The Scarlet Commander strode into the cathedral hall gloomily. Whitemane had rejected his advances, again. Every single time, she would reject him - even tonight, when he had Blessing of Wisdom, the plan being to try to wow her with knowledge of animal, mineral, and vegetable - he was the model of a modern Scarlet general.
This, of course, did not work, as Scarlet High Priests don't really CARE about science.
Standing at the altar, eyes closed, he sighed.
He heard a familiar voice behind him.
It was Whitemane.
"Renault, I... I'm sorry for rejecting you before. I was afraid. Afraid of being tied down. But I'm ready, I am. You're the man for me. I love you." Whitemane's soft words pierced Mograine's stony expression, and a smile cracked his lips for the first time in years.
"Now, my sweet, make love to me!" she cried, and Mograine dropped his pants instantly.
She eyed his cock for a moment. It was still flaccid. With a smirk, she decided he needed some coaxing.
"ARISE, MY CHAMPION!" she shouted, the words echoing throughout the cathedral. It was midnight, noone was around - luckily.
Mograine instantly became hard, he strode towards her cockily as she leant back on a pew, presenting herself like some sort of panda.
Mograine tried to remember what his father had told him -before having a massive sword rammed through his back by his son-. "Son," he remembered him saying, "Always use protection with women. Seriously."
Mograine looked around hastily for some sort of contraceptive.
Whitemane, seemingly knowing what he was thinking, reassured him. "We priests have our own... methods" she said with a wink.
Mograine grinned, and went to enter her. As soon as he touched her, however, he realise something was wrong.
Why was she jiggling like that?
Suddenly Whitemane was gone, replaced by a large mass of jiggling horror.
Mograine barely had time to scream before his limbs were bound in the jelly, and he was bent over the altar.
As if by some cruel twist of fate, Mograine had, earlier that day, positioned a mirror right in front of where he was now, so that he could examine Whitemane's buttocks subtly during preaching sessions.
Now, of course, he could see only himself and his assailant - A massive blob of the jelly that was imprisoning him, but with some sort of horrible face. If he had looked into those eyes, he would have seen the face of every child ever murdered, in those black, empty sockets.
His penis was, of course, still hard, and the pink thing, with a cry of "Ditto!", attached a blob to his skull. Somehow, he knew it was reading him. Finding out what made him him.
It would find his memories.
Slowly, horribly, it began to shift. Shift and change and morph, until eventually it was in a form Mograine recognised.
It now looked exactly like his father.
And his penis was erect, and poised to strike.
"I... who... WHAT are you?" grunted Mograine, struggling against his not-father's hands (No longer pink tendrils, but rough, Paladin hands.)
Then, the thing began to speak.
Mograine had fought scourge, orc, human, troll, tauren, goblin, worgen, ogre - just about every species on Azeroth. He had braved caverns, slain giant spiders, resisted the cry of banshees.
But this.
This was more horrible than anything he had ever heard.
At first it sounded familiar to a woman being raped, her screams and whimpers overpowering his mind. Then, it began to progress. It became more and more legible after a while, and he eventually realised it was a horrific, distorted version of his father's voice.
"My son... don't you recognise your own father? The MAN you BETRAYED?." came the voice, like some sort of helium-enhanced paladin.
Mograine cried out, realising which memory this creature had discovered.
Images of the Ashbringer, the legendary sword, flashed through Mograine's mind. He remembered his betrayal, all for greed. For power.
"No, father! I'm sorry! I was selfish! I-" he pleaded.
"Enough, boy." came the stern, almost reassuring tone.
"I WAS PURE ONCE! NOW... WITNESS THE TRUE POWER OF THE ASHBRINGER!" screamed the father as he penetrated his son, with full force.
Gasping, Mograine was taken aback by the size and force of his not-father's not-penis.
It no longer felt like jelly. It was like human flesh, and somehow, that was a lot worse.
"You... corrupted... me, my SON..." Mograine the Older grunted between thrusts. "Now... I'll... corrupt you!"
Renault could barely manage to whimper denial and pleas for mercy.
Harder still his not-father thrusted, seemingly becoming unstable; his "face" began morphing, as did his "body". Morphing into people the younger Mograine remembered.
Whitemane.
Herod.
Fairbanks.
Loksey.
Abbendis, his superior.
Mograine couldn't take it anymore. He began screaming his lungs out.
He knew there was only one way to end this torment before dawn.
One of them had to die.
As his not-father started to lose focus from the pleasure of his tight hole arsehole, Mograine has a moment to form a plan; he began moving in rhythm with the thrusting, acting as if he were enjoying it. Too caught up in the pleasure to read his mind and see his true intentions, his not-father reached through and started jerking him off powerfully as he continued thrusting.
This was the chance Mograine needed. He pushed his powerful paladin thighs together and pushed off the ground, managing to break the bonds. He knew he couldn't defeat this thing in single combat, so he decided to take it with him.
He leapt for his hammer and threw it at the chandelier, causing it to crash down upon them both. As his neck broke, he thought upon all the things he'd done. Were they right? He didn't know. He just knew it death was better than rape.
As his vision started to fade, he was finally happy.
All was dark. Mograine the younger was dead.
Suddenly, however, his eyes flipped open.
His not-father was standing above him again.
"Son... we're paladins. Did you forget we could resurrect those fallen in battle? Get back on the altar, boy, it's time for your second dicking."
Mograine screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
~Fin