index


Message-ID: <58231asstr$1226027405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Demeter's Pet {Varkel} [8/19] (MF Mf Mg mF mf mg Fm Fb Mm Mb mb bb oral anal pedo fantasy 
Lines: 794
Date: Thu, 06 Nov 2008 22:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Demeter's Pet
a Novel by Varkel
Summer, 2008


Chapter 8: _Jason plus Stacy_


He settled into the mind of Jason Carlyle, familiar since this morning.
The man was sitting before a desk, wearing the same robe and slippers, 
turning the pages in a handwritten ledger.  He seemed dull and 
lethargic.  Was he drinking?

He knuckled his itching eyes and Sam understood.  He had just awakened 
from sleep.

Sam assumed control and looked at the glittering timepiece on his wrist,
a Rolex.  It showed 1:27, but a sunlit street corner appeared beyond the
window before him.  No time had been lost.

The handwriting was impressively even and smooth, barely irregular 
enough not to be a computer printout.  He read a few sentences and 
realized it was a diary.  He flipped from the last recorded page back to
the start for today's date and began to read.

[Handwriting]
I'm losing my mind.

And in the most despicable way possible.  The devil himself has 
possessed me.  As he did our Lord, he has led me to his euphemistic 
mountaintop and tempted me beyond tolerance.  Perhaps he lacked power to
push the Master over the cliff, but he had enough power for Jason 
Carlyle.

Across the street and halfway down the block lives Marcy Baise, an 
unmarried woman, with her lovely little daughter, Natalie.  I have 
spoken to Miss Blaise several times, at the supermarket and the mall.  I
have invited her to my church.  As mentioned earlier herein, I have even
sat with her in the library reading room on a Sunday afternoon to 
discuss politics and to confide in her some of my ambitions.

Now, today, I have fucked mother and daughter.  They have both sucked my
penis, though the girl could barely take the glans into her mouth.  
After fucking Marcy to near unconsciousness, I took the child until my 
wasted cream of life saturated her hairless pudendum.

"Fucked" is the right word.  Certainly they felt no love for me, but to
my utter mortification I loved every moment of our depravity!

My critical facilities were suspended, yet although I moved without my 
own volition, I saw, heard, smelled, tasted and felt everything 
perfectly.  The devil motivated me completely and spoke intelligibly 
with both females.  My outsized penis erected.  Now I know my suspicions
were correct: indeed the devil was responsible for attaching this huge
tool of temptation to my loins.

We children of the living God do not know our Lord's adversary well 
enough.  But this morning, while helpless to do otherwise, I 
nevertheless observed a great deal.  Perhaps the most remarkable fact is
that the devil admits he cannot read minds!  Having once taken over 
someone, he cannot by introspection even determine his victim's identity
(assuming of course that he spoke truly).  He selected me this morning 
only because Marcy "has the hots for me."  He is apparently fixated on 
these females and has furnished them at least one other male, named 
Sean, whom the devil has equipped inferior to me.

Further, during an internal conversation with one of his disciples, he 
admitted being unable to control two bodies at once.  We give thanks to
the Lord for imposing these limitations.

During our external conversation little Natalie showed a biblical 
interest, at least in the story of Onan, which reveals the devil's 
orientation as well as anything might.  Unfortunately the child 
witnessed at very close range my coupling with her mother.  She feared 
that my size would harm the woman, but her concern was wasted.  Marcy is
far gone in wantonness.

Though Natalie was reluctant, the devil enticed her with a tactic of 
seeming indifference.  Apparently only too familiar with Sean, she must
satisfy her curiosity about my larger equipment.  She climbed atop me 
and managed most capably after her mother, experienced as any whore, 
greased my shaft using her mouth.  Both females achieved orgasm, which 
contributed a great deal to my sinful pleasure.  Women are weak 
creatures who submit readily to monsters.

"Free Will" is revealed as a bitter joke.  Now my body is that of an 
adulterer and a child rapist.  I have behaved contrarily to the laws of
God and man.  Also, while recalling these scenes, I succumbed again to 
my old weakness of Onanism.  Should I surrender myself to the law?  I 
must think what is best for Natalie, the innocent victim here.  I shall
take to my bed and pray for guidance.

Marcy asked the devil to fetch me again to try my instrument in her 
anus.  The very thought hardens my pole.  Get thee behind me, Satan!

Perhaps I should under my own power visit Marcy and Natalie before he 
returns.  Surely the Prince of Darkness cannot interfere with a prayer 
meeting in her bedroom.

[Normal Font]
_I can see some use for writing,_ thought Pester. _ Sam Clemens knew 
this god called "devil."_

_I hear the bible is full of the devil's works_, commented Sam.

_"Bible?"_

_The holy book of Christians and Jews.  What did Sam -- I mean Mark -- 
say about him?_

_That he was discovered --_ invented, _Mark said -- later than 
the Olympians, by people to the east of Greece who loved to claim, "The
devil made me do it."_

Sam chuckled.  _Now _I'm_ the devil._

_Well, you do have god-like powers._

_Do I?  What am I going to do about this guy?  He could get to be a 
pain._

_You could pull him to Olympus._

_Show him the truth?  Come to think of it, Pester, I don't know much 
about the truth either._

_That's true, you don't._  The nymph added dryly, _Which is the way of 
all gods: don't tell you any more than you absolutely need to know.  I 
wonder what they're afraid of._

_He wants to annoy Marcy.  I can't just leave him alone._

_I've got it!_

_Got what?_

_Though I doubt the truth would make any difference.  You humans are too
delightfully selfish to care about the larger universe._

_Not this one, this Jason._

_Especially this one!  He thinks "God did it" explains everything._

_How would you show him the truth?_

_By that method of instruction you mentioned before: Socratic, with this
guy on one end of a log and Dobbit on the other._

_Don't tell me you've met Socrates!_

_Sucked his cock._

_Jesus Christ!_

_Who?  No, not His.  Zeus wouldn't have tolerated Him._

_How old are you anyway?_

_Not old enough to know better, if that's what you mean._

Sam shook Jason's head.  _What about Dobbit?  You mean the satyr?_

He had the impression of a snigger.  _The one with the second cock you
sucked -- at least on Olympus._

_What does he know of truth?_

_He studied the meta-universe long before Socrates.  If our ungracious 
Demeter hadn't been so eager to trot you back here, you would've enjoyed
his conversation._

Sam hesitated. _ You mean ... Dobbit really does know something worth 
hearing?_

__Well, he knows a lot more than I do.  You know me: always chasing after
cock._

_Hey, let's try it!  Where should I take _Jason?_

_You want to cut him loose.  Transport him to Demeter's talkroom before
you do._

_I'm still there?_

_Still at the same instant._

Sam focused his mind on the bearded and foreskinned body that had become
familiar to him on Olympus.  He saw it lying bepillowed on the padded 
couch and slipped into its head, opening his eyes to see the muscular, 
smooth-shaven Jason before him, staggering for balance.  Around him 
stood the marble walls and unglazed windows.

Jason's face was pale and open-mouthed.  Wide eyes swung right and left,
dismissing the prone Sam and fixing upon the nymph, Pester, standing at
the head of the couch.

"Remove your robe and slippers, human," she commanded firmly.  "Only the
gods may be clothed here."

Her manner seemed to give him strength.  He stood erect, tightened his 
cloth belt and issued a command also.  "Get thee behind me, Satan!"

"Satan!"  Sam sat up on the couch with a grin.  "I'm the one you mistook
for the devil.  Better take them off.  Defying the gods draws quick 
punishment."

The man had the courage to sneer.  "_You_ would punish me?  We'll see 
about that."

He dropped into a karate stance but vanished utterly as Sam _pushed_ him
out of the room and into the pit dug on the shore of the River Acheron.

"I see what you did," said Pester.  "But a pop of the hot might have 
chastised him better."

"A what?"

"You know: a close lightning strike."

"I can do that?"

"You can here."

"But --" _how_, he wanted to ask.  Then he saw how.  All he had to do 
was squeeze the air in a certain way, and --  A bolt of lightning 
thundered on the balcony.

Pester jumped.  "What are you mad at me for?"

"Sorry.  I was trying it out."

With a mental gesture he pulled Jason back into the room.  The man's 
face was even paler and his robe was soaked.  He shrank away from Sam 
and fell on his buttocks.

"How'd you get wet?" Sam demanded.

Pester explained, "Even the Acheron's water will seep into a hole."

"I thought this was the same instance."

"Not the same as when you dug that hole.  You may need to help him with
that robe."

"Where should I put it?"

"Out of sight."

Sam recalled his discovery with Pester in the body she snatched from the
mall.  He pushed the robe and slippers into a universe 35 removed.  
Jason did not appear to notice his loss until Pester clapped her hands 
and called, "Very good!"  Another careful touch removed the water 
clinging to the man's skin.

Slowly Jason rose to his knees and bowed in Sam's direction, head to the
marble floor.

"At least he learns fast," said Pester dryly.

"First time I ever saw an American bow like that," Sam noted.  "Who are
you, buddy?"

"Thou knowest, Lord."

"Cut out the King James."

"Yes, sir."

"And prove you've got all your wits."

"Um.  How can anyone prove that, Lord?"

"That question goes a long way.  Just tell me your name."

"Jason Roland Carlyle, sir."

"Marcy said you're a lawyer.  What kind?"

"Criminal."

"Huh!  Aren't they all?  And you have political ambitions?"

"Yes, sir.  I'm --  I _was_ contemplating a run for mayor."

"Mayor.  Well, with that voice you ought to win it.  Not to speak of 
that cock."

"Did you ... arrange for this penis, Lord?"

Sam chuckled.  "No, but I read your theory.  You may be right that some
envious god is responsible.  Did you know I measured yours?  Huh!  Is 
that why the yardstick was in the kitchen?"

"No, Lord.  I was planning to replace the microwave, which --"

In the middle of the explanation Sam sought Dobbit in the field outside.
For once the satyr was languidly fucking a nymph instead of a fellow 
satyr -- a conical-tittied older nymph at that!  In the blink of an eye
Sam transferred himself and his two companions to the grass beside the 
loving couple.

A peek into the mind of the "teenage" nymph revealed Tolis.  She felt 
his touch and rolled her head toward him.

"Sam!" she cried, immediately rising and throwing the smaller satyr back
on his haunches.  She threw herself into the man's arms, raining kisses
on his neck and shoulders.  "Oh, Sam, I've missed you terribly!"

Jason said quietly to Pester.  "She has a _tail_!"

"So have I.  Here.  It likes to be fondled."

Pester laid the ending tuft of the prehensile organ into his hand.  He 
hardly touched it, however, before jerking his hand away in horror.

Pester grumped, "Why do I always get the finicky ones?"

Dobbit, pointed ears bent forward and slim cock still standing, got to 
his feet.  "You have a marvelous voice, sir, one to make Zeus envious.
Have we met?"  Beside them Tolis was still nuzzling Sam.  She crooned in
his neck while her hand stroked his rising member.

Jason took in ears, cock, tail, green hair and green eyes.  His 
expression was dubious.  "Sh-should I bow?"

The satyr's face lit.  "Wonderful, a human who shows respect!  But no, 
do not bow to _me_.  Sam is the only demigod here today."

From elsewhere on the hillside scores of satyrs and nymphs were watching
the tall humans.  They had begun to gather until a sweeping glance from
Pester halted them as if they had reached an invisible barrier.

"May I ask your name?" said Dobbit.

"Call me Jason if you are not a god."

"I am only a satyr.  My name is Dobbit and I am pleased to meet Jason, 
such a fine man."

Jason's lip curled.  "At least your prick is losing its starch."

"This pleases you?"

"Of course.  I am not a boy lover."  The man squared his shoulders.  "I
understand that you are respected as an authority on, ah, the 
meta-universe."

Dobbit smiled.  "Indeed a satirical authority!  We have no such title, 
sir, but I have spent millennia as you measure time asking questions and
collecting answers."

"Then tell me, D-Dobbit.  What of my god, Jehovah.  Does he ...  Is he 
..."

"Many gods exist, Jason, even those Who are no longer worshipped.  
Jehovah is your god so long as you believe it."

"That can't be all it depends on!"

"Of course not.  Tell me about yourself, Jason.  Why are you so vitally
interested?"


* * *


After a pleasant romp with the tall Tolis, culminating when she insisted
on drinking his ejaculate at the source, Sam wandered away.  Jason and 
Dobbit were engrossed in earnest discussion apparently centered on the 
efficacy of prayer.  Pester, identified by her green hair, knelt nearby,
sucking two satyrs' cocks at once.  Sam watched briefly, touching her 
mind long enough to detect a continual low-level climax in the back of 
her throat, not nearly so intense as the "belly climax" she had shared 
with Shelley.

He remembered the countless young females in the Dunston Avenue mall, 
their innocence presumably unspoiled by millenia of fucking.  It was 
the work of a moment to transfer his body to the couch in Demeter's 
talkroom and cast his mind back to that mall, imagining the food court 
and the large digital clock over the entrance reading 3:00 PM.

Today the court seemed possessed of older teenagers, an even mixture of
male and female, heads together over cokes or coffee, hands roaming 
beneath the tables.  Casting into the halls he found younger girls, but
all were in tight gaggles or accompanied by older women.  He was about 
ready to abandon his search when suddenly a child in pigtails, age nine
or ten, dashed out of a gift shop, clutching something in her hand.  She
was a healthy brunette, flat of chest but shapely of arms and legs, 
dressed in tank top and shorts.  A female salesclerk appeared in the 
doorway, raised her hand to expostulate, clearly thought better of it 
and with a frown watched the child scamper away.

He settled into the girl's mind without taking control.  She rounded a 
corner, leaned back against the wall and examined her trophy.  Obviously
stolen, it was a curiously elongated plastic model of a human skull, 
about three inches tall, with a spray nozzle on top.  The girl promptly
pressed the nozzle and produced the odor of a cheap cologne.  She 
rotated the skull to printing on its back: _Make Him Die for You!_  So 
it was that kind of gift shop!

Sam took over a passing man, turned him suddenly toward the child and 
clutched her arm.  He said, not too loud, "I saw what you did."

She looked up fearfully but not in panic.  "Let go or I'll scream."

"Go ahead if you think that salesclerk won't remember you."

She studied him, her fear fading.  "What do you want?"

"Just now to talk to you.  Why do you need this stupid thing anyway?"

"It's gothic."

He chuckled.  "It's that, all right.  Do you like the idea of someone 
dying for you?"

"Yeah.  Boys."  She pronounced the last word defiantly.

"You got something against boys?"

"They say I'm too young."

"What about men?"

"I don't know any men."

He released her arm.  "You do now.  I'm Sam.  Who're you?"

"Stacy."

"We're introduced.  See that door down at the end of the hall?  It says
_Private_."

"I see it."

"If you want to get better acquainted, give me a minute, come down there
and when nobody's looking, knock on it."

She blinked and licked dry lips but said nothing.

He smiled at her and walked away toward the door.  His host wore 
eye-glasses, slacks, sport jacket and necktie.  The back of his hand was
smooth.  The light was dim at that end of the hall.  He paused before 
the door.  The girl remained where he had left her, watching him.  After
pretending to insert a key in the lock, he slipped through the still 
closed door and turned on the light.  Boxes were stacked thickly enough
to restrict maneuvering room.  No cot was evident.  He unlocked the 
door.

After about a minute he heard a timid knock, admitted the girl and 
closed the door behind her.

"Did anyone see you?"

"I timed it better than my gaffle."

"Your, ah, _gaffle_?"

She held up the skull.  "Stealing this."

"That's what you call a skull?"

"It's what you call shop-lifting."  She glanced around.  "This place 
bites."

"'Bites,'" he repeated, blinking.

"You know: bites my ass."

He shook his head.  "How old are you, Stacy?"

"Nine.  But I'm hip.  Huh!  You think I'm too young too."

"No, I don't.  I think you're just right."

For the first time she smiled.  "What you kicking, Sam?"

He shook his head with a chuckle.  "Kicking means planning?"

"Or doing."

"You're right, this place bites, but we can play hide and seek."

Her smile became a knowing grin.  "Who's _it_?"

"I'm _it_.  You go hide while I count to ten."

She scampered away while he counted, but of course his mind followed 
her.  She crouched several corners away in the impromptu aisles.

He verified room for his body to fit behind her, transferred there, bent
to pinch her perky buttock and flicked himself out of sight around a 
corner.  His mind tracked hers as she turned around with a gasp.  "Where
did you ..." she began but stopped abruptly.

Sam was tempted to switch bodies, perhaps to a teenage boy, but he felt
the girl give up and faced forward.  He returned behind her, squeezed 
both her buttocks cheeks and flicked away.

Again she spun around.

"Who's there?" she whispered to no one.

"The hide and seek ghost."

"I can't see anyone," she said.  "Where are you?"

"Ghosts are invisible, but you felt my hands."

"This can't be for real!"

"Real enough, Stacy.  If you'll come with me, I'll show you."

"Come where?"

Sam knew that Jason's house was currently unoccupied.  An instant later
his host and the child stood in Jason's kitchen.

She looked around then grinned at her companion.  "Some ghost!  But you
do play hide and seek way good."

He returned her grin.  "Stacy, I'm beginning to think you're a bold and
naughty girl.  Nine, you say?  What are you, about four foot three and 
60 or 70 pounds?  That needs more growing."

She smiled slyly.  "I'm grown enough for your nastiness."

"What do you know about nastiness?"

"I let a boy do things to me."

"The little kid next door?"

"He wasn't so little; he was twelve.  It hurt and he made me bleed, but
it was awesome.  How did we get here, Sam?"

"Here, in this guy's kitchen?"

She grinned.  "You thought I meant on planet Earth?"

"A ghost has powers, Stacy."

"I figured that when you, like, went through that storeroom door without
opening it."

He chuckled.  "I didn't think you'd realize what was happening."

"I was watching."

"And it didn't put you off?"

"I still believe in the tooth fairy, and I like this weirdness.  
Besides, you look like an old guy."

"How old do you think?"

"Real old.  More than 30, maybe old as my dad."  She glanced away.  "Can
I check out your house, Sam?"

"Maybe you need to pee."

She grinned.  "Want to scope me out?"

"'Scope --'  Yes, I'd like that very much."

She giggled.  "Then where's the porcelain?"

"Good question."  He ducked into the hall.  "Here it is, the second 
door."

Passing him, she asked, "You didn't know?"

"I'm just borrowing this place."

She passed the indicated door, glanced into the den where Jason's diary
was still open on the desk, and paused in the doorway beyond.  "Here's a
bedroom.  The bed's not made."  She regarded him solemnly.  "What are 
you going to do to me, Sam?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm not too young, you know."

"All right.  I want to touch you all over."

"I thought so."

"But don't you find it odd, the way we got here?"

"It's spooky, but fun.  Then I should take off my clothes."  The tank 
top went over her head immediately.  She pushed down shorts and panties,
stepped out of them and kicked off her sneakers.  From the waist down 
she was hairless, unblemished and well-formed.  With her standing nearby
her labial lips protruded in a miniature camel's toe.

"What do you think, Sam?"

"You're lovely, is what I think."

She nodded.  "I know you do.  I've heard about perverts."

"What's a pervert?"

"A man who does the nasty to kids."  She smiled.

"You find it amusing?"

"I'm not exactly a kid."

"But do you object?"

"What I am is curious, Sam."

He decided he had come across a born slut who was only nine years old.
How was this possible?  The influence of television?  Were no innocents
left anywhere?

She watched silently while he removed all his host's clothing.  At sight
of the erect manhood, by no means remarkable, her eyes widened though 
without comment.  His arm encircled her and he fondled her flat chest.
Bending to nuzzle her neck, he kissed her.  She opened to his tongue.  
His palm relished her fleshy thigh.  She was not a skinny girl.  When 
his finger probed her groin, she twitched.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No!" she said.  "I've wondered about this -- though not with a ghost."

"Where are you supposed to be, Stacy?  Who'll miss you if you stay here
all afternoon?"

She sniffed.  "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I'm sort of a 
ghost too, Sam.  I had to catch the bus to the mall.  My mom is out with
her boy friend, and she won't be back tonight."

She was so small, so comparatively delicate.  Sam congratulated himself
for a pedophilic triumph, even if it seemed mainly the luck of the draw.

"You say your mom won't be home tonight?"

"Not likely.  She's gone for the weekend.  She left me with 40 bucks for
food."

Sam pointed to the turned back bed.  "Lie down with your legs over the 
side."

She sat on the edge but looked up beseechingly.  "Will it ... hurt?"

"No, not if --  How big was your boyfriend's cock?"

"Not quite as big as that one.  But he started with three fingers.  Then
I wouldn't let him use his cock."

"A dumb shit, was he?"

"He was curious, Sam.  So am I, and I don't care if it hurts."  Sighing,
she fell back.

A large mirror was fixed to the wall above the head of the bed.  For the
first time Sam saw his host's face and full body.  What a mug, nearly 
chinless with narrow lips and a Roman nose!  And lots of flab, including
a healthy paunch.  But if Stacy didn't object, why should he?

He sank to his knees and kissed his way up the child's left leg, 
throwing both legs over his back as he reached her tasty cunt.

"Oh, god, Sam!" she cried, shuddering violently as his tongue stroked 
her clit hood.  She settled down as he licked her groin thoroughly, 
forcing his tongue deep into the silken folds.  Virgin or not, she 
possessed no maidenhead.  Soon she moaned like a grown woman under 
similar attack.

"Eek!"  It was a shrill squeak, followed by several others.  Her belly 
heaved enough to twist away from him.  He let her lie panting.

"That was _awesome_, Sam!" she said after a bit.  Her eyes glowed.

"How long till your birthday?"

"Six months, but you couldn't give me anything better."

"Yes, I can, you precious thing!  But I won't wait six months."

She grinned.  "You mean your chode."

"My, ah ..."

"Your dick.  I want to try it."

"I don't won't to hurt you."

"A boy already hurt me, Sam."

She was a naked girl almost large enough to fuck, with no tits and 
narrow hips, but her torso was well fleshed and her thighs were sleek 
and sexy.  He lifted himself onto the bed, dropped to an elbow beside 
her and kissed her lips.  She returned the kiss and put an arm around 
his neck.

"You're an abandoned girl," he whispered.  "I'd love to keep you."

"My mom would miss me after a week, Sam, so don't be silly.  But please
do me.  I've heard the older girls talking."

He rolled over and pulled her atop him.  "Sit down on me, darling."

Her hand gripped his cock.  "I think you're too big, Sam.  It won't 
fit!"

"Was your first boy skinny?"

"Yes, but he only used his fingers."

"Sit down on it, darling.  You're in charge."

She fit his instrument to her opening, testing the possibilities 
cautiously, and bit her lower lip as the swollen knob entered her.  
Abruptly she grinned and sat down on the full length.

"It doesn't hurt," she crowed.

She bounced a few times but as all females discover in that situation, 
sliding front and back is the most rewarding.  As he had told her, he 
left her in charge, adding only a slight thrust to retain contact when 
she grew frenzied.  She squeaked in rising climaxes, eyes clenched shut.
He fondled her soft thighs and thumbed her nipples, in pedo heaven, 
thinking that so far not even Demeter's nymphs had displayed such 
complete concentration, though most were also short enough to kiss his 
upper chest.

"I never heard it could be this awesome!" Stacy cried when they rested.

"You're a precocious slut, my dear.  I want to keep you forever."

"Don't talk,' she said.  "Keep going!"

He held her head to his chest and fucked now for his own pleasure.  She
came mightily, biting his left nipple between screeches.  Clasping her 
against him, he spewed into her body.

She lay panting on his chest but soon raised her head.  "Let's do it 
again."

They fucked seven times while he took advantage of his Climax Spell.  
She sucked his cock on the seventh time.  She was analytical, bringing 
the white froth out to taste on her lips, finally admitting, "They're 
right about this too.  It's not bad at all."

They drank cokes found in Jason's refrigerator.  Finally he washed the 
small but well-fleshed body in Jason's shower with sudsy hands.  The 
tickling produced a soprano giggle that delighted him.

When they were dressed, he cast ahead to the storeroom, found it empty 
and transferred them to it.

"Can't you take me home?" she asked, clinging to him.

"I don't know where you live."

"412 Carpenter Lane."

He found his host's wallet inside his jacket, opened and removed $20, 
careful not to read the driver's license visible under cellophane.  She
eyed the money when he offered it.  "What's that for?"

"A taxi.  That's right, you said you rode the bus."

"I don't want to leave you, Sam."

"Your mother will miss you.  I wish you were my kid."

"So do I!"

He sighed deeply.  "But you aren't."

"Steal me."

"What?"

"It happens all the time.  We'll tell everyone you're my father."

He stared at her.  "God, you tempt me, honey."  He sighed again.  "But 
it won't work."  He kissed her and licked away her tears.  "I promise 
you one thing, we'll meet again soon.  The hall's clear.  Go ahead."

His last view of her, before she closed the door behind her, was 
pigtails swirling around shining brown eyes.  Shaking his head, Sam 
dropped the money to the floor, crassly abandoned his host without a 
backward check and returned to Olympus.


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.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+


  index