The jolt of ice water against skin. It ran down Donglion's body, gradually restoring feeling, cooling his aching crotch. The rest of the world came to him in spurts. White curtains. Brass shower head. Porcelain tub. A hand reaching through the curtains, finely manicured with long red nails. He tensed up. More hands pushed him towards the shower, sending cold water streaming down his face and through his greasy hair.

"There you go, baby," said a high-pitched voice, a gross caricature of femininity.

He sat still as he was pulled back away from the stream and something was rubbed into his hair, allowing himself to be manipulated. Goose pimples formed all over his body, but especially on his legs, which shook softly against his will. As the water shut off, more hands, red and green nails, poured some kind of foul-smelling lotion onto his body, rubbing away the dirt and grime of what couldn't have been more than a morning, though it felt like a lifetime.

Reflexively, he pulled his arms around himself. "I think they're awake," came another voice, softer and more lilting.

"Oh, goody!" said the first voice. "What fun!"

Someone spat. It landed on the tip of Donglion's piece, which was washed thoroughly, causing him to moan gently, in pain or pleasure he couldn't quite say.

"Oh, relax, honey, is it shameful for me to take pleasure in my sacred duties? Should I pretend the Sisters do not?"

"The Sisters are ashamed of their sacred duties…" a deeper voice murmured.

"Sure, baby. Keep telling yourself that."

The hands retreated rapidly as the water burst forth once again, sending little tingles through Donglion's flesh. He sat there, still dazed. Feeling pressure on his palms, he looked down, seeing nails pushing up into him from outside, not quite piercing his skin. Getting the hint, he rose shakily to his feet. Trying to follow the motions of the figure behind him and of gorts he had seen working the floors, he pushed the water through his hair, letting the stench fall to the floor in great clumps.

"There you go…" came the deeper voice.

A smile formed on Donglion's face. He pictured himself then, stumbling, moving cautiously to avoid sliding on the wet surface, arms jerky and uncertain. Who was this figure, whose bodily comportment was so awkward? Who had a blank look plastered on their face and nodded slightly when told what to do (as he now realized he had done upon getting the hint to wash himself off)? They were adorable. There was something cute about such a figure.

Donglion blushed. Strings played, but he was no longer sure if they were in his head.

The water sputtered out and turned to a drip. The bottom of the tub was lined with a thick white coating. Donglion coughed and spat out more pink mucus. Wiping his mouth, he supposed that accounted for the strange feeling he was having. The thrill that came over him from having done a good job. The ensuing calm.

With a clatter, the curtains flew apart. Jumping, Donglion slipped down and almost fell into the mucus, which he supposed would require another cleaning. The green nails reached down and pulled him up. He looked up into their owner, a dark-haired boy with heavy eye shadow and long lashes. He could tell immediately this was the deeper voice.

"Be careful now," he said.

"Thanks," Donglion whispered.

"Oh! Baby can talk, can't they?" came the shrill parody, emanating from a tall, almost gort-looking figure with high cheek bones and deep auburn hair like they wear at the docks.

"Of course." Donglion tried to clear his throat but found himself caught on something.

"Sister Dez really took a shine to you," the softer voice observed. "Her sacred vapors are ordinarily only shared on feast days."

"Oh, you really are so lucky." The tall one stepped forward, pulling Donglion around and pushing harshly on his stomach whenever the violins surged until he at last spewed out a thinner liquid, which smelled strongly of stomach acid. "She still has not given me the privilege, though I am ever so good." Looking over, Donglion saw the dark-haired boy avert his eyes.

"You want it," he said plainly, still looking away. "That is why she does not give you her gift."

"Oh, you think too badly of our good Sisters, little something."

The boy just gave a grunt.

The softer-voiced and most passably feminine of the three figures (though all wore constricting dresses like Donglion had been dressed in earlier) gestured over to him at a round white mat. He stepped onto it and they descended on him with towels, harshly rubbing at the water. One seemed to pay special attention to his crotch, which began burning harshly, having already been so battered and bruised. His entire body ached.

Just as quickly, they departed again, returning the towels to silver hooks built into the brickwork.

Donglion shut the curtains behind him before turning to face his tormentors. They looked to him expectantly. "I suppose… I am to be dressed?"

The tall one beamed. "Yes, baby, certainly, very good."

He nodded. "That is what… Sister Dez was going to do."

A strange look came over the boy. He smiled, but not with his eyes. "You are learning."

"What are they to learn?" the tall one snapped, turning to him. "Come, do not act the victim in all this."

He took a deep breath. "Of course. I am being foolish."

They cocked their head. "Come now, you are not the new blood, are you? Do not act so fresh."

Donglion noticed the boy digging his nails into his own palms and tried to calm himself.

The tall one nudged Donglion's shoulder. "Do not learn from this one, eh? She has gone a little strange, I think. You really have seen the worst of it, I promise. Nothing compares to the first day."

Donglion nodded. He tried to think of the boy as a "she."

"Come now, baby," they continued, "Let's take you to the bedchambers. A set of clothes should already have been prepared for you. And the other one can help you to fix your face."

"My face?" He began to touch it, discovered how it stung.

"Yes, it looks awful, honey."

The three led him out and down the now-familiar hallway, into the room that Dez had cryptically referred to as the "something dorms." There was more dark wood paneling, with green carpets and lines of what had to be beds, stacked on top of each other, with dressers between them. At the far end was another of those grand symbols, which was either curved or straight, Donglion could not recall.

He grew cold. "Is that sigil…"

"You get used to it," was all the tall one said. They pointed him to a bed covered in white linen with various cloth pieces neatly folded on top.

"What are all these?" Donglion asked.

"Your undergarments," the deep voice explained. "You are expected to wear them at all times, save for bathing and… services."

Donglion nodded. He pulled one up to his body, trying to make a match.

"Will you show me?" he asked suddenly, enjoying now this role.

He thought he saw a sparkle in her eye and something clicked in his brain. "Okay," the short boy-girl muttered, voice cracking slightly. She reached for the item, a kind of white shapeless thing, and he released it into her firm but yielding grip. "That's a chemise," she explained. "It's pretty easy to put on, but you need to put your drawers on first."

The tall boy-girl snickered (he supposed they were probably all boy-girls, as he soon would be–the thought made him shiver). "Come now, Gravs, they're not just your plaything to do with as you please." Roughly, they pushed her out of the way and the spell was broken, as a hurt little boy hung around the side of them awkwardly holding the chemise.

"Let's get some drawers on you, baby," the tall one growled. Donglion began to shake. He felt fingers soft fabric touch his feet, hard nails pressing them into his legs as they were pushed up and over his crotch, penis twitching slightly at the feel of it. They fit snugly over his genitals, pressing them down. Though triggered at the initial touch, the pressure seemed to numb his feeling slightly. He was surprised they could fit, being so tight. The thought he had already shrunken (already? had he been expecting to shrink?) made him grimace.

"Shellio…" the short one muttered under his breath, hands clutching together. "Don't enjoy it too much…"

"Or what? Shouldn't we all revel in following the Will of the Almighty?" She threw a black corset at Donglion. "Put it on, slut."

"Shellio!" He looked nervously around as Donglion held out the corset awkwardly in front of him. "We are supposed to be purifying and emptying her of desire!"

Donglion paid them no mind. "Slut…" he whispered to himself, looking at the corset.

A malicious grin came over the tall one's face. She leaned down in front of Donglion. "You like that don't you, babe?"

"Babe…" Donglion could feel his leg twitching, his brain starting to deaden and feel oddly fizzy.

 The one called Gravs was a wiggling ball of anxiety and turned away, feet tapping on the floorboards. The middle one bit their lip as they watched from a distance, only sometimes turning to look down the line of beds. There were voices coming from the other end of the dorm.

The tall one, who Gravs had called Shellio, looked over at them and they gave a nod. Shellio let out a little moan, head raising up to the ceiling exultantly. "Do you need me to do it for you? Are you that stupid already that you can't figure out how to put on a corset?"

"N- no…" whimpered Donglion, still shaking. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I'm a smart boy. I passed all my exams with flying colors. I have an almost perfect memory. I am learned in things occult and mundane."

"Oh, a heretic are we?" Shellio sneered.

"Shellio…" Gravs hid her face, long dark bangs obscuring her expression. "If she were a heretic we would have to report her…"

Shellio slapped Gravs causing Donglion to jump back, instinctively pressing the corset closer to him as if for protection. "If you wanna report her, then report her. Unless you're too much of a faggot to actually do something."

"This is a faggot factory," Gravs said shakily. "They're turning all of us into faggots."

"Hmmph." Shellio crossed their arms, jutting out their chin at Gravs in a pointed way, all the while Donglion worked on maneuvering the corset on, raising it up underneath his sore pecs, amazed at how they squished and lifted up as he tightened the garment.

"And you're just going to lie back and take it?" Shellio continued, voice seeming to drop slightly. "Don't you see, all of these passive, weak little manlings around you, how easy it is to take advantage of them? They're all being trained to obey! It's easy hunting." They licked their lips. "And when they've just been brainfucked by one of the Sisters' toxins, well… you'd suck my cock in a heartbeat, wouldn't you, pretty pet?"

Donglion blinked. He didn't really want to suck this boy-girl's presumably distended and grotesque mutant penis but also if it was put in front of him he did not suppose he had it in him to say no… which made him quiver.

Shellio grabbed him in a headlock, eliciting another whine. "I asked you a question, didn't I, slut?!" they shouted, rubbing their palm into his scalp.

Gravs just kept backing away, head down, shaking, starting to cry. "Please, no, I don't… stop, please, you'll both be punished… I'll be…"

"Shellio," the middle one said quickly, pointing over to the door before ducking behind one of the tall stacks of bed.

Shellio turned, still holding Donglion, color draining quickly from her face. "Oh fuck…" she murmured, trying to release Donglion before the hulking figure with the large wooden stick could see them.

Gravs fell to the ground sobbing. The figure looked at her and smiled. They approached her sympathetically and began stroking her head, corpulence obscuring the scene from the others. "Good girl," they said in a voice that sounded like eating sand.

Then they slapped her and she moaned.

"You should know how weak and pathetic you are before the Divine. Know that your tears and prayers mean nothing in relation to His inscrutable mysteries. To anticipate punishment is to presume too much. To think that you can escape notice by being crafty and subtle is to presume some modicum of understanding or foresight of the workings of the Almighty One. Your sniveling subservience is as much a heresy as this one's open defiance. You still think that you know something. That you can manipulate things. You think of the Father as being another administrator of another system that can be played to avoid punishment. Insolent fool." They smacked her again with the stick, turning around as they did so to reveal a patchy beard and piercing blue eyes on an otherwise feminine face. Their robes were even lighter and looser, a simple black unadorned by baubles, and to Donglion he was a paragon of masculinity. Strong, resolute, ready to use violence to enforce his will. God, he wanted this man to fuck him.

Shellio poorly hid a smile. Donglion gathered his wits just enough to finish tying the corset and slip the chemise over himself, willing himself to act through the haze of submission and the lingering aftereffects of the blonde one's mysterious chemicals, not wanting to seem lazy in front of this handsome fellow who seemed to thrive in this bastion of feminine degeneracy (all the while willing away the thoughts of wanting to submit, trying to forget how much he had enjoyed giving in to following the commands of others, being blank and empty and… he shook his head again. He was a man!).

The third member of the group that had greeted Donglion upon waking was nowhere to be seen, having seemingly scurried off, unable to stand up to the heat of this new force. Was Donglion able to stand up to the heat? Did he want to? He wanted to please this man… he wanted his approval… he wanted to be like him, didn't he? Of course he did! What vitality! It was intoxicating!

The man spun around and whacked Shellio as well, sending her, bleeding, onto the bed next to Donglion, eliciting another shameful whimper as the young aristocrat worried about dirtying his new undergarments. "And you! Learn to take some responsibility, whelp!" He reached down and grabbed Shellio by her neck, raising her up off the ground, feet dangling helplessly, squeezing just a little tighter than was safe. "You are supposed to clean and clothe the fresh meat. It is not yours to play with. It well never be yours. You are cattle. You are to be used. You are fuckmeat. Learn that. Internalize it. Stop being a little bitch."

He threw Shellio to the ground, dropping the stick next to her. "It is clear that both of you have not been sufficiently drained of your pretensions. You have illusions of competence, of self, of will. You think yourselves individuals. You do not realize how we are all enveloped within and interpenetrated by the Holy Spirit through and through, how it controls us all, even our innermost thoughts and desires. You think you are human." He stamped just next to Shellio's head, causing her to shake and then cross her legs suddenly, cheeks turning bright pink.

The tall figure snickered. "It serves you right. Your own body has already been embraced. It has submitted to the reality that you are a useless whore. Your mind must simply catch up." He lifted her up again, by the scruff of the neck this time, letting her drip from her dress.

Donglion gasped. Had that boy-girl just cum?

"You!" the figure screeched, pointing with his other hand at Gravs. "You, too, must be shown your proper place. Come, serve as an instrument for the Universal Phallus which transcends flesh."

Gravs sniffled and walked, crouching forward, over to the figure, sullenly accepting as he lifted her up by the scruff of her neck.

As he walked past the bed, the figure looked over his shoulder slightly, looking a little above Donglion as he said, "And you, girl, the chemise goes on under your corset. You look ridiculous. And get the rest of your attire on. Don't dishonor the Great Father like that. Your body is to be tightly contained, made small and immobile. You are something now, not a person."

And dazzled by his intoxicating presence and musk, Donglion just nodded blankly, looking down at the garments still scattered on the bed, slightly ruffled by Shellio having been thrown on them, gears turning as they tried to determine how they were supposed to put them on.

The door creaked as the hulking figure stooped to get through it, pressing Shellio and Gravs awkwardly through.

At some point while Donglion was removing their chemise, the middle one of the party had reemerged next to Donglion's bed. They let out a snort and rubbed their nose. "Be wary of all the Sisters, but especially Brother Garamalax."

Donglion blinked as they untied their corset. "Why?"

The more seasoned something looked down at them seriously. "Do you really want to end up back in the black room? With that hulking thing working away at you?"

Images of being mercilessly fucked, beaten, mindbent and ultimately destroyed on a metaphysical level filled Donglion's pretty little head (though of course they had no mental image of being metaphysically destroyed, only a kind of non-recollection, a recognition of a gap in their subjective experience). They looked down at the ground. "No?"

The middle one chanced a smile. "Perhaps you are too far gone already…" they said as they walked away down the aisles of beds.

Donglion put the chemise back over themself. Then the corset, which they tied as tightly as they could, enjoying the feeling of pressure, of being contained. A heat ran through their body as they considered what that one, whose name they had never learned, had said. Already too far gone. Already corrupted. Already lost to the Divine Will.

A moan escaped Donglion's lips. They supposed touching themself would be impious. They did it anyway. It felt good.