City of Bears Series 3: Rising Powers
Arc 1: As a City Dreams

Chapter 1

He was being tested, as Christ had been tested. As Moses before Christ, as Abraham before Moses. He was being tested, and he would be clean. This was not a time of Christian peace, this was not a time of love thy neighbor or the golden rule. This was a return to the true Christian roots, this was cowering in the sewers, this was persecution, but he would overcome these trials as his predecessors had, James thought, battling the sleep which had already consumed the small congregation around him, huddling together for warmth. This was a battle, a war, for nothing less than the soul of a city, perhaps even the world, and he would fight it to his last breath. They had hoped to make him their warrior, their champion of their false heathenism, their hedonism, their defilement, but no, he’d stood true in his mind at least, if not his body. Even if the flesh had betrayed him, his spirit would not turn so easily.

The chapel seemed so far away now, those last, terrible days he had spent on campus, watching that madness consume everyone around him. Remembering that flight to the chapel that autumn day, sprinting past the heathens, the corrupt, he had never felt so scared in all his life. Still, he’d never felt doubt that he wouldn’t make it. While he’d had to take some detours to avoid capture, he had made it unharmed, and untouched by the filth spreading across the college like a wildfire. He fought off sleep for a moment longer, fearing the dreams which would come to him. The dreams, they were where the devil tempted him, where he magnified every doubt James had and attempted to drive him from his holy path. Still, he knew his body would not be able to resist for long, and he finally sucumbed, dreaming of the chapel, of what had happened there, a dream which never would leave him until the end of his days.

***

“Thank Christ, you made it,” the chaplain said, throwing open the door just long enough for James to slip inside and then he slammed it shut behind him. “I was beginning to think it had taken everyone else. Do you know of anyone else who might be safe?”

“One, just one. Matthew Quidmore, I told him I’d try and get here, and tell him if it was safe,” James said, pulled out his cell phone and sent Matt a note telling him to try and join them. In his heart, James could already tell Matt wouldn’t be of strong enough faith to make the journey…but he had to try and help him. He couldn’t stay in that small dorm for the rest of his days, though being turned into…into whatever those men, those beasts where could very well be a fate worse than death. The chaplain wiped his steady brow and returned to the sanctuary where James saw that the only others who had made it there were some fellow Christians who James knew in passing, by the names of Joseph and Anthony. Counting the chaplain, that made four. Four of them against the hordes outside? How could they even hope to fight them off, should they attack? “Is this…is this all of us? Are we the only ones who made it here…safe?”

“So far,” Joseph said.

“So far? Well, there’s no one else out there, this is it. This is it, oh fucking God…” Anthony said.

“Have some fucking faith, you fucking coward!” Joseph shouted at him.

“Boys, this isn’t going to help anyone,” the Chaplain said.

“But he’s right, James said, “There isn’t anyone else out there. I mean, it’s true. What are we going to do? We need some sort of plan here. I thought…I thought that you all had some idea of what to do here. I thought there would be a plan.”

No one spoke. The silence did more to kill James good mood than anything else. He’d made it past all of those beasts out there for what? To huddle here with these terrified people? The chaplain was soft, overfed. He didn’t look like a fighter. Joseph had spunk, but was so scrawny there was nothing he’d be able to do to fight someone off, and Anthony was so close to tears there was no chance in hell of him being much help. This was a mess. Suddenly, James hoped Matt would make it here. Matt was smart, a thinker, a planner. He’d figure out something. Still, James knew he wouldn’t make it, but he had faith anyway. It was all he could do now. “Look, we need…maybe we just need some time to all call down. Matt is going to try and get here, let’s wait and see if he makes it. We can give him an hour at least, and then…then we’ll see what we can come up with, for a plan, alright?”

“I think that sounds alright,” the Chaplain said quickly, “Now…now I need…I think I need to pray, for a bit. I’ll be in my office, alone…” he said, and excused himself. James looked at the other two, turned around and left. He wanted to be alone too. He decided to wait in the narthex by the doors, to see if Matt would come, but already sensing he wouldn’t. Anthony gave Joseph a small grin, but Joseph just rolled his eyes and stalked away, not wanting to deal with Anthony’s insecurities, leaving him alone in the sanctuary where he sat in a pew, and tried not to cry in terror. He needed to be strong, they all did. He would do his best, like Jesus would.

In the chapel office, the chaplain, Paul, shut the door behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. The attraction was only growing inside of him–it wouldn’t let go. He’d always been gay, but the shame of it–he’d never once consummated his lust with another man, but ever since this…whatever this was…it had been harder and harder to keep it under control. Jacking off helped a bit, but it was so difficult to hold back now. Still, he had these young men to think about–to guide. He had to be their leader, their pastor now. After all, there was no one else now. Still, Paul had never been a leader. Always chubby, always taunted. The church had been a place where he went because all were equal in front of God. There were no losers in heaven, and if he got there, he wouldn’t a loser then. Still, his cock was rock hard, and impossible to ignore, but he had to resist. He went to the desk and flipped open the bible there to the beginning and began reading, hoping he might manage to distract himself.

He read through the creation, how God had separated the light from the darkness, and then filled the oceans with his semen. How the land has risen at his command, how he’d sacrificed all of his testicles but two to populate the heavens with stars and planets. And finally, how he’d crafted the animals and plants of the world and given life to a man, Adam, before resting. Something…something seemed wrong about this. Very wrong, but Paul couldn’t figure out what, exactly, it was. As he kept reading, he saw that God had taken one of Adam’s ribs to make him a mate, a second man named Steve, and how God had given them the gift of pleasure, and told them to fuck and prosper in the garden of Eden he’d created for them. Adam and Steve became intimate with one another, and as Paul read page after page of their sexual explorations, he found his cock could not be ignored, and he pulled it from his pants and began stroking himself off. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong, that this wasn’t the story he’d always known, and yet…he had spent so long denying himself the pleasure God had intended men to use. Why? Why had he done such a violence to himself, to his soul? Had he been wrong all these years?

God commanded Adam and Steve to not eat from the tree of knowledge, though a snake eventually tricked Steve into eating from the tree, and sharing it with Adam, and in that way sin entered the world. The sins of shame, chastity and abstinence. Paul knew then that he had sinned. He had sinned in the eyes of God. He had denied himself the world’s true pleasures, for what? Why should he fear what other people thought of him? Why should he have been ashamed of his body? As he read, the clothes he wore began to change, his button down shirt and slacks shimmering and vanishing, leaving him nearly naked. He now wore a white silk vest so thin that light could shine through it freely, a thong of loose mesh prominently displaying his rigid cock, white shoes on his feet and a black leather collar around his neck, with a square of white covering his adam’s apple.

A light coating of golden fur flowed over his body, nearly matching the trim on his vest and his thong. The lovingly crafted beard he stroked filled him with pride, and his belly grew even larger. After all, he was a true hedonist–he lived for pleasure, and that included gluttony. He lived to eat, he lived to fuck, he lived to worship his God. He leaned back and gave his cock a few strokes, feeling it expand and lengthen in his hand, as he shot his cum over his belly, rubbing it into the fur, thanking God for his gift, as he always did after cumming. He would sin against God no more. He would follow the righteous path, and he would guide the men in the church, his charges, to the godly path as well. He would be the leader they needed in this time of need, and he would lead them to sex, pleasure and true glory in the eyes of God.

***

Anthony sat in the very quiet sanctuary, crying, and hating himself for it. He wanted to be strong and brave, but how could he, in the face of what he’d seen? The day before he’d come back from class to find his roommate in bed with another man, the entire room filled with the stench of sex, and he’d ran. If he hadn’t come here to pray and found the chaplain, he didn’t know what would have happened. He wasn’t strong enough to go out there now, if he did…if he did he didn’t want to think about what those beasts might do to him–do to all of them. Sure, Joseph was tough, but he couldn’t fight them, none of them could. They didn’t even have a clue how to fight them. The beasts out there were their teachers, their friends…they couldn’t just kill them, and they had no idea how to change them back. It was hopeless. Why shouldn’t he be crying? They should all be crying, not just him.

“Tell me my son, what troubles you so? Certainly there is nothing so terrible that you must feel such pain,” a voice said behind him as a hand settled on his shoulder. The chaplain, Anthony knew that, but when he looked back at the scantily clad priest beside him, he did a double take. That wasn’t right, it was…what? The chaplain always dressed like that, and why shouldn’t he? He was proud of his big cock, like all Christian’s should be…right? Anthony’s head hurt suddenly, and he dropped his head into his hands, trying to sort through his thoughts. “Come Anthony, tell me what fills your hard with such dreadful sorrow.”

“It’s just…It’s just the…the beasts out there are so strong, and there are so many of them. How could we ever hope to fight them? What are we supposed to even do to get out of here? We’re trapped like rats.”

“Fear not my child. God always helps those who are righteous and weak conquer those greater than them. Do you not remember the story of David and Goliath? Come, let me remind you of it,” the Chaplain said, and sat down next to Anthony in the pew, resting his hand on the young man’s thigh, uncomfortably close to his cock. Anthony almost flinched away, but didn’t. He wanted to listen, and hear what the Chaplain had to say. Listening to his voice was so soothing, so pleasurable, he could forget for the moment about the terror walking around outside. “David was a young cub, an Israelite, when they were at war with the Philistines, those terrors who sought only to render pain onto others, not the pleasure of God. Goliath was a massive Philistine, his cock nearly two feet long and impossibly wide, and each day he came out to challenge the Israelites to send forth a Champion to meet him in sex, but every warrior who had accepted that challenge met only a painful end ripped apart on Goliath’s cock.”

“What?” Anthony said, “that’s not…that’s not right…” but he quieted down as the Chaplain’s hand began stroking his hardening cock through his pants.

“Shush now, your memory has betrayed you; let me finish. Now David, a small, slight cub, with barely a hint of hair on his body, the future King of Israel, heard of the challenge and told Saul that he would accept. Saul did not think young David stood a chance, but he offered his his armor, which David refused. He went alone, trusting in the pleasure of our lord God to guide him. He met Goliath in his tent that night, and none of the men could believe that such a small cub would ever be able to take Goliath’s massive cock, and certainly not Goliath himself. Still David came to his tent, climbed up on his cock and slowly began to take it up his ass, every last inch. Goliath was unaccustomed to such pleasure, and he came with such force that night that he died, David emerging the next night with Goliath’s cock as his own, the Philistines fleeing in terror at the sight of David leading the army of Israel. So we much always remember, dear cub, that there is far greater strength in God’s pleasure than in pain or fear or sorrow, so wipe away those tears, cub, and let us explore God’s pleasure together.” The Chaplain wiped away Anthony’s final tear, and leaned in, giving the cub a deep kiss, Anthony resisting for a moment before succumbing to the Chaplain, and when the older bear pulled back, he left Anthony with beautiful, supple lips framed by a soft goatee.

“Thank you Chaplain, please, please let me be your David,” Anthony said, licking his lips.

“Haha, very well, altar cub, but promise you won’t kill me with pleasure, alright?”

Anthony grinned, got down and began sucking down all of the Chaplain’s cock in one fell swoop, his mouth immediately adjusting to the cock, sensing the older bears sensitive areas and teasing them relentlessly. This new chaplain was no stranger to sex, and yet this felt special, like his first time with his own pastor all those years ago. Anthony came up and bent over the pew, his short altar cub kilt riding up and revealing his fuzzy asshole, “Please Sir, fuck me like Goliath, I want it rough, sir.”

“No cub, I won’t do that, pain is not the way of the church,” the Chaplain said, “Here, let me educate you, and show you the glory of God’s wisdom in giving us the pleasure of sex.” He rammed his cock into Anthony’s ass, and while it hurt, the pain was such that it only drove Anthony to new heights. The Chaplain was right, this was far better than any pain he could want. He may have been gifted with David’s lips and hole, but there was nothing better than a righteous fuck from his Chaplain. Paul built the cub up slowly, drilling him deep, sending him higher and higher until the cub couldn’t take anymore, sending his cum arching out over the top of the pew.

“Thank you Chaplain, that was what I needed–I won’t be afraid anymore.”

“You have David’s gift, cub, no cock will be too much for you–there’s no reason to be afraid. Now, come with me. I want to find Joseph and James–I fear the two of them might also be plagued with doubts. I think that God’s pleasure will right them before too long.”

“Yes, Chaplain, let us tell them the good news,” Anthony said, “I saw Joseph go into the sacristy.”

“Then we will start there. Come altarcub,” Paul said, leading the way, pleased that there were still two other young men here to whom he could give the gift of God’s pleasure.

***

Joseph paced the sacristy behind the sanctuary, fuming. They had to do something, and they had to do something this very second. He could feel opportunity slipping away as they waited, because the others were too terrified to act. God had surely brought the four of them here, together, for a reason, but Joseph had no idea what they could do. Still, guided by the hand of God, what couldn’t they do? If the Lord is with them, they sould be able to smite the beasts outside, and yet, where was God? Why, even in this dire situation, did he remain silent?

The sinners are at the door, bearing down on them–this is the moment when God reveals himself, when he sends his angels, his champions to lead the faithful into battle, but where is that righteous hand of God? There was just silence, no divine judgement, no pillars of salt, no flood, and he couldn’t accept that. He knew that God was supposed to help those who help themselves, but that’s just an excuse given to people who whine about God not helping them pass their final. God is active in the world, Joseph had to believe that–it was the only thing keeping him going. But then where was he? Where was his anger–his might, when it was so direly needed?

The door opened, and when Joseph saw that it was the Chaplain and Anthony, he sighed and turned away. “Did the guy James is waiting for show up or something? I already told you, the only thing we can do is arm ourselves, and trust that God will protect us. Every moment we waste just lets them grow stronger.”

“Young man, Joseph, I sense such…anger in you. Please, come sit with us and tell us what troubles you. Anger is not the way of the Lord,” the Chaplain said, and Joseph didn’t recognize the voice for a moment. He’d imagined the Chaplain to have a more snivelly tone, but the voice that spoke was confident and compassionate–and even sweet, a voice you wanted to listen to. He stared at him for a moment–his brain desperately trying to scrape together some evidence that something was amiss, but there was nothing, just a sense that something had changed while he wasn’t looking, like he’d walked into a room whose furniture had been completely rearranged, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall the original configuration. “Here, come sit with us here, let us talk.” The Chaplain and Anthony sat on the floor, and Joseph wondered whether either one of them was cold, with their flesh directly on the tile, but he crossed the room and joined them, feeling oddly modest next to the Chaplain and his first altarcub.

“I just…I don’t understand. This…whatever is happening outside, this event, it just…I feel as though the Old Testament has come to life, with it’s magic and pagans, and it seems like God should have woken too, right? But then why is he still silent? He must have brought us together here for a reason, but I just don’t understand why, like Sodom and Gomorrah, he doesn’t send forth his angels, or simply smite the city.”

“Well, that’s not the true message of Sodom and Gomorrah, Joseph, God doesn’t want to kill, that is not his way. Death is the opposite of his godly pleasure.”

Joseph just stared at him, confused, but the Chaplain’s smile, so sweet, also seemed like he was on the inside of a joke Joseph had missed. “I don’t–”

“Hush my boy, let me tell the story again, and I will tell you what I think it means, is that fair?” Joseph nodded, and Anthony leaned in close, licking and nibbling at the Chaplain’s fat nipple as he began his next tale. “Now, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities whose inhabitants were grave sinners against the Lord. Inside the city walls, none of the men were allowed to wear their beards, their bodies were kept shaven, and sex was explicitly forbidden. Many had even committed that most egregious of sins, castrating themselves, denying themselves God’s most grand pleasure, and dressing themselves in formless robes so that no man could be pleased by their appearance. Camped outside the city was Lot and his two cubs, and God sent two angels to his house, to try and find if there were any righteous souls left in either city. Lot was a true man of God, full of beard and thick of hair, and he welcomed his guests, giving them a grand feast and reveling in the pleasures of their bodies.”

“No…this…this is so wrong,” Joseph said, standing up weakly. He couldn’t keep listening to this, this was sinful–there was no way this could be the story he was thinking of, even if all of his memories were agreeing with the Chaplain. The corruption had gotten in, and he had to get away. Sensing his friend’s fear, Anthony stood up and pulled him close, kissing him with his supple lips, feeling Joseph melt against him, unable to resist Anthony’s gift of David, and the altarcub undid the fly of Joseph’s pants, pulling out his stiff cock.

“Come, the Chaplain hasn’t finished the story–I love listening to this one, don’t you?” Anthony said, “I know you have so much anger in you, but let me help. Let me–let us–relieve you of your burdens. Let us show you the true nature of God’s pleasure.” Anthony didn’t wait for Joseph to say anything, just dropping to his knees and taking his cock to the hilt, Joseph too weak to resist.

The Chaplain stood up from the ground, came over continued the story. “Lot had never met men of such virility as these two guests of his, and he and his cubs learned much from them in the ways of pleasure, but the citizens of the cities, awakened by the sounds of their sexual revelry, charged out and went to Lot’s camp, demanding he hand over the two visitors to their judgement. Lot refused, but instead, with much sorrow in his heart, offered them his two cubs, telling the citizens that they could do with them as they wanted. The men from the city refused, and told Lot that they would take him instead and do far worse, but as they came close, the angels revealed themselves. The men attacking lot were struck with a curse, giving them body hair far thicker than any man had ever seen, and the castrated among them regrew their balls, their virility forty times what it had been before.”

Joseph, locked in place by the sheer pleasure coursing through him, looked down and saw that his clothes had disappeared, leaving him as skimpily dressed as Anthony, in an altarcub kilt, vest and collar, but unlike Anthony’s relatively smooth, chubby body, Joseph saw that he was covered with coarse, black fur, so thick he could barely see his skin through it. Anthony ran his hands through it, making Joseph’s balls ache. They were growing, he could feel their weight stretching his scrotum down, until they hung out the bottom of his silk kilt. The lust coursing through him now, he had no time for anger. He grabbed the back of David’s head, slamming his foot long cock deep down his fellow altarcub’s throat, but David had no problem taking the entire length.

“God, then sent the angels into the city, but they could not find even ten righteous men within the walls, and so he cursed the cities,” the Chaplain said, “He cursed them with the affliction you have, Joseph, but do not fear, it means you are greatly favored in the eyes of God, to be gifted with such vigor and virility.” Joseph wasn’t listening–his entire being was focused on his cock now, eyes glazed over, fur matted with sweat. When he was fucking, which was nearly all the time, he couldn’t think about anything else–the lust consumed him entirely. He didn’t miss the anger, the wrath which he had been so preoccupied with moments before. This was so much more pleasurable–this was what God wanted for him–he had come, he had sent the Chaplain and his voice to show Joseph the righteous path. “And that is the true meaning behind the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, that anger and hatred, especially when wielded in name of chastity and self-righteousness are great sins in the eyes of God. But God does not want to destroy them, he wants them to understand and accept his pleasure. He is a harsh God, but he wants nothing more than for us to be happy.”

Joseph came, the flood of cum as great as that which had consumed the Sodomites during that first night, and it was no surprise that Lot’s husbear, when turning back to look at the sight, had collapsed into a puddle of semen. There was so much that even Anthony struggled to hold all of it, but he was used to Joseph’s loads by now. No one else could keep up with Joseph’s loads and needs, and Anthony was more than happy to give him the pleasures of God’s whenever Joseph needed satisfaction–which was often, and the Chaplain was more than happy to guide them both deeper into God’s pleasures.  Eventually, the flow halted, and Anthony allowed  Joseph to extract himself, some clarity returning to his eyes. Still, Joseph would never be the brightest of bears–the lust making its way through him made sure of that, but he loved Anthony, and he loved the Chaplain, and that was enough for him. He kissed Anthony, tasting himself on his lips, and felt the lust begin to boil once more, but before he could follow the urge, the Chaplain grabbed his furry shoulder and pulled him up.

“Come you two, there will be plenty of time for all of us to celebrate, but there is more work for us to do. There is one more young man who requires guidance–do either of you know where he is?”

“I…I see him go to Narthex…” Joseph said, his voice impossibly deep, more of a growl than a voice.

“Ah, very good Joseph. Shall we go help him? I’m sure he is deeply worried for his friend. Let us assure him that he has nothing to worry about, and that God will provide for the pleasure of us all.”

***

James was sitting, facing the doors, full of faith that Matt would come to the door, and yet knowing, somehow, that he had already fallen. Still, hope was one of the few weapons he had left. He had to hope that God would provide for them, and lead them to safety. However, while it was easy to talk about faith and God, the reality was more difficult. The doubt, the fear–it was so difficult to keep at bay. In all honesty, James had never felt more weak, in face of what he had witnessed. How could a person, anyone, hope to stand against something like this, this strange affliction which had consumed campus in a matter of days? He had never seen anything like it, himself, and he didn’t think anyone else had either. What could they even do to stop it? He was growing increasingly certain that flight would be their only option, but where would they go? He recalled tales of the first Christians, huddling in sewers and tunnels beneath Rome, and the building rumbled. That must be the city’s subway system–he’d heard that there was a tunnel which ran underneath campus, funny that he’d never felt it before here.

“Are you alright, young man? Could you use some company?” James turned around, saw the three bears standing in the doors to the sanctuary and feel off the bench he’d been sitting on in fear. His head, his mind was telling him that this was right, that the three men approaching him were as they should be, but he fought past it. This was wrong, he could trust nothing other than his faith, and he knew this was wrong. He made a dash for the door to the basement, but with a deep growl, Joseph charged forward and slammed into James, pinning him to the ground, unable to resist grinding his hard, massive cock into James’ back. “Come now, don’t be afraid, we’ve come from God to help you in your time of need. Now, what is your struggle, little cub? What are you battling in your heart?”

“I’m not your cub! Let me go.” James shouted, and renewed his struggles, but he was too weak to break Joseph’s hold on him. Weak, he was weak. His faith was strong, but his body weak, how could he hope to do anything if he couldn’t even save himself from this? The Chaplain came around him, got down and James looked up into his eyes. They were kind eyes, generous eyes. If he let himself go, he could tell he would be happy, but that was the temptation, wasn’t it? That was the allure–safety, security, but God’s way was hard, and he would fight for it.

“I sense,” the Chaplain said, still looking in his eyes, “Yes, I sense that it is your weakness which you hate, isn’t that right? Well, don’t you know that true, mighty strength can only be found through God? Here, Joseph, keep holding him. I think our young friend here needs to hear the story of Samson and Dellan.” James tried to shut out the voice of the Chaplain, but it was so sweet, it wormed it’s way into his ears anyway. “Now, Samson was born to Manoah and his wife, who had been unable to conceive, but an angel of the lord came to them and instructed them that, from birth, Samson, from birth, must follow the way of the Nazarites, never cutting his hair nor beard, and never once bathing in anything other than God’s rain from the sky. And as their son grew, they discovered that the vow gave his amazing strength, and a powerful musk which no man could resist, allowing him to bed with any man he so chose.”

James could feel himself changing. It was happening, but he couldn’t look down to see what was happening, for Joseph still had him pinned to the floor. There was a stench in the room, like a locker room which hadn’t been washed in ages, and suddenly, Joseph felt much lighter on James’ back. He wanted to keep listening to the story, he loved hearing the Chaplain’s voice, and he could feel himself close to succumbing to temptation, but he wouldn’t –he couldn’t. With a mighty roar, he heaved Joseph off of him and scrambled up, unsteady on his feet. He saw that he now towered over the three men in the room, and when Joseph charged him again, James, with a single slap, threw him against the wall sideways. There was a sickening crack, and the altarcub collapsed to the carpet, unmoving. Anthony screamed, running for his lover, the Chaplain speechless, and James knew this would be his only chance. He dashed down the stairs, barely fitting in the tight stairwell, and into the small parish hall underneath the sanctuary. There, on the wall, was a mirror, and James let out a scream when he saw his reflection. He was a monster–a true beast of a man. At least seven foot tall and thickly muscled, his hair and beard longer than any he’d ever seen and crusted and matted with filth. He was a Samson, this new Samson, unwashed, unshaven, and stronger than any man in the world, but now he needed to escape.

The tunnels. He’d heard the subway earlier, it had to be close, and it was his only chance. He ran around the room, punding on the walls until he heard a boom hollower than the rest. He backed up against the opposite wall, and bracing his shoulder, charged the weak wall, plowing through three feet of concrete and dirt and stone to fall into the dark tunnel on the other side. He was free, for the moment, but he had not gotten away unscathed.

He heard men searching him for days afterwards, but he hid well, going deeper and deeper into the abandoned tunnels, praying to God at every turn to guide him. He was caught between people now, and his mind was so torn, he had no idea what to do. Finally, deep in the dark, an answer came to him. He did not know whether it was true or a hallucination, but after his fourth attempt to bathe and cut his hair had failed, this body revolted by the water, his hair unbreakable by even the sharpest stone he could find, he resolved to kill himself. But as he was readying himself, a brilliant figure had come to him, a bright, brilliant, angelic light, and he knew then, what he had to do. God had given him the strength he’d needed, as sick and twisted as that was, but not for the purpose he had imagined. He knew now, why God had forsaken them in the chapel–it was because this was not an assault from a demon, or from Satan–this was a punishment, delivered from the hand of God himself–a true biblical plague upon the hearts of men, but he had been spared.

His heart, his faith, had shielded him, but if this was truly God’s will, then he would come to his service. He would reduce these sinners to the beasts of their hearts, and when not even ten righteous men were left, like the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah it would be razed to the ground in a true cataclysm. He would further this cities destruction, he reasoned–this was the only purpose he had left. On his throne, the giant, this Samson slept, his mindless, disgusting, sex-obsessed congregation moaning in their fevered, lust filled dreams, but James dreamed something else. Righteous fire. An explosion. A true, godly purge of sin from this world which had forsaken him.