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The Passion of the Mephisto

Posted on 22 February 2019

Candles guttered as Mephisto swept past, two long golden rows gilding each wall of the narrow stone chamber. Upon reaching the far end, Mephisto knelt reverently before the altar of God and began to chant, “Omni omni dominae partum, omni omni dominae partum.”

Prayer made Mephisto quite uncomfortable, it boiled down to rooting for the other team after all. It wasn’t just in his head either. The holy words singed his lips on their way past and the surface of his skin itched like when he’d caught the cock rot from that pair of swamp hags. If he kept it up, the next time he took a shit he’d landscape his arse in the process.

In short, he tried not to make a habit of it.

Speaking of which, he was currently disguised as a nun.

The heavy door to the prayer chamber creaked shut, slamming closed with ominous finality. Feigning piety, he kept to his knees and continued his prayer until he felt a furtive touch brush his shoulder. The hand withdrew quick as it came as if his flesh was scalding. He broke off mid-chant and looked up into the face of beauty.

Her simple features were pinched with uncertainty, her brows knit low and her thin lips pressed together in a bloodless line. Her habit left little else exposed, with white wrapped tight around her hair and neck, and a deep black for the rest of her. A small wooden cross hung loose from her neck, the one thing to escape the rigid confines of her attire. She could be mistaken for any one of her sisters at a glance, most of which were about as attractive as a well weathered stump.

But Mephisto had enjoyed a millennia of attractive women. They blurred together across the years and were forgotten before the next, one long swathe of pretty dresses and graceful hips. In her there was a beauty that would not be denied by a plain face. The way those brows never truly relaxed, creased even in sleep by a mind of constant worry. The way her tongue now slid across the cage of her pressed lips, as if rattling the bars in search of release. The errant strand of hair that peeked from out of her habit that she kept having to tuck back into place. And even the cross, simple wood worn smooth along the join by a sweet kiss before bed each night.

Hers was a beauty etched deep within her, and he intended to take a charcoal rubbing with his cock.

He rose to meet her, the distance between them as close as propriety allowed. He took a step closer, and she leaned a little away but took no step back herself. When he tried to meet her eyes she refused to be caught, instead she looked down at the rough stone altar of God. Her hand enclosed upon her cross and her lips parted to murmur a prayer under her breath.

The prayer stopped abruptly when he reached out and took her free hand. Much as she might deny it, rail against it, they both knew why they were there. There were few ways one could interpret a lock of hair secreted underneath a pillow. He lifted his other hand to her chin and brushed the tips of his fingers lightly across the smooth line of her jaw. She held as still as a hare before the wolf, heart racing before the flight.

Her skin was soft and pale and wonderful to the touch. Just like his own. Since he’d appeared on the steps of the convent to beg a place as a nun, he’d worn the shape of a woman. Months had passed before he’d even learned her name, she who had stolen his heart with only a glance on the street.

“Sophia,” he whispered, and she at last met his eyes. Hers were wide with fright, with shame, and with something else. Something greater. Cautiously, so as not to spook her further, he reached behind her head and braced her as he leaned slowly in. She shook within his grasp but she made no effort to be free of it. Their lips met and for a moment Mephisto could forget everything that he was. A man, a demon, the sexiest prince of hell as voted by Whip and Cackle magazine.

Finally, Sophia let go of her cross and melted into the kiss, both arms draped across his slender shoulders. It was as if the flood gates had been opened, she pushed and pulled and squeezed and caressed. She was ravenous, the hunger inside her dwarfed even that of Mephisto. Into his mouth slipped her tongue and he silently applauded her enthusiasm.

After what felt like hours they broke apart, gasping desperately for air. With the first course devoured, the look of uncertainty crept back up on Sophia. She grasped her cross with hard white knuckles and her eyes darted for the door. “We cannot do this. God is watching. The devil tempts us to sin and will feast upon our very souls in hell,” she pleaded more to herself than to him.

“Dad’s a vegan,” Mephisto corrected her without thought. He sucked in a breath when he realised what he’d said, and her mouth gaped open in surprise. Any moment now she would run, or scream, or throw that cross at him and all these long months without the comforting feeling of his berries between his legs would go to waste.

Instead of the million things she should have done however, she folded her arms under her breasts and stood up straight. The uncertainty from earlier was suddenly replaced with a weary acceptance. “Mephisto, is that you?” She asked in a voice altogether different from the quiet and timid Sophia of moments ago.

“Melady,” he said flatly, entirely resigned to the unpleasantness that is bumping into an ex. The air shimmered around her and he blinked, and where Sophia had been now stood a tall demoness with ample booty and an overcast look on her face. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

The wrong question it seemed. Her eyes narrowed even further and she bit out, “I should be asking you that. I’ve been working this convent for a year now. You wanna know why? Because there are no men. That means no chance of ever seeing the selfish, arsehole, cheating bastard that I dumped a century ago. So can you guess how I’d feel to find him in the last place I’d think to look?”

A haze of heat rose around her, the air turned to steam with her fury. She wasn’t the only one angry at the situation though, he’d wasted months working this job only to get blue-balled in the end. The thought struck him that so had she, and she was still waiting for an answer so he ventured, “Horny?”

He held his breath.

Her demeanour slowly changed until a lusty glint took to her eyes. She stepped slowly up to him and draped her arms once again across his feminine shoulders. She leaned her head down beside his and whispered in his ear, “Change back and give me that dick.”

He couldn’t possibly refuse when she asked so kindly. He let go of the transformation and felt his body swell back to it’s original meaty proportions. A strange unfolding feeling between his legs heralded the return of his cock and balls. His new height put him a head taller than her, and her arms lifted with him as he grew so that they still encircled his head.

With a sensuous smile on her face, she threw a knee into his groin and ground his berries into jam. She stepped to the side as he collapsed, like a felled tree crashing to the forest floor. The world was nothing but pain and his vision was just stabs of blinding light. He faintly heard the door slam behind him as he blacked out.

Changelog
  • nsfw: true