Priests and Possessions 00: Prelude

Priests and Possessions: Prelude

Back when I was in seminary school still studying to become a priest I struggled with the sin of masturbation. To lessen my sin, I masturbated to sacred iconography. Christ's beauty and the passion of the saints competed in my mind against images of me sodomizing my teachers over the chapel's altar. Of course I first tried the recommended methods: ice in my lap, reading the scriptures, self flagellation, etc. But these only aroused me further. Soon after my enrollment these became foreplay to my indulgence.

Surely, I thought, this must be better than giving into desire and sucking off my schoolmates. For me to sin alone must be better than sinning with company. For me to meditate upon the divine must root out the lust from within my spirit.

We called this 'choosing the lesser of two sins'. But in attempting this compromise with my own iniquitous nature I opened the door for greater evil than I could have imagined.

Some people say that all sins are equal-- that theft, adultery, murder, and lies all carry the same weight. From a standpoint of repentance that's somewhat true. If you survive your sins and are forgiven then regardless of what you did wrong you need to spend the rest of your life making amends. You need to continually choose a better path every day. If you give sin an inch it will carry you miles off course. You must make amends for lying with the seriousness you'd have after repenting for murder. For believing that a lie cannot be deadly is both foolish and arrogant.

At the same time it's obvious to any high score sinner that sins have a hierarchy. This is the story of how I succumbed to temptation and how my habitual weakness unleashed an evil of biblical proportions.

Like most young men I entered seminary school with a raging libido. Like most of my peers I carried that libido within an iron box of shame. Its weight wore at me daily. Hard, heavy, and constant. Like many men who are called to the priesthood I was tested by sexual demons: dreams of unholy pleasure, waking sensations that tempt the mind. Every priest has a story about Hell's seductive song. I'm ashamed to admit I danced to the melody. Every morning I ignored my erection. But every night I satisfied my desires, thinking upon the holy martyrs. The more I spilled my seed, the greater my desire.

I should have known then that Hell's emissaries walk freely among sacred halls. In retrospect it is obvious. The prideful bishop fervent in his condescension bore all the signs, as did the bigots among the hateful among the teaching staff, and the many silent masturbators partaking in pornography under the covers.But I did not know. Of course I heard conspiracies about the devil orgies in the Vatican. I read histories of corrupted convents and monasteries. But I did not think such proclivities could reach me at St Sebastian's School of the Divine. Twice before my graduation they undeniably did.

The first time, I woke from my sleep not on the verge of nocturnal emission (as I so often would wake) but on the verge of tears and acutely aware of a classmate's imminent damnation. Peter Whitehead's soul was in trouble. My entire body tingled like a foot falling asleep. Though it was my first time getting so close to a demonic possession, it was not my first prophetic dream. I had dreamed of St Sebastian's before learning about it. I had dreamed of taking the sacrament in the Vatican before my church had even announced the field trip. Many more dreams had come to pass but none had felt so visceral as this: Peter glazed from wrapped sole to dripping crown in viscous semen, suspended upside down from a black, greasy barked tree. My ears rang with Peter's screams. I couldn't shake the sight of a flower blooming inside his penis. An eye at the floral center saw me looking at it. In the eye contact was a chilled melancholia. The absence of the divine. That horrific, lonely, ravenous feeling is what woke me.

I texted Peter. No reply. I knew what building he lived in but not what room. Not knowing what else to do I knelt by my bed to pray. As soon as I closed my eyes I saw Peter Whitehead --for lack of a holier term-- dick riding a winged, tentacled bipedal beast. His moonlit, white bubble butt galloped in circles on a red, humanoid (albeit bicep sized) demon cock. His chin pointing upward as he licked his lips with his eyes closed, spreading his cheeks with both hands. Peter's voice entered my mind. I heard him sigh a name: "{redacted for reader safety}". My penis throbbed at the sound of it. Peter leaned back deeper, back bending on the cock. His eyes opened, and as he moaned my name I saw cum flowing out of his mouth. I could taste it, like paprika but creamy on the tongue. I felt the demon's tentacles reach out for me. My balls bounced with anticipation. Peter cried out the infernal name again. My lips parted. He cried out again, and I felt him cumming. I felt his skin flushing. I felt his balls pulsing, his stretched hole milking an otherworldly cock. I felt his eyebrows come together. I came right then without having touched my penis. My hole kept contracting my pleasure long after my balls emptied.

"Zeke!" someone yelled my name in the distance. As I turned away from Peter's gaze, I felt cum start leaking out of me. Then as I saw my friend Mark, it stopped. I blinked, shaking my head and then opened my eyes to see my bedroom. I was kneeling by my bed still with cum on my pajama pants. Mark was knocking rapidly but softly on the door and whisper-screaming my name.

I heard my phone vibrating on the bed. Dazed and confused I answered, hearing Mark's voice come from the phone and from outside my bedroom, "Do you still have that holy water you brought Freshman year?"

"Uhh...yeah. It's on the bookshelf. As a paperweight. Did you have a...dream too?"

"No but I saw Peter summon a fucking demon at Chastity's Bar and Grill so... whatever you dreamed is probably related to that. May I please have the holy water? I'll buy you more."

"You drunk?"

"No, sleep deprived. Please, Ezekiel."

I got up. As I walked away from the bed I still felt the demon reach for me. I changed my pajamas quickly so Mark wouldn't see the cum then opened the door.

"Thanks man. I'd say I owe you a blowjob but I promised if I don't get possessed or expelled I'll take my vow of celibacy seriously from now on."

"Yeah, I told you gay sex counts. What the hell were you doing at a strip club?"

"Not summoning a demon. That was Peter's dumb ass. Some of the catholic strippers already called an exorcist. Like instantly called an exorcist and paid in cash. But Peter hid from the priest and came back here. He's definitely possessed and you don't want details."

"We should call the on-call priest and tell him the truth."

"Or we should douse the fucker in holy water and pray the rosary until the demon gets tired of blaspheming with his ears plugged and goes home. I've seen it done before."

"But we're not actually ordained yet,"

"And I won't ever be ordained if the faculty finds out I snuck to a strip club and watched my friend perform sorcery."

I gave him the holy water against my better judgement and kept my own secret. I didn't even tell the on-call priest in the chapel. But I did go there immediately after Mark left my room. I did pray with others for the souls of all our classmates. I confessed my sins with no mention of the occult and was absolved. The father blessed me. I stayed in the chapel with the others who for whatever reason could not sleep or be alone at 4 am. My peers invigorated my faith. At 9 AM, I went to my first class for the day hoping to see Peter. But he was not there. I texted Mark. No reply. Throughout the day word spread, eventually reaching me: five students had been expelled for performing an unsanctioned exorcism on campus. No one named names about who but the grapevine said more than a few students had their faiths tested while the five were meddling beyond their qualifications.

I abstained from masturbation after that scare for about a month. Graduation was only six months away. I had confided in one of the fathers about my chronic masturbation. He had referred me to a support group for students and faculty like me. From there it didn't take long for me to stumble into my first seminary school circle jerk. As one of five cock suckers on campus, once the other bators found out about me, every backsliding sinner wanted a piece. But after a few circle jerk endings when the frenzied grunting of horny men gave way to shame and grief, after seeing my buddy pray the rosary in self disgust while I was still swallowing his load, I went back to sinning solo. I continued the cycle of sex dreams, waking, masturbating to the crucifix, and confession. I steered clear of the support groups for horny clergymen.

Graduation came around. I started wearing a chastity cage and holding my buddy's key. He held mine for me. Neither was willing to let the other succumb to his temptation. A few months later I was ordained as a priest. I was hired at a church in my hometown. For a while I behaved myself in a manner befitting my calling. Until Peter and Mark texted me back. The timestamps were identical. Each had sent me a picture of cum leaking from their mouths. As I looked at them I felt that spicy, silky texture in my mouth. I felt the echo of infernal pleasure in my body. After the picture, both friends had sent the same address.

TBC