I fucked the forbidden goat
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NSFW WARNING
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Hi everyone. I'm David. My wife died six years ago. Made me sad. Anyway, not connected, but after that I decided to find fulfilment in life by joining a cult.
It all began one morning at the park where I'd been feeding the ducks in my underpants.
"Hello, sir!" A well dressed young man called to me. "Would you like to join a cult?"
"Yes I would," I replied. "I've just never had the opportunity."
"Well... I'd like you to join my cult." He said.
"Oh, ok, right."
Now, there are a lot of misconceptions about cults but it's not all bad. I got some new clothes, somewhere to sleep, something to eat. Most importantly I had company. People to talk to, live, laugh and love with. My wife was dead.
"Brother David." The High Watchman said to me one day. "You've been here several months now and you have proven yourself to be a real asset to our little community. As a reward I will now show you the goats."
The High Watchman took me to the barn that stood in the center of the cult enclosure. I had always wondered about the bleating and strange noises that came from within but had been afraid to ask questions. He threw open the doors to reveal about 50 blank faced goats.
"The Goats!" He cried.
After a minute or so the goats began returning to minding their own business. As they shuffled about I happened to notice one goat at the back of the barn that was sitting on an audacious throne surrounded by bright lights. It wore a crown of gold on its head and a red velvet cape was draped around it's neck and back.
I didn't really know what to say. I was lost for words.
"As a valued member of the cult you may now have your fill of the goats." Said the High Watchman.
"Hmmmm?"
"You may cleanse yourself in the love of the goat, as I and the other brethren do."
"You mean, I can fuck the goats?"
"Yes, I mean you can fuck the goats. Pick your salvation."
"Pick the goat I want to fuck?"
"Yes."
"Well, how about that one." I said, pointing to the goat wearing the crown and cape.
The High Watchman, whose real name was Bob, immediately struck me hard across the face.
"NOT THAT ONE!" He screamed. "THAT IS THE SACRED KING OF THE GOATS! HE IS FORBIDDEN."
Just my luck, I thought. He had been the only goat to really pique my fancy. I was dragged from the barn and whipped until daybreak for my sacrilegiousness.
Later on at lunch I asked my closest friend and cult member, the Holy Spandau, what the deal was with the sexy and forbidden King of the Goats.
"Let's say, hypothetically speaking, I was to fuck the forbidden goat. What do you think would happen to me?"
He gave me a terrifying death stare.
"The Goat King is forbidden. Those who seek to defile the King of the Goats shall have their legs broken. Their mutilated feet curled back towards their face and their toe nails grown into their own eyeballs and brain, until they beg for mercy and die."
"Hmmmmm." I replied. "The thing is, I just don't get why we're encouraged to fuck all the other goats, and somehow the fancy goat on the throne is off limits? I mean, apart from the crown and cape, they're basically the sa-"
Before I could finish I was once again struck across the face, dragged to the whipping post and whipped until daybreak.
Not really put off by the horrific physical abuse or anything Jeff had said, I decided to wait until nightfall and try to have sex with the king of the goats. I just couldn't get the little guy out of my head. Something about that goat, the way he wore his crown, or maybe how his cape created a sense of dignity yet unknown to man. Couldn't put my finger on it. Plus, if I pulled it of I'd feel like I had finally made something of my wife. I mean life.
I waited for the last lamp of the cult village to go out, then I snuck out to the back of the barn, pulled off one of the loose boards and squished my way in.
The goats were mostly asleep. I looked to the throne and there he was, the king of the goats. He was awake and staring at me as if knowing exactly what I was there for. As if willing me on.
I snuck closer and closer to the sacred goat, all the time finding myself more excited and aroused. When I finally reached him there was no time left for small talk. Me and the king of the goats began to fuck real good and as the night progressed something in the event cleared my mind. Everything suddenly began to make sense. Why my wife had died. Why I fed the ducks in my underpants. All of it. I had found salvation. I was cleansed.
Credited to koalazeus
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