Bimbofying the Nagging Nun
Father Patrick Mallory
I sat in the confessional waiting for the next parishioner to enter, my mind drifting back to those events a month ago in my previous church. It had been the most surreal and sinful thing I had ever experienced in my life. I had come out to find a man, his wife, and his daughter
fucking
in the pews. Just right there in the church as if that was nothing.
It was obscene.
Then Petra Guadeloupe, a good girl and part of a very faithful family, had burst out of the confessional where she had just been fucking the other priest, Father Ramirez, and had flung herself at me. She had pounced on me and... and...
Broken my vow of celibacy.
She had gotten my cock out and plunged her pussy down my dick. She had ridden me in the church, babbling about being a bimbo. She sounded like a complete airhead. Not the girl I remembered at all. She had been changed.
Bimbo... That word. I couldn't get it out of my mind.
Bimbo...
I could still see Petra's empty-headed expression of joy as she bounced on me, her round and golden-brown breasts heaving over me as that hot and tight pussy worked up and down me. The pleasure had been exquisite. I lost all control and... and...
I was getting hard again thinking about it. Bimbo... Bimbo...
After that, Father Ramirez was lost to the harlot's charms. He let Petra whore herself out in the confessional booth at St. Michael's. It was why I had transferred to a new parish. Now I worked at the Church of Mary Magdalene on the other side of the country. It was an old stone church with a private college behind it that the parish ran. Four nuns took care of the church and the school, administering both.
The door to the other side of the confessional booth opened. Through the divider full of small holes, I could see her. I recognized her as Mrs. DesidΓ©ria Teixeira, a Brazilian-born teacher at the private college. A good woman. Her husband also taught there. She was a math teacher and he taught Latin and English.
"Bless me Father for I have sinned," she said after settling down. "It's been three days since my last confession."
"The Lord bless you, child, what are your sins," I said by rote as I sat her, my cock so hard in my pants. I adjusted myself carefully.
"I... I don't know how this happened, Father," she whispered, "but..."
"If you wish to find the Lord's forgiveness, you must repent, child," I said calmly. I didn't put any judgment in my voice. That wasn't my place. It was the Lord to judge. I was just here to coax the sin from my parishioner and help them repent.
"I have been having... relationship with a man who's not my husband," she croaked.
Harlot.
That word stabbed through my mind. "I see."
"It's not even really man, not really," she continued. "It's one of my students at the private college. He's eighteen," she added hastily. "I... I know it's wrong, I just can't bring myself to stop, Father. He's... he's so young and handsome."
Anger boiled through me. It always did when I heard women confessing about their affairs. They present themselves as these loving family women, devoted to their husbands and children, then they confess how they cheat. Harlots. Whores. Sluts. They made a vow, dedicating themselves to one man, and they broke it.
Broke it when the first bimbo tart comes along!
Bimbo... That damned word. It echoed in my mind as I listened to her pathetic protests. She just wanted to indulge in her carnal lusts like Father Ramirez. She wanted to be like Petra, fucking every man she could for money.
"If you wish the Lord's forgiveness, you must put a stop to the affair," I told her.
"I want to, Father," she said, her voice broken. "I do. I love my husband, I'm just weak."
"Then ask the Lord for strength," I told her. "A dozen Hail Marys and the rosary, my child."
"Yes, Father," she said and rose. I knew she wouldn't, though. I had seen this before. She would be back next week, tearfully confessing how she slipped up again. How she couldn't resist one more romp with the young stud. And even if she ended the affair, once a cheating whore, always a cheating whore.
There would be another man. Another student.
Bimbo... Damned word. It pulled at me. There was something about it. Something about that man and his wife and daughter. About how he controlled Petra. My cock was so hard. Throbbing. I wanted to touch it. To stroke it. To give in to the sin of self-pleasure.
I ripped out my phone and did a Google search for "bimbo." There was something there. Something that had changed Petra from that good girl into an abject whore. No one changed
that
fast. Something had been done to her.
The top result was... the Bimbo App. A download link that promised to... make women into bimbos. Into whores. I stared at the description, my blood running cold. This was what had turned Petra into that little whore.
Flashes of her tight pussy working up and down my cock shot through me. I swallowed, my heart racing. I had to get out of this booth. It was too private. I could just pull my cock out and no one would know. Other priests had done it. I had heard stories.
I opened the door and stepped out, staring at my phone.
"You shouldn't have your phone out, Father," Sister Bethany Anne said as she walked by. She was one of the nuns, wearing the full black, shapeless habit belted around her waist with the white wimple wrapped around her face, covering her hair and neck. The black veil draped over it and her shoulders. She sniffed at me. She was young but had a squat face and a waspish, ugly expression. "Keep your mind on the Lord, Father."
I nodded and glanced at Mrs. Teixeira praying before the altar. She wore a brown, leather skirt and a gray blouse. It was conservative, and yet there was something sensual about the married, Brazilian woman.
I closed my phone and shoved it into my pocket. I had to forget about what happened.
* * *
Bimbo...
I lay on my bed in the small cottage that lay on the grounds for the caretaking priestβmeβto live in. It was a tiny place, a bedroom with a narrow bed, a small office where I could write my homilies and work on my outreach ministries, and a kitchen-living room area. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. A storm raged outside, the wind howling by the door.
My cock was so hard.