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I am alone in the nave, tidying up after evening mass. The altar servers were already sent home, my vestments put away, and straightening up the last few misplaced hymnal books meant that I could leave too. But, not yet.
The atmosphere in the church at dusk is so calm and quiet, I take a few moments to breathe it in. The last rays of sunset set the stained glass windows alight, color beaming across the faint trails of incense smoke still drifting through the air. This church is my sanctuary, my second home, my passion project. One would hardly recognise it from the near-ruin it used to be in, and I couldn’t be more proud of the way this parish came together to restore it. I’ve spent so long in this building, so much of myself is poured into it: blood, sweat, and tears into everything here. It’s as close as I’ll ever come to Heaven on Earth, and I am grateful for the respite from the noise in my head within these walls. My soft footsteps are the only thing that breaks the silence as I walk back to the altar.
I place a reverent hand on the very edge, leaning down to place a soft, barely-there kiss to the cold stone before kneeling on the steps in front of it. I fold my hands together, resting on the edge of the altar, my head bowed between my arms. It's not the most comfortable spot or position to pray, but it feels apt. Maybe the strain in my muscles and the ache in my knees will keep any other thoughts out of my head.
Which I can avoid no longer. Now that the church is empty, and I’m unlikely to be disturbed, I want to talk with Him.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Amen.”
My voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes off every wall and the effect is chilling: a whole choir of voices surrounding me, and I can only hope it's the voices of Saints and Angels, and not… well…
“Please, Oh Lord, lead me not into temptation. You know the strength of my spirit and I trust You not to test me to destruction, but… Please, I- I can't sleep. Deliver me from these… nightmares. Protect me from the demon that hides in my dreams, Lord. I submit to Your Glory and accept that I need Your divine intervention.”
My own whispers twist and echo back at me, like an audience discussing my ‘performance.’
I wish they were nightmares.
I wish I couldn’t say that for a brief moment, every morning I wake after one of those beau- Damned dreams that it is the most relaxed I’ve ever been. I wish I didn’t have to wake up loose-limbed and at-peace and smiling only to have it crash down around me as I remember who I’m supposed to be.
I wish I could say that I hated those dreams.
But even now, hazy images flicker through my mind, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. And certainly nothing else rising. The guilt at thinking these things in a church, in my church, is almost too much. I’ve been staying up later and later to avoid sleeping, but someone is going to notice the growing bags under my eyes eventually. But mostly it’s the toll the stress has been taking on me. I’ve always been an anxious person, but I didn’t used to jump when parishioners knocked on my door.
The shame is killing me, the eyes of God and His angels stare into me like red-hot brands, seeing the stain upon my soul. Hopefully He also sees how desperate I am for this to end, and I will be spared.
I stay in place for a long moment, willing the ache in my body to clear my head. It’s not as straining as I thought to sit like this, so I can stand to stay here as long as it takes to replace the thoughts in my head with the soreness of my knees. The church is so still and quiet, my eyes fall shut in silent prayer, breathing deeply and slowly. I don’t know how long I stay there, surrendered to the Lord.
I can hardly bear looking up toward the crucifix hanging on the back wall of the sanctuary. It's no sooner that I make eye contact with Christ that the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I don't know how I know, but something in the air has shifted. I can't seem to move. Someone- no, something is behind me.
There's a faint whisper in my ear.
"Father…"
I turn suddenly, plastering myself against the altar, heart racing. There's no one there.
Obviously, I am being ridiculous, there can’t possibly be anyone there. There's no reason my heart should be leaping into my throat. Just an overactive imagination, I am jumping at nothing, again.
I'm glad I decided to opt for a clerical suit today instead of the cassock, I'd have made a fool of myself tripping over the skirts. I pick myself up off the step, embarrassed and ready to spend another sleepless night in my office, but I hardly get upright again when I can see movement towards the front door of the church.
The votive candles flicker, the flames guttering. They shouldn't be, there's no wind in here. My stomach drops when they go out entirely, the dim red glow from the windows and the few candles left on the altar behind me are the only lights in the church now.
For a long, tense moment, nothing happens and I think I might be able to just leave when there's a soft purring growl from behind me.
Every muscle in my body tenses.
I can't move, even when I can hear something huge shift its weight and the breath leaves my lungs when a large clawed hand lands softly on the back of my neck. The claws gently scrape my scalp as it drags its hand up through my hair. I shiver at the feeling of it, goosebumps breaking out on my arms.
The hand abruptly grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, making me gasp and look up to see an inhuman face peering down at me.
A wicked grin reveals sharp teeth in it's short muzzle, two pairs of bright mischievous eyes staring down at me from under elegantly arched horns. The same gilded eyes that have haunted my wet dreams nightmares for weeks now. It must see the horrified recognition on my face, because it laughs, a rumbling chuckle that I'm mortified to realize makes my pulse pick up for the wrong reasons.
“We finally meet face to face, Father, and you look so scared? You never seemed so off-put before.” It’s voice is a seductive purr, and it goes through me like fire.
“L-let go of me. I c-command you to let go of me,” My voice comes out so much weaker than I hoped, “In- In nomine Pat– mmpph!”
A hand slaps down against my mouth, cutting me off.
“Oh, don’t be like that, priest. Let me have my fun first.” There’s a grin in its voice as it watches me struggle to pull its hand away and wiggle out of its grasp. The grip in my hair slowly tightens until it hurts, making me cry out beneath the hand on my mouth. It’s only when I go limp, stop fighting that they- it, loosens up.
“What a quick learner. Good boy.” It leans down and whispers the last two words into my ear, and the effect is immediate and devastating. I can feel the pull of arousal in my gut, and goosebumps down my arms. It just laughs above me, this close to it I can feel its chest rumble.
“There we go, just like in your delicious dreams.” The hand comes away from my mouth, but before I can say anything it wraps around my throat instead. My breath catches as it puts just the slightest pressure on my neck, the claws little pin-pricks against the skin.
“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Father? This doesn't have to be so difficult, sweetheart…” Its voice vibrates against my ear and I can’t suppress a shiver.
“No… p-please…” I feel pathetic for begging a demon to spare me, but there’s nothing else I can do. I don’t want this, I can’t want this, I can’t convince myself I don’t want this let alone convince them.
It still has one hand in my hair and the other wrapped around my neck, and I yelp in surprise when I feel two more land on my waist and glide up and around to my chest. I can feel the thing smile against the side of my face, amused by my every reaction.
The hands pull until my back hits the altar, my head bracketed by the monster’s knees, and it’s only then I realize it has the audacity to sit, kneeling, on the altar. I’m so stunned and instantly angry I forget what vulnerable position my throat is in.
“How dare you desecrate my church, the very altar, you foul monster–”
The grip on me tightens in an instant, claws pressing into but not breaking the skin of my neck and my hair nearly being ripped out. I can’t stop a pained whine from pouring out of me, I can’t even move my hands to try to pull away, the other two arms holding them down by my sides.
There's a low, menacing growl behind me, and their voice is rough and dark when they speak, a dangerous edge to it.
“I strongly recommend you shut your mouth, Father. I don’t think you’re in any position to be casting stones about desecrating a church.” They finally loosen their grip on my hair just enough that my scalp isn’t screaming in pain, but I still can’t move my head. The grip on my arms shifts, they catch both of my wrists behind my back and their newly freed hand presses softly against my stomach and slowly drifts downward. I nearly sob when their hand closes around my clothed erection, palming me through the cassock.
“What were you saying about desecration, Father? Dirty little priest, are you hard for this ‘foul monster’?” They move their hand slowly along my trapped length, the friction is maddening even though layers of fabric. I can’t speak, just taking shuddering breaths and praying this is over soon.
“You were never this shy in your other dreams, Father. Nothing to say to me now? Do you want me to keep hurting you, you masochist?”
“No! Please, no. Stop touching me…”
“I’d probably be more convinced by that pathetic attempt at getting me to stop if your cock didn’t throb under my hand when I said that. I can read your desires like an open book, Father. Give in to me and I’ll fulfill every single naughty thing you’ve ever thought about late at night with your hand under those robes.”
It’s getting hard to think about anything other than how good their hand feels. I have to focus to keep from rutting my hips forward into their agonizingly slow rubbing. I must have taken too long to answer, because the next thing I know I’m being lifted into the air and pulled back onto their lap. My body is arranged how they want me, my legs spread wide outside of their thighs and my hands trapped between my back and their chest.
"N- no, I can't- I won't! Let go of me!"
I can feel the laugh rumbling out of their chest, their hands holding me close to their body- oh God, they're almost twice my size.
"Oh don't worry Father, I know you can't. You're not allowed to, are you? But that doesn't mean you don't want it."
Their lower hands drift downward, broad palms flat against my thighs. They squeeze my thighs at the same time a hand on my chest finds my nipple and starts rubbing it through my clothes. I bite my lip to keep from making any noise, but the demon won't have that. There's a soft rumbling growl next to my ear and they start palming me through the cassock again, slow but firm.
"I'll take care of you, better than God ever will. Just give in and submit."
It's torture, I can't stop the shudder that rips through me and the gasp from my mouth. My thighs are tight with the effort of not rolling my hips into the touch. The incense smoke is heavy in the air, the heady scent making my head spin. It's getting harder and harder to stifle my reactions, to not give this monster the satisfaction of watching me crumble at their every touch.
The other hand slips behind me, groping my ass before lifting my cassock and suddenly I can feel short soft fur against the back of my bare thighs.
Wait- what happened to my clothes, this isn't what I was wearing-
Their hands move over me, adjusting my positioning, and I can feel- oh God, no-
They laugh when they feel my weak struggling against their grip, all it does is grind my ass against their cock, making the both of us moan.
"I'll give you what you need, Father, what you've wanted for so long. I won't hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt."
Their cock rests against my entrance and with a shocked groan I can feel myself open for them, suddenly dripping wet like a cunt. Then it's pressing inside me and my mouth falls open at the feeling of being stretched. The demon presses in so slowly I can feel every inch of their thick cock spearing me open. They moan in delight, a purr rumbling up from their chest when they're pressed fully inside me. I can't do anything but hang limp in their grasp, panting heavily.
I can’t move or think, consumed by the feeling of the massive cock stretching me out. Mercifully they haven't moved yet, just gently arranging me to sit comfortably in their lap and caressing my thigh and chest. I can feel their smug purring through my back, their nose nuzzling through my hair and along the back of my neck. A forked tongue laves over the back of my neck, I break out in goosebumps as they slowly move down one side of my neck, licking and kissing. I pull my head away, refusing to allow the display of affection from this… thing. I can feel it’s disapproval, it’s lip curling in a silent snarl next to my face.
“Oh Father, would you rather I not kiss you? I thought you would appreciate a little romance, but you really do just want me to treat you like a cheap whore, don’t you?” Their voice has a dangerous edge to it, are they genuinely upset by my rejection?
“We’ll just get on with it then,” they purr into my ear as their hands move my body where they want it.
A hand on my lower back and another on my throat push and pull in tandem to force me to bend in an arch, the movement rocking my hips over the cock inside me and sending sparks up my spine. The demon uses its new leverage to pull almost all the way out, and it pushes back in just as slow as the first time, letting me feel how much my body has to stretch around. I can’t let it hear me, I refuse to humiliate myself further, so I press my lips together to keep my mouth shut. Each slow thrust makes me shake and my breath comes heavy through my nose, but I can’t make any noise-
The demon pulls me back onto its cock with a hand on my hip and the change in angle makes the next thrust drag across something inside me that makes me see stars. I forget entirely where I am and what I’m doing, my mouth flies open with a shameless moan. Instantly my face is on fire, but I don’t have time to think about my shame because the demon’s thrusts speed up and start targeting that exact spot. Each one lights me up, driving all other thoughts out. I’m distantly aware of the pitiful little noises I keep making, but I can’t do anything other than hang on for the ride. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, being stretched out and fucked mercilessly and each thrust hitting something incredible inside me… it’s almost too much to handle.
“There we go, that’s what you needed, isn’t it, Father?” The monster’s head rests on my shoulder, speaking into my ear. I can’t answer anymore, I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams, the intense sensation and incense smoke have me so dizzy. Is the room really spinning? It shouldn’t be, I know it can’t actually be. There shouldn’t be this much smoke in the air, mass ended ages ago… The whole sanctuary looks unfamiliar, the altar and nave warped together into one massive alcove with velvet curtains and gilded candelabras and enormous stained glass windows that bathe the both of us in blood-red light. The architecture in the room pulses like a heartbeat- in time with my heartbeat, like the ornate vaulted ceiling and pillars and carvings can’t decide what they're supposed to look like. Or maybe it’s me, my vision swimming as I lose focus on reality itself.
Looking up isn’t any better, the monster behind me seems to have changed too. Shadowed shapes flutter above us, I almost think they’re wings until it clicks into place- hands. Dozens and dozens of shadowy arms pour out of their back in the shape of wings. A tarnished, cracked ring hovers above the back of their head, spikes emanating from it at regular intervals as it spins lazily. I can’t look at any of it for too long, my eyes refuse to focus and slide off like water off a duck, leaving motion-trail after-images in my mind.
I close my eyes to avoid the worst of it, whining and laying my head back on the soft fur behind me. One of my hands finds a horn above me and I hang on just to have something to anchor myself to.
My hips move on their own now, meeting each thrust from the demon. A coil tightens in my stomach, something building to a knife’s edge inside me. It doesn’t even occur to me to stop, solely focused on chasing that pleasure. Then that rumbling laugh comes again in my ear, and I remember where I am all at once with a keening whine. I still can’t stop myself from rocking backwards onto the thick cock, but now there’s a white-hot streak of shame burning in me, and I’m horrified to realize that it makes the arousal and lust burn hotter, too.
“You’re so close, aren’t you, Father? Ready to cum for me?” The demon taunts. Their voice sharpens suddenly, their hand tightening around my throat, “Don’t you fucking dare. Not until you admit how much you love this, how good it makes you feel. Give in and say ‘yes’ to me, Father.”
I'm too breathless to speak, just a keening whine escaping me.
"No, please… I can't…"
I can't think, I can hardly breathe, too dizzy and overwhelmed to focus on fighting back or arguing. And the demon knows it, their voice a seductive purr in my ear.
"Don't be so difficult. You want this, Father."
"N-no, no…"
A hand creeps around to palm my cock through the cassock, I jerk in their grasp and sob at the pleasure of it.
"There, is that better? Say yes, sweetheart."
I can't- I can't move my mouth around the words anymore, oh God-
"Father…"
Please, I can't- I won't- I shouldn't…
"Father?"
Another pitiful whine, I can feel my resolve slipping.
"Father, are you alright?"
Oh God… y-
"Father!"
There's a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. My heart lurches in my chest, I jerk awake so suddenly I nearly jump off the floor.
I'm laying on the step in front of the altar, heart hammering and a concerned altar server hovering over me. Sunrise weakly peeks through the windows. The nave is as it was, no warped architecture or demonic influence.
"Father? Are you okay?"
"...No, I'm sorry, I… must have fallen asleep here last night. I haven't been sleeping well."
Every movement aches, my entire body is stiff and sore, and no wonder if I spent all night on the steps. I pull myself upright, wincing in horror at the warm, wet feeling across the front of my pants, thankful they're dark enough to hide the stain.
The altar server just stares at me, I can’t bear to meet their eyes and see the pity there.
They insist on canceling Mass to 'let me rest,' concerned I may be sick. I'm going to let them believe that, too exhausted and ashamed to argue. I find myself back in the rectory in a daze, re-dressed in casual clothes and dreading the heaviness I can feel pulling at my eyelids.
I put myself to bed in a haze, rosary wrapped around my wrist and clutching my bible to my chest like a shield. I intended to read it, but I no longer have the energy for it, already drifting off despite my best efforts not to.
I pray I can rest, I pray the Lord will shelter me, that I may sleep in His peace.
Amen…