hoped that it would be the first of many.


The psychopath, Sedgwick, felt completely paralyzed.

He’d only had time to mutter a few profanities in his complete surprise. He saw his younger partner in crime, Jesse, was in very much the same predicament. Both Sedgwick and his new perverted apprentice were completely naked but frozen in their state of sexual arousal. The source of their dilemma seemed to be a small figure dressed all in black. A strange bluish vapor had engulfed the both of them.

“Inanne-Ishtar has spoken,” said the mystical hooded figure, “The true Goddess of Babylon demands your souls.”

Sedgwick was furious.

How dare they interrupt his fun. What was this all about? He thought it looked like some kind of blue-fucking-genie. Only the genie wasn’t granting him any wishes. He was a busy man. He had a young preteen boy to fuck, torture, castrate, and kill. And that was just their entree. They’d plan to go to the infamous cannibal restaurant afterward for the taste of human flesh. Who the goddamn was Ianne-Ishtar anyway? And fucked if anyone is taking his dark soul, he thought.

But try as he might, his body disobeyed his desire to throw a fist at their mini intruder.

In the bluish vapor, a shape began to materialize … it formed into something remotely humanoid … it appeared to be a tall naked woman … or something more like a bird-like demon … Sedgwick wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe this was just some bad dream. Some crazy fucked-up Halloween surprise. Whatever she was, she appeared loathsome, angry, half-human, half-bird-of-prey — her breasts and vagina were clearly human, but her huge wings and clawed feet were definitely not.

“Laqad jit li’arwahikum,” croaked the strange creature in the blue mist.

It wasn’t a language Sedgwick was familiar with. Maybe it sounded somewhat of Middle-Eastern origin. It could have been even ancient Babylonian as far as Sedgwick knew.

“She said that she has come for your souls,” translated the smaller figure.

Sedgwick recognized the voice of the intruder as feminine. He couldn’t make out her features in the deep recess of her hooded jacket. His evil mind was reeling. Anger coursed through his veins. His cock needed to be fucking the young boy. He needed to the young boy to scream as he fucked his guts. He wanted to tell them both to “Fuck off.” How dare they interrupt his twisted pleasures. He’d fucking kill them both. But he seemed to lack any control over his power of speech. No words left his lips. And still, his body refused to do his bidding.

“Ana Apkil Alnufus,” said the strange creature.

“She is the Eater of Souls,” translated the intruder.

You aren’t eating my soul, thought Sedgwick. I do the killing around here. But as the words formed in his mind, he felt the bluish smoke drawing him toward the creature’s mouth. It opened wide. Wider and wider, until it was like a gaping maul. A monster. He saw the terror in Jesse’s eyes. He was the first. The bird-like demon devoured him.

First, the strange creature gripped Jesse’s erect penis and with a thrust of its wrist, Jesse spontaneously ejaculated, and in a puff of smoke, the young singer’s “soul” seemed to disappear with his semen into the creature’s open mouth.

His lifeless body collapsed, still naked and fully aroused, in a pile on the floor, right next to the boy who was supposed to be their victim.

Impossible, thought Sedgwick. This was some kind of fucked-up witchcraft. The creature gripped his cock tightly. The pleasure was in overload. He too, spontaneously ejaculated. And then he felt the dreaded pull, as his semen and “soul” were both sucked into the creature’s gaping mouth.

The young boy looked terrified. Maybe he expected to be next? He cowled on his haunches. Shaking. Naked. Awaiting certain death.

The ghostly bird-demon licked its lips and briefly nodded to its accomplice and then simply vanished into thin air.


Even a place like Babylon was not without a humble chapel.

Above its small arched door, there was the loud buzzing sound, like an angry insect, of its brightly glowing neon cross. The sign below it announced the offer of “Weddings. Funerals. Confession. Buy Two. Get One Free.”

At the Holy Sisters Of Mercy, a wayward nun awaited her next “customer” for confession. She licked the inverted crucifix that she wore around her slender neck. It tasted of cunt juices. Hers. It was her favorite masturbation tool — and fucking Jesus into her cunt, made her always feel closer to him.

Sister Robin wasn’t exactly the usual nun that one would expect to find in either a place of worship, especially on the fringes of the debauched city of sin, Babylon. Now, she sat quietly in the coolness of the confession booth. The “forever night” seemed to be awful and imposing this evening. Evil made her cunt lips drenched and itchy. Her juices soaked through the front of her soft white habit. She placed her hands across her lap to disguise her wetness as she waited. She didn’t have to wait long. The partition slid back.

“Forgive me, Sister, for I have sinned,” said a young feminine voice from behind the obscuring lattice screen.

“Cash only. Fifty bucks,” announced the entrepreneurial nun.

The small tray made a sharp grating sound as it appeared before the confessor — much like you’d expect in front of a banking teller — a hand laid a crisp fifty-dollar bill in the tray that immediately retracted.

“Praise the mercy of God, for he is good,” said the nun (sounding rather bored and uninterested), “What are your sins?”

“I have committed the mortal sin of murder,” recalled the voice.

“Murder?” this made the nun perk up, “How many? Did they deserve it?”

“Yes, Sister. I summoned a demon who ate the souls of two psychopaths. They had intended to rape, torture, and kill innocent victims. I am truly sorry for all my sins,” replied the voice.

The nun huffed, “There is no innocence in Babylon, my dear. Was it quick and merciful?”

The voice seemed to contemplate this.

“No, not exactly. It was the Eater of Souls. She appeared in blue smoke and then sucked the life from them … I saw them die.”

“So, um … blue smoke … Eater of Souls … witchcraft and black magic … well, that’s like … ten Hail Marys and glory be as your penance … ” scolded the nun, “Thanks be to God. His mercy endures forever. Now, go in peace.”

The nun closed the partition.




They say that “The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance; We find delight in the most loathsome things; Some furtherance of Hell each new day brings …” Well, in Babylon you too can “Dance with the Devil” to the dark vibes of “The Baphomet” — as they perform live on stage at the Infernal Spire. For one night only. Tickets are on sale now. Don’t miss out on this mega-event — a once in a lifetime — featuring the infamous, Lucy Fur and her all-succubi band, as they sing their hits that changed the satanic world!


It was billed as the most spectacular event of the New Millennium — even for the outrageous and extreme Babylon — the reunion concert of “Lucy Fur” and her enigmatic band “The Baphomet”.

They were referred to as the ultimate British “Shock-rockers”. Banned in over twenty countries, “The Baphomet” reunion would bring back together the group that had become infamous, not only for performing live and highly obscene sex acts, during their musical performances but also for doing so with enthusiastic audience members (called their disciples). Both males and females would strip naked as they danced lewdly in the mosh-pit that quickly deteriorated into a complete and utter sexual frenzy.

Ahead of the band’s imminent arrival was their publicist, Ms. Fiona Stone.

Fiona Stone was a slight woman, rather short, flat-chested, with long, straight, black hair cut like an Egyptian Queen. She had come to Babylon one week before the concert. She was there to hype up the event and the hysteria that had already swept across Babylon’s social media.

The former journalist/reporter for the Christian Music Express (CME) had been involved with the strange group for some years and had been attributed for bringing the band’s unusual style to the forefront of many a media circus — in the background there had been some religious zealots claiming her rise to fame, together with the band’s success, was fueled by unnatural dark forces.

Simply put — they claimed Lucy Fur was a synonym for “The Fallen Angel” (Lucifer). Of course, this was laughed at everywhere — except in Babylon, where dark supernatural forces ruled its “forever night”. No, Babylon would be the perfect venue for the Band’s revival. It made Fiona wet thinking about it.

Fiona Stone made her way across the gigantic lobby of the luxurious Infernal Spire. It was imposing, appointed in a mirrored black and red marble finish. The phallic and other sexual elements to its decor indicated that this was no place of worship — or maybe, the worship of sex demons.

She noticed a very pale, balding, almost skeletal, man in his later years. He looked weak, infirm, and gaunt. He waved to her. It was H.G. Lewis, the event organizer. A legend in his time. Famed and notorious, much like everybody, that was anybody, in Babylon. He was well known for his history in the exploitation — of young up-and-coming actors and actresses — across his dreary casting couch. This old fornicator, pedophile, and pornographer had found much fame and fortune in a place like Babylon, where perversion and depravity were worn as badges of honor.

“Welcome, Ms. Stone,” said H.G. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

Fiona noticed his frailty and reliance on a walking stick that resembled a phallus but also was aware of his secret sexual prowess. It was an act to disarm his victims — he was neither fragile nor weak.

“Thank you, H.G.” replied Fiona as they shook hands.

H.G.’s fingers gripped hers tightly. There was nothing infirm about his lecherous handshake. She leaned forward and kissed his open mouth. She felt his tongue briefly slither between her open lips.

The kiss of perverts.

“Great to finally meet you,” she said, “Your legacy is so infamous.” H.G. bowed as if it were a curtain call. “Please, tell me, is it true what they say about Babylon being without any daylight?”

“We simply call it the forever night,” he responded, “And it’s a blessing for those of us who suffer from photophobia.”

Yes, she thought, she could imagine this gaunt, pale man as some kind of daylight-hating, blood-sucking vampire that used the darkness to lure young children into his vampiric bedchamber for molestation, rape, or worse.

“Well, in Babylon, under the forever night — you’ll find all pleasures are permissible,” he smiled, much like a vile predator, that seemed to have his prey in sight, “Now, I know you asked for a local liaison, someone close to the ground, with an understanding of Babylon’s social media. I think I found the perfect person. The pronoun, I believe is ‘they’ … but I still see her as a ‘she’ … her name is Courtney Feral. A bit of a celebrity influencer with a fan following of over twenty million. She’s young and persistent and dying to meet you.”

Just then a slight and feminine figure appeared.

“Hi, I’m Courtney,” said Courtney, “Courtney Feral. Some of my fans call me, The Raven.”

Fiona’s eyes quickly scanned the delightful young morsel.

”I am so excited to meet you, Fiona. I’ve heard so much about you and The Baphomet. I’ve been a fan of theirs since I was eight years old. My favorite song, to masturbate to, is Moloch’s Fire. It must be so cool to work with them.”

Fiona shook Courtney‘s effeminate hand and immediately felt akin to her. To masturbate to their songs would indicate a strong association with occult practices of Devil worship, sex with perverts, piss fetish, and more … but she was getting ahead of herself, and after all, she was in Babylon.

“Moloch’s Fire is one of my favs too. Twenty million fans? It’s really impressive,” she smiled at the young sexy girl or was it a sexy feminine boy?

Either way, Fiona needed a good hard fuck from someone young, horny, and hopefully very perverted. She’d heard many stories about Babylon. So many interesting delights to sample. About the endless pleasures of the flesh. And while she was here, she fully intended to experience all its forbidden fruits.

“It’s easy if you know how. And a little black magic always helps!”

“Black magick, hey. Well, I only need fifty thousand fans to fill that huge concert hall.”

“Well, you both have a lot to catch up on,” interrupted H.G., “Remember, while you’re a guest of the Infernal Spire — all pleasures are permitted — I will call you later.”

The old pervert kissed Courtney on the mouth, in a similar manner to his greeting for Fiona. And with that, H.G. was gone, leaving Fiona and Courtney together. Fiona wondered what it would take to get this sexy young thing into her bed.

“Well, that was interesting. Huh, is there somewhere we can talk?” she looked at the key card in her hand, “Maybe if you don’t mind, we could use my suite. After all the travel, I really could do with a hot shower. Hope you don’t mind?”

Of course, Courtney didn’t mind, she was already plotting her seduction. A shower. Maybe a hot, salty, golden shower? She’d heard many rumors about the band and their in and off-stage antics. There were many stories about the sexual prowess of Lucy Fur, and her band of perverts, reprobates, and pedophiles. A demon-worshiping pedo-cult. Was Fiona one of them? And would Ianne-Ishtar, the Eater of Souls, approve? She hoped so.


As they arrived at Fiona’s hotel suite on the 50th floor, it seemed that both Fiona and Courtney had dropped any pretense that they were going to her suite for anything other than some hot perverted sex.

Both seemed very horny. Courtney did nothing to hide the noticeable bulge in the front of her tight sweatpants. Her shecock needed to fuck or sodomize this mysterious woman, who she’d stalked online. H.G. hadn’t said much. He never had to. Any friend or associate of his would be a filthy pervert, just like him — Of course, curiosity got the better of her, and when it came to snooping, Courtney knew exactly where to look. In no time, she discovered Fiona Stone’s unhealthy interest in promiscuous young boys and girls, especially transsexuals, into golden-piss-wet sex, and unholy blasphemy.

Courtney’s success as an influencer had much to do with her close relationship with H.G. and his perverted “friends” who had used her as a very young child in their depraved sex orgies.

Fiona closed the door and turned to find Courtney standing right behind her.

She picked up a remote control and music began to play in the background … it was one of The Baphomet’s hit songs “Moloch’s Fire” … the huge monitor screen on the wall immediately sprang into life with a compilation of sexy young transsexuals, all urinating over themself and gulping down their own piss.

“Red-hot demon never sate,
Vaginas wet, we masturbate.
Dance-chant to the evil one,
The wickedness that must be done.”

Courtney smiled. Fiona had paid attention to what she’d mentioned in the lobby.

“Depraved acts fulfill our desire,
Fuck all night before Moloch’s Fire,
Yerrr … Depraved acts fulfill our desire,
Fuck all night before Moloch’s Fire.”

They gingerly held hands, twisting their fingers together, playfully for a moment — almost studying the other, like an animal mating ritual.

They said nothing at first.

They just kissed each other’s mouths as if there was no tomorrow. It was a hot steamy kiss and their eager tongues twisted and dueled around each other like two oily serpents. Their breathing became ragged and more desperate. Fiona pressed her narrow-bony girl hips against Courtney’s excited groin — grinding herself against the obvious bump in Courtney’s sweatpants.

Fiona knelt and pressed her hungry mouth against Courtney’s bulge. Her lips covered the sausage-like protrusion. Her saliva soaked a wet patch as she sucked Courtney’s cock through the thin fabric.

Courtney’s fingers gripped Fiona by her long shiny black hair. Her fingers twisted in handfuls of her hair — as she gyrated her hips to the throbbing beat of her favorite masturbation song.

“Oh, yer,” groaned Courtney.

“I need a hot salty shower,” Fiona said, pressing her fingers against Courtney’s bladder.

The thin material around Fiona’s lips suddenly became warm and wet as the transsexual urinated inside her leggings — her piss flowed through the thin fabric as Fiona pressed and sucked against Courtney’s soaking bulge. Courtney’s palms pressed the back of Fiona’s head firmly against her expanding wet patch, as more and more urine flowed through the micro-fibre.

“Aaaghhhhh, fuck Gawd! Fuck Gawd!,” blasphemed Fiona, caught up in the perverseness of the moment, as she sucked at the urine-flavored material, “Let’s do it in bed.”

They quickly stripped from their clothing and fell together in the rubber bed-clothing of Fiona’s giant round bed. Inspired by the depraved music that mixed with the sexual groans from the porn videos on the huge flat-screen monitor — their bodies rubbed frantically together.

”Hail Satan! Piss in my mouth! Fucking drench me!”

Fiona’s fingers tightly gripped Courtney’s piss-wet cock and brought it into her hungry mouth. Her tongue moved in a rapid circular movement around Courtney‘s sensitive cock head. The sensation made Courtney suddenly shiver all over. As Fiona, orally pleasured her, licking and sucking, the horny shemale continued where she left off, emptying the remainder of her bladder into Fiona’s greedy mouth and over her face and hair.

Fiona lay on her back at looked up at the mirrored ceiling — she had the perfect view of Courtney’s lips wrapping around Fiona’s engorged clitoris, which seemed to stick out a full two inches from between her labia.

“Fuck God! Fuck Jesus! Baptize me in piss!” cried Courtney.

Fiona rewarded her almost immediately, as her heady urine sprayed forth. Courtney’s open mouth descended upon Fiona’s slimy cunt hot. The woman’s hot salty piss squirted fiercely upwards all over her perverted, transgendered lover.


H.G. knelt naked before Lucy Fur.

He wasn’t alone. Two dozen or so of his brethren stood behind him. His balding head was bowed in respect for the demon. Lucy Fur was a demon — some say she was the “Devil incarnate”. H.G.’s thin, wiry body looked so out-of-proportion to his thick throbbing cock that stood upright in front of him. 

“O Great Demon, we are honored with your presence here in Babylon. All has been prepared for the rituals of the Candlemass. We will honor you with the sexual abuse of dozens of young children, and the sacrifice of underaged pregnant mothers, Our breeding program has managed to produce one in three births to be true hermaphroditic cherubs — all in your image, O Great Demon.”

Lucy Fur seemed unmoved by H.G.’s unholy pledge.

“O Great Demon,” he continued, “We, your loyal followers, offer you tonight, our bodies and souls … that we may join with you in lust and depravity …” he paused and looked backward towards the two dozen gaunt figures, that looked almost skeletal, “Bring forth the offering …”

His fellow followers all looked as old and decrepit as he did. It was as if their bleached and scared skin was the only thing holding them together. Most were bald, extremely bony, and corpse-like — all masturbating their thick throbbing cocks furiously. 

Two of them held a young naked boy. The boy appeared to be no older than six. He was crying and seemed already traumatized.

“O Great Demon, we offer this child for your unholy sodomy — that you may bless us all with your demonic seed. Hail O Great Demon. O Hermaphroditic Demon. O Sex Demon. O Cock Demon. O Pedophile Demon. Bring us to orgasm in your sordid presence.”

The boy was screaming by the time he was presented to the naked demon. Lucy Fur’s erect cock awaited the boy’s virgin anus. H.G.’s followers gave the boy no quarter as they lifted his struggling body into position over the demon’s throbbing spear.

As the body sank helplessly downwards and his bowels were invaded by the demon’s impossibly huge cock, he slumped forward. Dead or unconscious? No he was conscious — but unable to escape. It didn’t matter anyway, as the demon began to thrust mercilessly into the boy’s tiny body. The boy seemed to dance in excruciating agony.

“O Great Demon! Take his soul! Hail Satan. Hail Lilith!” 

The demon grunted like a savage animal. Her demonic body bucked wildly as she filled the boy’s cavities with her unholy, demon seed. At the same moment, H.G. and his followers all spontaneously orgasmed, their seed shooting two or three feet into the air.


Courtney could barely contain her excitement.

She’d been very busy hyping up this exclusive one-on-one interview with the infamous “Lucy Fur” for days. Her online fan base was all anticipating this event. Of course, there had been all the regular press conferences, announcements, and promotions — but this was different — as she was the only one that was to get an “exclusive” with the creator of the band, The Baphomet, face-to-face.

Her nerves were getting the better of her. She tried to relax. She pretended it wasn’t real. But that didn’t work either. Lucy Fur had requested that the young influencer, with twenty million followers, meet in the artist’s hotel suite. Fiona was waiting for her. They had become fast lovers and she knew that this opportunity had only come because of their close sexual relationship. Fiona had been the one who had pulled all the strings. She didn’t want to let her down either. She needed to focus.

“You look nervous,” said Fiona. They kissed briefly. “I know how you feel because I was once in your position. My first interview with The Baphomet was with Kali. She was one of the band’s dancers. It wasn’t anything that I expected. And meeting Lucy, was even more harrowing.” Fiona laughed. “Just relax. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m just a little overwhelmed,” Courtney confessed.

“With twenty million fans? You should feel supremely confident — Here we are.”

They had arrived at the security floor of the Infernal Spire.

The security officer greeted them. He recognized Fiona Stone and indicated that they were free to enter the secured floor.

“We recently had a double homicide,” said the security officer, “Two hotel guests — that included the lead singer of another band called the Corpse Lovers — a horrible mess, Miss! So, security around the band will be very tight before their concert.”

“So, they didn’t catch the guys? The murderers.”

“No. It’s a complete mystery. There was a witness. A very young boy. His story was so far-fetched, even for Babylon,” answered the security officer, “Something about a soul-eating-blue-smoke-demon.”

With that remark, Fiona nodded and the huge bodyguard opened the door to the performer’s suite.

“This is where I leave you,” said Fiona.




For those hungry predators that like to hunt, tear, and devour — the darkness provides many a delight. For those that hide, tremble and fear — the darkness provides a shadow, a secret place to be unseen. Whatever your proclivity, Babylon is your destination of choice. Never two visits are the same. Never predictable. Never foreseen. Always exhilarating. It’s always wicked, twisted, and completely insane.


It was one of the most famous restaurants in Babylon. “Les Sauvages” served an unusual kind of French Polynesian cuisine.

From the infamous shores of the Marquesas Islands, their roots in cannibalism combined with exotic cooking methods, using volcanic rocks and coconut husks, created its kind of taboo cuisine, mixed with breadfruit and vegetables — all the individual servings wrapped in leaves — Tama’ara’a was one of many traditional Tahitian feasts typically accompanied by beverages such as punch, beer, wine, and coconut water.

Besides its unique vore menu, “Les Sauvages” was an explicitly lesbian-themed venue. The sexually arousing entertainment boasted of exotic young Polynesian dancing girls who performed to their tribal beat, for their hungry guests wearing very little, besides their bright white smiles.

Its nightly popularity almost guaranteed that it was a venue that was always fully booked. Getting a good table proved to be a challenge — even for the extremely rich or even the most powerful.

Genevieve and the doppelgänger of her eight-year-old daughter, Gloria, had been shown to their front row seats, only to find that it had been double-booked. The other couple of women were an exotic Efik tribal goddess, called Sadiah, and her young, black daughter, Anansa.

The couple gracefully agreed to share their table.

“Madams,” began the dark-skinned maître d’ who was of Tahitian descent, “Bienvenue chez, Les Sauvages où vous pourrez profiter du plaisir sexuel de la voraréphilie (welcome to The Savages, where you can enjoy the sexual pleasure of vorarephilia).”

“This is where you can literally eat cunt,” quickly added Sadiah.

“How exquisite!” replied Genevieve, “And … what are the chef’s recommendations?”

The maître d’ smiled with bright white canines. She bowed gracefully before beginning to describe the chef’s unique selection. Genevieve had never eaten human flesh before, but she’d heard that once you get a taste for it, nothing else will suffice.

“She’s beautiful and very sexy,” said the Elik tribal goddess, Sadiah, as she looked at the doppelgänger of Genevieve’s eight-year-old daughter, Gloria, “I can see the close family resemblance. Incest is such a delicious delight.”

“Thank you,” replied Genevieve as her adult hand caressed Gloria’s small fingers, “And I must compliment you on your elegant young daughter. It would certainly be a delight to see our two daughters … play together?”

“Oh, Mommy, we shouldn’t talk about fucking in front of total strangers.”

Gloria smiled at Sadiah and then, kissed her mother directly on the mouth. Their tongues slid in and out for a brief moment, putting their incestuous love on full display.

”Mmmm …” remarked Sadiah, obviously enjoying their little performance, “Then let us get to know each other so that we’re no longer strangers. I am Sadiah. I am an Efik Witch. I practice many extreme forms of sex magick. And this is my daughter, Anansa. — who, I may add — has the most exquisite penal tongue.”

“Oh, Mommy, that makes my pussy so wet,” said Gloria.

“May I ask?” asked Sadiah, leaning closer to Genevieve, “Is she yours or a gift from Mr. De Vile?”

Genevieve paused.

She hadn’t seen that remark coming. As much as she wanted to say that Gloria was hers — that she was truly of her own flesh and blood, she felt no reason to lie about it. It had been an amazing thing. Being able to share the sexual experiences with her make-believe-daughter … but it was, what it was.

“So you’re familiar with the excellent work of Mr. De Vile?”

“Of course. In Babylon, he is well known. He is an artist. You will be sad to lose her, once you return home?”

It wasn’t something that Genevieve had given much thought to. Up until now, she’d been completely obsessed with the sex. Fucking Gloria at every opportunity. Fucking her with her fingers, tongue, dildos, and even a large black strap-on. Devouring her magnificent mouth. Chewing her tiny nipples. Sucking Gloria’s delicious young pussy and clitoris. Licking her divinely tight anus. Drinking her piss and eating her feces. And of course … feeling Gloria’s fingers, hand, and even her entire forearm inside of her — punching her cervix so vigorously.

Just at that moment, her thoughts were interrupted by a musical interlude.

Gong! Gong! Gong!

It was the sound of the Fa’aora — a fast and furious Tahitian beat. The Polynesian musicians began to play feistily, as a group of young girls with spectacular headdresses (all about Gloria’s age), began to dance before the admiring onlookers. The drum music was fast and their pelvic thrusts made their short tie-dye skirts swish in time to the rhythm. Naked from the waist up, their nipples were hidden with tiny covers with little inverted crosses hanging from the tips.

“Don’t the girls look exquisite?” asked Sadiah, who had turned her chair and was now in whispering distance from Genevieve.

As the girls danced teasingly, it was obvious that they had nothing on below their short skirts and as the dance got even more intense, their bald twats became visible to their lusty audience of pedophile women.

“Yes, they certainly are,” answered Genevieve.

She was still somewhat reserved in expressing the feelings in her cunt, as she voyeuristically imagined bringing one or more of these sweet, young things to her bed.

“You know, Genevieve … Your daughter will age,” said Sadiah, “She will eventually grow up and become a woman herself. But you know … your perverted little lover here, she will always be your incestuous dream … Eight years old, now and forever.”

Again, Genevieve hadn’t given it much thought. She didn’t know how it all worked. She’d been so blind-sighted by the sexual conquest of her incestuous fantasies. Denon De Ville was certainly a Magus. A man of dark sex magick. There had been a point in one of her heightened orgasms that Genevieve had considered taking her doppelgänger back with her — how could she give up this amazing fantasy? But how would that work?

“I know these things, Genevieve because I am like you. I made a choice. I knew I could never give up my Anansa — so I eat my daughter.”

Genevieve’s mouth hung open. She wasn’t sure if Sadie was joking. She certainly sounded serious. She wanted to know more. She was compelled to ask — but by now the troop of young girls had progressed to openly masturbating with their fingers as they continued to prance around and thrust back and forth … offering their digits to members of the audience — who enthusiastically sucked and licked at the young girl’s cunt-flavored hands.


Courtney wasn’t sure what to expect.

She’d heard so many stories. No story seemed the same. No story contradicted another. She really couldn’t believe her luck. To have landed this opportunity was just beyond her expectations. Fiona had said little to prepare her for what was about to happen.

The security officer opened the door and pointed ahead. He instructed her to wait in the room that was prepared for their interview. The room was brightly lit and set up for the video interview with two comfortable chairs (facing each other), two static cameras, and two microphones. It felt like being behind the scenes or the backstage pass.

Lights. Camera. Action.

Courtney wasn’t waiting long before Lucy Fur arrived. Lucy entered the apartment. She looked fresh and youthful — it was impossible to tell her age. Her pure white flawless skin had an alabaster appearance that sharply contrasted her jet-black hair. Her short Gothic-style dress hugged her slender body in a very sensual way. She wore a thin chocker that was distinctly Satanic in symbology. There was an aroma so familiar to Courtney.

Everything screamed desire. The wanton desire for things — most profane and depraved. Even Lucy’s body movement set Courtney’s sexual impulses on high alert.

“Hello,” said Lucy, her voice was deep (almost masculine), “You must be Courtney? Thank you for agreeing to do an interview,” she remarked genuinely.

“No. No. The honor is all mine,” blurted Courtney, almost cottonmouth.

She’d been very sexual with Fiona. They had been fast fuck-buddies. But meeting the great and mysterious, Lucy Fur, was something else — like being in the presence of someone so immensely powerful, demonic, yet evocative — that every sense in Courtney’s body seemed to react.

She had become wet between the legs. Her shecock was rigid and throbbing. These sensations were deeper than sex. Greater than lust. Lucy Fur … was God-like.

The broadcast was about to begin. Courtney’s practiced coolness snapped into gear.

“Evening, this is the Raven,” announced Courtney as she looked directly into camera one, “I am here in the Infernal Spire, with the lead singer of The Baphomet. The famous shock-rock band will be performing live at their reunion concert, here in the forever night of Babylon. Lucy Fur — for many, will not need an introduction — but for my younger fans and followers, she is simply a sexual demon hell-bent on collecting your soul … so give yourself freely to her … bow down … and worship the Devil herself!”

Camera two purred into life.

“Lucy, what is it like to be back in Babylon?” Asked Courtney.

“Evening Raven,” answered her guest, equally practised and supremely cool, “Good evening my fans and followers. It’s always exciting being back in Babylon — It’s one of my favorite playgrounds.”

“What can your fans expect for this one-night-only special event?”

“Well, if we’re cutting to the chase Courtney — this, I promise will be an event not to be missed.”

Lucy’s hand rested against Courtney’s.

There was an almost orgasmic feeling that seemed to fill the young influencer.

“The Candlemass serves as the perfect time to celebrate the blessings of the forever night,” continued the demon, “Satan will be expecting you all.”

Courtney was shaking, but managed to continue talking, “And besides your legendary voice, lyrics, enchanting music, and erotic dance … what will be your highlights?”

Courtney realized that the entire time, she’d been rubbing herself in Lucy Fur’s presence. The famous artist didn’t seem to be upset with her sexual behavior. Quite the opposite, there seemed to be a feeling of her encouragement — without words or actions — it seemed to be expected.

“Yes, Courtney. It will be a high mass. A satanic mass. An occult orgy in fact … There will be live devil worship, sexual abuse, pedophilia, and the spilling of the blood of the innocent.”


Genevieve, Gloria, Sadiah, and Anansa left the famous restaurant. The dancing girls and the exotic taboo of their meal had made them all horny for illicit sex. Genevieve had so many questions in her mind. Sadiah had opened Pandora’s Box.

“The night is still so early,” said Sadiah, “You must join us, in the forever night, for a drink. I know a special place. It’s private and intimate.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The intimate place was a voodoo-themed cocktail bar with topless negroid waitresses. They all looked so young. Maybe some were under-aged. All, with coffee-colored tits that defied gravity.

As they were guided to their seats, Genevieve observed, couples and groups that met in the seclusion of booths that were almost screened off from each other. However, glimpses inside, showed females in various stages of undress, enjoying laughter, drinks, finger food, and sexual pleasure. The combination of the low-light, throbbing ethnic music, and raunchy tribal decor — made Genevieve feel horny and excited.

“Please. I was a little shy in the restaurant, I —“

“The answer is, yes. I could never give up what I had experienced. It was too perfect. So, I made a choice. And, yes, my real daughter was delicious. I raped and tortured her first, before killing her and consuming her flesh. We did it together. Her expression was priceless, when she saw us both naked, while she was restrained. It was a delightful moment that I will never forget.”

Sadiah ordered drinks. There were many strange cocktails that Genevieve had never heard of. She didn’t care. She would just go with the flow.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what Sadiah had shared. She tried to wrap her mind around it. Was she turned on by it? Was she sexually excited by Sadiah’s graphic depiction of her murderous nature? Was she soaking in her pants from thinking about the possibilities? Yes … Yes, she was.

The half-naked nigger waitresses brought finger food and more drinks.

Genevieve settled back into a comfortable double chair with young Anansa at her side — while Sadiah did the same with Gloria. Both new couples immediately began passionately kissing, exploring, and fondling as they sat next to each other.

“Tonight, let Anansa, please you. She makes an obedient little slave,” said the witch, Sadiah, as she vigorously kissed Gloria on the mouth, “Don’t worry, Genevieve. Here, nobody will take notice of what we do. It’s a place for lesbian pedophiles to suck and fuck their very young lovers.”

Anansa undressed in front of Genevieve. She looked thin and shapeless. Just like a half-starved child. She didn’t have to say anything as Anansa took the initiative. She got on the carpeted floor between Genevieve’s open thighs. Her small brown fingers prized Genevieve’s nervous legs apart, as she leaned forward against the heat of the woman’s groin.

“Her tongue. Yes. It’s exactly like a cock,” groaned Sadiah, “It’s so long and thick. Mmmm. Devilment. Witchcraft. Yes, her penal tongue will have you cumming in no time.”

Genevieve loved the idea of a nigger-slave-girl servicing her stinking, wet cunt. Genevieve was still hyperventilating from Sadie’s description of what she did with her real daughter. She had no idea what Sadiah meant by a penal tongue. She was about to find out.

She felt the young girl pull her g-string aside so that she could kiss and lick at Genevieve’s sticky wet hole. She felt the girl’s tongue as it began to lap eagerly Genevieve’s hot snatch. The girl’s tongue seemed to push upwards, between her labia open as she penetrated her. A warmth filled her as the young girl’s mouth pressed directly against her, yet her tongue drove deeper and deeper, and deeper.

“Oh, fuck … Oh! Fuck! OH FUCK!” she began to scream.

The bewitched girl’s cock-tongue began to fuck Genevieve’s itchy cunt — reaching inside to unnatural depths — until she felt it almost pressed up against the top of her cervix. Genevieve’s knuckles turned white, as she grasped the curved edge of the seating. Her hips began to buck uncontrollably.

“Ohhhhhhh … Oh, my fucking gawd!”

Another orgasm ripped through her. The girl’s cock-tongue fucked her faster and faster, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Yes, you feel it. Don’t you? It’s black magick. Voodoo. Her tongue is her cock. She will fuck you over and over. Never stopping, until you cannot take anymore!”

“Aaaaghhhhh …” gasped Genevieve, almost losing consciousness.

It was incredulous. Her cunt was exploding over and over. Another climax gripped her. She was being raped by an eight-year-old’s tongue. No, she knew better than that — no ordinary lover. Just like Gloria, she was one of Mr. De Vile’s doppelgängers — wicked sexual creatures — who knew no taboo or limits. With them, there would be no pleasure forbidden.

Could she kill her own daughter?




Babylon has been afforded, awarded, and recognized for many accolades over the years. From “The Greatest Show on Earth (by both PornHub and xHamster)” to “Best-in-class for perversion, depravity, and immorality (by The Pope’s Top 50 Picks For Pedo Priests)” to “The destination where you are most likely to die (by Luxury Travel Magazine, Conde Nast)” to “Best blasphemous sex in Babylon (by Anal Dream House)”.


Genevieve and Gloria had returned to her suite on the 300th floor. There had been a huge commotion in the lobby. People everywhere. Reporters, paparazzi, fans. Something about a big event. A band called The Baphomet or something like that, or so Genevieve had overheard.

However, on the 300th floor, everything was silent. Genevieve opened the door and the incestuous lovers entered the ostentatious suite. It was huge. It took up almost an entire floor. To Genevieve, this had been a very special occasion. She cared little about the costs involved. Everything had to be perfect.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked Gloria.

“Mommy … Are you trying to fill my bladder again?” the Gloria-look-like replied with a smile that made Genevieve melt on the spot.

Genevieve sighed.

Yes, it was true. Of course, it was true. Her mind, soul, and body were consumed with this girl. She loved her. It was more than just lust. It was as if she had brought her to the climax of everything that her life had stood for — but, of course, had never been spoken.

She was the reason why she’d married that disagreeable old man. Why she’d put up with him touching her with his clammy hands and ugly cock. Why she’d been patient for all those years. Why she’d plotted to have him killed. And why she’d come here … to Babylon.

She thought about what Sadiah had said about her real daughter. How the witch had chosen one over the other.

“Of course, your urine is so delicious, my dear,” she said, “Eating human flesh has made me hungry for something that only you can give me.”

The doppelgänger knew exactly what it was.

”My tummy is still so full after eating those roasted things that looked like little babies on a stick …”

“Fetuses, my dear. They’re called fetuses.”

The doppelgänger smiled evilly.

“Oh, Mommy, my baby cunt is all wet thinking about that young nigger girl, Anansa, with her penal tongue … Are we going to see them again? That nigger witch wanted to taste my poopies, Mommy.”

The perverted doppelgänger lifted her top, showing off her completely flat chest and aroused nipples. Her small childish hand rubbed her slightly bulging tummy.

“I need to go poop-poops right now … Can I do it in our bed? Over your tits? In your mouth, Mommy? Can I smear it all over your face and cunt? Can you spank me for being a filthy perverted slut? Can you fuck me hard with your poopie-fingers?”

Genevieve was already half naked and rubbing her excited cunt lips and engorged clitoris. Her g-string was saturated in her stinking juices. Why couldn’t her real daughter say these things? Why couldn’t her real daughter do these things?

“Mommy, I want to shit in your mouth!”

“Oh, Gloria! You read my mind … you read my mind! … My daughter … I love you.”


Angelina Lala arrived at the Golden Calf.

The queer club was already in full swing. It was always crowded and the techno beat made the air throb with strong physical vibrations, in her ears. She could see the Deejay, Aaliyah Death, behind the suspended console spinning the wheels of steel —playing “The Platters the Matter”. Aaliyah’s playlist seemed to promote and push the musical agenda of the up-and-coming revival concert of a band called “The Baphomet”. She’d heard of them before and though the songs had been remixed, she enjoyed the blasphemous lyrics.

“Hey,” introduced Aaliyah, “This is for all you “Baphomet” fans out there — with days left before the concert — I’ve heard it’s going to be a hell of a time, so make sure you have your mosh-pit tickets.”

The crowd immediately perked up. There were yells of affirmation. There was something so completely uninhibited about the crowd, so sexual, so promiscuous, that made Lala feel she was among her own.

Bartholomew, her husband, waved her over to him and his two buddies, at the upper bar, which looked down upon the lighted disco-like dance floor. She made her way through the colorful gender-fluid crowd of half-naked faggots, sissies, transvestites, tgirls, and their many admirers. Yes, she could feel it — the place was just full of hard cocks (both big and small).

“Hi, Lala,” welcomed her husband, “Let me introduce my celebrity guests. Erica Angel, you may know her as Jezebel. And Anjali Kara, they call her Kali. They’re both erotic dancers. They’ve just flown in for a concert.”

“Hi,” said Lala, as she lugged her husband’s guests, “You two are so damn famous! Wow! When Bartholomew said he was meeting two of his buddies — I imagined some boring businessmen from out of town. I must admit, it’s been a while. I remember your lead singer, Lucy Fur, right? She made a stir, being, you know, like a demon … the Antichrist, right?”

Erica and Anjali nodded. The music was a little loud for conversation.

“Want to dance?” Anjali asked, “We have reserved a private suite.”

Anjali pointed towards the rear of the club. Lala nodded. She loved to dance. Not as much as fucking. But, she loved it. The four made their way to a doorway that led up a staircase. The door closed and immediately the throbbing music became much softer. As Lala reached the top of the stairs, she found the private suite was more like a boudoir. There were large one-way glass windows that looked over the entire club, wide white leather couches provided a comfortable setting, a private bar, and a buffet of delicious treats.

“This is so cool,” remarked Lala, “But, I thought you wanted to dance?”

“We do,” said Anjali as the two guests began to strip naked.

Bartholomew smiled.

Lala’s cock was already stiff and ready for a “private fuck dance”.


Genevieve messaged the number on Mr. De Vile’s card. She asked to meet. Discretely. That meant without Gloria being involved. He’d suggested to her to take the hotel limousine down to Lower East Side. It was the Babylon trading hub, away from the sex tourists, clubs, restaurants, casinos, kinky massage parlors, and twenty-four-seven sexual entertainment. The slick dark vehicle moved quickly and soon the partition between the driver and the passenger lowered.

“We’re here, Ma’am,” said the driver.

Genevieve said nothing, as the door was opened for her to step out. The buildings on the Lower East Side were nothing like the grandeur and splendor of the Infernal Spire. They appeared to be utilitarian — like windowless dark shapes — that towered above her in every direction. There were long dark piers that disappeared into the blackness of the ocean beyond. Here, the forever night was at its darkest.

Denton De Vile’s sleek, black limousine pulled up next to her. The side window descended, and Genevieve could see the familiar sharpness, of Denton De Vile’s face, appear with a champagne flute in hand.

“Genevieve,” said he said, “I hope this is clandestine enough for you?”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” she replied, respectfully.

“No, it’s my honor, you’re a highly valued customer,” he added, “The Lower East Side is very interesting, don’t you think? It’s the trading hub of Babylon. In these dark buildings, they trade anything of value. Even human suffering. Rare and endangered species. So, thought extinct. And then there’s the banks. Babylon is the money laundering capital of the world. Criminal organizations, warlords, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, human traffickers … it’s their safe haven for every vice. Much better than Switzerland.”

He paused.

“But we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to talk about Gloria, right? You have fallen for her. You love her. You cannot stop thinking about her … She is the only one that can do it for you. A perverted little slut that knows no taboo.”

Genevieve said nothing.

“What to do? Leave her here or take her back? What would your real daughter think, if she discovered her doppelgänger? Have you got the stomach, excuse the pun, to do what Sadiah did? You are besotted with the new Gloria. You need her — she can read your evil mind!”

Genevieve looked visibly upset.

“Why don’t come inside for a while?” he asked, “Why not have a drink with me, while we consider your options?” he suggested.

His chauffeur opened the side door to his slick, black, stretch limousine.

Genevieve stepped into Mr. De Vile’s stretch limousine to discover they weren’t exactly alone. Sitting on one of the side seats were two very young girls, both about the same age as her daughter, Gloria.

They both were the uniforms of Gloria’s boarding school. Genevieve immediately recognized the school insignia on their shirt pockets. Then there was the distinction between purple and green plaid skirts, white collared shirts and white bobby socks, and matching purple and green scrunchies in their pony-tailed hair. Besides their conservative uniforms, both young girls wore shiny patent-leather heels. They appeared to be about four or five inch-stilettos. Not exactly standard school issue — more befitting of a stripper.

“Oh, you have have company?” she asked, rhetorically.

Mr. De Vile offered Genevieve a champagne glass.

“Here, drink this,” suggested Denton.

She took the glass and swallowed its content in one single gulp.


“Yes, please,” answered Genevieve.

“Ah, this is Sofiya and Aase. They are both schoolmates of your daughter, Gloria.”

Genevieve subconsciously licked her lips. It wasn’t the champagne. The girl’s look so ravenous.

“Well, Sofiya is of mixed blood. A Russian father and a Thai mother. Beautiful combination, don’t you think? He’s a wealthy gangster that runs some of the most perverted brothels in Pattaya — he’s a very abusive man, aggressive and rough. Handy with his gun. He loves to stick his big Cossack cock into all his daughter’s tiny holes. Her mother was a prostitute until she met Sofiya’s father. She’s a live wire too, encouraging their incestuous sex … A bit like that movie, “Pretty Woman”, right?”

Sofiya smiled sweetly at Genevieve. Genevieve’s cunt began to gush like a spring at the sight of such a delicious young girl.

“Ah, and then there is Aase. She’s Danish. Her parents are rather elderly. They come from a time when child porn was perfectly legal in Denmark. Sadly, that’s no longer the case. They were both into fucking young ones — especially their own. They even had a private club where they met other swinging couples who enjoyed fucking their kids. Now, they have to come to Babylon to enjoy their pedophilic fun.”

Little bespectacled Aase smiled at Genevieve.

Both the little girls lifted their short plaid skirts to show her that they wore no underwear. Genevieve had an unobstructed view of their tiny bald cunts. They giggled and fingered each other, shamelessly, in front of Genevieve.

“Doppelgängers?” she asked — she now knew everything that this implied.

“Of course. Perverted little doppelgängers. Just like your, Gloria. Now, I was thinking about a sleepover. What do you think? Maybe, you could look after them for me, for the evening? I have a lot to do. It’s a busy week. Maybe you could help me out and take them both back to your hotel suite — they would just love to meet your, Gloria. I have told them all about the two of you.”

Genevieve’s perverted mind was already considering all the twisted possibilities that this new liaison offered. So much young snatch. They were bound to be as perverted as her new daughter. She hadn’t even noticed that Mr. De Vile’s limousine had started moving — and moving fast.

“I’m sure this offer doesn’t come cheaply?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he laughed, “But that’s no real consideration for you? The price will be astronomical. But do you care? No. We’re already on the way back. Relax. Enjoy. Look, how perverted they are … so wicked … so vile … most outrageous, don’t you think?”

The two young girls had begun tongue-kissing each other fervently, as they eagerly fingered each other’s tiny, wet slits. Their busy fingers thrusting up to their last knuckle to arouse each other as Genevieve looked on.

“Why wait, Genevieve? I know you have already made the decision. Why not have a taste? Now! Go on, I know you want to!” taunted Mr. De Vile.

Genevieve laughed nervously. It was an uneasy laughter — one that was filled with her unnatural lust for young girls — the very idea of sex between her, Gloria, and now, Sofiya and Aase, made her knickers instantly drenched in her oily cunt juices. She couldn’t wait to take them back to her suite.

“Maybe just a sample?” she said, getting down on her knees in from of the giggling girls, who held their little bald cunts open for her to see.




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