Incubus
Chap. 7
The sun had not yet risen when Sister Anne awoke for morning mass. Despite the jet lag she gathered up her robes, threw a splash of cold water on her face and headed to the chapel. Father Hopkins’ room was empty, as he had apparently left in the night. She was surprised by his remarkable energy and endurance. In the time that they had worked together, he was perpetually aware and hyper sensitive to his environment no matter what time of day. After their conversation yesterday, some of the more puzzling aspects of the Father had come together.
In the chapel most of the other sisters had already assembled. Candles along the walls drove away much of the darkness from the room, adding their warm cheer. The majority of the nuns here were fairly young, which was a kind of aberration in this demographic. At sixty, Mother Superior was the oldest women in the room. Sister Anne still wondered what drove young women to the cloth. For her, it had been a senseless act of violence. She had learned that life could be torn asunder in an instant, in the time it took for two bullets to leave their chambers. Yes, it was the impetus of grief and tragedy that was now inextricably interconnected to her psyche. The church was a respite from a mad world bent on devouring itself. The church was a rock of stability where order and selflessness provided light for the world.
As she joined the other sisters in hymns and devotionals her mind still grappled with yesterday’s new vision of the cosmos, thanks to Father Hopkins. Of course, she had heard many of the stories about Angels and Demons in her studies, but they had always seemed more like fairly tale creatures from some long, lost, mythical era. To think that these supernatural creatures could be as real as her own flesh was hard to believe. Strangely, the world still felt the same as it had a week ago and a part of her still remained skeptical of the idea. She needed some kind of proof. Perhaps it was her hard-earned degree from a secular university that had taught her to use her reason before her emotion. She would remain open to what Father Hopkins said, but would not abandon her own need for empirical proof.
Jennifer Wallace tried to concentrate on her instructor’s words, but concentration was just too hard. Ever since her “fever” two days before, she had not felt like herself. She wondered what had really happened. It seemed like she was horny every minute of everyday. She had masturbated before school and even at school in one of the bathroom stalls. Was she some kind of nympho maniac? Did she have a disorder? The truth was, she just felt sexy, especially with the new clothes her mother had bought her. She loved the new attention she received from the boys in the halls as she strutted her stuff. The thought of fucking every one of them seemed plausible. She was a machine built for sex on a pair of black leather boots. And yet there were moments when her smothered psyche cried out to her. And then there would be another voice urging her on. It tempted her to touch her self in the bathroom. It provided an endless cavalcade of lude thoughts and images to distract her from her better judgment. Fighting against the voice was becoming harder and harder. Sleep was no escape either. Her dreams were filled with even more vivid images of her debauchery. The lack of sleep had made dark circles under her eyes, which she conveniently covered with lots of makeup.
Finally, the last bell of day rang and she could be released from her boring scholastic confines. As she made her way out through the mass of fleeing students, she heard her name being called. A woman about 5′ tall, dressed in a conservative business suit and a small nun’s veil was walking towards her. Although the veil gave the nun a kind of generic physical persona by hiding many of her desirable feminine qualitys such as hair color and style, it could not vanquish her clear skin, petite mouth and refined bone structure. Nor could her conservative dress hide the shape of her perfect breasts, slim waste and well proportioned hips and ass. Before she caught herself, Jennifer imagined what the nun would look like naked in thralls of sex.
“Jennifer Wallace?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m Jennifer,” she replied, snapping out of her daydream. “Do I know you?”
“My name is Sister Anne. I came by your house yesterday morning but you were unavailable,” she said.
“Oh yea, my little sister mentioned that. Wasn’t there a priest with you or something?”
“Yes, Father Hopkins. He is away on other business. Can we talk somewhere a little more private?” she asked.
“Yea I guess so,” Jennifer replied, a little suspiciously. They made their way down the street one hundred yards past the school to where a large elm tree with jutting roots pushed out of the sidewalk.
“Jennifer, I have come all the way from Europe for a lost artifact which I believe is in your possession. It’s a large leather bound book with the word ‘Incubus’ on the front. The librarian said that you have checked out this book.”
“A book,” Jennifer replied, averting her eyes. Her mind swooned a little when she remembered the excitement from days before, causing a visible reaction in her expression. Then somewhere in her mind she heard a distinct voice, low and growling: “Do not give it to her. You don’t know what she’s talking about. She must have the wrong Jennifer.”
And without her willing it she heard her self say: “I don’t know of any book. You must have the wrong Jennifer.”
Sister Anne regarded her quick answer suspiciously. There was something not quite right about this girl. In her blue eyes, she saw a scared little girl trying to act confident. There was an unmistakable conflict in those eyes. “Jennifer, it’s very important that the book be returned. You don’t know what it is you have. The book must never be opened.”
“I..I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jennifer stuttered, feeling torn between the voice in her head and this woman’s kind, but commanding eyes.
“I think you do Jennifer.”
Just then a car pulled up beside them and Sister Anne found herself looking straight into Mrs. Wallace’s angry eyes. “Jennifer, come along dear its time to go. You can talk with the nice lady another time,” Mrs. Wallace said, never removing her hostile gaze from Sister Anne.
“Look, if you need any help with this, I am here for you,” Sister Anne said as Jennifer tried to pull away. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Here’s my card. I am staying only a few miles away. Please call me if you think you want to tell me anything,”
And as Jennifer rounded the other side of the car Mrs. Wallace said “Oh and Sister Anne, stay away from my daughter and my house. You’re too late.” On the last syllable of her last word, Sister Anne swore she saw Mrs. Wallace’s eyes flash in color to a deep green. The change was took less than a second, but it was enough to make her knees week with fear and surprise.
As the car sped away down the street, Sister Anne couldn’t help but think she had done exactly what the Father had told her not to do. She had had a confrontation with Mrs. Wallace. It had not been completely in vain, though. She was now aware of where the mother stood. And if she saw what she thought she saw, Father Hopkins strange tale may be true. But the poor daughter. She had looked like a little harlot and yet she was sure there was some kind of deep conflict in those eyes. Perhaps she could still be saved. She only wished the Father were here.
The wind outside the convent was wild and made whistling sounds in the trees. The night had brought unexpected thunderstorms and lightning to the city in the form of huge ominous, black clouds. At 2:00 AM no one noticed the dark figure that entered the courtyard and crept to the rear of convent. It passed silently through the door to the nun’s quarters and moved down the hall. Sister Anne slept soundlessly in her bed. She didn’t hear the light squeak of the door to her quarters as it was gently opened, closed and then locked.
In the dim light from the window above Sister Anne’s bed, the figure paused and hovered over the sleeping nun. It looked down at her with malevolent joy. And then reaching into its bag the figure produced a large leather book. After opening to a particular page, it began to whisper in a forgotten tongue while drawing symbols in the air above the victim. As if sensing something wrong, Sister Anne began to turn in her bed. But as the sleep spell began to take hold, she fell softly back into her dreams. Satisfied, the figure then turned to another page and began to read a new spell and draw more symbols in the air.
Sister Anne now began to stretch out and squirm in her bed. She began to murmur and sigh in her sleep as if wrestling with something in her dreams. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. She tore the sheets off her body and pulled at her robes. She grabbed handfuls of her breasts and rubbed them as she arched her back. Against her will she felt her legs start to spread as she pulled her knees back. And moving with both hands down the center of her body she cupped the mound beneath her panties. In one swift movement she quickly ripped them off her torso, revealing her naked and engorged pussy.
The figure orchestrating her body smiled in satisfaction as she watched the helpless nun pleasure herself against her will. Then the figure withdrew a small well of what looked like red ink. While issuing forth a new chant, the figure drew a series of symbols on the nun’s soft belly. With the ritual prepared, the figure lifted her skirt and began to masturbate herself to the sound of the nun’s moaning. In moments the figure shook with a small orgasm. It then removed its fingers which were now covered in a strange, white liquid. Carefully, it rubbed some of the fluid onto Sister Anne’s lips where her tongue quickly lapped it up. Then moving down her body, it gently inserted its fingers in the nun’s pussy where the remaining fluid would mix with her juices. Finally, with one last moan Sister Anne orgasmed hard, her cervix dipping down inside her and carrying the evil seed deep inside her womb.
The next morning Sister Anne slept through mass. She had never felt so exhausted. It was nearly noon as she wiped her groggy eyes, and saw that the full noon day sun had filled her room. The storm had passed. Looking down she saw that her panties lay on the floor ripped in two. The sheets on the bed were a tangled mess and her robes were up around her waste. On her belly were the faint traces of something red. It was so smudged it almost looked like a rash. Sister Anne couldn’t imagine what had happened in the night. She gathered herself and headed for the showers.
In bathroom she felt the disapproving eyes of the other nuns. She had never slept in past six in the last two years. She said nothing, but averted her eyes. In the shower area three other sisters were bathing themselves, a common sight in communal living. Sister Anne, turned on the water and let it fall through her hair. The warm water had a relaxing effect. As she rubbed herself down with soap she started to zone out. Eyes wide open, she began to stare at the other nuns beside her. She began to imagine all four of them making love under the warm water. She could feel their soft breasts rubbing against hers.
When she finally snapped out of it, all three women were staring at her. She quickly wiped the dumb grin off her face and went back to washing up. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought. “I’m fantasizing about other women.”
Around two o’clock she passed through the courtyard and heard her name. “Sister Anne, Sister Anne,” they called. She turned to see the secretary from the front office walking towards heaving a large package.
“Sister Anne, a woman came by and dropped this package off for you this morning. I thought you had already left or I would have brought it to your quarters,” she said.
There was no return address or markings on the parcel, just the words ‘Sister Anne’ written in red. “Thank you Margaret, I’ll take it back to my room.”
In her room she closed and locked the door behind her. and locked it. Then she closed the curtains on her window. She had an idea what might be inside. As she pealed back the brown grocery bag paper, the letters ‘I’ and ‘n’ inlaid on leather were visible. So Jennifer had actually come through for her. Inside the wrapper was a hand written note. It was from Jennifer.
Dear Sister Anne,I’m sorry I lied to you yesterday. If anyone should have this it’s you. Please turn to page 50 and you’ll understand why.
Love,
Jennifer
“Well you just never knew with people these days,” she thought. “Hmm. Page 50 she said.” And laying out the big cumbersome book on her bed she failed to heed Father Hopkins warnings. There was a white book mark peaking out from the top. She opened the behemoth in one motion and it fell open to page 50 where the book mark had been placed.
To her horror there was a picture of a room just like hers. A nun lay almost naked on the bed, touching herself. A woman stood over her waving her hands. She turned to the next page and saw four nuns in a shower room kissing one another. “What the hell! How can this be?”
On the next page, again, there was a drawing of her room and of herself in the exact position she was now in. With her curiosity in overdrive, she turned the next page to figure out how this could be possible. And as she did she vaguely recalled Father Hopkins’ warnings in her head. But it was too late. On the next page a symbol was drawn. It was the same symbol that had been painted on her belly the night before. As soon as she saw it she felt a pain in her abdomen which caused her too double over. In her mind she heard a voice. “Read from the book,” it commanded her. She grasped at the sheets in pain and tried to push the book away from her. “Read from the book,” it said again. Fighting the voice was causing the pain and she knew it. It was just too difficult. She glanced one more time at the book and pain began to subside. She took a longer look and more pain was removed. Finally she faced the book. On the page there was another picture. To her horror it was a picture of a nun impaling herself on a huge red demonic cock. It was her face in perfect bliss in the picture. Behind her, a hideous creature stood triumphant.
Sister Anne stared at the picture as if hypnotized. The blasphemy of the image was overwhelming. Below the inscription was a spell written in Latin. “Read the spell and be released” the voice said. Sister Anne looked at the words and felt a tiny portion of the pain diminish. She couldn’t bare this much longer. The delirious pain was really making it difficult to think. She began to form the syllables in her mouth. One by one, like the clock on a time bomb, each spoken word counted down to the moment of the unimaginable.
At the moment the last word of the spell was spoken, a deafening crack issued forth from out of the air, like the opening of hell itself. In front of the startled nun an elliptical opening began to grow out of nothing. A bright, fiery light, together with noxious sulfuric fumes emitted from the portal as it grew. Sister Anne stepped back into the corner of the room where she instinctively covered her face from the image before her. “What have I done? What terror have I unleashed upon the world?” she cried.
Just then a tall figure began to emerge from the crack. First a muscular, red, leg stepped through onto the floor of her chamber. Then a head dipped down to fit through the portal and poked its head into the world of mortals. Immediately it turned and looked straight at the cowering nun. It was hideous, a red skinned demon with a bald head and large pointy ears. It’s pupils were slit like a cat’s and the color of red embers. As the last of its body stretched through the opening, the portal made a rushing noise and collapsed upon itself. The figure casually gazed at his new surroundings until he saw a solitary crucifix hanging on the wall. With a whip lash of his tongue, an invisible force flew across the room, knocking the cross onto the floor with a crash. Satisfied, he then turned his attention to the nun hiding in the corner.
“Sister Anne, I presume,” it said.
She carefully took her hand away from her eyes. Her lips quivered in terror as she asked, “Who are you?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question.”
“Ma...Ma...Malice Philemon?” she managed to stutter out.
“At your service.”
“Father Hopkins was right,” she muttered.
“Oh yes, the good Father Hopkins. How is he? You know since that night in Greece forty years ago when I nearly killed him, I just haven’t been able to find a worthy adversary. But that’s alright. I seemed to have found a worthy piece of meat instead. I just love nun pussy, so clean and pure.”
Sister Anne gasped at his foul words and again covered her face, wishing she could just wake up from this nightmare.
“Oh Sister, have I offended thee? You didn’t seem too upset the other night when I mind fucked you. In fact I snooped around in the crevices of that brain of yours and found some very startling fantasies. I just love repression. It makes for such depraved secrets.”
Casually the demon began to stroll over to where she was. At seven feet tall he towered over the terrified nun. “You seem a little frightened, Sister. I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, a sexually deprived woman such as yourself is really going to enjoy this.”
He then reached down and with his long fingernails and cut a slit in the nun’s robe at her midriff. Still almost paralyzed with fear, she was too scared to stop him. Her soft creamy stomach was now exposed. He moved his hand down to her belly and let it hover inches above. Then he began making circles above the area where the red smudge had been.
Sister Anne looked down at her stomach in horror. As she watched, a dark symbol began to appear beneath her skin until it was clearly visible. She felt a weird sensation inside her female organs. “See you have been marked. You already belong to me,” he said with a smile. “You are no longer a bride of Christ, but a concubine of the demon.” In horror she felt her body begin to respond. She could feel her pussy start to tingle and she remembered how big the demon’s cock looked in the picture. But she would not give in that easily.
“No!” she screamed. “You do not own me.”
“Oh but I do sister. Jan Wallace, my minion, deposited some of my seed in your womb last night while you slept. Your enslavement began hours ago. It’s senseless to fight.”
Indeed Sister Anne did feel different. She rubbed the skin above her ovaries and a felt a weird but pleasurable sensation. It was like something was moving around inside her, stimulating her from the inside. Her labia were becoming engorged and her clit was getting hard. She rolled her eyes back in pleasure as she tried to fight the feeling off. She wanted to lift up her nun’s robe and massage her aching pussy.
“That’s it my little nun slut. You know what you need. Go ahead and reach down. Feel the proof in your wet panties.”
“No, I wont give in to you,” she said with grinding teethe. “Mmm...you really are quite a fighter. Most women would have caved in the instant they saw me,” he replied with a certain amount of admiration. “Here, let me help you make your decision.”
He then stood up and pulled out his massive, red cock. It was the biggest cock Sister Anne had ever seen. It pulsed with energy and power. As he stroked it for her, her eyes grew larger and she began to salivate. She knew the giant would take away this unbearable tension. She imagined straddling the monster and guiding inside her.
“Stop, please. Go back to where you came from,” she cried with a noted futility in her voice.
“You don’t really want me to do that. Wouldn’t you rather just put my huge dick in your mouth,” he said smiling. It was true. Sister Anne wanted nothing more than to feel it in her mouth. Sensing her faltering resolve, he brought the massive phallus inches from her mouth. She looked down at it and bit her lip with anticipation. Then she slipped out her tongue and tasted the tip. She could feel its heat and taste the delicious pre cum. It was unbearable. She looked up at the beast with a guilty smile and grasped it at the hilt. Inch by inch she swallowed it until she could take no more.
“That’s a good girl. I knew you wanted it, my little nun slut.” He arched his head back in pleasure as Sister Anne wrapped her hot mouth around it and began to suck. It had been a long, long time since she had done this but it came back to her quickly. She grasped the monsters huge balls and caressed them while she sucked. Quickly she felt them constrict and huge volley of cum shot down her throat. She gasped in pleasure, trying to keep all the sperm inside her.
The demon growled with pleasure. “There is much more where that came from Sister. Come over here and lay on the bed.”
A new look of pure carnal sin was in her eyes. She quickly pulled up her nun robe and sat back on the bed. She spread her legs for the creature so that he would have full access to her pussy. The creature liked seeing her like this in her veil, it added pure sacrilege to his conquest.
Sister Anne gently messaged her swollen pussy in front of him. “Fuck me master. My nun cunt now belongs to you and your devilish cock. Use me like the little slut I am. I am just an unworthy hole for you put your cock in, a place for you to put your cum,” she said, her faith now completely unraveled.
“You are coming along quite nicely my slave. And for your devotion, I think I’ll give you what you ask for.” With that he slid the monster up inside her as she let out a cry of pleasure.
The demon fucked her hard all night long. Sister Anne lost track of how much semen he pumped inside her or how many orgasms she had, but she did know there was no way back. At last, just before the dawn, the creature turned to her. “You are a good slave, Sister Anne. I want you to turn more of your sisters here in the convent. I will leave the book here for you. Now sleep,” he said and she fell back onto the bed, her dreams filled with lust and hell fire.