Perverts 'R' Us

The Entity…A Haunting Bedtime Story

By Spin ( M/F, M/g, pedo, rape )

"OH MARGIE! Dinner's ready."

Six-year-old Margie McGregor was hungry after a busy day of play. In a flash she scampered down the stairs, jumping playfully - two steps at a time, as she descended towards the lower half of her house. While her friend followed behind her, she whispered that they could resume playing when she got done eating her dinner.

"What's that?" she asked as she turned to face him. "OH YES! You can go back to my room and play until I finish eating."

Margie had recently discovered her new special friend while playing by herself in her bedroom one day. He sat on her bed as she played with her dolls on the floor. She happened to glance up, thinking that she saw a shadow at first, but then the image became more vivid and real to her brain. It was a boy of an older age than her. He was dressed in tattered clothes and wearing a baseball cap that had a ragged hole with what looked like a bloodstain around it. The boy was thin and his skin, almost sheet white. His EYES were piercing blue in color and scary to look at. But after awhile, Margie got used to his strange appearance.

Being a child, she accepted the experience of meeting a new friend in her bedroom, even though she knew that no one else could see him. She was certain he was there because he talked to her. Sometimes he would hide, but whenever she played or was alone he always revealed his presence. She needed a friend because she lived far out in the country with no other kids around to play with.

"Who were you talking to?" her mother asked as Margie plopped down in her seat at the table.

"OH No one. I was just playing a game." Margie responded casually, realizing that her mother wouldn't understand about her invisible friend.

As if playing a trick on her, Margie's imaginary new playmate suddenly appeared, sitting across from her at the table and making silly faces just to get her to laugh or giggle. Margie ignored him, encouraging his behavior to become more intense and obnoxious.

"Stop it!" she suddenly blurted out, alarming her parents…and causing Margie to become embarrassed at her outburst.

Margie's mother was astounded and worried by her daughter's surprising behavior. She commented to John, her husband, that maybe the little girl was getting sick. Margie couldn't explain herself because she feared losing her new friend. He was all she had to play with.

"She's fine." her daddy commented to her mother reassuringly, explaining that many little girls acquire imaginary friends. They eventually grow out of it as they acquire new, real friends.

Margie pouted because she didn't agree with her daddy's assessment. To her the friend was real and that's all that mattered. She cried in despair as she abruptly left the table and ran to her bedroom in tears. Her mother hurried to catch up with her, only to find her daughter all smiles as she sat quietly by herself, playing with her dolls.

"Can I come out now?" her friend asked in a whisper from the closet, after her mother left the room.

Margie's mother was still worried about her daughter. Silently she stood outside of the bedroom door as she listened intently.

"You can come out now. My mom's gone." Margie hollered in her usual tone of voice.

"What's that? You wanna play dolls with me?" Margie asked as her friend sat across from her on the floor.

A feeling of intense grief flooded Margie's mother's brain as she continued to tune in to the strange conversation unfolding in her daughter's room. The fear that a mother feels when she can't help her child is all-consuming. Margie's mother was compelled to take what action she could to help her only child.

Margie fidgeted nervously in the huge, brown leather chair as the doctor asked questions about her new friend. She felt persecuted as the questions continued, since her mother wasn't allowed to stay with her during the hour-long examination. Finally the interview was over, leaving Margie's mother happily relieved that nothing serious was going on, such as a dreaded mental illness or other health problem. The Doctor echoed what her husband said: "Some children create make believe friends, and in all likelihood that was what Margie was doing."

"Sooo, what's your friend's name?" Margie's mother asked as they began the long drive home to the country.

"His name's Silas and he's eleven." Margie replied, as she began to feel comfortable with discussing her secret in the open without ridicule.

"Well OK. Where did he come from?"

"He said that he lived in our house with his dad until his daddy shot his whole family and then killed himself and his mom."

"His head has a hole in it."

"What?"

"Yeah! His head really HAS a bloody hole, but his baseball cap covers it and all that you can see is a bloody ring on the hat where the bullet went through."

"Did the boy say why he visits you?"

"Uh huh. He said that he can't leave until he finds his daddy and our family is now his family…and we can't leave either, 'cause he won't let us until he finds his dad. Then we can move away if we want…or stay." Margie continued as her mother felt a chill of concern about her family and, more importantly, her six-year-old daughter. She had just told her mother a frightening revelation about what was starting to sound more like a ghost or spirit of some kind instead of the harmless imaginary friend of a child.

"Sweetheart, this boy sounds like he could be dangerous. Has he ever hurt or threatened you?"

"Nooo, but he said that he thought I was cute and pretty like his sister."

"Uh…that's nice." Margie's mother replied as her imagination kicked in gear, inspiring more questions about this creature or whatever he was.

Margie's mother couldn't get her daughter's words out of her mind. No longer did she doubt that the being was real. After all, the explanation coming out of her six-year-old's mouth was too complicated for a child to make up. The question NOW was what to do about it and whom should she call for help?

There it was! Margie's mother cringed as she read the words, after searching the history of her house on the Internet. The local newspaper gave the whole sordid story as she cross-searched the records.

'The year was 1942 and the tragedy of the ages stole the innocence and lives of the Johnson family. Mr. Johnson, during a bitter divorce, killed his children first, then his soon-to-be ex wife, and finally himself. The state police investigated the murders, calling it the most gruesome crime scene they had ever encountered. All of the children were shot point-blank in the forehead.'

"What's wrong, honey?" Margie's father asked as his wife sat sobbing at the computer.

"OH MY GOD!" her father gasped as he read the story.

A decision was made to immediately sell the house. Little Margie spoke up, warning her mom and dad about what the boy said about NOT letting them leave. Her father ignored her warning, commenting that it was all just crap and they could do whatever they wanted with their own home.

The next day a real estate lady came by to list the property. After she asked to use the bathroom she ran out of the house, screaming in hysterics, commenting that something in the bathroom fondled her while she peed. She wasn't coming back, she'd announced as she flew out the door and disappeared down the road to safety. Margie expected as much, but her mother and dad weren't about to be held hostage by some damn ghost. They joked about the incident, saying it was just an active imagination.

As usual at bedtime, Margie said her prayers with her mom at her side before getting into bed. Her mother half expected her daughter's friend to appear and say something about them selling the house…but alas it was like her husband said, just crap.

Margie finally settled down for the night, her tiny body tired from a long day and no sign of her friend. She was angry for what he did to the real estate lady, but sympathized with him for losing his family.

"Hey! Where you been all day?" Margie asked as her friend suddenly woke her up, realizing that he seemed to be in bed with her.

"You were mean to that lady today!" Margie complained angrily.

"She was about to help your parents sell the house and I can't allow that to happen." he replied as he reached for Margie's night gown, pulling it above her chest.

"Hey! Don't do that." she commanded as she pulled the garment back down in a huff.

"You touched my pee-pee." she pouted as she tried to close her slim, tiny legs.

"You should be quiet my love, or you might wake your mom and dad. That wouldn't be good, because I can hurt them, you know."

"I thought you were my friend." Margie said in a frustrated tone.

"Yes sweetie. I AM your friend and I can do nice things for you."

"Like what?" she asked as she tried in vain to close her open thighs that were being forcefully held open.

"Please let me go." Margie begged in a whiney voice as she suddenly felt her panties sliding down over her waist.

"How come you're taking my underwear off? Stop!"

"Mmm that feels nice," she cooed as she began to enjoy the new, pleasant sensation between her thighs.

Margie wasn't fighting her friend anymore. To the contrary, she was embracing this new experience and welcoming more as she felt her panties slide all the way off. Her entire preteen little body felt bathed in pure pleasure and sensations that she never knew existed. Strange hands and fingertips made her tingle where her pee hole was.

"OH MY!" she groaned as something warm but thick, pushed into her hole.

"What is that?" she wondered, until finally realizing that it was a finger and it was pushing deeper into her body. It felt odd and naughty, but she liked the sensation.

Finally, her tiny body writhed in the throes of her first orgasm. It filled her brain with a fog of euphoria, making her forget that she was a child, a little six-year-old girl with dolls and toys, a child who wanted her mommy and daddy to be safe and happy. All that mattered right now were the pleasant things that her friend was doing to her, even though she knew that she shouldn't be letting him touch her in those secret places.

She surrendered her body to this thing, her supposed friend, secretly hoping that he would leave someday without harming her or her family. Then a new sensation was occurring. Something hard and huge was sticking in her hole and it was much bigger than a finger this time.

"Ouch!" she cried out loud as her legs opened wider, her tender vagina spreading forcefully while the weight of her friend settled upon her small body.

Deeper and deeper into her tight preteen pussy, she felt him penetrate her innocence. Her immature vaginal tunnel throbbed with every push and pull as her little fuck-hole sustained this new intrusion. Something was leaking out of her hole. Her bare, naked little butt was wet and so were her sheets.

Margie's parents reacted to the noise coming from their daughter's room. In a panic they both ran to her door, expecting it to be open as always. Her father had to force his way in, tearing the frame and the decorative molding around it.

Margie screamed in terror as her bedroom door seemed to explode off the hinges, the ceiling light suddenly illuminating the room, interrupting her coma-like state of intense, sexual stimulation. Her little brain, still in a fog of arousal, instantly cleared, returning her thoughts and behavior to that of a six-year-old child. She calmed down as she realized her parents were in the room. But why did they have to break her bedroom door and why was it closed anyway? Then she noticed that her friend was gone too.

Lying totally naked and covered with blood from her waist down, the sight of Margie's tiny, emaciated body resulted in her mother fainting and falling to the floor with a thump. Margie cried as she got out of bed and ran to help. Meanwhile her daddy seemed to freak out, announcing that enough was enough as he vowed to end all of this nonsense, once and for all.

The state police officer was dubious of the outrageous events as told by Margie's mother.

"OK you guys, your daughter should come in and get checked right away." he announced as he radioed in the information to headquarters.

Margie cried as the Doctor in the emergency room probed her vagina for evidence from the reported assault. She squirmed as he swabbed her tiny hole for semen or DNA. She certainly didn't feel comfortable with telling him the truth about what happened in her bed, insisting that she didn't know why she was bleeding or how her hymen got torn. She didn't even know what her hymen was, she explained as she sobbed while lying naked on the examination table.

Her mother felt her daughter's pain as the examination continued until the Doctor motioned for her to join him alone in consultation.

"Your daughter has indeed been sexually violated and the only male in your household, I'm sorry to say, is your husband." he commented dryly.

"No! You're wrong!" Margie's mother charged. She abruptly left the room and returned to her daughter's side, realizing that the doctor, like the State Police, would never believe the truth.

The days passed agonizingly in Margie's household while they all tried to forget the horrible events of the past week. Margie slept with her parents every night, but soon the sexual assaults returned, even in her parents' bed. Her mother and dad watched helplessly as their daughter was raped repeatedly, her nightclothes removed before their eyes in what seemed to be something of which horror movies were made. Her tiny legs were spread open, even as her dad tried to hold them closed. The beast was stronger and more determined with every assault.

Finally, as if things weren't bad enough, the State Police arrested Margie's dad. He was accused of child rape, and her mother arrested for child endangerment. But the worst was yet to come.

After Margie's parents were booked into the jail, a newspaper reporter posted bail for them. Her name was Connie Miller, a pretty lady of about the age of forty. She had worked at the local paper for over ten years as an investigative reporter. The problem with her career was that she wasn't going anywhere with it. In a small country town such as this there really wasn't much to investigate or report. The town hadn't had an assault or murder in years and she was getting tired of writing about the mundane, everyday things like traffic accidents or petty thefts. She needed something new and sensational to catapult her name into the national news.

"Yeah, uh huh, uh huh. OK, I'm gonna' stick around the jail until the parents get released. I'll call ya later." Connie said to her boss on her cell phone.

Her boss was a popular guy in town, known to locals as a craggy 'old school' newspaper editor who archived the history of the town in his head. Just ask and he'd recite old, forgotten newspaper articles from twenty years ago and beyond. He was born and raised here and after going off to college, he returned to take over the local paper. He pretty much knew everything that went on in the open streets and behind closed doors. When he got wind of the recent trouble and reported haunting at Margie's house, he was beside himself with awe and expectation. Quickly he assigned his best…and only reporter to the juicy task of developing a story that could put the town - and the paper - on the map of national notoriety. 'Hell! Might even get on CNN' he mused.

Margie was subjected to reliving her repeated rapes and terror by a police psychologist. He kept trying to get her to admit that her own daddy was the culprit, and not some imagined ghost that lived in the house. Margie cried and sobbed until the doctor excused her, writing his report but describing her as delusional and suffering from post trauma hysteria.

A condition for Margie's parent's bond was that her daddy had to stay away from his young daughter until the charges were either disposed of in court or sorted out to the satisfaction of the judge. Margie and her mother cried as they hurriedly packed some clothes and left to stay at an aunt's house in the next town.

"Why can't daddy come too?" Margie sobbed as her mother drove away from the house.

"Daddy wasn't the one who hurt me, so why can't he be with us? The monster's gonna' hurt him, mommy. The monster's gonna' hurt him." She cried as she glanced back at her house, as they continued down the road.

Margie's dad was tired from the traumatic events of the last two days, too tired to worry about whatever was in the house, causing his arrest and all these problems in his family. His brain was too confused to think clearly tonight, but tomorrow, he promised himself, he would get to the bottom of whatever's going on around here and put a stop to it, no matter what.

A knock on the door rudely interrupted his thoughts.

"Hi there, Mr. McGregor. I'm Connie Miller, the reporter from the paper who bailed you and your wife out of jail. Can I come in please?"

"Uh sure I guess…uh, what can I do for you?" he replied as he invited her inside and closed the door.

"Mr. McGregor. I don't think you're guilty of those nasty charges and I want to help. But I need your help too." the reporter explained as she sat down on the living room couch.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, but what do you need ME to do?" he answered solemnly as he sat on the edge of his chair.

"Well, for starters, tell me everything that's happened to your family, and particularly your little daughter. I know you didn't rape your own child, but obviously something sexually assaulted her, according to the police report and the doctor who examined her."

Margie's father fought off the tears of an anguished, troubled father as he described the terrible string of events that occurred at his home. He tried to include every detail, giving the reporter as accurate a picture as possible. With his eyes swollen and wet from tears, he described what he and his family sustained over the last few days.

The more he talked the more excited Connie became, realizing that Yes! There was definitely a real blockbuster of a story here. And Mr. McGregor seemed to be telling the truth, although she herself was personally dubious about believing in ghosts or a so-called haunting. All she had to do was find some proof that her readers would believe, but how?

"Do you mind if I stay here in the house with you and have my photographer record everything that happens?" she asked. "Please, Mr. McGregor. This might be the only defense you'll have, and I can take care of myself if anything goes wrong."

"Uh…yeah…OK. But I'm not responsible if you get hurt." he replied sternly as if he felt reluctant at her offer.

The camera man's name was Allen, and with just two years of experience as a newspaper photographer, he eagerly volunteered for the job. He hoped and prayed that something colossal would occur.

Sleeping assignments were set and so were the participants of this forsaken experiment.

John McGregor went to bed as usual, although alone and apprehensive. Connie slept on the couch, and her intrepid young photographer nestled in a sleeping bag on the floor.

The clock in the hall ticked the hours away. All was quiet and still until a distant animal screeched out loud, disturbing the peace with his eerie sounds. Connie's eyes opened briefly at the noise, but closed again as she realized that it was coming from the outside of the house.

Allen couldn't relax. His mind wandered to thoughts of ghosts and all of those horror movies that were a steady appetite for him as he was growing up. The only person who was really relaxed was John McGregor. He was too tired to care anymore about monsters and ghosts that go bump in the night. He wondered how his wife and daughter were doing away from home.

"Rap! Rap! Rap!"

"OH SHIT! What was that?" Allen mumbled as he almost shit his pants while waking from a fitful sleep.

"Rap! Rap! Rap!"

"There it goes again." he muttered, as he watched with sheer terror while a light beam bounced around the living room walls from outside of the house and through the window glass.

Connie suddenly woke up too, asking about the commotion. Allen didn't answer, but walked softly to the window to investigate.

"Hi, Officer. What brings you out here tonight?" Allen asked as he let the State Police Sergeant into the house.

"Sorry to bother everybody, but the Captain asked me to check up on you guys when I got a chance." he announced as he panned the room with his flashlight.

"Everyone OK?" he inquired as he strolled through the house, checking each room and closet.

"Well…yeah officer. Why wouldn't we be?" Connie replied as if the cop might not know about the reported poltergeist in the house.

"You're that reporter who believes in ghost stories…aren't you?" the officer asked with a chuckle.

"I'm only investigating a story here. AND WHATEVER HAPPENS, HAPPENS" Connie answered in a raised voice.

At that very second the loud, obnoxious siren on the police car bellowed. The startled State Police Officer almost tripped over himself as he tried to run out of the house to investigate. Suddenly he realized that his shoelaces were tied together in knots.

Two days and three nights passed without further incident. No more cops showed up to check on the home and the State Police Captain laughed hysterically when his Sergeant told him all about his visit to the infamous haunted house.

Connie was getting frustrated and Allen, her photographer, felt cheated out of a classic opportunity for a rare, award-winning photo.

"Why don't we tempt the little bastard?" John McGregor piped in, flashing a grin from ear to ear.

"What?" Connie asked as her eyes darted to his face for validation.

"Maybe we have to challenge this thing, ghost, or whatever the hell he is." he continued.

"How are we gonna' do that?" she asked, as she glanced at Allen to see if he was listening.

"Well…the THING is used to playing around with my Margie in her room so why don't YOU sleep in Margie's room and see what turns up?" John suggested as his grin turned into a smirk.

"I could do that, but what if the damn thing doesn't show?" she responded. "I'm so damn tired of this ghost story that I'm about ready to call it an unsolved mystery. OK, I'll try it, but if nothing happens then we're outta' here!" Connie ranted as she walked briskly into Margie's room.

"Hey you're not the little girl. Where's the child?" Connie heard a distinct man's voice whisper as she slept in the girl's bed. She thought she was dreaming or imagining until she felt her pants being tugged down the length of her legs. She froze with fear and disbelief as the invisible entity deliberately removed her clothes. Now naked and fully awake, she sensed the blanket being ripped away from her body.

"Oh my God! NO!" Connie cried out loud as her legs were soon forced into the typical missionary position.

She grimaced in pain as something huge, but fleshy, penetrated her vagina. A heavy weight pressed on her as she experienced the sensation of being raped by an unseen, unstoppable monster that didn't care that he was hurting her, and obviously didn't care that he had hurt a child.

Connie tried to scream as her body, pinned down on the bed, fought to get away. He continued fucking her violently as he thrust himself deeper.

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S HERE!" Allen hollered as he turned on the room lights and began recording the momentous occasion with his video camera.

The entity didn't bother to stop the assault as Allen pointed the camera at the telltale effects and posture of Connie's naked body. It was clear from the way that her vaginal opening was spread apart and moving up and down, that she was having sexual intercourse; but there was nothing to be seen on top of her. Her skin was being depressed from her groin to her chest, as if a man was lying on her body while fucking her for all he was worth. Allen noticed this as he made sure to get plenty of close-ups.

"You bastard! Help me!" Connie shouted at Allen, as John finally scrambled into the room.

There wasn't much they could do. John knew the feeling. He felt helpless when his daughter was repeatedly attacked too.

Then Allen grabbed Connie by her arm and tried to pull her up. It was no use until John reached for her other arm and together, they finally pulled her ravaged body away from the bed.

Connie cried hysterically as she covered herself with the blanket. Still in shock from the assault on her body, she couldn't speak when Allen and John asked if she was all right. Then she abruptly ran into the bathroom to be alone and recover from her ordeal.

Allen heard the shower running as he resumed with his video camera, making his rounds in the bedroom and still mystified by what he just witnessed. He wondered if Connie would ever be the same again, having been brutally, sexually assaulted by some creature that she couldn't even identify or describe. 'What was he?' he wondered, until he suddenly heard screams coming from the bathroom.

John and Allen reached the bathroom door at the same instant. It wouldn't open. They both pushed with all their combined weight until the door finally caved in, revealing another horrid sight.

Connie was pressed flat against the walls of the shower, her legs opened wide, while she was again assaulted by the creature. Her face reflected the shear terror that consumed her body. Finally after applying brute, tenacious force, they were able to pull her away to safety. Allen was thrown to the floor by the entity, but not injured. John was pushed violently through the glass shower doors, sustaining a few shallow cuts.

It didn't take any additional convincing for Connie, Allen, and John McGregor to immediately leave the house in a fast, fast hurry. They all looked like they had seen a ghost.

The six o'clock news would have a rare disclaimer for parents not to let their kids watch, as an eye-stopping video of a woman being sexually assaulted by an invisible something flashed on the screen. The story made national headlines, including CNN. Connie's boss was elated, and Connie soon moved as far away from the town as physically possible.

She sort of vanished without e-mailing or calling anyone until news of her recently published book about the incident made her a celebrity.

Margie's dad was vindicated by the video and the witnessed behavior of their ghost in residence. Margie wrote her own version of a book after she became a woman with kids of her own, detailing the AFTER events the day she began packing up her toys and dolls for the move to their new home.

Her friend Silas revisited her in her room, asking where she had been and why they were moving. Margie angrily explained that it was all because she was raped and another lady was raped and hurt in her bed, so her mom and dad didn't want them to live in this awful house anymore.

"I didn't do anything like that!" Silas responded as he climbed up on Margie's bed.

"Yes, you did!" she argued adamantly as she began to sob.

"No really, I didn't, but since you mentioned that you and another girl were raped and hurt, it must have been my father. He used to molest my little sister and he got caught one time with a naked little girl in the barn. That's why my mother was divorcing him. I SWEAR on the souls of my dead family, it wasn't me." Silas continued.

Margie suddenly remembered that the thing that attacked her WAS much bigger than Silas, "but why didn't Silas know about it?" she wondered. "And how come he didn't help?"

After the McGregors moved out of their home and away from the unfriendly ghosts that lived there, a serious study was underway by a highly qualified, young scientist who had been tracking the misdeeds of poltergeists his whole career. His name was Mike Neeson. His history of research and findings were published for his peers to read…and the world to either believe or not.

He didn't care if others believed. All he knew for sure was that entities such as the ones that inhabited the McGregor's home were everywhere, but seldom heard or seen. Only a few people with certain sensitivities could see them. Some entities could even talk and converse like a live person would, but he had never heard of one sexually attacking someone.

This home would be perfect for more research and studies of the phenomenon the young scientist thought, as he and his ten-year-old daughter Rachel, and wife Beverly, moved into their new home. It was far out in the country and haunted to be sure.

After a few weeks Mike Neeson and his family were finally settled and unpacked in their new digs. His daughter, after placing her dolls and stuffed animals in their proper places, felt right at home in the bedroom that was formerly Margie's.

Rachel looked around her room anxiously, wondering if the ghost would show up, or was the story a bunch of silly nonsense? Her own dad said it was all true but she knew that her dad was probably more easily convinced than other people, since finding ghosts was all he ever talked about.

"Hi. My name's Silas. You wanna' play doctor?"

"Are you a ghost?" Rachel asked, as she stood frozen with a surprised look on her face while staring intently at the almost invisible figure before her.

"Uh huh…I guess I am, but I wish I was alive like you." Silas replied solemnly.

"My name's Rachel and I don't know how to play doctor." she answered sadly.

"I'll be happy to show you, my love." Silas responded as the bedroom door seemed to close and lock…on its own.