Chapter Two: The Desire for the Physical Body

The air in the underground ritual chamber seemed to freeze, leaving only the crackling of the green flames and the eerie presence of the three freshly peeled "human skins" on the stone platform, still warm and reeking of blood. Arya, Flora, Cecilia—their once vibrant bodies had vanished, leaving only these empty shells, retaining their perfect outlines and clothing from their lives, like abandoned, exquisite dolls, slumped on the cold stone surface.

Grush, the goblin leader, stood before the stone platform, his massive, mountain-like body trembling slightly with excitement. His cloudy yellow eyes scanned the three human skins, finally settling firmly on the skin of the saint Cecilia. That skin perfectly preserved her platinum-blonde hair, delicate facial features, and even the torn fragments of her white monastic robe still clung to it. Particularly striking were her jade-like legs encased in delicate black stockings. From thigh to toe, the texture of the stockings, the lace at the top, and even the shape of her feet encased in white indoor shoes were all perfectly preserved. Only now, lacking internal support, they appeared somewhat limp, adding a profane sense of vulnerability, a vulnerability to be manipulated at will.

“Heh heh…it’s you, you holy little wench.” Grush extended his thick fingers, stained with dark red blood and green slime, and gently, even with a strange “reverence,” stroked Cecilia’s human-skinned cheek. The touch from his fingertips was cool and smooth, still retaining a trace of warmth before life faded. He traced his fingers down her cheek, across her slender neck, to the edge of her torn robe. His fingers slipped inside, touching the fabric of her white bra, and below that… the hollow, hollowed-out area where her breasts should have been full. This sensation made him let out a satisfied gurgle.

Without further hesitation, he grabbed the openings on either side of Cecilia's human skin shoulders with both hands and lifted her off the stone platform as if she were a slippery bodysuit. The human skin swayed slightly in the air, her platinum blonde hair hanging down, and her legs, encased in stockings, dangling limply.

Grush turned his massive body toward a slightly cleaner stone platform and spread out the human skin. Then, he began to remove the only, filthy animal skin around his waist, revealing his green body, which was completely contrary to human aesthetics, covered with scars and thick body hair, with clearly defined muscles, full of savage power.

The preparations weren't over. Grush walked to the side, picked up a small earthenware jar containing a translucent, amber-colored oil that emitted a strange, sweet aroma. He scooped out a large amount of the oil with a bone spoon and began to carefully, almost obsessively, apply it to his body. From his thick neck, broad shoulders, and thick chest and back, to his muscular abdomen, thick thighs, and even between every toe, he left nothing untouched. The oil seemed to have a lubricating effect and temporarily altered the texture of his skin; after application, his rough, green skin appeared shiny and seemed smoother to the touch.

Having done all this, he stood again before the stone platform covered with Cecilia's skin, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism and greed.

He first lifted his greasy, thick right leg and carefully tried to insert it into the opening of his human-skinned left leg. It was an extremely difficult and awkward process. His green limb, several times thicker than Cecilia's original leg, **** its way into the slender, black-stockinged sac. The fibers of the stockings were stretched taut, making a faint, unsettling "taut" sound, as if they might tear at any moment. The grease played a crucial role, reducing friction and allowing him to slowly and firmly "push" his leg in inch by inch.

Grush let out a low growl, a mixture of pain and **** excitement. He could clearly feel the delicate silk stockings and the smoother inner skin beneath them tightly and seamlessly enveloping every inch of his rough legs. A strong, strange sense of pressure and friction washed over him, along with an indescribable, eerie illusion that he was "merging" into this body. He looked down and saw his green, hairy ankles and soles being gradually swallowed up by the white indoor shoes and thin black stockings, until they were completely submerged, leaving only the delicate outline of "Cecilia's" feet in stockings and shoes.

He did the same, stuffing his left leg in as well. Now, from the waist down, his massive lower limbs were forcibly crammed into the saintess's slender legs. The visual contrast was striking—above was his muscular, green torso, below were two beautifully shaped jade legs belonging to the saintess, encased in sacred black stockings. The stockings were stretched taut due to the excessive padding, their sheen even more pronounced, and one could even vaguely see the outline of even thicker muscles beneath, muscles that didn't belong to these legs.

Next came the torso and arms. This part was even more difficult. Grush took a deep breath, lifted the human skin from below, aligned it with his waist, and began to pull upwards. The human skin's waist was extremely slender, a stark contrast to his barrel-like waist. He had to forcefully contract his abdominal muscles, while relying on the lubrication of the fat, to slowly "slip" the human skin up.

"Ugh...get the hell in there!" he growled, his arm muscles bulging as he forcefully pulled the human skin upwards. The abdomen and chest areas of the skin were stretched taut, the soft outline of Cecilia's breasts now forcibly stretched into two taut sacs pressed against Grush's thick pectoral muscles, the white bra fabric groaning under the strain. Torn fragments of his monastic robe dangled on his green skin, creating a grotesque scene.

Finally, the head. This was the most crucial, and also the most bizarre, step. Grush aligned the opening at the back of the human skin head with his own face, and then slammed it down!

In an instant, he was plunged into darkness and an indescribable feeling of suffocation. The inner walls of the human skin clung tightly to his mouth and nose, Cecilia's platinum blonde hair cascading down, scratching his neck and shoulders. He could smell the faint scent of blood from the human skin itself, the subtle fibrous smell of stockings, and... a lingering fragrance belonging to the saintess, which mingled with his own pungent odor, creating a decadent stimulation.

He struggled to regulate his breathing, his fingers groping inside, aligning the human skin's features with his own. Eye sockets aligned with eye sockets, nostrils with nostrils, lips with lips… the process was slow and clumsy.

The moment he finished aligning, something unexpected happened!

The enormous magic circle carved on the stone platform once again glowed with an eerie green light. The light flowed like a living thing, rapidly converging at the feet of Grush—or rather, the monster currently clad in Cecilia's skin—and then spreading upwards along his legs wrapped in black silk, instantly enveloping his entire body!

"Ughhhhhh—!"

Grush let out a howl that didn't sound human, but when it came from Cecilia's lips, it became a distorted, high-pitched, bizarre tone that mixed male and female voices. Green energy surged wildly into the gaps between the human skin and his body, bringing waves of intense pain that felt as if every inch of his skin was being burned and reshaped.

At the same time, a massive amount of fragmented memories flooded into his mind like a burst dam!

— As a child, Cecilia prayed in the monastery garden, sunlight streaming through her platinum-blonde hair…

— The slight shyness and solemnity she felt when she first donned those black stockings, symbols of purity…

— Devout believers knelt at her feet, kissing her fingertips, the touch warm and moist…

— In the stillness of the night, she would occasionally stroke her stocking-clad legs, a secret, inexplicable stirring rising within her…

— The profound fear, despair, and immense pain of her collapsing faith when facing Grush…

These memories, especially the subtle sensory memories—the feel of stockings rubbing against skin, the warmth of a believer's kiss on fingertips, the unspoken shame and throbbing deep within—acted as the most powerful catalyst, mixing with Grush's own raging desires and the intense physical pain he was experiencing at that moment, producing an indescribable, twisted sense of excitement!

“Oh…oh…is this…the feeling of a saint…?” Grush (Cecilia) let out broken, distorted moans. He looked down at his body.

His once burly, green body was gone, replaced by the slender, fair-skinned body of a young girl in a tattered white nun's robe. Platinum blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her delicate face was marred by the goblin's once deep blue eyes, now filled with the murky, greedy, and violent nature of a goblin. Beneath the nun's robe were her breasts, stretched slightly but still alluring, encased in a white bra. But most striking were her legs—thin, straight legs perfectly encased in delicate black stockings, every curve from thigh to ankle perfectly proportioned, adorned with small, exquisite white slippers. The stockings, due to the change in their padding (from the goblin's thick legs to… a near-original form maintained by some kind of energy), now clung perfectly to her, gleaming with a soft sheen.

He/She raised a hand, a fair, slender hand with neatly manicured nails, belonging to the saint Cecilia. With trembling hands, he/she touched Cecilia's cheek, the touch smooth and delicate. Then, the hand slid down her neck, across her collarbone, and through her white bra, forcefully kneaded her full breasts. A strange, soft, elastic sensation washed over him/her, accompanied by fragments of faint pleasure from Cecilia's occasional masturbation, causing his/her breathing to quicken instantly.

"Hehehe...hehehe..." He (or she) let out a goblin-like, crude laugh, but the sound coming from the saintess's delicate lips seemed incredibly eerie. A strong sense of incongruity and control, mixed with the subtle sensual experiences of a woman drawn from Cecilia's fragmented memories, eroded his reason like poison, igniting his most primal lust.

His/her other hand impatiently reached down, lifting the hem of the tattered monk's robe and directly caressing the thigh clad in black stockings. The delicate touch of the stockings was incredibly realistic; his/her fingertips could clearly feel the warmth of the skin beneath the fabric and the smooth curves of the legs. His/her hand was extremely rough, completely out of place with the body's pristine exterior. His/her fingers sank deep into the elastic stockings, forcefully rubbing and kneading the tender skin on the inner thigh, as if trying to more deeply feel this body and confirm his/her ownership through this violent contact.

Pleasure, a distorted pleasure built on plunder and desecration, surged through his or her body like an electric current. This pleasure came not only from physical friction, but also from the complete defilement and possession of "sanctity" on a spiritual level.

“Not enough…not enough!” Grush (Cecilia) growled, her hand, which had been kneading her stockinged thigh, now probing even deeper into her groin. Her fingers, through the fabric of the stockings and panties, pressed roughly against her most sensitive and intimate area. At the same time, memories of the devout believers gazing at her with lustful eyes uncontrollably surfaced in Cecilia's mind, along with the fleeting, suppressed tingling sensations she herself experienced late at night when her fingers would occasionally brush against the same spot…

This overlap of memory and reality, this intertwining of sanctity and defilement, brought his (or her) excitement to its peak.

"Ugh—!"

He/She let out a high-pitched, distorted scream, his/her body trembling violently, his/her feet, clad in white indoor shoes, curled tightly, his/her toes digging into the soles. The rough, goblin-like soul, deep within this sacred shell, experienced a grotesque climax born entirely of plunder and desecration. Thick, goblin-scented fluid sprayed into the sacred, untouched secret place inside the saint's shell, mingling with the fibers of the human skin and stockings.

He/She slumped on the stone platform, legs clad in black stockings slightly parted, trembling weakly, tattered monastic robes disheveled, chest heaving violently. Cecilia's delicate and holy face was now covered with a goblin-like, satisfied and brutal blush, her blue eyes were murky, and a trace of saliva even dripped from the corner of her mouth.

After a brief silence, Grush (Cecilia) sat bolt upright. He/She looked down at his/her new "body," especially at the pair of black-stockinged legs that gleamed alluringly in the eerie green firelight, a twisted, extremely satisfied smile spreading across his/her face. The voice still mixed male and female tones, but the goblin's rude tone was more pronounced:

"Hahaha... Hahaha! Perfect! From this moment on, I am Cecilia! The Holy Maiden of Light!"

He/She stood up and tried to take a few steps. At first, it was a bit stiff and uncoordinated, but soon, Cecilia's muscle memory began to kick in, and with the energy of the magic circle sustaining her, her steps gradually became "elegant." However, the rhythm and posture of those steps always revealed an undeniable, predatory clumsiness and aggression.

He/She walked to the other two human skins—the mature skin belonging to the sorceress Flora, connected by transparent black stockings and purple high heels, and the lithe skin belonging to the elf princess Arya, connected by dark green thick stockings and deerskin boots.

"You two!" he (or she) roared at the two elite goblins beside him, who were already unable to contain themselves and whose eyes were gleaming with lust, in Cecilia's voice but with the roar of Grulin, "Put these on! Let me see what you look like as women!"

The two goblins let out excited growls and eagerly pounced on the stone platform, mimicking Grush's actions as they began to smear oil on themselves before clumsily and impatiently stuffing themselves into the two equally alluring but destined-to-be-desecrated skins.

Grush (Cecilia) crossed her arms, her possessive and violent eyes watching this blasphemous "birth." Her fingers unconsciously traced her own (Cecilia's) stockinged thighs again, feeling the delicate texture and the insatiable desires of a goblin stirring beneath the skin.

Deep within the shadows of the crypt, a drama cloaked in holiness and beauty, yet utterly dark and filthy at its core, has only just begun. The true consciousness and suffering of Cecilia, Flora, and Arya have already sunk into eternal darkness with the peeling away of their skins, leaving only these empty shells to bear even deeper sins as they walk in the sunlight.