The following entry is reserved for the highest levels. We can only speculate as to why the creature wrote this down. Hand delivered to our agent in upstate New York. The messenger then burst into flames.

This is an exact duplicate of the original note. Any further questions may be directed to Xavier Costello.

I wonder at what age Mary knew.

Was the knowledge always a part of her? From infancy, did the holy mother grow into the woman who would give birth to the Christ? It's not how these Catholic Shamans tell the tale. No. She's visited by Gabriel, a beautiful blond hunk of celestial promise. A proxy husband is chosen. A man of excellent birth. A descendent of David no less. But he will not be the one to fill her. Joseph's cock does not breed their messiah. The holy spirit begot itself upon the Virgin, and no more need be said.

But I often think about the particulars. Did their god possess the carpenter, embedding him with the power of armageddon as he fucked Mary into sainthood? Or maybe, like Zeus, a light came through the window, and she found herself bathed in a pleasure no physicality could inspire. An overflowing rapture as her nerves alighted with grace, causing legs to shudder, nipples to harden, and forcing Hallelujah from parched lips.

I've been to Rome hundreds of times. Each visit I pray before Bernini's Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. A wicked delight carved into the icon's faces.

She's cumming.

And it's beautiful.

These women are my inspirations. The closest figures I have to kindred spirits. Of course, our Gods are very different.

My god is not a creature of the spirit. Certainly not of righteousness or power. He's the pulsing of primordial life. She's the fundamental impulse over which we paint reason. My god hungers for sensation, delight, agony, and ecstasy. It simply lives. Unburdened by mundane hobbies such as purpose. Those are for her followers. Those are for his chosen. We find reason in the dark urges, the tendrils of desire that first twist and fuel our dreams. Then, from our sweet nightmares, unspeakable fantasies interrupt our daily lives. Our human rationality battles these animal needs. Shame tries to hold back the growing lust. But with enough time, the tingling pleasure corrupts even guilt. Before I found my new master, I used to pray. I asked for forgiveness, strength, and the power to hold back the devil. And towards the end, I couldn't stop touching myself as I begged.

Then orgasmed.

Now I am beautiful.

I abandoned the God of Abraham on my 20th birthday. The buzzing in my head could not be silenced. Light assaulted my senses. The pounding of my heart caused all other voices to echo. And, of course, the desire which strangled every movement. Laughing, I thanked my friends and family. Tears burned my eyes.

That night, I crawled into Foster Father's room. His wife, the woman who raised me, had driven some cousin home. The hatred I felt for my body fueled my hunger. He slept fretful, the blankets already a mess. I crawled underneath feeling the strength of his legs. He always slept in the nude. I'd peered through the crack a few times. Listened even more. Sex for me is about the feeling and the sounds.

I took him in my mouth. His body responded before reason could. His large palms gripped my hair and forced me down. Drowning on his cock. The lack of air manifested as white spots in the corner of my vision. My pussy pulsed. This is what I needed. Not even a minute passed before I felt him explode down my throat. I refused to let it stop. The horror mixed with utter satisfaction as he saw whose lips swallowed his seed. He deserved a taste as I brought my mouth to him. The animal inside Daddy wanted to punish me. So I let him. His spit stung my face as he wrapped his hands around my throat, my knees touched the headboard as he bent me in half.

Yes, I'm flexible.

For years I sent him pictures of me used by others. Often with jizz plastered across my face or tits. Subject line. Thinking of Home.

I once thought agnostic cynicism could fill the void of faith. But of course, my foray into non belief could not explain the visions. Sleep brought no rest and my dreams kept no set hours. I saw monsters in the day-to-day. They live inside humanity. A slithering desire underneath the skin. Everyone has them.

Everyone.

First, I heard the tendrils. Often hiding among the veins of my lovers. I'd listen to them move, swimming up the currents of blood. Then, I saw them. They'd take over the flesh of their host. This primordial god lived behind cruel smiles, glazed eyes, and heaving chests. When it took over my friends and fucked me I truly became myself. No thinking, no memories, simply sensation. Finally, with practice, I could understand the language behind the creature.

And speak back.

My god has no purpose. No grand design because instinct does not plan. But it does demand everything. Once I could hear her voice debauchery wasn't enough. I'd been gifted with insight. The small clues I put together from the whispering in my lovers' chests brought me to new teachers and ancient tomes. My God went by many names and each syllable heightened my awareness and authority. This power grew with my gratitude. And before long I realized my role.

To bring him into the world.

Unlike the Madonna, this god would not be born of purity. It lived in the bodies of all mankind and would be incarnated through their sweat, blood, and seed. No single male would be worthy. Half a dozen men, each spectacular in their own way, would fill me. My new abilities would let me absorb them all. I sent the message into the collective unconscious. Soon my master would provide his chosen. I would prepare.

I picked a small little parish in Olmest, New York. I enjoyed corrupting the congregation. As a final test, I had them all stand naked in the basement below the church. They traveled to me on their hands and knees before stopping between my legs. Their tongues bathed my inner thighs and tasted my core. They could not move until I'd shuddered and cursed. The other waited patiently for their turn.

Every girl she should be worshiped at least once.

Finally, after three months of slowly spreading the truth, the vessels began to arrive. The deputy Sheriff informed me. Strangers had come into town from all over the world. Their eyes were red from the lack of sleep. Muttering and uneasy.

Perfect.

My God did not disappoint. I'd have spread my legs in public for any one of them. All were brought into the underground chapel by my followers. Their erections visibly prominent, precum ran down their cocks. Veins pulsed with anticipation. I lay on the altar, naked, wet, and ready to be filled.

"Who will be first?"

I heard rather than saw the brief but furious fight. The winner surprises me, a wiry redhead whose glasses now hang broken from the side of his face. But he drags me against the marble surface before burying his cock deep into my cunt.

"Finally," he shouts eyes wet. "You feel better than I imagined."

He's got a lovely bend to his dick and I arch so he can stretch me out. I'm gyrating, and he falls into the pattern. Unconsciously knowing precisely the rhythm my body craves. The first waves of pleasure are already growing, and with the echoes in this hall, my moans reverberate.

"Shut up bitch," I don't get a chance to see the figure of the massive dick that shoves itself down my throat. The smell is musky and powerful. He's fucking my throat harder than his companion pounds into my cunt. Flesh so thick if he adjusted the monster could dislocate my jaw. There is no breathing. But I learned some time ago how to survive without oxygen, food, or water. And to push my body beyond the nearly human.

"THIS WHORE DOESN'T FEEL REAL!"

Whore? No, my foolish snack. I'm not the one who will pay.

My eyes stay open as I take in the sights. A man so short he'd kiss my stomach standing but with eyes of meadow green crawls stop the alter. His third leg boasting between his legs. He pushes my heavy throbbing breasts together and squeezes. Calloused fingers twist my nipples and I'd yelp if his friend's dick didn't gag the noise. He slides his cock between them.

Unable to bend or adjust I only spy silhouettes of the next three. Their kisses and teeth trace my sides. Grunting, pleading, and tasting with their tongues. I can hear. With no place else to stick their cocks, they abuse them. Furiously beating off as they lick any and all exposed skin. The rough texture of their tongues bringing more nerves to life. I feel the first wall breaking and the orgasm breaks through sending my muscles into spasms.

But I can't move.

Because a little man sits on my chest bruising my tits. A giant, his veins pulsing across his shaved head, keeps my throat from arching with his dick. Six more hands hold me down. All I can do is tremble in their arms.

"My ass!" I allow the command to echo inside their skulls. "Fuck my ass."

They lift me. I'm raised above the marble slab. I hear someone slide underneath. No one stops fucking me during this reposition. I certainly don't. A few of them are ready to burst but I will my god's strength into them. It's not time.

Once in place they lower me onto the chosen cock, his friends spreading my ass cheeks wide. Good. His cock head slips in as if lubed. Now I'm filled. Mouth, cunt, ass, being stretched. Every other part of me soothed or abused by hungry little monsters. All of whom have fallen into my power. They thrust to a secret tempo which brings me to climax.

Again.

And again.

And once more.

"Let me cum, please." I hear one of them beg. Sounds distant. Not like the pulpy squelching as Glasses works my gushing pussy, or the slapping as mystery boy impales my ass. How much time has passed? Could we do this for eternity? Me in heaven existing in countless waves of pleasure. Them in hell red hot but never finding relief.

If this was for me I might be tempted. But I'm getting spit roasted for religious reasons. Best complete the plan.

"Holy shit!!" His low voice cracks as I taste his cum gush down my throat. I can't lose any of it. Gulping, not a drop escapes my lips. "It won't stop."

Of course not. I'm a greedy bitch, I want all of them. And I said they would pay.

"Please... Please!" Another voice now to my right gasps. I don't quite know what he wants. Please no. Please choose me. Could be anything. But I feel his hot spunk hit my face sticking to my cheek and hair. It burns and soothes and I can feel it absorb through my skin into my body. The two men's essence mixes inside me.

With more to... come.

My ass rejoices as he pounds his orgasm further in. My breasts finally break the man on top as they milk his cream. All around me the remaining sacrifices bathe me. I'm soaked in their hot sticky cum. Their moaning echoes in the chamber.

Only one holds out. Between my legs still obeying the rhythm, Glasses works. Sweat pours down his face. His knuckles white from gripping the marble alter. This man senses the danger. But I know he cannot stop now.

He doesn't say anything when he finally loses control. A vicious growl as I buckle yet again. Together. We cum together.

Now all of them feel what I do. The rolling crest, the furious ecstacy, the never ending electric bliss.

Men are so weak.

They drop one by one, completely spent. The only one breathing, albeit in ragged harsh gulps is Glasses. He's fallen between my legs holding onto the alter for life. I banish the soreness away and instead retain only the afterglow.

"Your name," I asked.

"Victor," he manages.

Appropriate. My followers know to dispose of the bodies as well as take care of the survivor. Once he's rested we'll leave. We've other plans to make.

And I can feel new life growing inside ready for a new day.