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From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Demeter's Pet {Varkel} [7/19] (MF Mf Mg mF mf mg Fm Fb Mm Mb mb bb oral anal pedo fantasy 
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Date: Thu, 06 Nov 2008 22:10:04 -0500
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Demeter's Pet
a Novel by Varkel
Summer, 2008


Chapter 7: _Preying in the Mall_


Locating the food court, Sam found a young man sitting alone before a 
coffee cup.  He took the youth over and used his eyes to scan the throng
of shoppers, at least half of whom seemed to be young girls dressed in 
their scanty summer clothing.

He thought, _You there, Pester?_

_Here, not there._

_You were going to give me advice on arousing girls._

The nymph was silent for a while before responding.  _You must first get
to know them.  I can tell already that human girls are different.  
Unlike us nymphs, they're all set to reject a stranger.  I wonder how 
the gods arranged that!_

Sam chuckled.  _You're right about the rejection.  If I touch one of 
them in this body she'll scream bloody murder._

_Yeah?  What's wrong with you?_

_Look how I'm dressed: baggy pants about to fall off, stains all over 
this shirt and ..._  He felt of his head.  _And a baseball cap turned 
around backwards!_

_I noticed the boys when you looked around.  They're all dressed that 
way.  Why do you people wear clothes anyhow?_

_We'll talk about that later.  You're right: they _are_ dressed alike._

He got to his feet and approached a table of three teenage girls with an
empty fourth chair.  Producing his most winning smile, he said, "Hello,
pretty ladies!  Mind if I sit?"

All three scanned him up and down but failed to return his smile.  One 
said, "He's fitted but hot ... not."

They giggled.  Another said mockingly, "How 'bout hooking us up with 
some grit?"

The third girl stared at the second.  "If he does, where you gonna bic 
it?"

"Right here at this table," said the grit requester.

"Well?" demanded the first, looking up at the lad with interest.

"I'll be back," he said, walking away.  Soon as he reached a corner and
turned out of sight, he transferred to Marcy's bedroom.  Mother and 
daughter lingered on the bed, apparently in conversation.  They reacted
by rising on elbows with wide eyes.

"Quick!" he said.  "When a teenage girl asks you to hook her up with 
grit, what does she mean?"

"Grit?" repeated Marcy in wonder.

Natty looked thoughtful.  "Some of the girls in the higher grades say 
'grit' when they don't want teachers to understand."

"But what does it mean?"

"Cigarettes."

"What?  _Cigarettes_?  Oh.  And 'to bic' means to light them up, right?"

"I guess."

"Thanks, darling!"

The tobacco store in the mall -- ah, yes: there!  Only one attendant was
present.  Sam flitted his captured boy into the back room, stuffed a 
carton of Virginia Slims into his shirt and returned to the corner in 
the mall.

To his surprise a middle-aged woman stood nearby, bent forward as if 
inspecting something.  She straightened up with a gasp, face contorted.

"Excuse me," Sam said, stepping around her.

Behind him she stammered, "You-you, you can't _do_ that!"

He ignored her.  Approaching the table of three, he returned the wide 
smile to his face and declared, "Got the grit."

The demanding one sniffed.  "At least that's your drag."

He sagged into the empty seat, produced the carton from beneath his 
shirt and slapped it on the table top.  Assuming _drag_ meant _claim_, 
he asked, "This look like a drag to you?"

If he was wrong, obviously no one cared.  "Hear the _man_!" the same 
girl cried.  All three stared at the bouncing carton with 
Christmas-morning eyes.  One tore off the end and shook out cigarette 
packs.  The demanding girl, a brunette wearing splotchy jeans and a 
matching jacket, hitched her chair against his and threw her arms around
him.  A hot, wet tongue suddenly swabbed his ear canal.

One of the others produced a butane lighter.  Suddenly a cloud of smoke
filled the air at the table.  "Super shit!" declared the one who had 
originally wanted hooking up, exhaling a dreamy blue stream directly 
toward Sam.  He coughed.

"What's the matter, Akers?" asked the closest girl, who had released 
Sam, both shoulder and ear, and was lighting up.  "You don't blaze.  
Where'd you get the grit?"

Akers?  Was that his name?  While he debated how to answer, she blew a 
lungful directly into his face just as he inhaled.  The tickle was 
irresistible.  He sagged to one side and coughed retchingly.

The girls laughed derisively.  His ear-licker cried, "What a jork you 
are, Akers!"  Although unintelligible to him, he was sure their comments
impugned his manhood.

A shadow fell over them and the laughter choked off.  A middle-aged mall
cop stood glowering with hands on hips.  "Want me to arrest you all?"

As one the girls leaped to their feet and scurried toward the outside 
door.  Sam was still coughing.  Several cigarette packs and the opened 
carton lay on the table.

"These yours?" asked the man, pointing.

"No, sir."

"Huh, a polite one!  I take it you don't smoke."

"No, sir."

"But you want to fuck, right?"

Sam's eyes widened.  Should a cop talk like that?

"Of course you do!  Well, go chase your chicks."

Sam left the cop standing over the cigarettes, but instead of following
the girls he went deeper into the mall.  He had to chuckle while still 
wheezing.

_What's so funny?_ asked Pester.  _The Tower of Babel rules here.  I 
couldn't understand them._

_Neither could I.  What's funny is they used chemical warfare on me._

_That's _funny_?_

_Teenage girls have gotten stranger than I realized.  You see why I love
children?_

He sat down on a bench in the hall and watched the passing crowd, 
gradually growing thicker.

_I've got an idea_, thought Pester.

_Well, I haven't!_

_Why don't you take over a girl?_

_Wh-what?_

_Aren't boys that much like satyrs?  What would this one do if a girl 
came up and offered to fuck?_

He thought about it.  _Pester, you _do_ have an idea!_

_Of course you'll have to run the girl._

He chuckled.  _Finally giving you your chance, eh?_

_All right.  But your chance too.  How about that one hanging back?_

His eye was already following three girls strolling toward him.  Two in
front wore the shabby jeans that seemed typical but one a pace back wore
a skirt -- no, culottes -- and a tank top.  Her nose was too long for 
beauty but her hair was neatly drawn into a pony tail.  Her expression 
suggested disgruntlement, perhaps at the two leaders' failure to include
her in their spirited discussion.  He guessed all three to be about 
sixteen.

He transferred from the boy to the girl's mind, taking control, and 
watched the seated lad, who jerked with mouth falling open, but froze 
when he discovered the girl watching.  Sam caused his hostess to smile 
at the lad and kept their eyes locked while the threesome approached.

"It's too bad Shelley is such an airhead," said one of the leaders, head
cocked so that her voice would carry over her shoulder.  "Wearing 
culottes to the mall!  That's so not swank."

The other sneered, "She's hoping Jeffrey will feel her up."

Both girls giggled cruelly, careful not to look behind them.

As they passed the boy on the bench, Sam sat his hostess down with her 
hip contacting the lad, who flinched but straightened up immediately.  
She pressed her chin to his shoulder.  "Let's have fun," she suggested 
in hardly more than a whisper.

"Uh, uh --" he stuttered.  "You mean it, Shelley?"

Did all these kids know each other?  "You like me, don't you, Akers?"

"You're _stacked_!"

"Then come on."

She caught his hand and led him back up the hall, away from the two 
critics of culottes.  He followed readily enough.  "Where we going?"

"I know a place."  The tobacco shop was this way, however a scan ahead 
showed it occupied with customers.  Beyond it she found an unoccupied 
store room, one with both a door on the side hall and one to the 
outside.

Marching smartly, she led him to the hall door and transferred both at 
once into the windowless dark interior.  He gasped and stiffened.  She 
turned on the interior lights to reveal stacks of boxes -- and a cot 
with blankets against the far wall.

"Hey!" he complained, eyes wide.  "Where are we?"

"In a storeroom."

"How'd we get in here?"

"Through that door, how else?"

He put out a hand to the wall and said with a whimper.  "Sh-Shelley ...
something's wrong with me."

"Something caused by lack o'nookie, I hope."

He blinked.  "Lack a what?"

"Come on."  Again leading him by the hand, she wound around the 
variously marked shipping boxes and reached the cot.  When she loosened
his belt, the droopy britches fell off.  Apparently he did not wear 
underpants.

"Oh, brave!"  She snickered at site of his updrawn balls and flaccid 
manhood.

"It'll get bigger," he averred.

"I meant your missing jockeys."

"They shine if you bend over," he explained.

"I'm not whining.  Brace yourself, pal."  The girl dropped to her knees,
caught the twitching cock and passed it through her lips.  The knob 
expanded respectably in her mouth as she sucked.

_Well, Pester, how about it?_

_Shelley has no uvuclit.  I want it in her pussy._

_Coming up._

Shelley rose to her feet and simply shoved culottes and panties over her
hips and down to the floor.  She caught both of his hands and pulled him
atop her on the cot.  "Give me some tongue too."

"Oh, wow!"

"That's my line when you get to work."

"Your line?  Shelley, you're so funny!"

"Quit stalling, Akers.  Lick my cooze."

"Call me Joe, will you?"  He slid down her torso until his chin passed 
her groin.  His tongue began to flick intolerably, concentrating on the
clit.  She caught his temples in her hands and moved his head about in a
small circle.  "Do it all around the spot, Joe."

He was willing enough.  Pleasure soon flooded the girl's belly.  _Good 
god!_ Sam thought aside to Pester.  _This is really different._

_You know it!_

_I mean from a blowjob.  That only feels good in the end of the cock._

_I see what you mean.  God damn Her!_

The girl was climaxing powerfully.  Sam felt an urge to cry out in 
jubilation and kept it down to a squeak only with difficulty.  Suddenly
her sexual organs were unbearably sensitive.  He shoved the boy's head 
away.

"God, Shelley!" the lad cried.

"Quit stealing my lines.  Come on up and fuck."

Sam wondered if the penis would also be unbearable, but no -- it slid 
into her like cool silk.  Obviously Shelley was no virgin.  A 
razor-sharp pang of pure pleasure shot through her vitals.  "Good god!"
she gasped aloud.  The pleasure came again and again, rising.

_Don't let me pass out._

_Then control it.  You know how._

_It works in a girl?_  Even better.  Instead of merely choosing the 
moment of ejaculation, he found that he could maintain continuing 
climaxes while managing their intensity so as to remain tolerable.  
Nevertheless her awareness shrank to the ecstasy in her belly.  Dimly 
she was aware of musical sounds and bright lights in her vision.

Then it was all gone.  She rose, panting, on an elbow.  Joe lay on his 
side, jammed between her body and the wall, eyes closed, taking 
stentorian breaths through an open mouth.  She shook his shoulder.  "Do
it some more."

"I c-can't.  God, Shelley!"

She lifted his still dribbling cock.  It was shrinking visibly.

_Should I suck it?_

_He's no satyr.  But this place -- this _mall_ -- has a lot more cocks._

_Shit!  Next time I'll bring two or three guys._

_Hmm.  Remember Tolis, the nymph with boobs?  It would be interesting if
you'd return to Olympus and take her over.  She'd love it.  With you 
running her, the satyrs would flock around._

He sighed.  _The hell with it.  Think I'll go see what Marcy learned 
about Jason._

_Sam!  You're not so careless as to just leave these babes locked up in
here, are you?

_I'm not?_

_No!_

He sighed again.  Shelley rose from the cot and pulled Joe to the edge.
"Get your clothes on.  My friends will be tripping."

He stood but pulled her against him.  "Didn't you like it?"

"You're a great guy, Joe.  You got me off."

"Wow!"  He grinned proudly and bent to pull up his droopy britches.  
With panties and culottes in place, she went to the door and found that
it unlocked from the inside.  "Give me a minute," she said, "then you 
come on out."

She strolled out to the main hall, looking around.  _Why did you cuss 
Shelley?_

_"Cuss?" Oh.  Not Shelley.  I was cussing the One who took away my belly
pleasure.  Damn Demeter to Hades everlasting!_

In the food court Shelley found her two jean-wearing critics sitting 
over cokes.

"Where'd you get to?" demanded one when she joined them.

Sam released her controls but hovered in close contact.

One of the others sniffed.  "Did we run you back to the car?"

Sam felt Shelley's lips tighten but she answered coolly, "I think I was
in a storeroom."

"You _think_?"  They laughed.  "What were you doing in a storeroom?"

She spotted Joe at the food court entrance, looking at her.  They both 
smiled.  She said dreamily, "Nothing much, just banging Joe Akers."

_Oops!_ Sam thought as he transferred out.  _She remembers!_

Pester agreed.  _They tend to, you know, one way or the other._

_What do you mean, "They tend to?"_

_You never noticed?  Sam Clemens really investigated that.  He found 
that mostly his subjects regarded his takeovers as dreams, else they'd 
fear going crazy.  Ha!  I guess it's the same thing.  If you humans 
won't believe your eyes, you wouldn't believe your thoughts either._

_This could be dangerous!_

_Don't be silly.  No one here can hurt you -- unless you let him._

_I'm not thinking of myself._


* * *


Human sight, while limited to the direct view through two eyes, was 
sharper than mental.  Sam settled into the mind of a man, presently 
consuming a hurried lunch alone in the crowded food court, to look 
around without taking control.  Many of the diners were barely mature 
women, probably salesclerks from the numerous stores around them, but a
majority were teenagers, boys and girls mostly self-segregated.

_I have an idea_, thought Pester, _if you're up for it._

_What?_

_It's something Sam Clemens experimented with.  You can send a piggyback
Olympian to take over a human for you._

_"A piggyback Olympian" -- like a certain Pester?_

_Exactly.  Sam ...  This is awkward.  Why don't you humans have unique 
names?_

_Not inventive enough, I guess.  If you want to talk about Clemens, call
him Mark for Mark Twain._

_Okay.  One of the times Mark took me with him to the human preserve, he
let me take over a dark girl and wait on him._

_"Wait?"_

_You know: suck his cock and fuck him.  And scratch his back._

Sam felt a vicarious interest.  _Did you!  Of course, he still had his
original body._

_What original!  By that time he had regained his youth._  He did love 
to fuck dark-skinned girls and get sucked off by thick lips._

_Hmm.  So he picked a girl and sent you into her head, is that right?_

_At first he had a little trouble finding me in his own head.  I learned
to ...  Here, feel that?_

Sam had a sense of something warm in his thoughts.  On closer 
examination he found her ... just there.  _Hey, there you are!_

The warmth vanished.  _Can you still find me?_

_Yeah!  I know where you are now.  It's like you're on the side of my 
head, just behind my ear._

He sensed her amusement.  _I'd sneeze if I could.  You've got me stuck 
in this guy's bushy hair._

_Okay, funny girl._

_Let's try an experiment.  Pick a female and will me into her head._

Sam took control of his subject and looked carefully around.  He saw no
girl eating alone.  A few women sat unaccompanied, all in the dressier 
clothing of salesclerks.  He chose the youngest-looking of those, a pixy
face with small breasts and a long brunette ponytail, eating fast with 
her eye on the distant clock.

_You see her?_

_The one with the tail behind her head?  Has Demeter been here too?_

_That's her hair, silly.  Ready to go?_

_Remember we won't be able to communicate._

_All right.  Have her look at me and hold up one finger._

Carefully he enclosed the Pester-mind and pushed it across the court to
the brunette.  The woman twitched and for a moment her face showed 
startlement then settled into a smile.  She looked up but the smile 
faded when she couldn't find Sam's host.  He held up his forefinger.  
The smile reappeared as her eyes settle on his and she also held up a 
finger: a middle one with the fist turned backward.  Did she do that on
purpose?

He made a "come here" motion with his hand.  She got to her feet, 
abandoning lunch and purse, took one step and fell to a knee with a 
pained expression.  A man seated at an adjacent table bounced to his 
feet, caught her elbow and helped her stand erect.  They exchanged words
that Sam couldn't hear.  She looked incredulously down at her feet.  One
of her high-heeled pumps had come off; now she kicked off the other.  
Shaking off the man and abandoning her shoes, she marched in skirt and 
pantyhose straight to Sam's table and sank into the seat beside him.

"Good gods on the mountain!" she proclaimed in a strong soprano voice, 
plucking at a low-cut blouse.  "These cloths are stifling."

For Sam it became an exercise in mental agility.  In a second he scanned
Marcy's house and found her snoring in the bedroom.  Faintly he recalled
that the couple on the other side of his old place worked and had no 
children -- and now their house was empty!  Standing up, he snatched the
new woman's purse, her shoes and her person, along with his own subject,
into his ex-neighbors' dim bedroom of drawn-drapes.  The woman's 
property thudded to the carpet behind them.

"Where are we?" Pester demanded, looking with disapproval at the unmade
bed.

"In a safe place."  His own host's voice was a baritone.

"I can't stand these swaddling cloths."  She shuddered.  "They're even 
trying to get into my cunny.  Get them off me, Sam.  Please!  You know 
how."

Remove a woman's clothes?  Pester's hostess looked desperate.  Yes, he 
knew generally how, though not well enough for speed with a woman girded
to meet the public.  Was it possible to select very carefully ...  Yes.
He found the binding cloth to be distinguishable from skin.  In a moment
she heaved a sigh of relief as all her clothing, including the hateful 
pantyhose, settled to the carpet beside her.

"Great Zeus, how do human females stand it?" she said.  "A better 
question: _why_ do they stand it?"

He shrugged.  "They say people can get used to anything."

Pester's hostess stood before him, hands on her hips.  She was slender 
with small, perky breasts and the ribcage outlined below her neck.  Her
pubic hair had been trimmed to a thin line halfway up to her navel.  Her
legs were shapely.  Red streaks marked her skin where tight underwear 
had clung.

"Not bad," he said, nodding his head.

Looking at him, she frowned.  "Oh, Sam: you're old!"

He spied a full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, now 
standing open, and presented himself before it.  Apparently he had 
picked a man at least in his sixties.  The clean-shaven face was heavily
lined, nose and cheeks bright with lacy veins.  Using his new disrobing
technique, he deposited all the man's clothing on the carpet, exposing a
thick pelt of gray on the chest and wiry gray pubes.  Yet the man's head
hair was a virile black.

Standing beside him, Pester laughed.  "Top is younger than bottom."

"Top is dyed," he said grumpily.

"Died?"

"He changed the color to look younger.  Pester, this may not work."

"Not work?"

"Old men often can't get it up."

"'Can't get it --'  Ah!  Oh, yes he will!"

She dropped to her knees on the padded carpet and slurped up the 
dangling flesh.  Suction and vigorous tongue work produced the desired 
result.

When it was fully erect, she rose and backed away toward the bed.  
"Cocksucking isn't much fun without an uvuclit.  Mark and I agreed only
to finish up that way."

"Fair enough."

They fucked strenuously on the bed.  No virgin, soon she was climaxing,
continually and noisily, and gasping for breath.  Curiously he could not
remember breathing difficulties with her or anyone else on Olympus and 
resolved to notice at the next opportunity.

When she felt his pleasure rising, she quickly reversed herself and 
drained him dry with gentle lips, swallowing the entirety.

Afterwards she lay back and grinned at him.  "I can see why humans don't
have tails.  They'd get in the way on a bed."

"But not in grass?"

"Not so you notice.  Once again I would have the gods damn Demeter to 
Hades."

"You liked it."

"Loved it!  A woman comes with her whole body.  Even her toes are 
tingling."

He sighed.  "Maybe it's better for you here than Olympus, but ...  Well
..."

"You'd rather fuck a nymph."  She giggled and shrugged.  "I know the 
gods made men fickle."

"We'd do well now to put our hosts back where they belong."

She rose on an elbow to regard the clothing on the floor.  "My god, Sam,
I can't stand the thought."

"Hmm.  What if you release her?  Let her dress herself."

"Good idea.  But I want a kiss first."

They kissed deeply, tasting his host's residue.  She backed away.  "We 
don't do that often at home.  We should.  Are you ready?  Here I come."

He immediately felt her presence return "behind his ear."  Her erstwhile
hostess blinked several times, mouth falling open, huge eyes on Sam's 
host.  She hitched herself away, stood up beside the bed, clenched her 
fists, closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Sam winced and made a face.  When the sound ceased, he sighed and said,
"Run outside and do that if what you want is attention."

She glared around the disheveled room and said plaintively, "Nobody can
hear me?"

"We're alone in a private house."

"Do you plan to rape me again?"

"Is that what you think happened?"  He nodded slowly.  "In fact I think
you're right.  You and this man were both raped, but I think you both 
enjoyed it."

With a grimace she snapped, "You're despicable!"  She eyed him as if she
were considering an attack.

"No doubt."  He grinned.  "But you're rather delectable.  Why don't you
get dressed?"

He got out of bed on the opposite side.  Fortunately if she had violence
in mind, their clothing had fallen separately on the side of the bed 
each occupied.  They dressed concurrently.  Sam didn't recall how to tie
the necktie so shoved it in a coat pocket.

Despite the evident complexity of female garments, she finished first 
and darted into the bathroom, from which her voice wafted the words, 
"God, I'm a mess!"

In the bathroom he found her on the toilet with water rattling into the
bowl.

"Of course you couldn't wait!" she declared venomously.

He located a comb on the sink and ran it through his black hair.  "You 
want to know something interesting?  It seemed to me that both of us 
were eating in a hurry, like we had something important to return to."

Her eyes widened.  "Good god!  Livia will kill me."

"Your boss?"

She sprang to her feet and jerked up the pantyhose without wiping.  
"Where's my purse?"

He tilted his head.  "On the bedroom floor."

She retrieved it.  Her hip shoved him aside at the mirror over the sink
and she quickly transferred colorful daubs from purse to face.  "To 
think I actually sucked your come!" she said with evident disgust.

"You remember everything, then."

"Yes, dammit!"

"I hope you remember all those orgasms.  You were going off like a 
string of firecrackers."

"Yeah," she admitted slowly and heaved a sigh of her own, studying his 
reflection in the mirror.  "I guess in a long life you really learn how
to please a woman."

He grinned.  "Actually it's more an issue of attitude than practice.  
Are you ready to go back to the mall?"

"I guess.  Though I warn you, if I see you there I'll call the cops."

He raised his hands.  "You have nothing more to fear from me."

She sighed again.  "In a way that's too bad."

A quick forward scan located positions momentarily clear of observation.
He transferred man and woman back to the food court.  They were well 
apart but facing each other.  Her eyes found his.  She flushed.

Sam sat his host down at an empty table and released control.  The man's
head wobbled and he took a deep breath, but his eyes never lost their 
lock with the woman's.  He stood up and marched resolutely toward her.
She flinched back but straightened.  Her chin rose and a red spot on 
each cheek replaced the flush.

He stopped before her and inclined his head.  "Miss ... I don't even 
know your name.  And I don't know why I did what I did just now, or even
how I did some of it, but I accept responsibility.  You certainly have a
claim against me."

She licked her lips.  Her eyes were thoughtful.  "You're old enough to 
be my father.  But I think we ought to discuss it, don't you?"

"You mean ..."

"In private."

"Miss ... that would be wonderful!"  For the first time they smiled at 
each other.


Contact:
Varangian: ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis: kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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