Pope Francis x God (mpreg)

The begining of the end

    Oh the shame. Oh the guilt. Oh the yearning. It was too much. The feeling in his chest hurt him to no abound. He wistfully look out the windows of the Vatican and hoped that the one he was thinking of was not currently watching him. Pope Francis look at the stained glass window of the Virgin, the Holy Mother Mary, and wondered what she went through. She had given birth to the Lord, who was the son of god. Does that mean that she too had laid with god?
       He looked back on that fateful day. He had finished his nightly prayers and just as he was about to say amen, something overtook him. "God," he had said. "If you are there, send me a sign." After receiving silence, he shook his head and crawled into the bed. But just as sleep took him, he felt hands run over him. He jumped at that, startled by the absence of a body. He looked around, his heart racing. And then he heard it; that voice. It was like listening to a deep waterfall speak, with the toughness of velvet and the sweetness of honey mixed with it. It was the voice of God. "Dear Francis," the voice spoke, causing goosebumps to run down the Pope's body. "Why do you question if I am here?" The voice continued, almost as if it was asking a child why the sky was blue. "My lord my God, I did not mean to offend you. I just see so much pain and misery in the world that I sometimes wonder if you hear us?" Francis said, becoming melancholic as he continued. "I receive requests of prayers from the distraught of my brothers and sister. I hear the cries of mothers as their children are taken from them, the howls of fathers as they watch their family torn apart. I hear their pain and yet I can do nothing but pray." He lamented, tears falling from his eyes. He felt as his tears were wiped away by an unseen hand.
       "Fear not my dear messenger, for you can now help." The voice said in a soothing manner. Pope Francis looked up at the ceiling with hopeful eyes. "How my lord. Please tell me." He asked, sitting up more. "Kneel and I shall guide you." The voice said. Pope Francis kneeled on his bed and clasped his hands together. "Guide me." He whispered out. And that's where it began.
Francis doesn't remember how it started. Was it a celestial kiss? A tilting of the chin? It didn't matter now, looking back he supposed. He just remembered kneeling on the bed, thinking he was going to receive a vision, but instead had his mouth agape as an omnipresent force bobbed in and out of his throat. Francis hummed as the force hit the back of his throat, sending shivers down his spine. He gripped the sheets as the force went back and forth at a mellow pace. Francis felt something tugging the back of his head, forcing him to stay still as the force picked up the pace. Francis almost choked as the force got faster, growls and moans filling his ears as he stayed kneeling on the bed. The force slammed into Pope Francis's throat and a warmth filled his mouth. The Pope was so disoriented that he didn't even realize he had orgasmed until his hands felt a dampness in his night wear. Francis painted as an iridescent liquid leaked out the corner of his mouth. He wiped it and looked at the sticky residue on his fingers. "What is this?" He asked, dazed by the euphoric experience he just had. The voice in the room echoed gently in his ear. "It is my very essence, the one that flows through my son and all things that I have made." It answered.
Francis felt his night wear begin to unbutton and the cool night air made him hiss. "And soon," the voice edged, almost playfully. "You shall feel it inside of you." Pope Francis gasped as he felt a warmth trace over his chest and down to his navel. He felt his pajama bottoms begin to unbutton and a wave of excitement rushed over him. He felt as the waistband was pulled down and his cock sprang out. He panted as a warmth enveloped it, squeezing a bit, making him gasp. The pajama bottoms were now at his ankles and they were being tugged off completely. The shirt was fully unbuttoned now and Pope Francis was laid bare in front of the figure that he could not see.
"Such a wonderful sight." The voice whispered, almost as if it were right beside Francis. The Pope was flushed and disoriented, not knowing how to process the orgasmic pleasure he was having. The warmth left his member, causing him to groan in displeasure. He then gasped when he felt his legs being pushed up, the warmth enveloping his thighs. He groaned out in both pain and pleasure when he felt something enter his ass. It moved around the area and when it finally curled and hit the spot, Francis cried out. The force continued to curl, hitting the spot with every move, and made Pope Francis cry out and moan. The force then felt like it increased in size, causing the priest to roll his eyes back. It felt so good. It was almost to good. He thought that it was a dream up until the point when the warmth left his insides and something much larger slowly entered him.
It then dawned on him what was happening; he was fucking God. He had given God a blowjob and was now going to feel God inside him. He gripped the sheets as the warmth filled him to the brim. It stayed stationary like that, giving him time to adjust. When his breathing evened, the warmth began to slowly pull out. Francis groaned as he felt it slowly leaving him and then screamed out in euphoria as it slammed back inside him with force. The pace was unrelenting, it was so hard and fast that Francis couldn't fully process what was happening; all he could do was feel. The force hit that spot in him, making him lose himself further and further into a blissful, passionate ignorance. He felt his body lift off the bed and his legs move behind his head. The force slowly lifted him up and then slammed him back down. Francis cried out in ecstasy as he was slammed down onto God's cock over and over again. His mouth was agape with each thrust, unable to handle the pure rapture that was fucking God. When he was slammed down one last time, a heat filled Pope Francis and he felt his orgasm follow suit. The heat was both intoxicating and mind numbing. He knew in that moment what it was like to have God in him.
Francis couldn't remember how many times he changed positions with God, but he remembered how each one made him feel closer to heaven than before. God would release a heavenly load into him and then change positions after every release. Francis was on his stomach now, bobbing with every thrust of God cock inside him. He breath hitched when he felt another warmth enter his body. He stayed laying on the bed, panting as the early morning sun rose over the buildings of Vatican City. He felt as the warmth left him and the voice spoke softly to him. "You did well my disciple. Now you know what you must do." Francis passed out from exhaustion and awoke to a pastor shaking him awake.
That had been two months ago, and each day after that event built up to now. Pope Francis absentmindedly ran a hand over the forming bump in his stomach as he looked at the Virgin Mother Mary held a newborn baby Jesus. He felt tears fall on his cheeks and no hand was there to dry them. "Holy Mary, Mother of God," he rasped out, feeling all his emotions choke him at the back of his throat. "What would you do?" He asked. And to his dismay, there was no response.