Miles Ferrell was born on December 25, 1967. His mother was a hippy, deeply into so called "free-love" and never knew who the child's father was. Miles grew up in Berkley, his mother dated a long string of artists, and along the way Miles aquired his skills with sculpting. He learned all the methods. Although he had equal skill in clay, stone, and casting, he always preferred to work in stone, feeling that the things created were more permanent.

Not all of his mom's boyfriends were so kind though. Jack, her boyfriend while Miles was 13 delighted in bending the young Miles over the bed that he shared with Miles's mother whenever she was at work. The ritual was repeated 5 times a week, until the bastard got a job offer in New York and left them both to take it.

Miles's grades were decent enough to get him into UC Berkley, although he had to get part time job at a used book shop, and live in an apartment with four other guys to make ends meet.

Miles used his good looks, and natural charm, and budding career as an artist to seduce his way across campus, sleeping with every woman who'd say yes. His sculptures focused upon the naked forms of his many conquests.

It was during this time that Miles met Duman Kir. Duman showed Miles a number of new sexual techniques, and provided him with special "herbs" to intensify the experience.

One night, Miles went out to a local bar, near his apartment, and couldn't believe his luck. A pair of gorgeous twins came home with him. Miles used the special herbs, and between the two of them he had the most phenomenal sexual experience of his life, he felt for a time as though he were outside of his body, in a dark place, surrounded by a gentle slithering sound that lulled him into slumber. When he awoke in the morning, the twins were gone.

Nearly a week later Duman and Miles went out to a night club together, and Miles met a strangely beautiful woman. She seemed at once the center of attention, and yet to be visible only to him. She was wearing a flowing green dress, that shimmered as the light reflected off of it.

He and the strange woman went home together, and as Miles made to her the most passionate love of his life, she suddenly changed. In place of the beautiful woman was great serpent, venomous fangs poised mere inches from his neck, and coils wrapped tight about his genitals. Miles screamed in horror, and passed out.

The next morning Miles awakened to find himself lying naked, next to Duman, who was grinning madly.

"What happened?" He demanded of Duman.

"I should think the evidence is rather obvious."

"What? No, you're lying!"

"Most likely, I do often, but how can you deny the evidence of your senses?"

"I wouldn't sleep with you, there was a woman. What did you do with her."

As Miles watched, his friend's features seemed to flow like water into the form of the woman from the evening before.

"You mean me?" She asked in a cheerleader like voice. Then she laughed, and the voice was Duman's. Her face melted away, back to that of the young arab.

Miles shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, "What did you do to me? What have you got me on?"

"Nothing you haven't been on your whole life, faggot."

"Don't call me that?"

"Why not? Isn't it true? You raped my ass last night, your forced yourself on me. I tried to hold you back, but nothing would keep you from my ass."

Miles walked towards Duman, fists raised, "Shut up."

"Why, faggot. Your just like him you know. Just like him. You're a big, stupid, faggot!"

Miles broke, years of repressed rage exploded, and he swung at Duman, his arm hit something as immobile as a mountain, but he didn't care. He lost himself to his rage, trying to destroy the damned beautiful face of the man who'd been his friend.

Through it all, Duman simply laughed.

Finally exhausted Miles relented, snatched up his clothing from the floor, and sprinted from the building, his cheeks red with burning shame.

Miles avoided Duman for the next month, he didn't go anywhere that he thought Duman might be. Still unsure of what had happened, and very uncertain of what he'd seen that morning.

Miles tried to lose himself in women, careful not to use the "herbs" that Duman had given him. As time progressed Miles found it harder and harder to keep it stiff with women. They just didn't satisfy him the way that he needed. He blocked the thoughts from his mind, and began frequenting the local occult shops, certain that the strange happenings could only be explained that way.

It was in a small occult shop, named The Cup of Isis that he again encountered Duman, on the first day of the summer break. He wanted to run, he felt like a cornered rat, but he was drawn to stay, filled with a strange lust. He felt his cock stir as it hadn't in over a month.

"You've been hiding from me."

"Yes." Miles was compelled to answer.

Duman looked around at the doodads that surrounded them. "You've done better than I though you would. I'm surprised you were able to stay away this long. And you've even stumbled close to the truth."

Miles simply swallowed.

"Now then, you naughty boy, you raped me a month ago, don't you think I deserve to repay the favor?"

Miles nodded dumbly, feeling revulsion at the thought, but also a curious joy, it almost seemed as though his ass craved the sensation of his friend's cock thrust up it.

Duman led Miles back to his apartment. Duman began by brutally raping Mile's ass, just like when Miles had been a boy. Then he switched his style, he became gentler, and more loving. He pulled out of Mile's ass, and rolled him over, squatting down, allowing Mile's own dick to penetrate Duman's ass.

After they finished Duman lowered himself down, and whispered into Mile's ear, "Come with me to Cairo tomorrow, and I'll show you the truth. Or at least fewer lies."

Stunned by his own actions, and even more by his own enjoyment of the evening, Miles could only nod dumbly as he curled himself into a little ball and fell asleep.

Together they journeyed to Cairo, Duman purchased the plane tickets. Miles found it only slightly odd that they're flight left so late in the evening. Not even thinking that he'd never seen his friend in daylight.

In Cairo Duman had to go meet some family, while Miles stayed in the hotel room they were sharing. Over the course of the next two months they made love every evening, often 2 or three times, while Duman educated Miles on the glories of Set. Revealing that the odd, occult things he had noticed had been Duman calling upon the powers of the Dark God.

Miles learned eagerly, spending his days in the museums and bookstores. He found himself picking up the languages of the land, at least as they pertained to conversations on the occult.

Although at first Miles had been disgusted by his homosexuality, and then had come to relish it, as much as he'd ever relished time spent with his endless stream of bimbos, he came to grow tired of the constant sex, nearly losing interest in it all together. It was still enjoyable, but he no longer focused his life around it. Instead he focused himself upon his studies of Set and Egyptian magic.

Towards the end of the summer, Miles received a horrible letter from his uncle. His mother had been raped and murdered. He knew he had to go home immediately, but when he looked for his wallet, he couldn't find it. He searched for his passport, and found it missing.

Miles waited for Duman to come home from his night job, but he never showed up. The police showed up instead, accusing Miles of heresy. They took him and through him in jail. They refused to let him speak with the American Embassy, as he had no documents to prove his nationality.

Miles spent a year in jail, be raped by large Arabic men, who were attracted to his skinny, white, American ass.

Miles was released onto the streets penniless, with barely rags to wear, and with no ID. He lived on the streets, begging for what money he could find, and whoring out his ass when necessary.

He lived that way for six months, hiding from the police, and lost in a world where he no longer even knew who he was. Miles drifted from street corner to street corner, hiding from the police, and hiding his features and skin tone.

He wandered down a lonely street one night, trying to find a place to sleep, when a vaguely familiar voice echoed behind him.

"So this is where you've been keeping yourself?"

Miles froze, but did not turn. The voice awakened bits of his brain he'd forgotten about.

"Well aren't you a sorry sight."

Miles heard footsteps circle from behind him, and saw a pair of expensive shoes appear before him. He kept his head carefully looking down.

"Now, now. Why don't you look up."

Miles found that he had no choice but t obey. Duman stood before him, wearing an expensive Italian suit. Black cloth, with a deep red shirt and a tie the color of blood.

"There, now don't you feel better?"

"Where have you been, bastard?"

"Oh, here and there. I had to destroy the rest of your life, just in case you managed to find your way back to the states."

Miles gritted his teeth. "You what?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. There's nothing left of it. I've freed you. Don't you see that? When I put that fat fuck of an uncle of yours in the ground next to your mother, it was the biggest favor that I ever did for you."

"Uncle Tom?" Miles's spirit was crushed, he felt like crying.

"Now, now, there's no need to get all emotional. Come along with me. It's time I showed you the truth."

Miles laughed, but stood still.

"What's so funny?"

"You, there is no truth. You taught me that. Whatever you have planned for me, its just another lie, I know that. Why should I come with you?"

Duman grinned, "Ah, at last you begin to see. But you don't yet see it all. Of course I lied to you. I'm lying to you right now, but isn't that what life is? And if I bring you to something greater, to freedom, then haven't the lies been worthwhile?"

Miles tried to wrap his mind around the words, but he was tired, and they made a certain degree of sense. Like the words of the serpent to Eve. If all of the world is lies, then lying becomes the greatest power known.

In the end Miles followed his friend. They went back to the same hotel where they'd stayed when they came here. Miles cleaned himself, and shaved, and found waiting for him a suit, identical to the one that his friend wore.

Together they flew back to the United States, to Billings Montana by way of New York's JFK. Once there they journeyed to a strange building, located near to the vast oil refineries of the city. The building was stone, and seemed to be a decommissioned Catholic Church.

Inside Miles found a handful of people awaiting them, they were dressed in colors similar to those that they wore, but he had only a moment to look them over before Duman led him into the back, past a defaced image of Christ, depicting him wearing a crown of serpents.

In the back Duman told him to remove his clothing, and place it on a shelf which had once held volleyballs for church events. Naked, and uncaring, Miles followed Duman back into the main room. Only numbly noticing that his lover now wore a donkey headed mask.

Miles found himself bent over the alter, as the other people watched in awe, Duman began a long recitation in Egyptian. Miles doubted that the sycophant on the floor knew what was being said, but he recognized them as twisted portions from the Book of Coming Forth By Day.

Then Duman bent low to him, as the audience shuddered in anticipation, Miles felt only a moment of pain, and then a rush of pleasure greater then anything he had ever known. He felt his life draining away, and exalted that finally his misery was over. And then suddenly a salty tang assaulted his nose, and he felt a thick, cold liquid passing between his lips. He drank deeply, feeling the fluid flow into him, revitalizing the bloodless depths of his carcass.

Suddenly the flow of blood stopped, and a hunger took his soul, he climbed from the alter, in a fury. He could smell blood, and he was hungry for it. He pounced upon one of Duman's sycophantic cultists and drained her of her life as she screamed in agony. She struggled against him, and tried to pull away in vain.

He felt her soul rip free of her body, screaming in agony as he took the last of her life into himself. Satiated at last, he let her lifeless body fall to the ground, and turned, his naked body covered in blood sweat, to look at his onetime lover, and now sire.

Duman smiled, and with a simple motion, signaled the remaining acolytes to dispose of the fallen cultist.

Miles stayed at his sire's temple, as a 'god in training' for nearly a decade. He rediscovered his childhood love of sculpture, and became quite proficient at creating religious art, and also art with an occult theme.

The voice of his first victim still haunts his dreams, but Miles is glad that she alone haunts him, taunting him. Her harsh words help to shatter any illusions that he might build about himself.

In addition to art, he dedicated himself to learning how to call upon the power of Set, studying the Book of Coming Forth by Night for at least an hour a night. His sire's temple was recently raided by the Sabbat, and although his sire survived, he made Miles flee to Arizona, while he alone remained to face their enemies.