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"You will become a thing of horror to all the kingdoms of the earth."

--God, who loves you quite a lot apparently

Church was everything to Maria. In her eyes, it was everything to everyone, although some unlucky souls just didn't know it yet. The love she felt from her Savior brought her through all of life's troubles, and it always would.

She smiled as she sat in her pew with only a small gathering of other members of the congregation already seated and a few filing down the aisle. It was still early, but Maria couldn't help but take her usual spot near the front even if it was still a half hour before the service began. After all, there was nowhere else she'd rather be. She never missed a single service if she could help it. She'd attend mass daily if only her employer wasn't so secular. Maria chided herself for thinking negatively of her; she should invite her boss to the morning service. This may be an opportunity to bring another one into the fold and enable her even more opportunities to take part in the Eucharist.

A thrill went through her as she saw the organist take his place. It wouldn't be long now before the almost physical waves of the organ would echo from the floor to the rafters. The refrain would soon fill the entire church, all in the service of making a pleasing, joyful noise to the Lord. She touched her simple white haircovering in nervous anticipation. Patience, she told herself. It is a virtue, after all. Maybe this is God's way of testing you. We must wait patiently for His love to enter this holy place, even as you must wait patiently for His return on that wonderful, terrible day, the Dies Irae in which her soul would surely be judged pure. She had given all of herself over to the love of Christ, in whom all of her daily struggles were borne for her just as he bore the cross for her on the path to Calvary.

There was an idea! She opened her purse and pulled the Bible she carried with her at all times. What better way to pass the time awaiting the entrance of her Lord into the nave than to pass the time reading His word. In truth--she was ashamed to admit--she'd never read the Bible front to back. But then again she practically had. After all, she had never missed a service, and His word was read aloud to the congregation gathered throughout the calendar year, Old Testament and New. It surely covered the entire, holy book. But reading even more of the Word of the Lord never hurt anyone.

She flipped to the Gospels, intending to consult the Gospel of John in particular. It was her favorite one, beginning with the retelling of God's creation and the divine mystery of the Trinity, especially as it related between the Father and His Son--the divine Logos that had come into the world to die for her sins. Instead her fingers drew her to the Gospel of Mark. It would do just as well. She didn't know the exact numbering of the passage she was looking for, but it had to be at the end of the book. Within a few moments, she had found it, her Lord and Savior carrying his cross to ...

Except he didn't. That was strange. She had always believed Jesus carried his own cross to his crucifixion, but according to Mark it was carried by a man named Simon. How could that be? It must be part of the tale that she had mistaken long ago. But even the hymns they regularly sang made mention of him carrying his own cross to redeem the world. With a furrowed brow she flipped to the Gospel of John and after a few moments found the same retelling of the story and this time her beliefs were confirmed. According to John, her Savior had indeed carried the instrument of her deliverance to his appointed death all by himself. She blinked. The disagreement between the saints was one she'd never heard of, and couldn't find herself able to immediately reconcile. After all, she held in her hands the Word of God, the book divinely inspired by his own saving hand. If both passages were the divine truth, why didn't they agree?

As she began to turn the pages back to the other gospels to see what they said, she noticed her fingernails were a bit longer than she liked. She normally kept them quite trim, as her job required quite a bit of typing and it was much more comfortable having shorter nails. She'd have to give them a trim when she got home before she again returned for the evening mass.

Maria gave out a small gasp as she was startled by the organ starting the intro to the first hymn. It sounded much louder than she was used to. Perhaps the pipes had been recently cleaned? Regardless, she rose to her feet along with the other parishioners, the aisles having filled up as she had perused the scripture. She hurriedly took a hymnal into her hands, consulting the board near the organ that pointed to the number of the first hymn and flipping to it quickly. As she riffled through the pages she frowned as she noticed something very strange.

Her fingernails didn't seem to need trimming after all.

---

The drive home was distracting as Maria kept thinking about the contradiction she had come across. She was anxious to get home to take a look online on her favorite apologist website to see what the biblical scholars had to say on the strange discrepancy. More than once she lost her concentration and missed the traffic light turning green, earning her the blaring of a horn behind her. Certainly not the blaring of another type of horn emanating from the heavens that she hoped she would one day live to hear.

Maria gasped and found herself missing her turn as she passed by a scandalous sight. Two men were working on Sunday--the Lord's day. While this grievous sin in itself wasn't unusual to see in these modern times, the sight before her thankfully wasn't. One of the men was quite handsome, she was ashamed to admit. His shaggy black hair was similar to her own, although while her tresses were past her shoulders as the Lord commanded, his own was nearly the same length as hers, in stark defiance to scripture. Still, this indecency wasn't what she was bothered by--it was the man's lack of a shirt. It was a hot day, but such a vulgar display of the human body wasn't normally seen, especially as he was practically within the line of sight of the house of the Lord that she had just left.

The devout young woman found herself slowing the car, glaring in derision at the man. She hoped his eyes would meet hers so that perhaps he'd see the look in her eyes and feel shame at his behavior. As he turned to look in the general direction of her car, she felt herself wanting him to make eye contact with her for perhaps another reason. He was handsome, his cheeks covered with a few days' worth of stubble, dark eyes looking about for some sort of construction tool, his hairy chest glistening wetly with the sheen of his sweat, his--

"HURRY THE FUCK UP!"

The profane scream from the car behind her brought her out of her shameful thoughts. What was happening to her? Two sins in one day--and on a Sunday no less!

Maria sped through the intersection, nearly running the light and causing the driver behind her to miss his chance to pass through before it turned red. This of course earned her another angry honk, and she inwardly shamed herself for nearly smiling as she caused the rude man to experience a slightly longer ride.

Maria pulled into her spot in her tiny apartment building's parking lot, sighing in frustration as she saw that her neighbor had once again parked his 90s Ford Mustang over the line and partially in her own spot. It took her a few tries to make it into the spot, pulling the car in and backing it up before she was sufficiently parked, all the time frowning at the lude "1E4T4SS" custom license plate. She grabbed her purse, squeezing the leather bag a little to feel the indentation of her Bible within it. It was her constant companion, as it had been all the days of her life, even if she didn't quite understand all of its mysteries.

Exiting the car, Maria cast her eyes at the balcony above, hoping her neighbor would be outside and see the trouble she had to go through due to his careless parking. She never took her head covering off in the car, as she wanted passersby to take note that there were devout women among them even in this day of rampant gambling and Internet pornography. It was probably close to a sin, wanting to be noticed instead of praying to her Father in secret as He commanded. But surely He couldn't fault her for a few tiny blemishes of pride. She veiled herself in His honor, after all.

Maria soon had her door unlocked and stepped inside her apartment. She sighed in relief, both at the cool air of the AC and the welcoming crucifix hanging on the hallway just past the door. The temptations and wickedness of the outside world had no place here, and already she was looking forward to this evening, when she'd again take her place in God's temple. She removed her headdress and took a seat at her desk, logging into her computer. She was eager to see what the scholars had to say concerning such a small discrepancy.

After a few minutes of searching, her questions were mostly unanswered. Most agreed that both carried the cross, but the articles were mostly filled with the comforting words of glorifying God rather than addressing Maria's actual question. And if they both carried it, why didn't they both say that they both carried it? And why did the hymns only focus on Christ carrying it? She had even come across one page saying that the disagreement was likely because the Gospels were written forty to sixty years after the glorious events they detailed. This was surely untrue.

Even worse than all of this, after only a few minutes of searching she had come across other inconsistencies as well. Genesis says that God made the animals and then man, but then it goes on to say that it was the other way around. He created light on one day, but the sun and stars on a later day. Noah brought two of every animal into the ark, but he actually brought seven of some of them. God denied asking for animal sacrifices when he had spent the great part of the first five books going into rather gruesome detail on how these sacrifices should be made to Him. Jesus's earthly parent was Joseph, or was it Jacob? Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt after the birth of the Savior, except they stayed in Bethlehem. One passage even detailed that the traitor Judas hung himself while another says he actually was the victim of spontaneous human combustion. Feeling the site must be fake, she spent almost two hours flipping through her Bible to the verses in question. She was deeply concerned when it contained word-for-word the same inconsistencies they mentioned.

The earth was flat except it was round. The sun revolved around the earth except the earth revolved around the sun. There were angels inside the tomb except they were human men. Darkness reigned over the land for three days, but no Roman historian made mention of this.

Maria pushed herself away from her desk just as she started to come across some articles that seemed much worse. They detailed not just inconsistencies in the Word but appalling curses, plagues, and even instructions for committing genocide given by God the Father. Such atrocities would be seen as abhorrent and evil if they were carried out by humanity, but were apparently understandable and deserving since they were performed or ordered by God.

As her chair slid back she again took notice that her fingernails were indeed longer. Stranger still, for some strange reason she had a thin growth of dark hair on the back of her arms that she was sure hadn't been there before. She supposed the growth must have been there for a while but she had just never taken notice of it. She was getting older, nearly 30, and apparently that sometimes came with the territory. She shifted her feet uncomfortably, looking down at her black dress shoes as they felt much tighter than she remembered. They were fairly new, and were likely just not broken in quite yet. But as she flexed her toes she noticed a light dusting of dark hair on her shins. She was almost certain she had shaved a few nights ago, but she must have been mistaken. The concerned young woman slid her dress higher, following the line of hairs up to her knees and marveling as they continued up onto her thighs. She'd never had to shave that high on her legs before, but she supposed that just confirmed she'd need to take extra care with her grooming these days.

Continuing to lift her dress higher, Maria quickly came to realize she was creating a rather lurid display, even if it was to an empty room. She was more than a little horrified that as she had drawn her dress upward her hand was straying closer to the space between her legs, to the very source of man's most wicked thoughts and deeds. She was even feeling a tingling sensation near the unmentionable parts of her body that she had most assuredly never allowed herself to feel before. That part of her body strictly belonged to her future husband just as surely as her soul belonged to her Savior. One day she would use her inferior sex to usher new children into the world and into God's loving arms. That was what her womb was for, after all.

Her eyes strayed again back to the computer screen, but she quickly locked it and stood. The Godless members of her wicked species would use any tool they could to bring errant thoughts and inquisitive minds away from the Light of Christ. Maria suspected a good deal of the Internet had doubtlessly been created by servants of the fallen angel himself.

The clock hanging on the wall stared back at her, an antique passed down to her from her parents before they had passed into God's kingdom. Their deaths had left her mostly alone in the world, except for the acquaintances she had made at Tuesday night Bible study and the monthly picnics her church held. In truth there weren't that many people in her life. More than once she'd thought that perhaps her purpose in life was to become a Bride of Christ, but she was certainly still unworthy of such a role if she were stealing glances of half-naked men on the streets.

Maria had enough time for a bath and a much-needed shave before she'd need to fix a quick lunch and make her way back to evening mass. Slipping out of her shoes, she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She locked it, despite being alone in the tiny apartment. It was a habit she'd developed as a young woman, and it never hurt to have more than one lock between her naked womanly body and the evil world outside. She slipped off her dress, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. It may be a gesture of vanity to show up to church on the same day in different clothing, but she felt almost unclean after reading the filth she had just seen online. She stood in her white petticoat, turning to her side to examine herself in the mirror. She was still a skinny woman, assuredly due to putting aside as many of life's indulgences as she could. Desserts had just never agreed with her; she liked to believe the body and blood of Christ was the only sustenance she'd ever need. She placed a hand on her belly, thinking of how happy she would be when she saw it swell one day with new life, a loving husband wrapping his arm around her to feel the fruit of his loins with one hand on her belly and another sliding across her thighs closer and closer to her--.

She shook her head again. "No," she said simply. "This is what comes of thinking such wicked thoughts: more wicked thoughts." Turning her body in the mirror's direction, she smiled as she still looked young for her age. Her dark brown hair curled slightly at the ends, her green eyes and button nose complimenting her features very well. She slid her undergarment over her head, grimacing as she noticed a patch of hair in her armpits. She'd attend to that as well. Dropping the dress to the tile flooring, she leaned into the mirror to examine her face. Her eyebrows were a bit thicker than she remembered. She would never step foot in any of those dirty spas for fear of the tales she had heard about what really went on at some of them. But then again she'd never had to trim or pluck her brows, but she might have to add that to her routine. She reached behind her back, undoing the clasp of her bra and dropping it to the ground as well. Maria had never been an endowed woman, and for that she was exceedingly grateful. She could do just fine without the leers and jeers of unjust men, glaring lustfully at her, catcalling in her direction as she--

Why was she smiling? Why in the Love of God her Savior was she smiling?

She shook her head, slowly slipping out of her panties, almost expecting to find them sodden after having such vulgar thoughts running through her mind. A trim was definitely in order in that area as well, as her bush seemed like it hadn't been tended to in some time. She turned on the bath faucet, glancing back at her rear in the mirror as she bent down to test the water's warmth. She shook her head and reigned her thoughts in by humming along with the first hymn she had sung that morning.

---

Maria returned to her usual pew, now clean in both body and mind. Her entire body was shaven, her fingernails trimmed, and her spirit ready to receive the love of God all over again.

She smiled. First, she would pray. She flipped the cushioned kneeler at her feet to the ground and slid onto her knees, clasping her clean hands together and bowing her head as she spoke to the Lord. She went through her usual list, asking forgiveness for her sins, asking the Mother of God to protect the souls of her parents, and praying for His guidance through the work and example of His most devout clergy. She steeled herself as she started to pray that His path for her be opened as she navigated through the truths and falsehoods of the world. This sinful secular society she found herself in each day wanted more than anything to pull her away from God's truth. Maria knew the answers were there in scripture, and all doubt would be erased by following His guiding light and more thoroughly researching the troublesome passages.

Even as she felt more reassured after praying for His guidance, she felt hesitant and more than a little guilty as she thought about praying for a husband. Surely there wasn't anything wrong with that? It wasn't like she was asking for a partnership built around sin, but one built on the foundations of the Church's teachings on chastity, marriage, and child rearing. This was perfectly normal, to want a loving, Christian man with which to spend her life and the life beyond the grave. Someone kind, patient, and loving. A good provider who would take care of her and the children as she stayed home to make their dwelling clean and proper.

A smile appeared on her lips and she couldn't help but gasp as she continued her prayer. Someone strong. Tall. Large hands he could use to do a decent day's work, palms rough but gentle as they grazed across her cheeks. The smell of perspiration lingering around him after working in the sun, her fingers grabbing roughly at his sweaty shirt before pulling it above his head. Someone to take her, as is proper for a husband to take his wife, anytime he willed, anytime he demanded as her superior and caregiver. A strong man who would rip her dress, tear her bra away and sink his warm lips to her nipples, his tongue playing across them as his fingers touched her cli--

Maria sat back quickly, flopping onto the wooden pew as if she were physically struck by the impurity of her own ponderings. Was this what came about after a few hours of dwelling on subjects she'd never thought of before? Was this all it took for her to forsake her vows, unclean thoughts taking seed in her mind like brambles planted by Satan on God's rich earth? And here? Here, in the middle of God's own house? She clasped her hands together, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hands as if using the slight discomfort to ground herself back into reality. She yelped as she opened her hands. The tips of her fingernails had dug into her palms sharply, nearly piercing the sensitive skin.

They were long again. No, they were longer. Grown to a point. Thicker. Darker. "No," she whispered.

The cough of an elderly throat being cleared greeted her ears. Maria looked forward and saw two older women seated together, two parishioners whom she didn't know but recognized as regular churchgoers at the evening services. There was a scowl on their faces at the noises she had made, falling back into the pew and softly crying out in disbelief at the strangeness of her own body. The scowl turned even more sour for some reason as they continued looking at her. They glanced at one another as if to confirm that the other was aware of the shameless creature sitting just behind them. One shook her head and touched her fingers to the covering on her hair. The other nodded in silent agreement, although Maria wasn't sure what exactly they were alluding to. Perhaps her own hair covering was askew or--

Maria whimpered as she touched her head. Her uncovered head. Her uncovered head displaying her feminine hair, devoid of any covering that the Bible demanded she wear when in God's holy temple. She must have forgotten to put it back on after her bath. She had to have been so focused on shaving herself and pushing the wicked thoughts she was harboring from her mind.

She felt positively naked, a thought which took root in her mind immediately, a seed of wickedness planted that was even now beginning to sprout. She could feel the eyes on her, and in her own mind she was naked, brazenly displayed in front of the whole gathering. The congregation could see everything, her naked breasts on display, her sex bare and wet atop the pure white pews, her rosy lips quivering in shame and naughty excitement as her breath quickened.

Worse, the thought was causing her a thrill unlike any she had felt in her entire life. She pressed her legs together, sharp fingernails tearing small rips in the hem of her dress. She looked back at the two women. They were looking away now, and she had to use the opportunity to confirm a dark suspicion she now held. She tugged at her dress, looking down at her ankles and seeing what she was so afraid to behold.

The hair had returned, much thicker now. She slid her shoes off for a moment, nearly sobbing as she saw hair growing on the back of her feet as well. She pulled her foot entirely out of the shoe and saw her toenails looked much the same as her fingernails, sharp and wicked like one would find on a beast or, worse, a harlot.

Was this her punishment then? Was her unfaithfulness in her God resulting in her body being warped in this way? Was she turning into an animal, some unclean beast of the wilds not worthy of being given a place in God's kingdom? Something to roam the forests and the plains, whining and howling in need as she called for a mate to mount her like--

She was actually sobbing now. She needed to leave, and quickly. She needed to find out what was happening to her. She tried to slip the shoe back onto her foot, but now it felt two sizes too small. When she finally managed to force half of her foot inside, she felt a sharp pain in her toes as her growing nails kept her from pushing her foot any further. Her other foot began to ache now, and she thought she could feel the soles start to give way just a bit as if her feet were growing larger.

"Leave them," she whispered to herself. She'd have to run out the door while hundreds of people watched her. Why on earth did she always have to sit so close to the front of the church? The organ was playing now, and if she didn't move soon she'd have to run past the priest, the choir, the altar boys, and the rest of the procession. This would be the first Sunday evening mass she'd missed in over ten years.

Maria rose to her feet, her shoes forgotten. She reached the aisle before she realized she was about to leave her purse. Turning around and bending to retrieve it, she heard a ripping noise from underneath her dress. Whether it was her modest petticoat or something much more embarrassing she didn't know, but several parishioners had taken notice. She bent to pick up her purse, and for a moment she found herself enjoying being bent over as if on display in front of the men in the congregation. Perhaps the women, too.

"We sing a song of the Saints of God!" the choir sang as they began the procession. "Oh God, no," she hissed, barely recognizing that she had taken the Lord's Name in vain. She hurried down the aisle. Perhaps she could pass them before the priest entered the nave. Sprinting past the pews, she swore she could hear her toenails scratching at the carpet, bits of stringy cloth being ripped up by her ungainly, dirty talons as she fled this holy place.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes were on her now, and dozens of them came from the procession entering the church even as she fled. The clergy was entering by two, one on the left and one on the right, and Maria would be forced to run down the center of them. "E-Excuse me! I'm so sorry! Please, I-I'm going to be sick!" Now she was lying. Lying and blaspheming and horny and wet and--

The priest was before her now, a look of disgust she had never seen on his face as he glared at her. His nostrils flared, as if he was smelling something he rather wouldn't. As if he was smelling her. She became aware of the smell herself now, the musky perspiration on her skin, the earthy smell of her hair, and more than anything the unclean stench of the obscenity between her legs.

Sobbing, she physically shoved the priest aside before making it through the front door and onto the street. The people gathered to worship the Lord made indignant, shocked noises from behind her as she did, as if she had just assaulted one of God's favored servants. The sneers of outrage echoed in her ears, informing her casually that even after all these years of faithful worship she had no business being here in God's sight, that she didn't belong here.

And she was afraid the voices were right.

---

Maria was soon speeding home, one hand on the wheel and the other trying its best not to grope herself. She kept stealing glances at her reflection in the rearview mirror, groaning at the light dusting of hair down her sideburns, jawline, and chin. Those were thankfully the only changes she had noticed. Her eyes may have been slightly more yellow than green, but it was hard to tell due to how red they were as she fought through the tears of shame and disbelief to keep them on the road. Her fingernails were almost claws now, roughly scraping against the faux leather of the steering wheel as she rounded every bend. She was ashamed to find herself whining as her car came to a stop at the corner where she had seen the shirtless man working this morning and discovered he was no longer there. She didn't even notice that the traffic light at the intersection wasn't even red as she came to a stop at the corner, although the person in the car behind her certainly was as they honked angrily.

"Get fucked, asshole!" Maria was shocked that the words had come from her own mouth, dripping like wet filth and unbecoming of a Christian woman. She couldn't remember the last time she had cursed. She soon realized as well that her middle finger was pointed into the air as she flipped the impatient driver off. The fingernail was turning black even as she watched it, tiny hairs climbing from the skin on her knuckles and the back of her hand. She whined like an animal as she sped up, tucking the offended hand between her other arm and side as if it would go back to normal if only she would stop looking at it. There was a smell in the car now, a wetness between her legs that wasn't under any circumstances supposed to be there. Her tongue was just barely hanging from between her lips, a drop of spit landing on her sweat-soaked blouse.

"Just need to get home," she kept repeating to herself. Another glance in the mirror showed her eyebrows were even bushier than before even after she had plucked them, dangerously close to meeting in the middle. Looking down at her bare feet she swore her breasts were just slightly larger, bouncing noticeably as she sped along, her nipples straining visibly against the soft cotton.

They're bigger to show the world what you are, she thought. A writhing, sweaty cum-guzzling whore.

Cum? Where had that word even come from? She wasn't even sure how she was even aware of the meaning of the word. She couldn't ever remember hearing it, but she found herself licking her lips and moaning softly like a whore at the shiver it sent down her spine and the warm ache radiating from between her legs.

Maria pulled into her parking lot and growled as she again saw the neighbor's Mustang was parked askew. It wasn't even crooked in the same way this time! He must have left, came back home, and then parked over the line in a different way! She didn't even slow down as she pulled into her spot. Her door bumped loudly into the other car as she scrambled out, falling on all fours on the pavement as she panted and whined. God, it felt so good to be on all fours, here, out in the open, her ass and the wet spot on her dress on display for the world to see. As she stood, she reached out to the neighbor's car to steady herself, wincing at the sound of five sharp talons scratching at the door, white lines left on the cherry red paint.

"Hey, lady, are you fucking keying my car?" came a voice from her neighbor's balcony. He was outside and had witnessed her thoughtlessly damaging his gaudy automobile. Her response was a literal roar that caused him to back up a step. Seeing him upset brought a smile to her face, and she could feel her canines pressing against the back of her lip, her tongue spilling forth to taste the city's dirty air. She reached out for the door again, this time intentionally damaging it, bringing her other hand over to join the first, doing nothing to hide her obvious disdain for such a cheap sports car owned by such a useless man-child. Something in her face must have really gotten to him, as he walked backwards into his apartment, never turning his gaze from Maria. Good, she thought. As soon as you aren't looking I'll tear into your throat, swallow the stringy parts whole as your blood slides down my throat.

"No," she whispered, suddenly remembering just who she was again. "This isn't me. I-I'm a good person, not this fucking ..." She winced as she found herself cursing again. "I'm a good person." Her bare feet padded along as she ran to the steps leading to her apartment, sprinting up the four stories without any sort of exertion. She unlocked her door, flung it open, and slammed it behind her, causing the crucifix hanging on the opposite wall to fall to the carpet. She bent to retrieve it, but her hands hesitated before touching it, her long claws trembling as if she was suddenly afraid to place her hands on the image of her Lord and Savior.

Maria ran into her bedroom, fell onto her knees, and immediately began to pray. "God help me. God save me. God forgive me." She ran through the Rosary, said her Hail Marys, the Lord's Prayer, sang the glorifying words of the half-dozen hymns she knew by heart. Hours she spent on her knees, rocking back and forth as she prayed. Gradually her pulse slowed, the urges lessened, the ache in her womanhood--not a pussy, it's not called a pussy--fading as she once again became herself. When her hands again clasped in prayer, she felt that they were bereft of her sharp nails. Rejoicing in His glory, she ran her tongue against her teeth and laughed in joy as she felt her canines back to the way they had been before this whole nightmare began.

With a final sign of the cross, Maria rose to her feet, pausing for just a moment before returning to her living room. The hair was gone from her arms and legs, the swelling of her breasts disappeared. Again she was a modest, simple Catholic woman. Maybe this was her test, the most difficult trial she had faced in her life, God placing such an obstacle to cause her to stumble on her path to salvation. She hadn't been tempted; she had passed the test.

Maria threw off her sweat soaked clothing, slipping back into a clean bra, panties, and her comfiest housecoat. She tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave, poured herself a glass of water, and leaned against the counter, tears of joy running down her cheeks at having defeated her own personal demon. Satan had no hold on her today, and he never would.

Maria was surprised when she found herself at her computer again instead of sitting on the couch. Her fingers automatically unlocked the screen. She'd just check her email; perhaps the sisters had sent out another newsletter. Their daily words of devotion never failed to bring a smile to her lips. Instead she was greeted by the website she had visited earlier that day. She must have forgotten to close it, but she would certainly rectify that issue right then.

The words in the center of the page made her hesitate, her finger held just above the button on the mouse before she clicked the red "X" in the top-right corner. Her eyes went wide at the words she beheld.

He had caused the Flood to cleanse the world of wickedness. This had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of millions of innocent children. He sent an angel to specifically kill infants in Egypt. He called for genocide numerous times, expressly giving orders to use swords and knives to slay infants, livestock, and even the unborn babies in their mothers' wombs. He ordered anyone not a virgin amongst His chosen people's captured enemies to be put to the sword. He ordered His people to partake in genital mutilation. He ordered his most devout worshiper to execute his own son. He inspired a psalm--a passage of praise to He and He alone--wherein He blessed those that smashed infants' skulls against rocks. He ordered the rape of women. He sent a bear--a bear!--to devour children.

He required the torture and death of His own son in order to forgive mankind from ... What? The time they had eaten an apple given to them by a talking snake?

This wasn't a loving God. This was a maniac, the same cruel monster who had created mosquitoes that carried malaria and typhoid fever. The monster who caused children to be born with bone marrow cancer. The monster who created insects whose sole purpose was to devour the eyes of human infants in order to reproduce. The monster who put the human species through all of these "trials" in order that they may prove themselves worthy of bowing on their knees and singing His praises for the rest of eternity.

But it was fine, of course. Because God works in mysterious ways.

Maria's mouth was agape as she reached the bottom of the web page. She didn't remember scrolling to the bottom, but she must have. The question she asked herself was the same simple yet profound question humanity had asked itself since it was capable of forming words. The question asked by every mother who had ever held the lifeless body of her child in her hands. The question of every father who watched as his family starved itself to death through drought after drought after drought. The question of every child ever beaten, abused, or molested.

"Why?"

Because he's not real, she thought. Whatever was the cause of the universe, it didn't have anything to do with Maria or anyone else. And it wasn't done by a creature who professes its love while it watches its creation continually suffer and die, all the while able to stop it.

"No," Maria whispered, shaking her head. "No, no no no. Stop. That's not ..." She wasn't sure exactly what she was denying at that moment: God? Her own disbelief? Whatever it was, she clicked her mouse button to close the page.

Or she would have, if her finger hadn't slipped off the mouse, her sharp talons preventing her gripping the plastic.

"No!" In horror, Maria brought her hands back up to her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll stop, I'll stop!" The claws were back, and the hair. Worse, thick pads were forming over her fingerprints and palms, swelling into soft calluses as they turned darker. She recoiled in horror, standing away from the desk and nearly falling as her feet seemed to want to keep her from standing on her own soles. Words were lost to her, her voice only coming out as one long scream that grew deeper and eventually ended in a low growl. It was happening again. She had read this filth, and she had doubted her Lord, and now she was being punished again. And she deserved it.

"I can turn back. I can go back to the way it was before. All of this will go away."

Maria ran to her front door. It was dark now, and she could make it to her car easily without anyone seeing her. It wasn't that she had changed so much she'd stick out, but more that she couldn't bear the thought of eyes leering at her. She knew where she had to go. The church would be empty now, and she still had a key from when she had needed to arrive early for bake sales and fundraisers. She would prostrate herself before the Lord, ask His forgiveness, and be cured of this evil.

"Or maybe I'll just demand He give me some fucking answers."

---

Like a thief in the night, that old analogy she had heard a thousand times relating to the Second Coming, Maria slipped into the basement of her church. Careful to lock the door behind her, she flicked on the lights and hurriedly made her way to the stairs that would take her into the church proper. She made it halfway across the floor before she was driven to her knees by the pain in her stomach. Her insides were roiling, shaking, shifting in preparation for when she would be fully transformed into a beast. Or perhaps a demon.

Again she examined her hands. The pads were thick now, slightly rough as she brought her hands to the simple cross around her neck. "Almost there. Almost there." She tried to rise to her feet, but found herself driven down again, clawing at the floor as drops of spit fell from her fangs.

"Nooooargh!" She was growling and foaming at the mouth now. "Y-You can do this! Just get up! Just get the FUCK up!" That word in particular ceased to have any real meaning, no longer something taboo, just another word urging her to keep going. The same pads were on her feet now, her footsteps almost silent as she hurried across the room. She began to ascend the stairs, but soon tripped on her own bathrobe. Growling, she threw it on the floor, now clad only in her sweaty undergarments. She whined like a dog as she saw just how much her belly had changed, a thick black trail of hair flowing from her mound, across her navel, and between her breasts. She grabbed her throat, running her stunted fingertips across her neck, ashamed at feeling the same soft black hair growing there. It grew thick on her forearms, thinner as it reached closer to her shoulders. The hair on her head had grown shaggy, hanging down halfway down her back now, thick and unkempt as she ran her claws through it. It felt dirty, like every other part of her. Thick hairs covered her legs, from the back of her toes all the way up to her waist, and when she placed a hand on the soft swell of her ass she could feel it growing there as well.

Racing up the stairs, she barely noticed that she was running on the balls of her feet now. When she reached the narthex she continued walking on them, almost tripping as she tried to force herself to walk normally.

"Like a human," she whispered. "You can't walk like a human, because you're not a human. You're a monster, a freak, only good for hunting and killing and fu-fu-fu--" She stumbled over the word now, shrieking as she fell to her knees. Even thinking about what she had almost said brought the stabbing pain back to her loins, the aching, painful emptiness that she would do anything to relieve. An entirely different ache formed in her shoulders as the straps of her bra dug into her skin, her breasts swelling with every heaving, gasping breath she could muster. For a moment she slid one of her claws underneath the strap, intending to tear it away, but stopped herself as she rose and crossed the threshold into the nave. She wouldn't be naked in front of the altar of the Lord, moaning like a whore and baring her tits before the image of Christ.

She let out a moan, smiling wickedly. "My tits," she whispered. Another fun new word.

Her legs ached as she passed row after row of pews, leaning on one occasionally as the pain steadily increased. She grasped her thigh, marveling at the tightness of hard, lean muscle that swelled beneath her hairy skin. Soon she'd be able to run, chasing for miles after prey or ...

"Or a mate," she whispered as she forced herself to walk further. Her ears were aching now, and she knew without even bringing a hand to them that they were sliding higher on her head, the tips peeking through her long thick mane of black hair. It was even shaggier now, brushing against her ass.

Just as she was a few short steps from the altar she felt something shifting underneath her underwear, a pulsing from her lower lips that felt as wonderful as it did shameful. Her hands hovered above her crotch, her labia swelling outward as if encouraging her to touch herself like she had never been allowed before.

Finally falling to her knees before the altar, she clasped her clawed fingers together, turning her golden amber eyes to the crucifix hanging above it. "Pleeeease," she whined, sweat dripping down her forehead, a string of drool escaping from her mouth. She felt so gross, filthy in the eyes of her Lord, but she needed His help more than ever before. "I-I've done everything you've ever asked of me! I'm trying so hard, but ... the thoughts, the doubts, it all keeps piling up. Y-Y-You couldn't have done all of those things. It must have been done by Lucifer or Baal or-or ... or anyone. Not you. And the changes, the urges, you wouldn't do that to me. Y-You love me ... don't you?"

Whe wooden messiah gave no reply. She shouldn't have expected one.

"Answer me!" she screamed, although the defiance immediately drove her sobbing to the ground. Her jaw was cracking, sickening wet stretching noises emanating from the ligaments and sinuses. Her nose was wet now, and she had no doubt that it was beginning to turn dark. "Please, please answer me. Please don't do this to me!" She pulled herself upright, one hand--almost a paw--placing itself on the pure white cloth of the altar as she forced herself to stand. Her legs were shaking now, her feet stretching even as her shin began to shrink, forcing her legs to bend oddly. The hair was almost completely covering her forearms now. Her other hand moved to her torso, trying to brace herself so that she wouldn't have to lean so heavily on the altar. As she did, she felt her abs tightening, growing harder even as the hair thickened across her belly, eventually wrapping around her sides to join the growth spreading on her back. It wasn't the only odd thing she felt there.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she rubbed her palms across a stiff bump just to the side and slightly above her navel. The wetness between her legs increased, her labia swelling obscenely as the pleasure of touching the lump of flesh had her moaning like an animal in heat.

"Because that's what I am," she whispered before bringing her golden eyes up to glare at the crucifix. "Because that's what you've made me. You sad, imaginary mother fucker." She propped her elbow against the table, her hand darting across her belly as she felt her six new nipples--no, teats--continue to swell. One pair underneath her breasts just on her ribcage. Another pair slightly above her navel. Another pair pressing against the inside of her soaking wet undergarments. She snarled as the pain in her shoulders grew so intense now that she could no longer bear it, tearing her bra away and tossing it to the side. They bounced at the motion, swelling faster now that they were no longer restrained. "You want to see them?" she giggled. "You want to see my fucking tits?" Combining two of those forbidden words together felt even better than the sum of their parts. She caressed her nipples, feeling them continue to lengthen and thicken, growing perfect for suckling at her bastard monster children or being caressed by the tongue of a lover. God, how had she never known how good this could feel?

Some small part of her was screaming at herself to stop this, that it wasn't too late. She would go to confession, say a million Hail Marys, join the convent. But she knew she was far too gone now. She reached for her panties, wanting to be rid of them as well but her legs were still weak, exhausted from the pound after pound of muscle they were swelling with. The same growth was occurring in her arms, and so it was so easy to pull herself off of the floor completely and on top of the altar.

"Here I am!" she screamed. "Your faithful fucking slut daughter. You want me to stop this? Being obscene? You first. Every fucking horrible thing in this world is your fault." Drool was pouring from her black lips, her fangs gnasing and claws flexing. "Nothing to say? Fine. Go fuck yourself down to hell--the hell you created." She reached for the crucifix, dangling on thick wires above the altar like a toy used to taunt the gullible by the hand of a petty child. "Fuck ...!" she screamed, slashing her talons across the bottom of the cross, causing it to swing just slightly. "You!"

Her paws wrapped around the crucifix and tugged, and she was surprised at how quickly it came crashing down now that its tricks were laid bare, out in the open for anyone with half a mind to see through. It slammed down on the altar, somehow landing face up, its upper half hanging off of the side.

She was laughing at the sight of how small and worthless it looked up close. She started to mock it again before the throbbing sensation in her pussy pushed all other concerns aside. She dropped to her hands and knees atop the table, bringing one hand between her legs and tearing the wet, useless trappings of the human world off of her. She was exposed now, ass held high as it rocked back and forth like she were being fucked by some invisible mate.

God, what an idea. Being fucked here would be the absolute best feeling in the world, here atop this useless silly table. Then at least some good could come from it. She brought a hand between her legs, marveling at how good it felt to run her padded fingers across her swollen lips, now puffed into the shape of a spade like a good and proper bitch. "Yesss," she hissed as she started to push a finger inside. Hesitating slightly at the fear of scratching herself with her long claws, she felt that she was so wet now that the finger slid easily inside. God, why had she ever denied herself this feeling? She slid her finger back and forth across her wetness, barking like a dog as it slid between the crevice at the top of her canine sex as it ran across her swollen clit. She turned her eyes to the half-naked wooden man before her, bringing her head low to lap at the painted blood on his pierced side. "I wish this was the real thing," she laughed, although she wasn't sure if she wanted blood on her tongue or just to taste the sweat on a man's torso. A sharp pain just above her crack heralded the arrival of her tail, something else to prove to the world what a beast she was. Another finger slipped inside now, then another. She'd always thought she'd be tight down there due to her virginity, but she felt so loose, like her cunt had been ravished a thousand times a day.

"My cunt," she laughed. God, that word felt even better than any of the others. She leaned upright, sitting back on her ass so that she could grab at her swelling breasts while continuing to play with herself. Her tits were so large now, bigger than her entire head and still swelling while the teats below them were now perched atop three additional pairs of breasts, each quickly catching up with her original pair. She roughly pinched her lowest pair, gasping as a thick stream of yellow-white milk sprayed across the tabernacle. She laughed. "See, father dearest? I'm not even knocked up yet but they're already ready to be sucked on." Her spade was so swollen now she had trouble pushing the third finger inside and even her two fingers were now becoming tight. She needed something inside her more than she had ever needed anything in her life. The emptiness was unbearable, and she cast her eyes around, looking for something, anything that she could use to slip inside of herself.

She found it almost immediately. In fact, it literally fell in her lap. She must have been rocking the table hard enough that one of the altar candles had fallen over. She laughed, a growling, grating noise like bone scraping against bone. "Ask and ye shall receive! The Lord will provide." She pressed the flat end of the candle against her spade, hissing in delight to find that for some reason it was still warm. Her tail continued to slide, joint by joint popping into existence. It slowly started to wave back and forth, spreading her thick, sweaty musk while showing just how very happy she was. She leaned back, one hand on her swelling, leaking tits, one attempting to press the candle into her slit. She gnashed her teeth, each tooth now growing and sharpening to a point as her thick tongue hung from the side of her mouth. Finally the holy candle slid inside and she howled like a she-wolf in heat, a cry of freedom echoing through the vaulted ceiling.

It was hard to focus on anything now, but her half-lidded eyes beheld a sight both strange and terrifying just outside of the church's windows. It was dark outside when she had entered the church, but at that moment darkness as a word lost all meaning. The sun, the moon, all of it was gone, the very absence of light pressing against the windows like a great wave. Confused, she focused on the unnatural vision until suddenly a light was again present outside the windows. Tall flames began flickering gently just underneath the windowsills. The flames grew from a flicker to a roar as they rose higher, higher, higher still until the outside world ceased to exist and was replaced by an inferno. It was a conflagration she was familiar with, having seen it in her most vivid nightmares.

She was going to hell. Of course she was. And glad of it. "Fucking took you long enough," she laughed at whatever god was still here to listen. "Hope you at least enjoyed the show." She raised her hips higher, thrusting her doglike cunt upwards, angling it so that the host of heaven could look down to watch her cum. But as badly as she needed it, the relief was still just out of reach.

"Is this it then?" she asked the god whose name she could barely remember now. "I lay here fucking myself with a candle for all of eternity, never able to cum no matter what I do?" She laughed. Her voice was so deep now it was barely recognizable. "As punishments go, that's pretty fucking weak. I expected better from--"

Throughout the entire church came the sound of windows breaking, the stained glass mosaic depicting the journey to the cross of ... whatever his name was ... burst inward, shards falling like jagged rain. The flames entered the room now, and for a moment Maria felt afraid. But what soon emerged from the windows pushed aside all fear and replaced it with naked rapture as her need was renewed tenfold.

They were crawling into the building now. A dozen of them at least. Monsters. Beasts. Creatures. Demons.

Wolves.

On two legs they rose, backs hunched, drooling maws filled with yellow dagger-like teeth as they each in turn slowly gazed upon their fellow monster, still writhing in ecstasy atop the altar. Some were male, some female, a few even seemingly both. Some dropped to all fours, sniffing at the carpet before an acrid smell greeted Maria's nose as a few marked their territory at the end of the pew. One moved away, back into the narthex, swiftly returning a moment later with bottles of wine reserved for communion. The she-wolf passed them to any creature nearby, and soon dark wine was running down their throats and staining their muzzles as they growled and laughed.

They were coming for her. Not devils. Angels. Just like she always knew they would. Tears of joy sprung from her eyes. Rapture, at last.

One, a very large male, stood upright and strode toward her slowly, an almost sadistic grin on his leering jaws as he reached out and ran his two-inch-long claws through Maria's thick hair. The other paw touched her hand as she continued to plunge the candle inside her swollen canine sex. Smoking strings of drool fell from his black gums as he leaned forward, his long pink tongue hanging nearly a foot from his mouth as he tenderly licked the side of her face. He grabbed the candle gently, slowly and carefully sliding it out of her cunt before roughly tossing it aside. He loomed taller, rising on his powerful feral legs and displaying a long red cock the length of Maria's forearm. It was the penis of an animal, red, veined, tapered at the end, with a knot slowly swelling at its base just above his swaying fuzzy sack. He cocked his head to the side, asking without asking a silent question that she immediately understood.

"Yes," she moaned. "Pleeeease, yes. Need it. Fuck me. Please."

The beast nodded, walking behind her, his paws caressing her furry back and ass as he went. She hissed as she felt his cold nose on her asshole, hot breath against her large rear, and soon enough his wet tongue pressed inside her spade. His hand wrapped gently around her tail as it finished its growth, her soft fur gently fanning above his head. She dropped her head to the altar. Her breath heaved, her eyelids fluttering as she was reduced to a large, sweating mass of fur and tits and claws. She felt herself getting close before he leaned away after one final kiss on her winking sex. Maria looked back, whining and moaning like a whore, begging him not to stop. Instead, he placed one knee upon the table, hoisting himself up to flop his long, wet rod on the not-so-pure white cloth. Maria rose to her hands and knees, backing her larger ass closer to the wolf's cock, the salvation she had searched for her entire life arriving at long last. She didn't have to back up very much; apparently she had grown large enough to take up the entirety of the altar. Her front paws were hanging off the side now, her legs dangling behind her as she kicked the cross-shaped morbid mockery of benevolence off the table with a leg that closely resembled her mate's. Her eight tits were swayed underneath her, begging to be caressed even though there was a much greater need to fulfill. She howled as she felt the tapered tip of the wolf's cock against her swollen labia. The noise was echoed by dozens of her fellow wolves as they answered in reply. "Yes," she growled out. "Just like that." She felt like she was almost going to come from the touch alone, but she wouldn't allow herself to just yet. Not until he was inside of her. So why the fuck wasn't he inside of her?

"Now," she growled, her voice harsh and deep as she glared at him, yellow eyes glowing angrily. "Please. Now. Fucking NOW!" Her lover obliged, roughly thrusting himself completely inside of her as her vision went white. Claws tearing at the fabric atop the altar as her teeth gnashed and her tongue hung from her lips. The angle of the thrusting cock was awkward until she felt her cunt slide backwards, closer to her anus, perfect for a feral beast like her. It was almost unbearable, the emptiness being quenched immediately as her jaw and nose began to slide forward, her forehead receding slightly and her sinuses screaming in relief as her muzzle slid into place.

She was finished now. Finished changing, at least. Not finished fucking. She never would be.

She felt his hands on her hips now, her large ass bouncing against his waist as he thrust inside of her. Nothing could ever compare to this, but still she wanted more. She thrust back against her lover as hard as he was thrusting into her, growling and drooling as she demanded more, more, more.

Maria yelped as she felt a mouth wrapping around one of her teats. Another playmate had taken notice of her need and was more than happy to attend to her as it licked, sucked, and fondled her breast. Another creature's mouth joined the first on another tit, and then another, thick milk leaking from her teats as a high pitched howl escaped her throat. "God, yes. God, yes, more. Morrrre! Morrrre!"

A female was approaching her from the front, holding in her paws a large chalice. She had found her way to the tabernacle and retrieved the sacred blood of who-gives-a-fuck. She brought the cup to her new sister's lips. Maria had never partaken of any sort of alcohol outside of the blood of communion, and only allowed herself tiny sips of the holy blood. But now she laughed as the rim of the chalice pressed against her drooling black lips, the warm taste of red wine sliding down her throat like fire. Or cum. She drained the entire cup as the monster behind continued to fuck her. "More?" the beautiful bitch whispered. Maria nodded, but it soon became apparent the female wasn't talking about the wine as she tossed the cup aside. She turned around, bending over to present her own dripping wolf sex to Maria, who hungrily lapped at the tri-shaped folds. She wrapped one of her paws around her new lover's waist, trying as hard as she could to push as much of her long, flat tongue inside of her as she possibly could. The taste was incredible, and her new bitch lover howled as Maria eagerly thrust her tongue into her spade. The she-wolf smiled back at her, her paws affectionately caressing and interlocking with Maria's own. What Maria lacked in experience she more than made up for in sheer enthusiasm, licking deep into her tunnel one moment and tracing her tongue along her large clit the next. She paused only one moment, looking back at her male lover and growling, demanding he speed up his pace. He smiled and complied as Maria returned her attention to the wonderful canine cunt before her. Soon enough the bitch yipped like a puppy as she came. As she slid to the floor, Maria laughed, drool and nectar falling from her lips. She had never thought it would feel so good, causing another woman to scream out in orgasm.

Maria was getting close herself as the female slid to the floor, almost immediately being taken by another male. Maria growled in glee as they fucked just in front of her. She couldn't wait to feel the other male inside her as well, and the taste of the bitch's cunt on her tongue again. A male stepped up to take the female's place, its red cock bobbing in front of Maria's face for only a moment before she immediately slid it down her throat. Her tongue caressed his slick red length, occasionally sliding out of her mouth to lick at the fuzzy orbs dangling underneath. She hadn't realized that another cock had slid into her hand at one point, although she laughed to find how eager she was to have them. All of them. Jerking off the new arrival, she lost her balance and almost fell before the male fucking her throat wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders to keep her upright. She looked up at the creature and moaned in thanks, silently promising to reward his thoughtfulness by sucking him off until he was begging her to stop. Her other paw now free, she whined as she found her second paw bereft of a cock. She needn't wait long before a she-wolf approached, sliding her glistening red rod into Maria's palms.

The walls of her vagina were tightening now and she could feel the thick knot at the base of her first lover's cock pumping against her thick labia. It was time now, time for what she wanted more than anything. With an audible pop the knot slid past her lips and she had to momentarily stop tending to her other three lovers as she screamed, howled, moaned, and came. One orgasm stretched into another and another and another as he continued thrusting, seemingly never tiring even after she felt the hot splash of his seed deep inside of her.

"More," she growled as her mate slowly extracted himself, the tightness of his retreating knot causing Maria to whine in agonizing pleasure . "More. Always more. Always, always more."

Her new family was happy to oblige as another male took the place of the first, immediately sinking into her cunt. Maria howled in joy as she felt him pull her tail and bite the back of her neck. This one was rougher than the first, and she was overjoyed because of it. "Don't stop," she screamed. "Don't ever stop."

---

Maria had lost track of the time she had spent fucking atop the false god's altar. She knew that the second male wasn't the last. Far from it. She had felt every cock in the room buried inside of her at least once, tasted the cunt of every bitch until they were howling her name as if praising a goddess. Gradually the mindless fucking died down just enough for her to form coherent thoughts, the first of which was that she was not in the least tired and wanted nothing more than to continue rutting like the bitch in heat that she was. Had it been hours? Days?

The second thought, however, was more complicated. The fires outside were gone now, replaced with a cool breeze that flowed through the humid ever-night air. She could smell trees in the distance now, water running over rocks, insects chirping and buzzing in the night. She rose to her feet, surprised that for some reason the church was still here in whatever new world she had come to find herself now belonging to. She wondered if it had disappeared from the earth, or perhaps was duplicated as she was sent along with it to another realm. She shrugged her furry shoulders. She'd likely never know the answer, and couldn't give less of a fuck if she ever did.

One by one the monsters climbed through one particular window, hopping outside into the hot night air. When it was Maria's turn, one of her new brothers held his arm towards her, offering to help her outside. She appreciated the gesture, though she growled and bit playfully in his direction before leaping easily through the window and onto the grass. Growls of laughter were all around her and she soon felt the kiss and caress of the first female she had played with that night on her black lips. She was perhaps her favorite, and she'd taste every part of her body on her tongue soon enough.

The crowd stepped aside a bit, opening the circle of the pack just enough to create a path for a new arrival, another she-wolf. This one had definitely not been inside the crowded church along with the others. She was different from the rest. Her eyes were like twin hells piercing through flesh and bone and thought, tearing into Maria's soul with but a casual glance. Her long fangs seemed to bend the very air around them, like they were cutting through reality itself as she smiled. And that smile ...

Gods below, that smile. Like a mother drowning her child in a bathtub. Like a madman sighing in ecstasy as he cut into a virgin's chest. Like a fire turning an orphanage into an abattoir. In that smile was every horror ever birthed into the world, that ancient box that once opened could never be closed. When all of the evils of the world were let loose, that smile was there among them. And the others had surely fled from it.

Tears of joy and awe fell from Maria's eyes. She had never loved anything more than the creature before her. Her savior. Her mother.

Maria dropped to her knees, bowing in worship to the beautiful horror. Soon she felt the electric tingle of the creature's touch on her chin. Her savior gently forced her head upward, and Maria whimpered as their eyes met and she gazed into those twin pools of damnation.

"Welcome, daughter," she said in a voice infinitely older than that of any long-dead god.

Maria wept in joy. This angel, this goddess, it had called her daughter! The moonless sky was filled with howls.

"Welcome to the congregation."