Prio Priapus

‘Come,’ came a voice from inside the door.

Syncleatia opened the door and went inside.

It opened into an ordinary office space cum living quarters. Priapus was austere. There was a cot in the corner, a bare wooden cross on the wall and a desk with papers scattered about it against the other wall. A half eaten working breakfast was on the desk along with a pot of tea.

Given the twin mounds of fucked-to-delirium-cum-exhaustion bimbo fuckdoll nuns stacked on either side of the door, the uninitiated would have supposed a ravening sexual beast to be encountered in Priapus room. A colossus; a minotaur, some sort of demon of sexual propulsion.

But Priapus was just a man. Post Christfall, but still a man.

Syncletia stood, and crossed herself.

Priapus did nothing for a few seconds, continuing his inspection of the paperwork, and eventually swivelled on the chair and looked at her.

‘Ah, Syncletia,’ Priapus said, ‘that’s saved me a job.’

Syncletia inclined her head submissively. Priapus wagged his finger.

‘I was going to have to send for you. It’s most convenient you’re here. We need to talk about that performance in the masturbatorium yesterday. Now would you kindly explain yourself?’

Priapus was in a black habit that was almost floor-length. As the Prior spoke, Syncletia’s eyes started to bulge out as she noticed the very bottom of the garment, only about four or five inches from the bare floor, start to move as if something was agitating it from underneath.

Devoutly, Syncletia let her eyes drop whoreishly and her mouth droop open, registering, with perfect dumb-slut stupefaction, her acknowledgement that Priapus’s elephantine dong was beginning to reawaken after his evening’s exertions.

‘I’m waiting, Syncletia.’

Syncletia let her eyes flick up to meet Priapus’s gaze, before letting them one more lower down and lock on to the way that Priapus’s garment was beginning to be lifted up. It was a jaw-dropping spectacle.

‘Sorry Prior. Brother Faustus suggested I visited the masturbatorium in order to investigate a holy vision experienced by one of the onanites.’

Priapus said nothing for a second, and then picked up the papers and ruffled them on his desk, casting an eye over them before turning his gaze back to the whore nun.

‘I am **** to confess that I find these reports of your conduct yesterday really quite disturbing. A total of forty-five onanites are currently being cared for in the infirmary. That’s forty-five permanent goonlinks to Christ that we had – good ones at that – gone in a heartbeat. So many stored up ballsacks full of holy juice – scrupulously and devotedly pent up, mind you – expelled in an instant. For most of them it was a lifetime of devotion. The nuns in the infirmary are trying their best down there, but they think as many as three quarters of them will never attain erection again, never mind jerk their fuck tubes in holy service of Christ. They will all have to be replaced. And as for Spyro, I cannot tell you what you put that man through. Our most dedicated prelapsarian. Gooning like a fucktard for twenty hours a day. A meagre four hours sleep a night for thirty years, all spent in the transport of prayer, and then you, Syncletia, you go down there and an unblemished life is… well, blemished.’

As Priapus spoke, Syncletia’s eyes were glued to that way that the Prior’s cassock was steadily becoming elevated as the truly monstrous appendage that he kept between his legs was achieving tumescence. At the end of the Prior’s speech, the massive, fat, heart-shaped, throbbing, smooth, weeping purple head was clearly visibly, protruding directly outwards from Priapus’s groin and coming up horizontally to point directly at her. The bulging crown was dripping a thick, syrupy stream of transparent, gluey precum that slopped onto the floor between his feet, and the thing kept growing larger and larger in front of her eyes. At the moment is was the size of her clenched fist, but it was rapidly and visibly gaining in its dimensions.

Not taking her eyes off it, Syncletia spoke to the cock, rather than the man.

‘I believe my intervention was necessary to gain access to the vision experienced by the dumb goon pig retard in the masturbatorium. He was cock linked to another brother and everything I carried out there was upon Spyro’s advice.’

‘Yes. Spyro has confirmed that, Syncletia. I can’t say your enthusiasm did much for his stutter. It took us half an hour to get that out of him.’

Syncletia nodded, relieved.

‘It may interest you to know that Spyro has come to think of an orgasm administered by yourself as a higher form of religious ecstasy than gooning itself.’

By now Priapus’s monster phallus was toweringly erect. A vast column now, it rose and rose until it was pointing upwards, the cassock draping off it until all the heavy fabric unsheathed from the flesh mast stickily and fell with a thick slop, heaping in folds in Priapus’s groin. Now the veiny, thick, muscle cock was more or less pointing directly at the ceiling, and the whole organ was lubricated in thick waves of clear precum that were sliding down it like caramel.

In order to address her, Priapus put the back of his hand against the monstrous, steaming shaft, and parted it to the side so that it didn’t obstruct his vision of the bimbo whore acolyte.

‘I don’t like losing the functionality of the masturbatorium, but it can be rebuilt. At the moment I am more interested in what you gleaned from this vision.’

Syncletia tried her best not to be distracted by the immense, vein-thronged, glossy, meat pole in front of her. But it was impossible.

‘May I finger myself as I talk, Prior?’

‘Please do,’ Priapus said. He turned his hand the other way, curled it around the shaft, and, very slowly, started to take long, eighteen-inch stroked up and down the forearm-thick pole, all the way from base and twisting around the massive clublike tip, the movement accompanied by a rich, thick, sticky sound as he massaged his precum into his pussy destroying monster cock.

‘I believe that the vision confirms that something is coming into the world. I know this because it intersects with dreams I have been having for some time. I do not know what it is, but I believe it has great power. It is calling to me. It should be sought out.’

The blonde fuckdoll’s teeth captured her lip almost at the point of orgasm as Syncletia finished her short disquisition.

‘You’ve never left the convent, Syncletia. It’s dangerous out there.’

‘Nevertheless…’ Syncletia said, sliding her fingers inside her pussy and pumping and pumping it, ‘I am being called to. There were words matched to the vision. “Cock Comes.”’

Priapus stopped stroking his penis and allowed it to wave up in the air in front of him. The meaty shaft was so huge it obscured his face. With enormous control, the Prior exerted control over his pc muscle and lowered the monster, fleshy spunk gun until it was levelled horizontally at Syncletia, the whole thing looking like a huge cannon that was being aimed to fire.

‘I have no doubt that what you say is true,’ the Prior said, ‘I myself have encountered more than a few stimulating bursts of religiosity here and there over the past few weeks. Hence the… contretemps you saw outside my quarters.’

Syncletia tweaked her nipple with her free hand.