The Road to El Dorado: The Hunt for the CRF19 Strain

[SlampaBay]

Looking forward to MY trip to Cuba.

[rexTO]

More please

[whthole4u]

Part 4 - Father Adelmo said I would be the sacrifice on the altar of man - for men - by men. What did he mean? Frankly I didn’t care as I was on the hunt for El Dorado - my destiny - the CRF19 virus - and as part of that journey had just spent the past few days in Miami being raped, fucked raw, and taking all sorts of nasty dick while snorting as much of the good Father’s ‘angel’ powder as I could. He said my future was to come back and live my final days at Casa des Santos. I was fine with that if he planned to keep me chemmed up and whored out and at the top of my list was going back to the ABS to get raped again by that nasty freak bugarrón who used my hole good. In the meantime, I was enjoying the cool breeze hitting my face as Bob and I bumped and jumped over the waves in the speedboat that was taking us out to meet the cargo ship. You see - they were smuggling me INTO Cuba. Crazy right? But that is where the CRF19 virus is rampant and I needed it, wanted it, it was my holy destiny.

 

Bob - well technically he was one of a number of Brother Robertos that served the Father, but I called him Bob for short - had a jagged scar on his temple and I felt like we had ‘bonded’. True, he never really said much to me - if anything at all - but he had been my guide during my Miami depravity and now was my escort as I was smuggled out of the country. I was hustled to a low-rent marina, scrambled onto a low-slung speedboat that seemed like it might sink at any moment, and went barreling out into the open water, bumping over the waves and being baptized in salted spray. Some time later the dark hull of a large cargo ship loomed before us, its lights all but off, our pilot steering by the cast of the moon to find the swaying rope ladder hanging off the side. Angry words were exchanged in Spanish - well I guessed they were angry from the tone and once again cursed my short sightedness in realizing I was missing a lot of what was happening due to the language barrier.  

 

Under the cover of darkness, Bob and I were hustled aboard and stowed in a cramped, tiny room below deck. Within minutes of feeling the tremble of the engines reviving and getting underway, Bob got sea sick and started puking into the rusted metal bucket in the corner. I had to laugh and he was not amused. It was Bob’s turn to laugh when the crew master came down about an hour after we had gotten underway and he - and the rest of the men in need who had been at sea for weeks apparently and needed a fresh pussy ass to breed - fucked me one after the other. The cargo ship crew were eager to all slam fuck me raw and Bob just huddled in the corner -puking and smiling - as I begged to no avail for some white powder to snort in order to make their assault on my ass easier.

 

I lost count of the number of men who bred me, but it was well over a dozen and yet I still wanted more. They were all quick fucks - nutt and bounce - and not a one of them challenged my hole or ass. My only hope was that some of them had some wild, exotic bug in which to infect me. I then fell asleep on the thin cot while Bob swayed in the chair in the corner, the metal bucket held to his chest as the roll of the seas continued to clean him out. I awoke a few hours later to a hard cuff to the head - Bob was standing over me, his dick out and raging, his palm piled with white powder, and an evil smile on his face. Clearly he was feeling better and had gotten his sea legs under him. I snorted, felt the welcome rush and burn, and sighed in pleasure as Bob started to pound my hole. That’s how the crew member found us when he brought us a meal - Bob balls deep in my ass. The tray with our bologna sandwiches was sat on the floor, the crew member tagged in, and Bob let him nutt my hole before he himself finished off inside me.

 

I was ready to go back to sleep, but Bob pushed me off the cot so I had no choice but to curl up on the floor with just a backpack for a pillow. I desperately wanted to get out of the cabin but my hosts had made it clear with forceful gestures and by locking the door behind them, that Bob and I had to stay where we were. When Bob finally came to I was eager to get fucked again, but he just brushed me off, pulled a book out of his backpack, and started to read. I was so fucking bored! Finally the movement of the ship changed, new sounds could be heard, voices rang out in the corridor, Bob checked his watch, nodded, and packed up his things and said to me, “WELCOME TO CUBA - WE HAVE ARRIVED AT ENSENADA DE MARIMELENA.” I didn’t know if that was the city or what - and would later realize it was like the port section of Havana. Bob hefted his backpack over his shoulder, but not before handing me my ‘passport’ that had a small stack of U.S. $100 bills sticking out of it. Before we had left Miami Father Adelmo had explained, “You will have a passport that says you are Canadian. It will work for what we have planned, however if something goes wrong, the authorities in Cuba will be able to confirm it is not real and then - well let’s just say a Cuban jail is where you may spend your final days. You just follow Brother Roberto and do whatever he and anyone tells you, and all will be well my son.”

 

Bob put his finger to his lips as a silent ‘shush’ order. A crew member came, we quickly made our way back out through the warren of the ship, up onto the dick, and I realized it was night. We had been at sea from dark to dark, although I had no idea the exact time as my watch, cell, and everything else had been left back in Miami. Bob huddled with someone near the rail of the ship. They exchanged a few, quiet words, a small stack of money was passed from Bob’s hands to the other’s with practiced ease and then Bob and I were surrounded by a couple guys front and back and were escorted down a wobbly gangplank and onto the dock below. From under the rim of my Marlin’s baseball cap - a gift from Bob - I could see we were in a port. There were trucks, cranes, some light, but not as much as I would have thought. At the bottom of the gangplank our group paused, a man in some sort of uniform looked us up and down, nodded, then turned and walked away. Bob and I were hustled to a large truck with wood railings, a tarp covering the top and most of the sides, and as we climbed up and bent forward I glanced back one last time wondering if I would make it home. For the first time I felt afraid - truly afraid - and stupid - but a rough shove and a few harsh words in Spanish made me move. Bob and I huddled at the front of the truck bed, boxes were placed between us and the back, someone banged the side of the truck and we started to move. Bob was cool, calm, and collected as the truck rumbled along. I had to ask myself, “Why was he here? What did he get out of this? Isn’t this an awful big risk for him too?” No sense asking Bob as I knew he would not answer.

 

The sounds of the truck, port, and light traffic were the only sense I had of movement. While there were occasional flickers of light through the spaces between the tarp and the truck sides, we could not see anything, so I huddled close to Bob - silent and excited. The roads were bumpy; the exhaust from the truck muffler made the air gritty and foul, and my mind was whirling now with questions - where were we going, what was going to happen next, would I find El Dorado and the CRF19 virus? Some time later the truck slowed, Bob looked at me and pressed his finger to his lip again - ‘shush’ - and cocked his head as he leaned closer to the truck side while he listened. He nodded to himself, smiled, scooted forward a bit, and waited. The tailgate was unlatched, the truck body shifted as someone climbed up, boxes were moved and a small shaft of light pierced our hiding place. Bob jumped down, I followed, looked around, and we were parked behind a wooden building and the only light I could see was what came from the truck’s lights and the flashlight in the driver’s hand. The driver and Bob exchanged a few quiet words, Bob nodded, took the flashlight, grabbed my left arm and we started walking down a dirt road. I turned as the driver unlocked a door on the building and began pulling boxes off the truck. Only about 50 feet down the road Bob paused at a small, roadside shrine. It was white, about 3-feet high, with a few candle stubs in it. I had seen similar things in Mexico when I had spent a summer there, but there was usually a Virgin Mary statue too or something. Not here. Bob walked to the right of the shrine, and down an almost unseen path amidst the tall sugar cane field. He held the flashlight down so I had to look at the ground to make sure I did not fall or stumble. We walked for about 10 minutes and then I heard something - voices? Bob led us through a small copse of trees and into a break in the growth where outlined against the starry sky was a small building.

 

Bob made his way to the door, knocked, paused, knocked again and waited. A lock was moved, the door slid silently open and a small candle flame flickered in the hand of the man who had opened the door. Bob spoke with him briefly, we were ushered in, the door closed and relocked. The flashlight in Bob’s hand made a loud CLICK as he turned it off. There was shuffling; the lone candle flame moved to our left, another was lit, then another, and more in turn. As the candles went up in flame I gasped a little and took a step back. The far wall was covered almost floor to ceiling with dozens of statues and small icons. Some dressed in robes and gold, others in tattered cloth. There were several tables around the edges of the room, all with half-melted candles, pictures, more statues, and other things I had no idea what they were. In the middle of the floor was a wooden table that had feathers, offal, and puddles of what looked like dried blood on the top, down the sides, and splattered on the ground around it. I’ve watched enough TV to realize this was some voodoo or Santeria set up and I took a step backwards towards the door. Bob grabbed my arm and squeezed hard - either in reassurance or warning - I was not sure. Either way I froze and watched as the man who had let us in continued to move around the room, but now he was humming and mumbling as he did so.

 

The room was ablaze in candlelight now and the man now moved on to lighting herbs, incense, and bowls of what looked like potpourri. I was sweating profusely, and getting more nervous, but Bob’s tight grip kept me planted. The man then came and spoke with Bob, who handed his backpack to me with a “Don’t fucking move!” look, then he and the man hefted the wooden table that was in the middle of the room and carried it to a far corner. The man dug around a pile of things on a table, picked up what looked like a huge piece of white chalk, walked back to where the table was, and in a steady chant paced around the room five times, then walked back to the middle, took a stride forward, stopped, then bent over and began drawing. He drew the outline of a large triangle in the dirt, with some squiggly type lines in each corner. He appeared careful not to step inside the triangle, or touch the lines once drawn, and when completed, he then went to a cabinet, pulled out two handfuls of large, white and red pillar candles, and began carefully setting them into the dirt at various points around the outside of the triangle. He had to make several trips to the cabinet as he set a cluster of five red candles at each point.

 

I was fidgety as hell now and started to ask Bob if I could go piss, but his silent ‘shush’ finger stopped me. The man then took off his shirt, took off his pants, and in just his underwear walked around the room a few more times chanting. He then grabbed a bottle off a table, took a mouthful, and spit it out in a spray. My eyes followed him as he did that in each corner of the room, towards each wall where the various statues and things were set, and then he walked toward us - stopped in front of Bob and spit the mist of liquid right into Bob’s face - took a swig - then spit into mine. I scrunched my eyes and forced myself not to flinch. It smelled like liquor and I reached up to wipe my eyes, but Bob slapped them away. Fuck. The man then went back to the table, poured several things into a plastic cup, walked back to us and handed it to me. I looked at the concoction - it was thick, milky white, and chunky looking. I questioningly looked at him, then Bob, with a, “You want me to drink this?” look. The man nodded, I took a sip, and wanted to retch. It tasted like sour yogurt and dirt and cow shit. I would have handed the cup back right then, but the look on both their faces told me I better not. I upended the cup and swallowed the contents and grimaced. The man took the cup and went back to his chanting.

 

I felt flush - the room began to spin - I heard lots of voices, or animals, or was that music? I felt Bob’s hands holding me, his voice chanting softly in my ear, new voices were added, and as I slumped to the dirt floor more hands were on me as my eyes fluttered and the spinning grew fast and faster. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted, but with great concentration I was able to open them a sliver. I MIGHT HAVE SCREAMED OR RUN IF I COULD, BUT I WAS IMMOBILE. My mind demanded action, yet my body was stiff, unmoving, unfeeling, like I was a tree firmly rooted to the Earth. Angling my eyes right – the only part of my 200+ bones and 600+ muscles that seemed to respond - I could see the naked body of a man, his massive dick swaying in time to chanting, and as the crescendo of the voices peaked, he bent down to look at me and that’s when I tried to scream. He had a goat’s face with golden, spiked horns.

 

The goat man moved, the chanting grew, I could see another man, another monster dick, and when he bent down to look at me it was a bull’s face with a thick, gold ring through his nose. No longer a man. I wanted to scream.

 

The bull moved out of my sightline, the chanting grew louder and I could see another man, another giant dick with a deformed head, and when he bent down and looked at me it was a dog’s face with golden, yellow eyes. No longer a man. I wanted to scream.

 

The dog moved out of my sightline, the chanting grew louder and I could see another man, another dick even larger than the others, and when he bent down and looked at me it was a horse’s face with golden teeth. No longer a man. I wanted to scream.

 

The horse moved out of my sightline, the chanting echoed, changed pace, grew louder, faster, and louder still. I could see another man, another dick that put all the others to shame and it was ringed in gold, ridged, studded, the metal shining like a brilliant sun in the dim candle light. When he bent down and looked at me I wanted to sigh in relief - human - yet he was not a man. He was a fleshless, gold skull, a skeleton. I wanted to scream.

 

Brother Roberto, a.k.a. Bob, was standing to the right of my head now. He was kneeling and crossing himself in prayer. His eyes were closed tight like he too was afraid of what I was seeing. Hooves and claws raked my flesh, the taste of bile and iron filled my mouth. There was a brilliant flash of light and then a scorching pain as my flesh was peeled back to allow entry by these men who would sacrifice my body - and theirs - to their zoolatry ritual. Was I floating off the ground? Was I on the table? My legs were raised back and up, but how?

• The goat man’s phallus pierced my ass and suddenly every nerve in my body was firing. Pain, fear, agony, ecstasy, all joined in chorus as the chanting suddenly grew distant and far aware. The penis felt much like the shape of man’s but bigger, firmer, sharper. The goat head got close to mine. Its eyes were totally black, as were its lips, which seemed to be moving. The hair was white, short, and matted and the golden horns glowed brighter as it fucked me. The harder it fucked, the more my sides hurt where it’s hooves dug in my white flesh. As he climaxed, the goat man threw his head back, bellowed a sound of primal release, then looked at me with now blood-red eyes, spat in my face, and as the last of his seed flooded my hole the goat head bent down and bit my flesh.
•  
• The man bull’s head was so large I could see nothing else. His dick was bulbous on the end, and as inch after inch wound its way inside my guts I felt sure he would push through my back. The wide nostrils flared and the gold ring that pierced them caught clusters of snot as it dripped out if his nostrils with every grunt and thrust inside me. His hair was tawny brown, and the skin of his nose the blackest of black. The bellow he made when he released in my ass harmonized perfectly with the rising chants and splattered me with a mist of snot. Having filled me with his measure, the bull tilted his head; a blood-red eye seared my soul as his teeth found their mark.
•  
• The dog man’s deformed head and knot stretched me wide, and kept inflating, and I thought me might never stop. His top lip curled up and down in time with the chanting and the strokes of his dick while his claws cut my flesh. The ears were laid back, the golden yellow eyes widened and focused then widened again as he yipped, snarled, and growled. The high-pitched howl he let loose when he filled me with cum pierced my eardrums like a nail and sounded in opposition to the symbiotic chants. His incisors also found their mark, drawing more of my life force out, which dripped to the packed earth below.
•  
• The stallion’s penis was unbearably large, blunt, and where the dog man seemed to be content once his knot had entered, I was now a mare filled beyond a man’s measure as the flared head ripped my insides deeper and deeper. The dark black eyes, set against the lighter coal hair, were offset by the startling gold colored teeth, which snapped and clicked and clacked as the head swung side to side. When the stallion finally reared in carnal joy my abdomen swelled and the earth was marked anew as he finally withdrew, but not before ensnaring my flesh between his golden teeth.

 

The chanting slowed, the volume turned down to hardly a whisper. My vision was clouded further as the smoky haze in the room thickened and swirled like the birth of cyclone. THE GOLDEN SKULL HUNG IN THE AIR OVER ME, DISEMBODIED, SOLITARY, AND ADRIFT IN A PLANE OF THE DYING. The bonds that held me firm constricted, it was hard to breath, and with barely any movement, the golden skull extended his primal force, his golden spiked and ridged dick finding my already brutalized hole, and he entered in one stroke. My internal organs shut down. My body faced death - inside and out. My ass was stretched wider, gaped, explored impossibly deeper and shredded by the golden teeth that on the skull head did not move; yet inside me they chewed, gnawed, and consumed my flesh. Had I died? Was I in hell? No, it felt too good for that. The golden skull’s dick fucked me deep - raw - hard - rough. My body was at his mercy, and no mercy was given. I would have smiled if I could have. A voice resonated then through my body, my bones themselves vibrating with the timber of the baritone chords, “Death stroke requires blood.” What the fuck did that mean?

 

I didn’t have time to ponder, as the next thing I remember is asking myself why was Bob angry? I could hear it in his voice. Who was grabbing me? What was going on? My mind raced in a sprint, flooded by flashes of the past - what had it been? Hours, minutes, days? I didn’t know, but still, my body did not move to my neural commands. Why was I paralyzed still? I gurgled as liquid was poured down my throat and reflexively swallowed. Bob was still angry. Firm hands lifted me, jostled me, I felt like I was in a tilt-a-whirl at the county fair, and faster and faster I spun until...the next thing I remember was the taste of that foul drink I had taken before - the same rotten yogurt shit. UGH! More firm hands, more jostling, more of Bob’s angry voice.

 

In the dim light I could see the pinky finger on my left hand. It felt like a mountain was on me, yet I knew that was silly. The tip of my pinky twitched and I was elated. I was alive. I could move. OK, well not MOVE move, but neurons were firing and my body was reacting. I tried to roll over, but the pressing body held firm, embedded inside me, his dick hooked in my ass like a lure to a trout. Bob kneeled by my head, he rubbed my cheek, smiled and said, “WE ARE GOING HOME.” HE PAUSED, NODDED TOWARDS THE MAN ON MY BACK WHO WAS BURIED IN MY ASS AND WHISPERED IN HOLY WONDER, "USTED ENCONTRÓ EL DORADO" - TRANSLATION - “YOU FOUND EL DORADO.” THE ANGEL OF DEATH HAD WRAPPED ME IN HIS WINGS.

 

Stay Tuned for Part 5-

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

[TTFN]

Wonderful chapter, loved the part with the Manimals.

[whthole4u]

The angel of death had wrapped me in his wings and had buried his golden dick inside my ass. My trip to Cuba had been like the Wild Kingdom - smuggled over the sea in a cargo ship, bribed my way in, hidden in the back of a truck, taken to some building where I was drugged up like a zombie and laid on the altar as a sacrifice during some crazy Santeria ritual that was more bestiary than AirBnB. How I made it back to the states I don’t really know, as I was zombied out the entire way except for a brief moment when Brother Roberto, a.k.a. Bob, kneeled by my head, rubbed my cheek, smiled and said, “WE ARE GOING HOME.” HE PAUSED, NODDED TOWARDS THE MAN ON MY BACK WHO WAS BURIED IN MY ASS AND WHISPERED IN HOLY WONDER, "USTED ENCONTRÓ EL DORADO" - TRANSLATION - “YOU FOUND EL DORADO.” My eyelids felt like they were weighted down, but with great effort I was able to make a small slit and turn my head. I moaned. I ached and hurt all over. Where was I? It took several minutes and focused exertion, but finally I was able to roll over and see my surroundings. I was back in the monk cell room where I had been taken the first day I met Father Adelmo. A short time later the door unlocked, opened, and one of the twinks dressed in crisp whites cautiously entered. His face looked like he expected to find a bear coming out of hibernation or something. I could not understand what he might be afraid of and when I tried to speak, nothing came out but dry, raspy, gasps. The twink gently set a large tray on the side chair, helped me sit up, then eased a glass of water to my cracked lips. I spilled more than I drank, but it tasted good. Then he held up a small plate filled with white lines of powder. I snorted one - then another - the burn helping to sweep away the cobwebs that had filled my head.

 

“How long have I been back?” I asked. “Where is Bob - I mean Brother Roberto? Where is Father Adelmo? Did...did…?” The twink just shook his head, looking even more fearful. “I am sorry,” he said, “They have said you must remain in here and wait for...for HIM to come to you. That until the time is right, you must remain here.” What the fuck? I peppered him with more questions and after the fifth, “I don’t know,” I gave up, snatched the plate, and snorted some more. The twink then began uncovering some plates of food, and went into the small bathroom to run water from the tap into a tiny, golden vase that held a single white rose. Seeing he was focused on that, I stood up, took a few stumbling steps, made it to the door and yanked it open. My egress was blocked by one of the damn Brother Robertos who just glowered, pushed me back, and slammed the door. OK, point made. Sitting back on the edge of the bed I started to run my hands over my body. I felt sore, odd, displaced and the memories of Cuba all came rushing back. Did I get infected with the CRF19 virus? What had happened to me then? What had happened since? The twink kneeled on the floor, held out a plate of scrambled eggs and a fork that he had jabbed a few bits on, “Father says you must eat.” I snarled, “I can feed myself, thanks.” I barely had four bites of eggs before my stomach revolted and I heaved. The twink was prepared and had a small porcelain bowl in hand that I spewed the eggs into. “Father said this may happen. Take your time. It’s OK,” he assured me. Several minutes later I tried again and was able to keep them down with some effort. Satisfied, the twink said, “Here, let me help you into the bathroom so I can get you cleaned up.”

 

“Jesus fuck!” I said as I leaned on the sink to steady myself and saw my reflection in the mirror. My face and body were bruised, swollen, there were large cuts like claw marks in various stages of scabbing on my chest and sides. I leaned closer and gently touched the large marks on my shoulder by my neck. No can’t be - but they looked like multiple sets of bite marks and far too large to be made by a man. No, what happened in Cuba was all a dream, an effect of being high; shit I imagined right? That’s what I kept telling myself as the twink gently sponge bathed me. He was drying me off when we heard the door open. We both turned and in came Bob. “Well, it’s about fucking time,” I said, “Why the fuck I am locked in here and why…” I stopped. Bob was holding a golden cup and while he never said much at all, that would have been about the time I expected him to cuff my head. Yet, he just stood there and then there were two more Brothers beside him. This can’t be good. I edged back, they came forward, and one Brother grabbed my right arm and twisted, the other my left. The twink huddled in the corner as Bob stepped in front of me, held the cup up, closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer. He then held the cup towards my lips and I could smell it. That same sour yogurt shit they made me drink in Cuba that turned me into a petrified log. No fucking way! I struggled, the Brother’s easily held me steady as Bob used his left hand to press my head against the wall and his right to pour the milky contents into my throat. I could have spit it out, but what was the point? Because it dawned on me, if they were drugging me up again, maybe that meant more dick, and more dick meant more virus.

 

THE ROOM SPUN, MY BODY FLOATED, I WAS CARRIED ON THE WIND…

A BEAST WITH HORNS AND GREAT, LONG FANGS WAS OVER MY BODY, IT’S SALIVA DRIPPING LIKE ACID ONTO MY FLESH…

TALONS RAKED MY SKIN AND PIERCED MY FLESH AS I WAS HELD DOWN LIKE CARRION AND ASSAULTED BY A VICIOUS RAPTOR…

GOLDEN SPIKES TORE MY ASS OPEN AND MINED MY INSIDES BLOODY AS I WAS POUNDED DEEPER AND DEEPER…

THE LAVA POURED FORTH FROM THE VULCAN GOD OF FIRE, EXTINGUISHING THE LIFE FORCE I HAD TRIED TO HOLD TIGHT…

THE CHANTING ROSE IN RHYTHMIC PRAISE AROUND ME, TETHERING ME TO THIS WORLD, TETHERING ME TO THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE…

I COULD TASTE HIS BODY - AND HE MINE - WE WERE ONE.

 

I was lying on my stomach as I opened my eyes. The grunts and moans of pleasure from the man fucking me letting me know I was being bred again. By whom I did not know, and I didn’t care, but from the pile of black clothes on the chair it was a Brother Roberto. They were taking turns raping my drugged up body. My mind was awake, but my body was still stiff and frozen from the zombie drug. The inside of my ass was awake too and I could feel every brutal thrust, every tear in my gut lining, and every drop of man cum as they continued to fill me. That was how the next several days went. The twink would come in and feed me, bath me, Bob would show up with two of his Brother goons to make me drink the Santeria brew, then it was off to Babylon as I became the whore for the beasts - and then the whore for the Brothers Roberto. That was how the next several days went that is until the puking started, which did not stop. Until the fever hit me, which did not abate. Until the sweats overtook me and the shaking was so bad I could not stand. At the height of my sickness, Father Adelmo appeared, along with the golden skull - or maybe it was all a delusion - yet I was sure the Father had fucked me. I had felt the thick, braided cord of his golden beads as he had wrapped them tightly around my neck and then his holy prayers as he squeezed his hands tight and seeded my ass. I was his lamb. The golden skull had watched and smiled even, then he too was inside me - stretching me wider, digging me deeper, flooding me fuller. Over and over he bred me while I was nothing more than a flop doll - a sick sack of wilted flesh that he used. It seemed to never end and he was always there, always fucking me, always scorching my insides with his toxic cum.

 

The hushed and whispered voices sounded real. I unclenched my fist; the blanket felt real. I opened my right eye; the lights, shadows, forms and shapes seemed real. I groaned. That was real too. A warm hand took my chin and turned my head a bit to the side, “Transmutation,” Father Adelmo said. His face was now close to mine. He was smiling as he repeated the word, “Transmutation. The lamb has been slaughtered and returns as a gift for my children. Rest now. Rest.” I drifted back off not knowing what he meant. The next two days the twink was back feeding me, cleaning me, keeping me company. I felt fine, better than fine even. Yet one thing had not changed, I was still locked up in that damn monk cell. This time, Bob did not stop by. No one did. The only person I saw for two days was the twink who continued to be a source of frustration with how little he knew, or could or would say.

 

On the third day I was woken up by the twink and a large golden platter full of white powder. I quickly snorted a few lines and wanted more. I wanted to get fucked too. My insides were crawling and twisting and I needed some dick bad. I asked the twink for some food and he shook his head and said, “Not today. Today is Easter and today is THE day.” Whatever the fuck that meant. So I spent the following hours snorting lines, talking to myself since the twink was a worthless conversationalist, and pacing back and forth in my little cell. In the late afternoon there was a loud knocking on the door and the twink jumped up and said, “Come, we must get you cleaned up and ready.” Ready for what? I got no answers so as he washed me, oiled me like a roasted pig, and made me presentable, I cleaned the plate of white powder. Finally, as dusk began to descend on Miami, the door opened and in came Bob and two of his Brothers Roberto. The Brothers - Bob included - were dressed in their usual black, but today, Bob had large, golden chains hanging around his neck that were jeweled and layered. The other Brothers had large, red silk sashes wrapped around their waists that were intricately embroidered with heavy, gold thread depicting images I could not quite make out. My curiosity grew as the Brothers parted, a twink I had not seen before walked in carrying a pile of white cloth, also heavily embroidered in gold. He gently draped it on the bed, bowed towards me and backed out of the room. I was really confused.

 

Bob stepped behind me and raised my arms up and out. The two Brothers then took the white, embroider cloth and draped it over my shoulders and arms. Layer upon layer of white silk with heavy golden threads caressed my naked body and I wondered to myself, “Why are they dressing me up like Cleopatra or some shit?” I started to ask, but Bob cuffed my head and I turned and glared and he just smiled. Smart ass. I held up the silk and looked more closely at the designs - the stitching created the affect of wings and more - like I was an angel. There was a loud knock on the door. Bob stood in front of me, looked me up and down, did a quick tuck of a bit of hair on my head that was not in place to his liking, then as the two Brothers left the room, Bob set my right hand on his left arm and escorted me out of my cell. You might think I would be embarrassed being naked with nothing but some fancy bed sheet over me, but no. All these guys had fucked me - repeatedly - and the white powder I snorted made me not give a fuck about anything, so hell, I was going along for the ride. We made our way through some of the Father’s elaborate rooms, and towards his chapel. The sounds of rhythmic chanting filled the air, as did the smoke of incense and candles. We entered the chapel and I halted. There was Father Adelmo dressed in robes of gold brocade with jewels on each finger, a miter hat, chains of gold - the embodiment of a prince of the church. On one side of the chapel were the Brothers Roberto all dressed in black with the same red sashes around their waists. Why were there so many? There must have been 15 or 20. I thought there was maybe seven or eight. The other side of the chapel was lined with rows of twinks in their crisp whites. They too had on sashes, but their’s were white with gold embroidery.

 

The two Brothers entered first and stood just to the side and were followed by Bob and I. Bob escorted me to the right of Father Adelmo, who smiled and nodded at me. I smiled back then my ass twitched as I looked at his hard, throbbing dick and the gold cock ring he wore. Fuck! The chanting of the Brothers and twinks continued and as it reached a crescendo, Father Adelmo held out his arms, palms up, towards the far door. The doors opened, two twinks in white came out, followed by a third who carried a large, red silk pillow with something golden and long placed in the middle of it. Suddenly all sound in the room ceased except for the soft crackling of the fire consuming the candlewicks. I turned towards the door and gasped - there was the golden skull! The man standing in the door was dressed like me in flowing layers of silk, but unlike the white I had on his, his were blood red. The fantastical designs embroidered in gold on his robe were of beasts of various shapes and sizes, all with massive dicks protruding from their bodies. I looked at the man again as he walked towards us, his skin a golden, brown hue, his hair black and wavy. His face - well his face was hidden behind the mask - a mask of pure gold in the shape of a skull - this was my El Dorado. This must be the man who had fucked me in Cuba. This must be the man who had fucked me on the boat back. This must be the man/beast that had been fucking me while I was sick.

 

El Dorado confidently walked towards us and stood to the left of Father Adelmo. His blood red robes made him appear larger than he was, for while he was taller than me, I could see his ribs where the cloth parted, but that’s not what I focused on. I inhaled sharply as I looked at his dick. Fuck it was a good 9-inches and appeared mostly soft, yet that quickly changed as he turned his golden skull face towards me and his dick began to grow and lengthen to its full brutal potential. Father Adelmo started speaking - fuck I wish I knew Spanish - so I have no idea what was being said, but Bob escorted me over to stand directly in front of Father Adelmo. El Dorado then stepped up beside me and took Bob’s place, grabbing my shaking hand with his and sending sparks of desire and need shooting through my body. The congregants replied in affirmation and holy ecstasy to whatever Father Adelmo had said. The Father’s dick was drooling precum and I leaned forward and glanced down and saw El Dorado’s dick was too. I wanted to gnaw on his foreskin, lick him clean, and feel him inside me! Bob was on my left and grabbed my hand as the Brothers who had escorted us in pulled the white silk draping my body off me and stepped back. I turned and looked as I watched the two twinks who had come in with El Dorado do the same to him. The third, the one who had been carrying the large, red pillow, had stepped forward and was holding aloft the long, golden, item that had nestled in its silken folds. It was a cock sheath. A metal cock sheath. A golden, metal cock sheath, with fine mesh loops that formed the perfect replica of a gigantic dick. Bob squeezed my hand as I watched the twink kneel, gently slide it up and over El Dorado’s now pulsing shaft, then step behind him as he tied the golden cords together to hold it firmly in place.

 

Father Adelmo stepped off the raised dais, held a golden chalice up on front of me and said, “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT!” I sniffed at the cup. Fuck that zombie shit again! My dick and ass are programmed though as no sooner do I smell the pungent odor than my dick stiffens, my hole pulses, and my ass pussy starts wetting itself. I take a sip, then a gulp, and then empty the entire chalice. I pat my mouth with the back of my hand as Father Adelmo smiles, steps to the side, and holds his left arm out in the direction of the dais. There, I can now see in full the altar is covered in white silk - the site of my sacrifice and funeral pyre like I am about to become a martyr or saint. I start to crumble as the drink kicks in, but the Brothers catch me under my arms, help me forward, then raised and lifted me and laid me on my back on the altar. Bob stands behind my head with his hands reassuringly on my shoulders. One Brother grabs my right ankle and lifts it up, the other my left. My asshole is open, exposed, waiting. My eyes follow Father Adelmo as he circles the altar I am laying on three times with El Dorado in tow. El Dorado has added his voice to the Father’s as together their chant sets the stage for the next act. The Father stops between my raised legs, looks at me, and smiles. He steps away and El Dorado takes his place, his skull mask now seeming to shift, move, and change from man - to beast - to horned demon - and back. As before when I took the zombie drink, my body is completely immobile, yet inside, my ass can still feel. I would have screamed if I could have when El Dorado pushed his golden, metal covered dick inside me.

 

EL DORADO’S GOLDEN, CRF19 INFECTED DICK SKINNED ME ALIVE. HE PULLED OUT AND STEPPED BACK AND A BROTHER ROBERTO ENTERED MY ASS AND COMPLETED SEVERAL LONG STROKES. HE LOOKED DOWN AS HE WITHDREW HIS DICK, THEN STEPPED OUT OF SIGHT, TO BE REPLACED BY ANOTHER BROTHER. SEVERAL LONG STROKES AND THE BROTHER LOOKED DOWN AS HE WITHDREW HIS DICK, THEN STEPPED OUT OF SIGHT. EL DORADO STEPPED UP AGAIN AND THIS TIME HE WENT DEEPER, HIS BEASTIAL CLAWS GOUGING MY INNARDS AND WHEN HE WITHDREW I KNEW THE WHITE ALTAR COVERING WAS STAINED EVEN MORE. ANOTHER BROTHER ENTERED ME AND AS HE STROKED I COULD HEAR OTHER SOUNDS FROM THE ROOM. CRIES OF PAIN, BUT THEY WERE NOT MINE. I THEN THOUGHT I UNDERSTOOD - THE BROTHERS WERE COATING THEIR DICK IN ME, THEN FUCKING THE TWINKS. ON THE OTHER HAND, I WAS DRUGGED OUT ON ZOMBIE JUICE SO MAYBE IT WAS ONLY A FLY BUZZING BY MY HEAD AND I IMAGINED IT ALL.

 

All the Brothers entered me, but only after El Dorado had prepped my hole with his golden meshed dick. Each of his strokes were etched in what had been the white covering of the altar, but that in my mind’s eye I saw now was stained like the fires of Hell. Bob was the last Brother to enter me and when he did there was something in his eyes - compassion? Desire? Loss? No sooner had El Dorado reprepped my hole than Father Adelmo was there, his golden robes gone, his naked chest glistening in sweat as he pummeled me and then exclaimed in holy ecstasy as he seeded me. Once the Father pulled out, El Dorado was back and this time with a vengeance. Golden claws pierced my flesh, spiked horns grew from his skull, and as El Dorado infected me anew with the CRF19 viral plague, he threw his head back and bellowed like the beast of Hell that he was.

 

- The End -

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

[TTFN]

Thank you for an exciting story.

[butt2bfed]

thank you for a great story

[Guest Fullblownpoz]

Hail Sarah Palin...I was turned into a whore for our minister and my parents.  I tried to turn from evil..but it'a what I am . I will do anything for the dark master 

[Darksyde]

Wow...I like demonic and sacrificial Sex and this comes so close to it. Wonder what that zombifying chem was and long taking it too

[Neverenoughcum]

Amazingly Hot story.  There needs to be more of these types of churches so all of us can repent our sins.

 

You are a very gifted writer, I am waiting patiently to have the pleasure of reading more of your precious gift.  Thank you for all your effort and time in creating and writing a outstanding story.

[richmondass]

Wow, great story

[demon pig]

I wish that was me