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The Class-D prisoner, still wearing his uniform and clutching the folder under his arm, entered the town limits. To call it empty would've been generous; the streets ahead of him were lifeless, the shop fronts all abandoned, and any cars not properly parked were left neglected and open the elements. The blazing Sun beat him down. Sweat trickled down his bald forehead. His lips were already chapped. The interior of his mouth was drier than any hangover from his previous life. His skin prickled from the heavy heat. Every heavy step didn't calm his trembling legs. He dared not to look back towards the retreating Foundation armored truck, lest it somehow counted as 'insubordination'. All the prisoner could do was force himself to walk towards his destination: the old church just down Main Street. Suddenly, the wind grew harsher. It hollered into his face and struck the Class-D prisoner like whiplash, causing him to let go of the manuscript. "Shit!" he hissed, twirling around fast to catch sight of the pages scattering to the wind. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! No!" "What is wrong, D-4296?" came a crackly voice in his right ear. "Proceed to the church." "I-I can't!" he tried to say. "I can't I lost the manuscript! I lost the bribe!" "D-4296, you are ordered to...proceed...instant...wha...oundation...nell-" The angry voice sputtered and short-circuited. It felt like the metallic sphere itself was burning, making the Class-D prisoner scream as it started to hurt. He hastily pulled out the melting earpiece and tossed it without thinking, then found himself blinded by sand. He started to irrationally run in any direction when a certain noise made the human stop. Barking could be heard. "Oh no, no, no..." He willed himself to open an eye, then yelped when something pulled at his left orange sleeve. "What-Oh shit!" It was a large wolf, almost the size of a motorcycle, having grabbed his sleeve with its sharp teeth. He snarled and pulled him like a piece of rope. The prisoner tried to fight him off, but each resisting pull in the other direction only made the mutt angrier. Its snarling and deep growls rose in tempo, almost becoming more audible than the desert wind blowing over the human's ears. Yet the Class-D prisoner continued to fight back, more out of an instinct to get away than not meet...meet the reason behind the town's depopulation. More barking and snarling reached his ears. He peered through the fog-like dust cloud and gasped. Canines of all species appeared from different alleyways and open doors, baring their teeth at the prisoner. His face drained all color. The momentary distraction though was enough for the wolf to abruptly pull him to the ground. Another wolf grasped his wrist sleeves with its fangs, and the two dragged the terrified human along the sand-covered asphalt. Scrapes and bruises formed on the struggling prisoner's stomach and chin as he failed to free either of his sleeves. "Help! Help me! Help me! Help me!" The church seemingly materialized through the dust filling the air. The doors burst open and barking could be heard. The prisoner's body met dead grass, then concrete and varnished wood before finally, the wolves let his sleeves go. The prisoner scrambled to his feet, only to hear the church's doors loudly slam shut behind him. A dozen growls directly behind him made the human reconsider turning around as he stood. Wolves, foxes, jackals, dingoes, fennec foxes, coyotes, and dogs of every possible species the prisoner could remember filled the pews of the modest church. A large pile of random junk pooled up in a corner behind a large podium on the altar. Several canines sat by the mountain, guarding it like terracotta soldiers. They seemed indifferent to some of the more valuable items such as jewelry, wallets, and even a genuine gold bar. However, the prisoner's eyes were immediately drawn to one of the canines in particular, who stood on a box behind the podium, like a human and stared at him behind those dark sunglasses, sporting a smile befitting his species. The instructions he'd been given were right, in that he did also wear a leather jacket, and a wooden cross necklace too. It wasn't hyperbole. "My, my, my, what do we have here?" The Reverend cackled in astonishment. "A weary traveler, lost on the road to life, just as man has lost its very devotion towards the old faith and sacred oaths! What brings you to this holy place built in unholy times?" The prisoner wanted to lambast that he'd been literally dragged into the church by his mongrel but held his tongue. Instead, he tried and failed to remember the exact wording he'd been instructed to say when presenting the manuscript to SCP-2547-1. He knew that the plot of said manuscript would involve a new animated web series involving a trickster coyote guiding souls in the afterlife, but every time he tried to speak, the prisoner started to cough. "You remind me of this gorgeous, clever man who came to me, once," the Reverend said in bemusement. "He claimed to be a member of this 'Foundation', which loves to track my congregation each time we visit one of your human towns. Such devotion to their deities of duty and science! Such arrogance that they wield, thinking they can control me!" He lowered his shades to peek at me from down the aisle. "Come closer, son. Come closer and tell me of yourself." The prisoner slowly obeyed. What else could he honestly do? Refusing meant likely becoming one of the countless canines that surrounded him, stared at him, judged him. Except for some strange reason, the thought didn't scare him as much as returning to the Foundation trucks parked just outside the town, with no water or anything to show for it. "Good, good," the anthropomorphic coyote said. "You are quite the handsome fellow." He blushed, not knowing why. The Reverend seemed to notice and chuckled. "I have a sense that your Foundation sent you to ask me for a boon in exchange for whatever trivial stories they wrote about me onto dead bark," he mused. Then, the coyote let out a snort. "As much as I would adore to see what else they have concocted to spread my good name, I am more interested in you, my good man." The prisoner blinked once, twice, and thrice. His own brain short-circuited in confusion. "Wh-Wh-What...?" he guffawed. "W-What do you mean? Am-Am I going...?" "I sense something hidden deep within you, human," the Reverend said. "It is a passionate fire that would burn brighter than our Sun! Yet it has since diminished behind walls and stone you've been forced to build. Your beloved carpenter preached of honesty. You were once an honest man, my good man. What led you to hold back your true thoughts, your true feelings? Not all prisons and chains are made of bars or steel, so tell me...what sin led you to become trapped by your Foundation?" The prisoner hesitated to say. Tell us, good man!" the coyote demanded. "Lift the rock that's smothered you!" Again, the prisoner hesitated. His lips trembled as much as his legs and hands did, and he quivered in fear. The Reverend would not allow it. Neither did his canines. "Tell me your sins, son!" he hollered amid an orchestra of barking and howling, filling the entire church. "Tell my brethren all your sins! Repent, repent, repent, repent! Repent, for didn't your own beloved carpenter once say the truth shall set you free!?" "I misused an SCP!" the prisoner finally confessed between sobs. His words tumbled out like vomit. "I misused 978 without permission and kept the photograph for myself!" The barks and howls fell quiet. The Reverend stared at the human, curiosity apparent behind his sunglasses. "This is the whatchacallit which allows a mortal to take photographs of their deepest desires, is it not?" he asked and the prisoner meekly nodded. "Well...what is it, my good, handsome man? What is it that you desired most?" The prisoner's legs threatened to buckle at any moment. He gulped. "I...I wanted...to be you. To be...like you." The Reverend smiled earnestly behind the podium. "And it is not water you desire on this glorious day, is it?" The prisoner hesitated. He wanted to say yes, that he did desire water. He wanted to do what he was told to do, less he suddenly found himself being dragged in chains to the cells of either that indestructible lizard or the statue that could break a human's neck. He wanted to lie. His human instincts warned him to lie. He needed to lie and follow orders if it meant surviving another day in Class-D. The barking around him grew in tempo. It nearly rang in his ears. He wasn't afraid though. Whether it be a dry throat or something deeper than instinct, he didn't lie. "N...No...I w-want...s-something else, R-Reverend," he replied in a quavering, trustful voice. The prisoner found himself kneeling in front of the altar, his legs and hands trembling in trepidation. "I want to be free. Free...from my old life, from work...the Foundation. I've always been a prisoner somewhere throughout my life. And if you'll help me, I will do anything to please you. You will be my savior, Reverend. Please, please, get me away from them! I beg you." The Reverend silenced the rising barks around them and stepped around the podium. He was no longer as short as Foundation personnel had described him before in the files. He no longer resembled the same height as a normal coyote. If anything, he matched the same height as the kneeling petrified prisoner, who found himself standing back up without thinking. He didn't question that action. He was more focused on the religious canine anomaly standing in front of him, still wearing that leather jacket, but not wearing anything else on him. He was completely naked. The prisoner was almost hypnotized by his handsome figure, his eyes almost drawn down to the plump canine sheath on his crotch, only for a gentle paw to lift his chin up and meet him at eye level. The Reverend gave a sly coyote smile. "I knew I sensed hidden devotion in your heart the minute you walked into town, my son," he said. "Rejoice! You have confessed your sins and spoken the truth deep within your very soul. Such faith in of itself deserves its own reward. Submit to me and you will never go hungry, never feel thirst or the cold. You will never be unchained ever again, for you will be a special member of my congregation. Do you submit...John?" The prisoner never thought he would hear his human name again. He didn't hesitate. "Yes...Yes, I do." John nodded his affirmation, then sealed his fate by leaning forward to kiss the anthropomorphic muzzle. An otherworldly canine tongue swiftly separated his lips apart and took over his senses, making the human see stars. John barely registered his clothes suddenly catching fire. They danced upward and all over his body without directly harming him, consuming every piece of fabric until ashes and his own nudity remained, as well as an erection that was squeezed between his stomach and another emerging phallus. It throbbed heavily. It felt heavenly, pulsating to life and leaking copious amounts of sticky pre-cum. The human no longer felt like a prisoner as he deepened the kiss, and in fact, he felt completely free. He felt the thrill of such knowledge coursing through his veins and let his fingers wander underneath the Reverend's leather jacket. Soon, John felt another masculine presence standing behind him, an imposing but muscular wolf that stood on two legs. A slender maned wolf trotted over to him on his right. A red fox whose ears reached his bare chest walked over as well. All of them smiled with broad, lustful, and accepting grins. They were incredibly erect and just as naked as him. When the Coyote that entranced broke their deep kiss, leaving only a strand of saliva to connect them, John was broken from his reverie by a pair of strong biceps that hugged him from behind. A long tongue lathered the right side of his neck and another snout sniffed at his left side. Another pair of furry, inhuman arms explored the abs he'd earn from manual labor as a Class-D. Yet another pair of wayward fingers started to caress his swollen balls and explore the rising shaft. All of it overwhelmed John. He didn't even crane his neck, one way or the other without suddenly kissing, a handsome naked wolf or a flirtatious fennec fox that leaned up to pull him down and devour his tongue. Meanwhile, his own human hands started to blindly grasp anything he could find; he groped revealing sheathes, brushed against erections, and admired the washboard abs of plenty of the anthropomorphic congregation, as if they were braille text. If all of it wasn't true, then John reason he must have died and gone to heaven. As they approached and showered him with affection, the entire church was filled with even more howling. It filled John's ears but no longer hurt. If anything, they now sounded like incredible music chorusing together with his moans and the panting canines that surrounded him. The Reverend eagerly led him to the altar. A few of the quadrupedal canines had taken away the podium and replaced it with a clean mattress, likely taken from one of the surrounding homes of the town. John found himself lying on his back with the Reverend straddling him while the anthropomorphic pack from before either stood or knelt around them in a circle, jerking themselves off or panting, like hungry animals. However, John lay utterly speechless and fascinated by the Reverend, who had kept his jacket on and inserted himself down on his human cock without much effort. It throbbed slick and lubricated with something that smelled like petroleum jelly. "Huh?" John was confused, only to be silenced by the pleasure squeezing around his dick. "Ooooohhhhh! Oh, God!" "It was a tithing-Mmmngh!-given from-Ahhh!-a p-previous town!" The Reverend yipped upon each descent down the human's shaft. "Oh, blessed thee...Submit to me..." John reached a hand over to grasp the coyote's right side. His fingers flexed around a spread butt cheek, and he held it as his lover rode him. The human stared up at the ceiling in reverence. His hips bucked upwards in repeating pleasure and joy. Soon though, he wasn't only making love to the Reverend, and his view of the ceiling was obscured by another figure. A wolf melt down by his head and place his hard canine cock directly above his nose. The human inhaled it. He drooled from the earthly smell and masculine musk, which intern made his cock even more hard inside the mystical coyote, who clenched around him even tighter while reciting random scripture. Not a single word of it reached human ears though, while the meaning of it could still be felt inside the soul. John stared up and all at the massive shaft, admiring each vein before slowly training his neck backwards. He opened his mouth. He silently begged to taste it with tear-filled eyes, cloudy with lust. He extended his tongue just as the wolf scooted forward and thrusted himself inside the human's waiting maw. The Wolf let out deep howl. So did John as he swallowed that canine length, tasking spurts of sweet pre on his tongue, and fucked the Reverend even harder. John changed without knowing it. He transformed amidst his euphoric bliss. His ankles and toes became digitigrade, his dark fur becoming blacker and thicker, crawling up his legs and enveloping his torso. His own tongue twisted into dexterity and his human mouth elongated into a slender dark-furred muzzle as it continued servicing the thrusting cock. His five fingers became four, his brown eyes turned amber like firelight, and soon, a tail thrashed eagerly between his legs. It wagged alongside the Reverend's as both he and John came together, howling in pleasure. And so did the rest of the congregation that had joined them in lusting communion. John was in Heaven. He was in Paradise. He was a human no more. The SCP Foundation never saw Prisoner D-4296 again. At least, not in his human form. The Foundation personnel in charge of the mission labeled it a failure but did not cease surveillance for further events involving SCP-2547. Life continued on. Personnel did note, however, in a recent addendum that there would need to be a possible new entity added to the file for SCP-2547. According to interviewed civilians prior to being given Class A amnestics, they described a bipedal jackal who frequently assisted in the Reverend's sermons, sometimes preaching about his own struggle for freedom and how the humans they traded with too could see the light like he did. He wore no clothes, but much like the Reverend, sported sunglasses and a worn leather jacket, but no cross. The Foundation designated him SCP-2547-2. Otherwise known as, 'The Follower'.