[Just to summarise what is probably a confusing and poorly written series of caption, a family from the big city moves to a backwater town in the country, and find the place run by a cult of worshippers who regard feminization in general and bimboization in particular as a moral ideal to which all should aspire.]

Part One:

Mature Content

[minor heresy] The Book of Eve [TG/bimbofication] by Transviscera

Part Two:

Mature Content

Part Three:

Mature Content

Part Four:

Mature Content

A reclining chair sat beside the peroxide font, like one might have at a barbers, with a second chair behind it. John looked from it to the parishioners. Row after row of men with peroxide blonde hair down to their shoulders, the color of which was so at odds with their dark, plucked eyebrows. What the hell was going on here? Were they trying to turn themselves into blonde-haired bimbos?
"'Purification'... Right..." John muttered dubiously.
The pastor gestured to the chair. Reluctantly he sat. The pastor flicked a mechanism and John's chair pivoted smoothly back until he was horizontal, his legs in the air, higher than his head, which had come to rest between two delightfully warm pillows. He found himself staring awkwardly up the pastor's nostrils. The female facade was almost perfect, though the truth lurked just below the surface. For all his exquisitely sculpted nose, he had neglected to trim his nose hairs.
The pastor shifted his body, causing John to slip deeper, and is the silicone mounds swept up to engulf John's ears, he finally realised upon what his head was resting.
"Ah ah," the pastor chided him, a strong hand on his chest as John struggled to pull himself vertical, to extract his head from the old man's bountiful cleavage. "The purification is a sacred ritual. It cannot be interrupted."
The pastor's stretched nipples brushed against his earlobes as he was sandwiched deeper.
"I don't think my wife would approve of this," John croaked.
"There's a reason the ceremony is a private affair," pastor Roberts cooed in his dry, ancient voice.
Staring up at the vaulted ceiling, a second pair of breasts entered his vision. The four supple orbs overhead fought for a time as the second figure leaned towards the pastor, crushing together, jostling for space in his vision, before pancaking against his face to envelop him in warm, skin-colored darkness. John heard the deep, masculine whisper of Leonard. "But, father, he is an outsider. He is not worthy of this."
"For too long we have hid ourselves from the outside. It is time we brought our teaching to the world," the pastor replied. "Go fetch the communion wine for our guest," he commanded. As the young man turned to leave, the pastor grabbed his arm, adding, "The good wine."
Leonard paused and nodded. John craned his eyes to watch the man's plump, skirt-encased ass wiggle away into the chapel's back room.
John frowned. "When he said father, he meant that in a general, reverential way... Or...?"
"I think of all of my congregation as my children," the pastor replied vaguely.
"Err. Okay. And you've always done this, um, ceremony?"
"Not quite this way. We have always followed the teachings but modern medicine has opened avenues we never had before," the pastor smiled. "We believe science and faith can work together, not at odds."
"Su-sure. And you do this with all your congregation?"
"It makes for a pleasant communal experience, does it not? You wouldn't believe how it improved my weekly attendance figures. The men of the town are quite fond of my masses." The pastor gave a deep chuckle at that, the vibrations rippling through the silicone flesh pressed against John's ears.
"It's just that it seems a little, um... personal? A bit, um, titillating?"
"Nonsense," the pastor scoffed. "The female form is nothing to be ashamed of. It is something to aspire to."
Brushing John's hair away from his eyes, he reached into the font, filling a shallow cup with the bleach-smelling liquid. He held the dripping vessel aloft above John's dark hair and began to intone in a sonorous voice.
"And so I doth banish the darkness, wash away the taint from this sinner. As I doth cleanse his body, might I also cleanse his soul, rinse away his mind, leaving his head only with thoughts of God. Domine Deus, verte hunc in mulierem. Verte illum in meretricem, si libet. Colorem auri comam verte, et cerebrum in crassitudinem casei liquefacti. Tuo sapientia et manu, pectora tument."
Abruptly a goblet was wedged between John's lips. He choked on a mouthful of liquid.
"Blundering boy!" the pastor snapped. "I asked you to fetch him wine, not drown him, you thug. Have I taught you nothing of gentleness? Or grace?"
Leonard had returned with the communion wine. He scowled, lifting the goblet back to the guest's lips with restrained, delicate motions.
John lay back as the strong wine trickled down his throat. Perhaps he had misjudged these people, he thought. The public nudity, the surgery - well, everybody worshipped in their own way, didn't they? Who was he to condemn their practices? The old pastor's fingertips massaged his scalp with remarkable dexterity, as the bleach trickled through his lightening hair. With Leonard giving him wine like a serving girl, he felt as if he was in heaven.
I must look absolutely absurd, he realized. John opened an eye, surprised to find the church spinning. His gaze lolled around, searching for his son. There he was, far away in a shaded corner at the back of the chapel, his arms around the shoulders of two of the choir girls as they talked closely.
"Femora ingentia et succosa fac," the pastor intoned solemnly. "Frange coxis hominis, et coxis hominis laxa. Succharum, aroma, et omne quod est delicatus. Haec sunt medicamenta ad faciendam mulierem perfectam."
The Latin meant nothing to John, but the vibrations against his cheeks were melodic enough that he found his thoughts melting away in the words, as he slipped into drugged unconsciousness.