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Scifi/Fantasy - The Other One

Started by Ren, Nov 14, 2019, 08:56 pm

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First part is just catching up on what has already been written.  Suggestion phase at the end!


"So boooring," Mike said to himself, as he wandered down the chocolate aisle.  That was the problem with working night-shift at a re-fuelling station in the middle of the suburbs. 

The road outside had been devoid of any traffic for at least an hour, and he'd not had a customer for at least two.

"Booring," he repeated.  Then.  "Hello."  A car had just pulled up outside.  A large, black, expensive SUV.  Not your run of the mill vehicle. 

He scampered back behind the counter and waited, curious to see who the driver was.

After about two minutes he frowned.  The doors remained firmly closed, and it hadn't moved.  He was considering going out to see if they realised the station was self service when, finally, someone stepped out.

Mike's jaw dropped.

The woman, and she was all woman, who exited the vehicle was drop dead, smoking super-model hot.  She was wearing a long black coat, cut off at the arms.  As she walked, it blew open slightly.  He wasn't totally sure, but it really looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

The doorbell rang as the goddess pushed the door open.

"Hel..."  Mike's voice cracked. "Hello there," he managed to finally get out.  "How can I service... be of service to you today... tonight."

The woman just smiled and played with her long blonde hair as she strode closer, her black, high heeled boots clicking on the tiles of the shop.  Mike swallowed.

Finally she stood before him on the other side of the counter.  Slowly, and with the smile of the devil herself, she leaned forward, giving Mike a gobsmacking view down her top.

She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Hello," she said.  Her voice was like the purr of a cat.

"H...h...hi," he managed to get out in reply.

"Would you do me a favour?" she asked.


"Open the register and give me all the money."  She smiled widely.



"I... I'm sorry miss, I can't..." he stopped.  The woman had pulled an enormous gun from somewhere and was now pressing the barrel against his forehead.

"Please?" she asked again.

"S...sure."  Mike, to his everlasting shame, pissed himself.

"Go on then," she said, pushing his head back with the gun.

Urine leaking down his leg, Mike, hands trembling, moved over to the register.  He was just about to open it when he became aware of the reflection of a flashing blue light coming from outside.

"Oh cunt."  His customer snarled as she saw the cop car screech to a halt outside, disgorging police as it did so.  She whirled back to Mike.  "I didn't tell you to stop!"

Mike gulped and pressed the button to open the till.

"You, in the shop!"  The male voice shouted through a megaphone.  "Come out with..."

What she should come out with was left unknown, as the woman opened fire, blasting away and shattering the glass at the front of the store.  The coppers outside dived for cover, just as another two cars and a van pulled up.  Mike ducked down behind the counter and started to scuttle away, only for his progress to stop abruptly as something grabbed his leg.

"You!  Where are you going?"

Mike rolled over onto his back and looked up.  The woman's eyes were, terrifyingly, glowing a dull red, and her arms seem to have swelled, showing muscles a body builder would be proud of.  The coat was struggling to contain her.

"Put down the gun and come out!" came another megaphoned warning from outside.

"Come and get me copper" she shouted back, loosing off another volley of shots.  At the same time she pulled Mike along the floor, apparently with no effort.

"Last chan..." the police officers' message was cut short by another fusillade.  The gun had to be some kind of automatic weapon.

This time a barrage of shots replied, blowing chunks out of the counter and the rear of the shop.  Mike covered his face with his arms and screamed like a bitch, but the woman, if that's what she was, simply threw back her head with maniacal laughter. 

"Is that the best you've got pigs?" she screamed, as bullets slammed into the wall all around her.  "Here, try one of these!"  She pulled something out of her pocket, did something with it and threw it towards the massed police.

There was a short lull in shooting, followed by a massive explosion. Mike, having already emptied his bladder, now voided his bowels as his place of employment turned into a fiery scene from hell. 

The woman howled with laughter again, barely audible now against the backdrop of explosions and screams from outside, and loosed off even more shots before stepping over to the till, which had been blown open in the exchange.  She scooped up a handful of bills and turned her attention to Mike.  Reaching down, she pulled him upright with one burly hand.

Her face was now more demonic than beautiful.  Eyes glowed red, her hair was now black, and seemed to move around in a snake-like manner of its own accord.  As she opened her mouth, he saw her teeth had become sharpened spikes. 

"Mummy!" he exclaimed as he was pulled closer.

"You," she hissed, "you are cute."  An impossibly long, narrow tongue slipped out of her mouth and, slowly, licked his face from chin to hairline. 

As another giant explosion shook the ground beneath them, she smiled.  "I've enjoyed our date.  I think you'll be seeing me again."

So saying she leaned forward and kissed Mike.  Despite everything, the kiss literally took his breath  away.  A feeling of nirvana swept through his body.  His legs, already weak, gave way, and he would have collapsed had she not held him up. 

Their encounter was interrupted by the arrival of more police. 

"Later lover."  Suddenly she was the super hot babe from before again.

Then Mike was on the floor, paralysed despite the glow of flames getting closer.

When he recovered enough to move, the woman was gone.

"She didn't even tell me her name," he croaked, and passed out.


Parts I - IV

Mike woke up trembling.  This wasn't new to him of course.  It had been a week now, and people were only just beginning to leave him alone.  The cops, having lost the woman, had followed their standard protocol and arrested anyone nearby, regardless of evidence and circumstance.  Of course, that had meant Mike in this case, as he was the only available body available.

He'd been dragged, beaten, partly burned and bloody as he was, in handcuffs, to the station and subject to a barrage of questions from a series of angry coppers.

Possibly because he was still stunned from the whole incident he'd simply refused to answer any questions at all, much to their growing anger.  If his brief hadn't turned up when she did, it was likely he'd have 'fallen down some stairs'.  As it was, he'd been advised to shut up, not a problem, whilst she had stern words with the authorities. 

A short time later he'd been unceremoniously ejected from the station and allowed to wander home, a period of history he couldn't remember.  The ordeal wasn't over though.  The whole thing had been caught on the stores' CCTV, which was leaked online, and it had become an overnight sensation.  The woman was now number one on the wanted list of just about everyone, from the law to news stations to every single person on social media.

Despite all the infamy, the woman remained at large.  The same couldn't be said for Mike though, and he'd had buy a new phone and crash at a friends', currently unused, bachelor pad.   He'd very quickly given up going online.

Of course, the police had interviewed him several more times.  He'd stuck to his story, which was the truth, now backed up by the CCTV footage, and they'd eventually left him alone, though not before a series of very specific threats. 

Several reporters had tracked him down as well, but he'd managed, with some difficulty to avoid them.

So now he lay on his bed and quivered. Finally alone. 

And despite everything, all he could think about was her. 

She'd destroyed his life, and his workplace, caused him a great deal of pain and suffering, and yet all he could think about was the kiss!  He had to see her again!  It was crazy he knew, but she was like a drug, and he was addicted, and addicted hard. 

He made a decision.  Pulling himself up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He would see her again.  He didn't know how, considering she'd vanished off the face of the earth - the cops had run into a dead end - no fingerprints, no trace from the weapons, nothing from the public - but he knew he would see her again.

But where to start looking?

Slightly unsteadily, it had been a day or two since he'd eaten, Mike climbed to his feet and padded, barefoot, over to his laptop.  Turning it on he studiously avoided checking his email, or any of his social media accounts. 

In fact, he stopped typing as a thought struck.  In fact, why go on the regular web at all?  He wasn't much of a techy, but some months previously a friend of his had installed a browser, a window he'd called it, to the dark web. 

Mike had looked, as had everyone else, all over the internet for the girl and had drawn a blank.  Maybe he would have better luck on the supposedly seedier side of the interwebs. 

Digging out the 'readme' file his friend had set up for him, he followed the instructions within, and soon found himself on a bulletin board, which looked rather similar to the  boards he'd been on previously, except this one had sections for drugs and, well, other things.

He scrolled down, browsing around for a while, until he found a thread started by someone called Mr. Fixit.  Apparently Mr. Fixit could arrange any number of things, from hard to get substances to even harder to get human merchandise and, most importantly from Mike's point of view: information.

He followed the instructions at the top of the thread and sent a brief message to Mr. Fixit, telling him he wanted to find the Gas Station Killer Babe, as some people were calling her.

The task done, he leaned back, wondering if he should eat something.  No doubt it would be a day or so...

The screen pinged, and a request for a chat box popped up.  It was from Mr. Fixit.

Mike hesitated only a moment.  He'd dug himself in this far after all.  He clicked on 'accept'.

"Hello' he typed.

"I've seen your request.  Why do you want to find her?'  came the reply.

Mike paused, slightly concerned about giving his identity away, but then everyone knew of him anyway, so it wasn't like this was really an issue.

"I'm the,"  he paused, then sighed and carried on typing.  "Gas Station Chicken Bitch," he finished.  He also had several other nicknames now, and this was probably the best of the bunch.



"Let's video chat then, if that's true.  You could be someone just saying that."

Again, Mike paused only a moment.  In for a penny...

He clicked accept again on the new box that popped up.  This time it was a video stream, although Mr. Fixit could only be seen as a silhouette.  Understandable enough.

"Well, it really is you!"  Even his voice was disguised, coming across the net as a rough, dalek sound.


"So you want to find your girlfriend then."

"Yes, can you do anything?"

"Why haven't you tried a regular PI?" Fixit asked.

"I figured, with the reward, they would have already looked.  I thought, perhaps, you might be different."

"Hahaha,"  The laughter, through the synth, came out as flat and dead.  "I may be on the dark side, but I'm still just a person," came the reply.

"So you can't help?"  Mike slumped.

"Hold on, hold on, I didn't say that did I?"


"I don't know who she is, for sure, but I have been digging.  It seems that this isn't the first sighting of this woman, though it's certainly the highest profile."

"What?  How come no one else knows of this?"  Mike asked.

"Some people, the cops and so on, do, I know for sure they do.  However, they don't go around sharing things like this."

"Tell me!"  Mike sat up straight in his chair, becoming animated for the first time in days.

"Well hold on now there fellah, this information isn't free."

"Oh, yes.  How much?"

There was a pause, and Mike was about to say something when Mr. Fixit finally replied.

"For you, because it is you, I'll do a deal.  Five hundred, but you tell me what you find.  There's something really weird going on, and it's attracted my curiosity, I will admit."

"How do I pay you?"

"Here.  Go to this website, fill in the boxes."

"Is that it?"  Mike raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, it's the modern age.  What did you expect, a drop in the city square at midnight?"

"Very well."  Mike clicked on the link that appeared at the bottom of the chat screen."

"Excellent, I'll email you the details when I get the cash."  The screen flicked out.

"But you don't know... my email address," Mike trailed off.

With some trepidation, he opened the link and followed the instructions for payment.  This may be crazy, but he needed to do something, and he had a feeling...

Payment sent, he say in front of the screen and crossed his hands, waiting.

He sat there for half an hour, and was wondering if he'd been stupid, when there was a ping from his email.   

He opened it up, and then opened up the attached files. 

There wasn't much there,  but what there was was new to him.  It seemed there had been minor disturbances involving a young woman, who very closely matched the description of his woman, for four or five months previous to his incident.  They had started small, from shoplifting, up to, a week before Mike's encounter, assault.  Three men had apparently decided to 'have a bit of fun' with the woman after having some beers, and had, somehow, come away with fairly serious injuries, including broken bones.

Mike raised an eyebrow. 

There was more, this time with speculation and conjecture included with information taken from police files, and there were also witness statements  Each time the woman disappeared without a trace.

Finally there were some notes that seem to have been pulled together by Mr. Fixit.  He'd had information from some other source, unidentified in the documents, which had given him a rough location of where, for reasons he didn't go into, he though the woman could be actually found.

Mike's heart started to race, and he clicked on the map.

The location, marked with a red X was a large building barely five miles from Mike's former place of employment, in the centre of a medium sized, sleepy, fairly well off suburb.

Eyes wide, Mike clicked the print key, and ran over pull the map off.  He started to pull on his shoes when he stopped short, catching his reflection on the mirror.  A dirty, bedraggled image stared back at him.  This wouldn't do!  He couldn't meet Her like this.

Dragging his clothes off he made his way to the bathroom, where he spent a frantic half hour on some much needed personal grooming.

An hour later he was ready.  Dressed in some decent, clean, clothes stolen from his mate's wardrobe, he stepped out into the daylight.  Blinking in the sun, he unlocked his friend's bike and began pedalling.


"Oh, this can't be right." 

It was some time later, and Mike had arrived at his destination.  Panting slightly, he double checked the map.  Nope, this was it.  And it explained why it was a large building.

He was standing in front of  'The Holy Mother Synthia's Puritanical Boarding School for Young Girls, (aged eight to sixteen).'

"What the hell?"  Mike said. He looked left and right. The street he was in was one of those wide, new ones, with trees and landscaping designed to let you know that only expensive people should tarry there, unless you were one of the people who cleaned up.  There was no one else in sight.

Lacking inspiration from the surroundings, Mike looked the school fence over once more.  The gate, which was a large black iron one, and wouldn't have looked out of place at the entrance to hell, was closed.  A camera, speaker box and push button was situated at a convenient height next to it.

Mike made up his mind.  He was close now to Her, he somehow knew that, and an iron gate wasn't going to stop him. Pushing his borrowed bike away, he secreted it behind a convenient bush.  Then, glad he'd stopped to dress up before he left, he smoothed down his jacket and walked back to the gate.


Mother Superior Overseer Mary Strikt was busy praying when her secretary knocked on the door.

"What is it child?" she asked, resisting the urge to take stronger action.  She had been going through assistants rather quickly lately, and this one showed at least a modicum of promise.  "I am in prayer, you know - I don't wish to be disturbed at this time."

"For give me Oh Mother Overseer," said the young woman, pulling at her habit.  "There's a young man here, he says he is a wealthy investor, and would like to look around."

"Who?" Mary stood up and put her whip to one side. 

"He says he is Micheal Strobowsky, he owns some social media company, and he is interested in enrolling his daughter."

"Is he now?"  Mary nodded.  Social media was the invention of the devil, and as such, this man could be useful to her school.  She took her seat behind her desk and nodded.  "Send him in."


Mike stepped into the large office somewhat nervously.  He had never been comfortable around religion, assuming that any deity worth their salt would be mostly disapproving of most of his life so far.  This school though, was more unnerving than he'd expected.  The corridors had echoed, and  the only noise he'd heard, other than his and the nun's footsteps, had been strange chanting from the classrooms.

This office was even more unnerving.  It was a large, plain, room.  The floor was some kind of dark polished wood, and the walls were plain white, with the sole exception of some kind of, rather creepy, symbol painted in deep red on the back wall.  He didn't know what it was, except it certainly wasn't a Christian cross. 

Slap bang in the centre of the room, behind an enormous wooden desk, sitting in something that was more throne than chair, was a thin, stern looking woman.  She was dressed in a slightly fancier habit than the single nun who had escorted him into the school, once he'd managed to blag himself past the gate.

Her outfit was made of a finely cut black leather, studded with small stones that could not be diamonds.

The nun, the head of the school he'd been told, stood up in one smooth motion and smiled, an expression that looked like she was trying on for the fist time. 

"Please, Mr. Strobowsky, have a seat."  She pointed at another chair, sitting in lonely isolation on Mike's side of the desk.

"Ahem, well, thank you."  Mike lowered himself onto the chair.  The sister looked on, and then sat herself.

"Now, how may The Holy Mother Synthia's Puritanical Boarding School for Young Girls, (aged eight to sixteen) help you?" she asked.

"Well, ahem, I have a young daughter, and I, er, heard this school, I mean, a frien... acquaintance of mine, recommended this place.  I was wondering if I could take a tour.  I didn't mean to take up  your time of course.  Maybe your assistant?"  He gestured behind him.  The other nun, from what he could tell beneath the robes, had seemed quite young and friendly. 

"Oh, every parent deserves my full attention I can assure you Mr. Strobowsky," she replied.

"Please, call me Mike," Mike said.  He'd made up the name on the spot, and was rather regretting it, and was even more scared someone would ask him to spell it.

"May I ask who your acquaintance was... Mike?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.  Mike felt as if she was looking into his soul.

"Ah... I would rather not."

"Very well."  She paused.  "It's just, well, this school is extremely... selective on the girls it takes.  Background checks are required, and other restrictions also apply."

Mike waved a hand dismissively.  "Oh yes, I know, my friend told me all about it."

"Did he?"  An eyebrow was raised.

Mike felt as if he'd just failed a test.

"Well," he said, "in strictest confidence of course.  As a potential patron too," he added for good measure.  Throwing the lure of money into the equation.

"And what of your daughter?  How old is she?"

"Oh, er, yes, Alice is, er, ten now.  Yes, ten."

"She is a little old for entrance to our establishment at ten," the nun said.  "However, it isn't unheard of.  Assuming she's strong enough."

Strong enough?  Mike resisted the urge to frown.  Time to go on the offensive.  He leaned forward and put his hands together.  "I can assure you, Alice is up to the challenge.  As am I.  Now, how about that tour?  Or is everything I've heard here a lie?"

The Mother Superior raised her eyebrow again, but then nodded.  "Very well," she said.  "Though you will have to sign an NDA before you leave.  I hope you understand."

"I would expect nothing less," Mike said, outwardly calm.   Inside he was screaming.

"Very well.  This way."  The woman stood up abruptly.  Mike was startled to see she had acquired a long, coiled, black whip from somewhere.

Standing, he followed her out into the hallway.  Her footsteps clacked sharply on the floor, and, looking down, he thought he saw tall black stilettos underneath the robe.  He frowned.  Surely nuns didn't...?

She stopped at a large wooden door and turned to face him.  "What is behind here is confidential, I'm sure you understand."

Trying to appear at ease, despite his increasing alarm, Mike nodded. "Of course."

"Very well."

Reaching into her robes, Mother Mary pulled out a metal chain, not unlike what you would expect on a prison officer. At the end was a large ring, jangling with iron keys of medieval design.  Selecting one, she inserted it into the lock and turned, then pushed the door open and stepped through.

Mike followed.

And stopped.

Behind was a large hall.  Overhead chandeliers straight from ancient times, laden with candles, illuminated a scene that he would usually assume was the result of smoking something illegal.

Groups of girls were gathered in different areas, listening to nuns or participating in actions that were alien to Mike's experience. 

He looked to the right. 

A group of students, they had to be no more than nine, were dressed in short leather outfits.  A nun was pointing, with a long barbed stick he noted, at a picture of a naked man on the wall.  She seemed to be highlighting tender areas to assault.  The girls were taking notes on tablets and laptops.

To his left four older girls, well into their teens, were standing around an intricate design chalked on the floor.  They were chanting in a language Mike didn't know.

"Keep up please."  His attention was drawn back to his guide.

"Ah, yes.  Of course."  He stumbled on.

"This is our general hall," Mother Mary pointed out. "Usually of course these lessons would be in their own classrooms, but whilst the renovations are being carried out we are slumming it.  Ah, here we go." 

They had arrived at a large archway.  Beyond it, by some strange optical illusion, he could only see dark.

"After you please," Mother Mary said, gesturing.

"Of course."  Pulling at his jacket, Mike stepped through.

"Oh balls."

He was in a torture chamber.  A literal torture chamber, with rack, iron maiden and all of the traditional pieces of equipment.  A group of year twelves were gathered around a restrained naked man who was in the process of having his belly slit open by one of them.  Again, notes were being taken.

"Here of course, is where we get to the nitty gritty," said Mother Mary, stepping in behind him.  At the same time, two nuns, very large and burly nuns, stepped forth and glared at him. 

He looked at the Mother Superior.  "What's going on?" he asked.

"Mr. Strobowsky," she replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, call me Mike," Mike said.  He went weak at the knees.


Part V - Hot Girls, Cold Dungeon.

"I'm not at all certain that you are who you say you are," Mother Superior said, unwrapping her whip slowly, and glaring at him.

Glancing at the two, alarmingly muscled, sisters who were glaring at him, and then back at Mother Superior and her glistening whip, Mike decided the only way he was going to get out of here was to go on the offensive.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head.

"I am..." he said, "outraged."  He jabbed a finger at Mother Superior.  "Outraged I say!  I come here, in good faith, hoping my daughter would learn all about 'The Arts'," he made the air quotes, "and maybe help along a local academic establishment at the same time, and I am met with... I am met with..." he took another deep breath and shook his head.  "THIS!"  He pointed at the rack, and the poor victim, now bleeding profusely from a long gash in his abdomen."

"Look at this!" he said, pushing roughly past one of the burly nuns, who took a step back at his outrage.  "It's a rack!  A rack for fuck's sake!  What century are we living in, excuse me dear."  The last to a teenaged girl in a ridiculously short leather skirt who had been wielding the knife.

He made a point of taking in the scene, glaring at the apparatus and the man, whos spasms were slowly subsiding as his life leaked out of him. 

"It's positively archaic!" he said.  "Archaic!" he repeated, enjoying a word that people don't usually get to say.  "I mean, where's the tech?  Where are the wires?  Where's the nerve stimulation?  I am sure my company could do better than this with a high end phone, a VR set and a few optical fibres!  I. Am. Outraged.  Is this all you've got?"

Rant over, he crossed his arms, glared at Mother Superior, and tried not to shit himself.

 Mother Superior Overseer Mary Strikt looked at him for a moment, her whip still by her side.  She glanced at the students, who were all looking at Mike with awe.  He shifted uncomfortably, trying his best not to get a hard on, surrounded by teenage girls in revealing leather outfits.

"Very well."

"Uh?"  Mike tore his gaze away from one of the students and back at Mother Superior.

"Very well.  I understand."  Mother Superior gestured at the surroundings.  "Our Great Lord is... traditional.  But I understand your concerns.  We have to move with the times."  She nodded at the two Bouncer nuns, who withdrew back into the shadows.

"Follow me please."  She turned and walked towards another door, which Mike hadn't noticed before.

Mike glanced around at the students, one of whom blew a kiss at him, and then followed the senior nun, surreptitiously adjusting the front of his pants.

Mother Superior was waiting for him at the door, which was a solid wooden affair, and looked about five hundred years old. 

Nodding at him as he approached, she turned and, carefully selecting a key from her chair, slid it into the lock and turned it. 

"You are correct of course," she said, turning the handle.  "We need to keep up with modern times.  As such, we've been using our R and D facilities to find more... unusual methods of spreading the Word.  This is our latest experiment.  I didn't think you would be interested, but now, well, maybe. We are always after more funding.  Finding young girls who people won't miss is never cheap."

Resisting the urge to comment, Mike simply stepped through into the room beyond the door.   It was a simple room, unlike the others in that it was plain concrete.   Standing against the walls to the left and right were two more nuns.  These were obviously no normal nuns though. 

Their habits were leather, more armour than habits in fact.  and from their wide belts hung wicked looking spiked clubs.  That wasn't enough.  They were both huge!  They would have put any  WWF wrestler to shame.  Both glared at Mike.

Mother Superior ignored both of them, striding across the room to the other door.  This one was eve n more solid than the last, though it had some sort of hatch lower down, and a barred window at head height. Everything about it screamed 'cell'.

Mother Superior reached the door and turned to look at him.

"Here is our latest experiment.  I want you to go in there and... see for yourself what strides in technology we are making."  She held her key up, as if a dare.

Mike pulled himself up to  his full height.  "Carry on my good woman," he said. 

Nodding, Mother Superior unlocked the door and pushed it open.  She didn't enter, but looked at him instead.

Taking a deep breath, Mike nodded back, and strode as confidently as he could through the door.

Which slammed behind him. 

The lock turned.

He was locked in.  Had he been more than usually stupid?  Probably.

"Oh, it's you!"

Mike turned and surveyed his surroundings.

As he'd surmised, it was a cell, straight out of medieval times.  It was small, with a covered wooden bucket in one corner, a tiny barred window high up in the wall, and a narrow cot.

On this cot was a young girl, probably no more than twelve years old. She was extremely pretty, with long tousled long hair, and wearing only a thin slip. 

"You've come for me!" she said, and threw herself at him, kissing him passionately.

"Whoaa!" Mike said, untangling himself from her embrace with some difficulty.  Still, that kiss... familiar?

"What?"  the girl pouted.   "Don't you remember me?"

"I... I..."  Mike gulped.  This girl was still a child, and yet...

"Oh, I know!"  she said brightly.  "I don't look the same.  Hold on."

So saying, she smiled at him in a way that no twelve year old should ever do, and stepped back.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then there was a... disturbance in the fabric of the universe.

Mike peered through eyelids he didn't realise were closed.  And his mouth dropped open.

Standing there, discarding the remnants of a shift too small for her, was... HER. 

"Hi there," she said, and her grin this time instantly gave Mike the hardest erection he had ever had.  "Have you come to break me out?"

Mike messed himself.


Oh ohh!  Disguistingness!  Well, I'm full of beer, so, whatever.

What's the plan now?  Is Mike going to help her?  If so, how??




 "Wh... wh... who..." Mike gave up as She wound herself around him, hands moving over areas of his anatomy like the a supercharged mars rover on a particularly interesting rock outcrop.

"I've been waiting for you Mike," she purred in his ear, licking in first.

"You have?" Mikes voice rose several octaves as the mars rover arrived at the Main Event and sent out probes.

"I knew you would come you see," she went on.  "I knew you would save me from... here." 

"B... bu... bu... but why are you... oh god," Mike, with a willpower he didn't know he possesed, pushed  her back.  "Why are you here?"

"They don't want me to have a life, or any fun."  She pouted, and Mike groaned.  "Will you help me?"

"What do I have to do?" Any remaining resistance crumbled as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Oh baby, you have to get me out of course!"

"But how?  Those nuns outside..."

"You don't need to get this body out, as such," she said.  "Just, do a few specific tasks, and you can summon me anywhere.  At the moment I'm trapped here, but if you do what I want, we can be together.  You want that don't you?" She rubbed herself against him again.

"Tell me what to do," he said.


Okay, shortest chapter ever, but need ideas!  What is the ritual needed?  Help!




Jan 31, 2020, 08:41 pm #5 Last Edit: Feb 02, 2020, 02:26 pm by Ren
She pouted, and put a finger to her lips. 

"Oh god, please don't do that," Mike said.  "J... Just tell me what I need to do."

"You're a good boy," She said, stroking his face. "I knew you were special the first time I saw you mess your pants."  She fondled his lower regions and he whimpered.

"These so called 'nuns'," she went on, "have summoned me forth, but now they have, they keep me imprisoned here.  Isn't that so cruel?"  A tiny kiss on his cheek.  "Mike?"

"Ohhhh, yes. Yes.  Yes!" Mike replied, quivering. 

"So, I just need a little favour from you, and then we can be together.  Will you help me?"

"Of course!"  he said.

She smiled, and Mike's world turned golden.


Mike wiped his brow as he typed.  He'd searched the local area, but there was nothing.  He had to go wider.

Glancing to one side, he took in the pile of, for want of a better word, he'd called ingredients.  They'd mostly been easy to get.  Black candles featured heavily, as had, surprisingly, chocolate.  The untanned cow hide had been a bit harder, but a visit to a local abattoir had sorted that out, and what he'd been assured was goat's blood too.  He was a bit concerned about that, as he could only see cow parts in the abattoir. Still, there was nothing to do about it now, and surely blood was blood?

Now he was searching on online, looking for an abandoned church.  One seemed harder to find than he would have thought, given the number of churches in the country. 

It took another half an hour before he found one that looked like it would suit, and most of the next day hiring a car and travelling there, and scouting the location out.

It really was abandoned, and not within direct line of sight to any dwelling, which was a definite plus.

Eventually Mike wiped his brow and stood back, taking the whole building in from the slight rise in the road where he'd parked the car. 

"This will do," he said.


The church, Saint Andrew's it had been called, was just outside of a small village with the unlikely sounding name of Old Marzipan.  There was no clue as to where 'New Marzipan' was.  The building itself had been boarded up for about ten years, and was suitably Gothic and old-style spooky.  If looks could contribute to demonic worship, this was the place indeed.

Mike nodded to himself as he pushed his way through the hedge carrying his supplies.  Apparently the ritual had to be done at midnight.  As a dedicated coward, Mike was not looking forward to that part.

Still, he scuttled through the graveyard (graveyard!!) and made his way to the side door that he'd forced open earlier with the crowbar he'd, with impressive foresight, brought along.

The main hall - there was probably a name for it, but as a dedicated Atheist Mike didn't know what that was - was gloomy even whilst there was still daylight, and he shivered. 

"Better get on with it," he muttered to himself.

This was his last trip ferrying in supplies, and he dropped the bag next to the rest of the stuff.  He'd already drawn the pentagram, most carefully, in the chalk mixed with the (hopefully) goat's blood, and placed the black candles at the points required. 

He pulled the cow skin out of his bag and unrolled it on the floor, smoothing it out, and then sat back. 

Now it was just a case of waiting.


He woke with a jerk at eleven forty five as his alarm went off.  The portable lamps he'd brought and turned on earlier lit the church around him, somehow making the darkness beyond even more terrifying. 

"Concentrate on the task at hand," he chided himself, thinking of Her. 

Taking out the lighter he'd bought at the local shop, he carefully made his way around the pentagram, lighting the candles.  Their flickering glow just added to the spooky atmosphere. 

Task done, Mike kneeled on the cow skin and took a deep breath.  "This will be worth it!' he told himself. 

He opened the notebook with the words that She'd given him, that day in the school.  It seemed so long ago now, and the whole thing had a dream-like quality to it, but it had only been a few days ago.  Still, it had propelled him forward, driven by a force that he didn't entirely understand, and yet...

Shaking his head, he looked at his watch. 


Mike took a deep breath, and spoke the seven words.  Nothing.  This was, apparently, to be expected.

He paused and then repeated them. 

Was that a breeze?

He repeated them once more, and this time there was certainly a response. 

The candles flared.  A dull, red, some would say demonic glow appeared in the centre of his pentagram. 

He stood up, stepped back and watched.  The glow became stronger, brighter, until he had to shield his eyes and look away.

There was a low hum, building up to a crescendo until, at what was probably exactly midnight he worked out later, a large, dull explosion, and a flash of red light.

Mike lowered his hand from his eyes and looked at his work.

There was a man in the centre of the pentagram. He was tall, muscular and dressed in the coolest long black cloak. 

The man looked at him with eyes that seemed to glow.  He was clean shaven and totally bald, though he was wearing what appeared to be dark red makeup around his eyes, it was difficult to see in the low light. 

"So, you're Mike I take it?" the stranger said.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mike replied.

"I'm Azerus."  The newcomer smiled.  "You're cute."

"Oh fuck," Mike said.


So, how the hell is this 'person' going to help Mike get 'Her'?  Any ideas?  'cos I'm all out.

But WTF, at least I wrote something right? And I'm only a bit drunk.


Edited slightly 02/02/20


Mar 11, 2020, 05:49 pm Ren says: Another episode of Walkabout has finally been posted! Woot.

Feb 13, 2020, 08:31 pm Ren says: New episode of Apocolypto is now up! Woot. [

Jan 31, 2020, 08:45 pm Ren says: Another episode of The Other One is posted!

Jan 27, 2020, 07:31 pm Ren says: Right then, The Other One is now polling!

Jan 26, 2020, 09:12 am Ren says: Another episode of Theodore Chance is now up!

Dec 31, 2019, 07:00 pm Wanderer says: I don't think I did anything with the snowflake colour!  Anyway, Happy New Year to all![color]

Dec 30, 2019, 04:57 pm Ren says: Happy New Year to everyone! - More of Theodore Chance has been posted! [/b]

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