The chain clattered against the stone floor as Margaret shoved Sarah back down onto the mattress, her strength belying her plump frame. Sarah landed heavily, the wind knocked from her lungs, her face still burning with the humiliation of what she had been forced to do.

"What shall we do with her, High Priestess?" asked one of the nuns, her voice thick with something that sounded more like hunger than curiosity. Sarah's head snapped up at the title. High Priestess? This wasn't just a secret cult; it was a hierarchy, with Margaret at its head.

Margaret looked down at Sarah, a slow, cruel smile spreading across her face. "Tomorrow morning, we perform the Sus Scrofa Gadara ritual on her."

The nun who had spoken let out a low moan, her eyes widening with an expression of pure, demonic lust. She looked at Sarah not as a person, but as a piece of meat, a vessel for some unspeakable purpose. "Oh, how delicious," she murmured, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Sarah's tears flowed freely now, mingling with the sweat and grime on her face. The orgy continued around her, a writhing, groaning mass of flesh that seemed to grow more frenzied with each passing hour. As the night wore on, the nuns became increasingly drunk, their movements more uninhibited, their acts more lewd. They performed in front of Sarah, their eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure at her horror, making obscene gestures and whispering threats about what awaited her.

"Soon, little sister," one slurred, her body glistening with sweat as she ground against another nun. "Soon you'll be our little pet. Our plaything."

Sarah lay awake long after the last of the nuns had stumbled back to the main convent building, her body aching, her mind racing with terror. The statue of the obese goddess seemed to watch her in the dim light, its stone face impassive and somehow knowing. Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into a fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep.

She was awakened by the sound of voices and the clank of the door opening. Morning light streamed into the room, and Sarah blinked against the sudden brightness. The nuns were returning, but they were no longer dressed in their simple habits. Instead, they wore ceremonial garb—flowing black robes embroidered with silver symbols that Sarah recognized from the forbidden texts she had once studied. Their faces were painted with strange designs, and they moved with a purposeful, ritualistic grace that was at odds with their debauchery of the night before.

At the head of the group was Sister Margaret, her high priestess robes more ornate than the others. In her arms, she carried something that made Sarah's blood run cold. It was a piglet, but unlike any piglet Sarah had ever seen. It was grotesquely fat, its body a nearly perfect sphere, its tiny legs seemingly useless beneath its massive weight. Its skin was pink and hairless, and its eyes were small, dark beads that seemed to hold an unnatural intelligence.

"Behold, Sister Sarah," Margaret said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "This is a Sus Scrofa Gadara, a breed that our order has cultivated for thousands of years, long before we came to this frozen land. It is a special creature, bred to have no self-control, no moderation. It exists only to eat and grow."

Margaret stroked the piglet's head with a gentle, almost maternal touch. "Today, it will be a sacrifice to our god, Adephagia, the Devourer. And you, my dear, will be the vessel for its spirit."

Sarah's struggles were futile as they dragged her up to the altar in the center of the room, and laid her across the altar on her stomach. The altar was carved from black stone, positioned in the middle of a large pentagram etched into the floor. Around it, the nuns took up positions, their faces solemn, their eyes fixed on Margaret and the piglet.

Sarah was on one side of the altar, the piglet placed on the opposite side. One of the nuns grabbed Sarah by the back of her hair, holding her head up, forcing her to make eye contact with the little creature. Its dark eyes seemed to bore into hers, and Sarah felt a strange sensation, a pressure in her mind, a foreign presence probing at the edges of her consciousness.

Margaret began to chant, her voice rising and falling in a rhythmic, hypnotic cadence. It was a poem in Latin, ancient words that spoke of the blending of souls, of human and beast becoming one, of appetite and desire consuming all else.

"Anima humana, anima suis, coniunctae fiunt..."

The pressure in Sarah's mind intensified, and she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. The piglet's eyes seemed to grow larger, filling her vision, and she felt herself being pulled, drawn toward something dark and primal.

"Consummatio carnis, consummatio spiritus..."

Sarah tried to fight it, to cling to her prayers, her faith, but the words slipped away from her, replaced by a growing hunger, a voracious, all-consuming appetite that was not her own.

As Margaret's chant reached its crescendo, another nun stepped forward, a long, curved knife glinting in her hand. With a swift, practiced movement, she slit the piglet's throat. Blood sprayed across the altar, and the creature let out a single, strangled squeal before falling silent.

In that moment, as the life left the Sus Scrofa Gadara, Sarah felt something rush into her—a dark, hungry presence that overwhelmed her senses. The world went black, and she passed out.

When consciousness returned, Sarah was no longer in control. She was still there, still aware, but she was a passenger in her own body, shoved back into a corner of her own mind. She could see, hear, and feel, but she could not act. Something else was piloting her body now, something that looked out through her eyes with a new, hungry intelligence.

Sarah screamed in the silence of her own mind, but no sound emerged. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own flesh, as the thing that now inhabited her body began to move, its first action a slow, deliberate lick of its lips, tasting the air with a newfound, insatiable appetite.

Margaret's face loomed into view, her evil smile stretching from ear to ear as she peered into Sarah's eyes. The creature piloting Sarah's body responded with a series of low, hungry grunts, its new instincts already taking over.

"I know you're in there, Sister Sarah," Margaret whispered, her voice dripping with malicious delight. "I can see the terror in your eyes, even if you can't control them anymore. It's fascinating, isn't it? To be a passenger in your own body?"

She leaned in closer, her breath hot on Sarah's face. "Did you know that when our convent was discovered in Italy in the 1700s, one of our victims was put through an exorcism? She survived, that little fool. And when she recovered, she told the most delightful tales of being trapped but mentally aware of everything that was happening to her. Every degradation, every violation—she experienced it all as a prisoner in her own flesh."

Margaret laughed, a sound that chilled Sarah to her core. "We had to flee, of course. All of us, into hiding, moving from place to place until we found this godforsaken wilderness. But it was almost worth it, to learn that delicious little detail. To know that you, our latest creation, are fully aware of what's happening to you."

Her expression shifted to one of cruel amusement. "But enough of that. You must be hungry, you greedy little piggy."

Two nuns approached, carrying a large metal trough filled to the brim with a thick, foul-smelling slop. They set it down on the floor with a heavy clang, the contents sloshing over the sides. Then they grabbed Sarah, their hands rough and impersonal, and forced her down onto all fours, positioning her face directly over the trough.

Sarah screamed in the silence of her own mind as her body, now under the control of the pig spirit, began to eat. The creature showed no restraint, no dignity—it plunged its face into the slop, making loud, disgusting slurping and grunting noises as it consumed the filth with wild, uncontrollable abandon.

The nuns gathered around, their laughter ringing in Sarah's ears. They pointed and joked, their faces alight with cruel amusement.

"Look at her go!" one cackled. "She's a natural!"

"I told you she'd be a greedy one," another chimed in. "All that piousness was just hiding a glutton underneath."

Some of the nuns watched with intense focus, their eyes gleaming with a disturbing fascination as Sarah's body devoured the slop. Others began to disrobe, the party atmosphere from the previous night's orgy quickly ramping up. Kegs of beer were brought out, along with a mountain of snacks for the women to enjoy as they watched their new pet force-feed herself.

Soon, the nuns were drunk again, their laughter growing louder and more raucous. They began to sing humiliating drinking songs, their voices slurred but enthusiastic. One song in particular stood out—a perverted version of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."

"Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O!" they sang, clapping their hands in time. "And on that farm he had a pig, E-I-E-I-O!" The next lines were invented on the spot, each nun trying to outdo the others with the most perverted lyrics they could imagine.

"With a slurp-slurp here and a grunt-grunt there, here a slurp, there a grunt, everywhere a slurp-grunt!"

Occasionally, a nun would sit behind Sarah, reaching out to play her buttocks like a set of bongo drums, slapping and squeezing the flesh in time to the music. Others would take it further, their hands sliding between Sarah's legs to play with her clit, their fingers rough and demanding.

And that's when Sarah realized the full horror of her situation. She couldn't even control her body's response to the sexual stimulation. The creature possessing her was driving that too, and it had a sexually perverted mind filled with memories of deviant sexual torture it had experienced as a piglet. Sarah felt the creature's arousal, its twisted pleasure at the humiliation and violation, and she was powerless to do anything but experience it all as a trapped observer in her own body.