August Moone
Book 9
Chapter 5
And the Saga Continues
The Pursuit of Evil

Night of the Wretched
	“Let’s go to Doogal’s!” exclaimed Jasmine being very excited.
	“Miserable Hearts is playing there!” squealed Vashnique.
	“There going to be soooo many hot guys there!” chimed in Vaniqua.
	“Our parents are never going to let us go!” butted in Vanessa.
	“I got my brother’s car keys!” quipped Shandra.
	“Hot guys, Miserable Hearts!  It’s going to be the event of the year!”
	And although seeing some “hot guys” and her favorite funk band, Miserable Hearts, Vanessa had concerns.
	“Don’t be a wet blanket, Vanessa,” chided/bitched Jasmine, “time for you to be IN with the “in crowd.”  It’s going to be a blast!”
	“Yeah,” said Vash, “what you going to do, stay here while WE’RE having fun!?”
	“But Doogal’s is in Brayton,” complained Vanessa, “something goes wrong and we are in BIG trouble!”
	Vanique shook her head, “I know you’re the sensible one of us, but don’t be a toad.”
	Vanessa took umbrage at being dubbed a “toad.”  So much could go wrong; Shandra had the car keys to her brother’s car—he was overseas on military deployment and so wouldn’t miss it.  Vashnique had fake IDs for them all.  Miserable Hearts was playing at Doogal’s, a hot nightclub in Brayton a hundred miles away.  The plan was to tell their parents they were hanging for the night at Shandra’s—a slumber party.  The girls had cell phones and Shandra’s phone was tied to the house’s land line—and she had a way to mimic her grandmother of whom she lived with.
	Vanessa, though, still had concerns and reservations.  “If something goes wrong—” she would be grounded until she was married!  But at the last minute,
	“I’m in.”

	The “In Crowd” consisted of Jasmine Tranquil, Vashnique Gagspoon, Vanique Fretenburger, Shandra Slappilly, and now—Vanessa Huxunbull.  The girls were from a “good part” of their town, upscale, professional parents.  Vanessa’s parents were of a doctor and a lawyer!  Doogal’s was a hot-hot nightclub sought after by everyone for miles around—kind of like Koko in Camden or Herbal a converted warehouse in trendy Shoreditch/Hoxton.
	Vanessa was both elated but still overly concerned.  If the fake IDs didn’t pass the bouncer or the staff inside the club—she was dead.  Her parents would flip the fuck out.  She wouldn’t get beaten, maybe spanked but she was fifteen and maybe out of range for a spanking.  The scolding would be the rub—her lawyer father and doctor mother had dealt with their daughter’s misdoings from day one.
	But not wanting to be a “wet blanket” and be “in” with the “in crowd” she settled with her girlfriends and off the went.  Shandra was the oldest, sixteen (and a half.)  She had beautiful hair, creamy dark skin, an amazing face that was alluring.  She was heavy into make-up, jewelry, and perfume.
	Jasmine was a lighter skinned African-American, short bouncy hair, and not as perfumed as Shandra but with lots of baubles and jingly things.  Vashnique was the darkest skinned girl, tallest, too.  Not a lot of make-up or perfume but she liked big earrings, necklaces, and shiny things.  Vaniqua had some Mexican and Asian in her and wasn’t much into jewelry but over did it on the perfume.
	Vanessa was conservative—having semi strict conservative parents.  She still feared what would happen should they find out.  If she managed to pull this off—GREAT!  But keeping it to herself was going to be a toughie—she had two other sisters and a brother.  Not likely would she spill her Doogal excursion with her brother or littlest sister.  But she might blab to sister Janelle.  She would have to tell somebody!
	Surprisingly, the girls made it to the concert of the year—they got inside AND got drinks!  Other bands came onto the stage to play; the place was packed and there were scores of HOT guys!  The girls were dressed to kill—so to speak.  Vanessa didn’t even have panties on!  Nor did Shandra or Jasmine!  Keeping up appearances of being “21” was a tough deal, but with so many peoples the event staff and club staff didn’t really pay that close attention.
	When the event of the year was over, and the girls had had enough of being manhandled, fondled, frisked, they made their way out to the parking lot—only to find Shandra’s brother’s car—gone!
	It wasn’t there—another car was in its place.
	The girls went into panic mode and searched the lot, the street, the other lot, and then repeated.  Freaking out, Vash concluded that they should call their parents, or one of them.
	In no way did Vanessa want her parents to be called.
	“Oh my God!” blurted Vaniqua, “What are we going to do!?”
	“You ladies have a problem?” spoke up a man with a strange accent.
	“Our car’s been stolen!” cried Jasmine.
	“Gee,” said the tall man, “that’s a bit of tough luck there.” He smiled and although he was smiling—Vanessa had a bad feeling about him.
	“Name’s Quincey, Quincey B’longpipe, maybe I can help.”
	NO!  Don’t do it!

	Quincey B’longpipe usually didn’t fit in with the “club” scene, especially those frequented by young peoples and especially those frequented by young BLACK peoples.  Being a Cajun he sort of stuck out.  But he was at Doogal’s on business.  Dressed in a multicolored leather jacket from the ‘70s, disco boots, he still looked out of place and a little more than scroungy.  He was accompanied by two of his flunkies, Nick Clogheel and Louis Carthorse.  They also stuck out in a crowd but with the flashing lights of the club and darkness mixed in in various spots inside the club—no one noticed (or cared.)
	After delivering backwoods moonshine to the club owners the Cajun and flunkies made way outside sighting in on the distraught girls in hot dresses—and no where near being “of age” to be at Doogal’s.
	“Maybe I can help you out.” said Quincey, “We’ll find your car and you can be on your way.” he said being all friendly-like.
	“What kind of car is it?”
	“It’s a’69 Chevy Impala,” Shandra said nervously—and anxiously hoping for hope the friendly stranger could help, “it’s red, two-door, fat wheels,” and the list went on to the detail of the seats and headliner.
	Quincey wrote down the info on a piece of paper then turned on his heel saying “Let’s go to my rig and pop the information in the computer and see what comes up.”
	The girls didn’t understand but they were grasping at hope.
	“Are you a police officer?” queried Vash.
	“Yeah, I am, undercover cop.” the man snickered.
	The girls were escorted to a four-wheel drive van, it didn’t look like a police van but then again—the man said he was undercover.  Vanessa had seen police shows where the undercover cop often had a crappy car to keep his cover.  It was just after midnight; the girls were a hundred miles away from where they were supposed to be; no car, fake IDs, little money, and—
	As the girls bunched up at the ratty van, the sliding door suddenly slid open and the man called Quincey said, “Get in!” with sincere force.  Inside were some other men, one had a handgun—so did the man called Quincey behind the girls.
	Immediately and did the girls begin to panic even more.
	Quincey shoved Vanessa in close to the van’s open door and one of the men inside grabbed her yanking her in.  Vashnique was pushed/pulled in nextly.  Shandra bolted but was tackled and slung upside the van roughly.  Jasmine and Vaniqua came in with Shandra in last.  The door shut, the van fired up, and the girls became “statistics.”

*

	The girls only had a slight idea of what was in store for them—mostly by the leering of the men inside the van.  The man called Quincey roughly fingered Vanessa between her legs.  When Shandra tried to intervene “Leave her alone!” she screamed and then attempted to pounce on the man—she was backhanded sending her backward over some wooden crates.  She lay in a slump causing the other girls to wail and be very frightened.
	“Spread her legs, bitch!” Quincey B’longpipe said seething thru his yellowed teeth.  Vanessa knew what was going to happen to her.  She cried and tried to keep her legs closed.  The van was still moving; not at a high rate of speed but at a good clip.  The road was not particularly smooth and though practically hysterical, Vanessa could tell they were heading out of the city.
	Quincey grabbed for Vaniqua’s ankles, yanked them up, found the girl with no undies on, giggled and pointed out this fact to his buddies, then placed a dangerously huge hunting knife to the girl’s bare pussy.
	“Yous open yer fuckin’ legs, missy,” seethed Quincey, “or I’s gonna make her pussy even bigger!”
	Crying, sniveling, carrying on as she should in such a dire situation, Vanessa spread her legs.  She leaned back leaning against another wooden crate; her semi tight black knit sequined dress inched up revealing in the dismal light of the van’s cargo area her missing panties, too.
	Quincey grinned big, removed the hunting knife from Vaniqua’s cunt—then began undressing himself.
	“Wooo-eeee, Qunice,” chortled an elated Nick, “we’s gonna have some fun now!”
	Vanessa bawled.  Quincey B’longpipe got naked and stood on his knees flopping his very manly and gangly cock.  Vanessa shook her head, pursed her lips tight—she was going to be raped!
	“Please!” she blubbered, “Don’t!”

	Quincey’s mood changed from giddy to pissed off and he slapped the fifteen year old across the face, “Donna you tells me what the fuck to do!” he yelled then went to ripping the dress off the girl pushing her down into position.  Vanessa bawled and thrashed about but was no match for the more powerful and determined Cajun.
	“Is she a virgin, Quince?” inquired Louis.
	“Nah, fuckin’ bitch a whore!” and he drove his manhood into Vanessa non-virgin pussy.  The girl wailed and thrashed about enduring the offense.  She was not a virgin.  She was fifteen, child of two very prominent parents, not an honor student but she managed an “A” now and then.  She sang in her church’s choir, helped out her community, volunteered at her church to help the needy.  She was a good girl—who had sex with her fourteen year old brother, Jamal.
	Before that, Vanessa and her brother were merely at the “touchy/feely” stage; she occasionally fondled his prick and he fingered her cunt.  They saw each other naked and he showed her how guys please themselves.  Vanessa was strangely naïve and not so much in the know—despite sharing a room with older sister, Janelle.
	Not so much in the know about sex until that one fateful day.

	One afternoon, older sister Janelle found younger sister Vanessa a little glum in their shared room.
	“What’s up?” a concerned Janelle asked.
	Vanessa shrugged—she didn’t want to talk about it.
	School was the likely problem there then.  Janelle switched on some music and began doing what she usually did after a rigorous day of schooling—stripping down to nothing then putting on fresh clothes suitable for a jog around the block.
	“Janelle—” started Vanessa.
	“Vanessa!” sparked Janelle pursing her lips and looking silly.
	Vanessa was still reluctant to spill.  Whatever it was was right on her lips, though.  She shook her head and looked a little despondent.
	Janelle plopped down in front of her sister on her bed.  Janelle was a light skinned African-American, short-short “butch-like” hair, a “free-spirit” who’s aspirations after high school were not shared by her parents—to go hiking America and Europe.
	“Talk to me.” Janelle demanded clutching her sister’s hands.
	Reluctantly, with a sigh, “Well, it’s just that I heard some stuff at school.”
	“What stuff?”
	Janelle clamed up mulling over how to explain what she had heard.
	Then,
	“Well, it’s just that I heard some girls, behind me between classes at Study Hall saying—”
	“Saying what?”
	Janelle sighed, shook her head with eyes closed, “Saying “I bet SHE’S never been laid!””
	Janelle cracked up.  “That’s it?”
	Vanessa shook her head, “You don’t understand,” she said exasperatedly, “I don’t know really what that means!”
	Janelle stared at her sister, she was fifteen and definitely by now should understand the connotations of what getting laid meant—or referred to anyways.
	“Sex.” Janelle explained bluntly.
	“That’s what that means?” Vanessa shrieked.
	“Yes, “getting laid” means having sex!”
	Vanessa nodded that she understood—finally!
	“So what is “Doing the Presidential?””
	Janelle giggled, blushed, shook her head at the naiveness of her sister,
	“Blowjob, it means giving a guy head!”
	“Why is it called that?”
	“Because of our previous president—what happened in the White House with that girl.  She sucked his schlong, he diddled her with a cigar.” and so on.
	Janelle went on to explain what a “69” was—having her sibling draw a “6” and a “9” on paper, “Turn it sideways.” she said, “The top is your heads, the little dangly part is—is your private parts.” Vanessa was getting a schooling like school didn’t teach!
	She had heard of “cocksucking”, sodomy, but more advanced techniques was unknown to her—like “Around-the-World”, Reverse Missionary, Doggie Style, and “Facial.”
	“What’s “facial?””
	“Where a guy jerks off onto her face!”
	“EWEWE!”
	Plus Face Fucking, spanking, fisting, and Rim Jobbing.
	“EWEWE!” Vanessa said again when told what THAT was.
	By now, both girls were subtly fingering themselves.
	“So, is sixty-nining as good as real sex?”
	Janelle laughed, “It can be.”
	Vanessa was still trying to wrap her head around around, Facial, Rimming, and Around-the-World—where a girl sits on a guy’s cock and spins around.
	Then,
	“Even girls do those things.” to wit Vanessa said,
	“What things?”
	“Just about all of them, all positions that a girl and a guy can do—a girl and a girl can do, too.” and a guy and a guy.
	Vanessa’s pretty eyes of wonderment widened.
	“Yeah, sixty-nining is the best!”
	Vanessa’s expression was one of wow and curiousity.
	Janelle reached for her bag retrieving a small clutch purse.  From within she pulled out a joint.  After lighting up she took in the first draw then offered her sister a turn.  Vanessa took the hit and the two smoked the whole thang—it wasn’t their first time.  Then,
	Janelle lay down on the bed shucking her dark blue running shorts AND basic white panties.  She furiously began fingering herself—something she usually did privately and/or alone.
	Vanessa stared with wide eyes and open mouth.  Janelle breathed hard and energetically fingered her seventeen year old cunt.  She wasn’t a virgin.  
	Slowly, Vanessa pulled off her clothes, slipped her panties down—and off, and crawled up to her sister’s side.  Janelle gently took her guiding her into position—a 69er position.  As Janelle began tonguing her sister’s virgin quim, Vanessa began doing likewise to her!
	The girls were seriously into one another unaware of brother Jamal spying on them!  He later confronted Janelle—what transpired there wasn’t known to Vanessa.  Later on, though, SHE saw Janelle and Jamal naked in their room with Janelle doing the advanced technique “Around-the-World.”  The room was filled with marijuana scent, too.
	“Oh my God! you guys!” blurted Vanessa waltzing in.
	“Damn, Vanessa,” bitched Jamal sitting part way up on his elbows, “Don’t’ you know how to knock!?”
	“It’s my room!” Vanessa responded.
	Janelle didn’t seem upset about being “busted” and after completing another round of Around-the-World settled on laying down on her brother moving her hips up and down giving her fifteen year old sister a prime view.
	“Wanna join us?” Janelle asked grinning.
	Jamal fondled his sister’s titties and powerfully thrusted up into Janelle’s pussy.  Vanessa was in awe, she watched up close and way personal as her brother’s cock slammed into the pussy.  She fingered herself then slowly peeled her clothes off, pushed her panties down then got on the bed naked.
	Janelle pulled a cheek open giving her sister even more of an absolute view.  Jamal placed his hands on her ass and began making noise as he neared orgasmic bliss.  Just naked Vanessa sat fingering herself watching her first sex act.

	The intensity was pretty intense.  Both parties engaged made outrageous noises as they shared a mutual cum off.  Vanessa fingered-fingered-fingered herself all the while and was amazed at the amount of cum her brother released.
	Janelle released her own flood of personal juices then collapsed on her heaving sweaty brother.  Jamal seemed delirious and languished in a surreal world of blissful orgasm.  Janelle sat up at length, lit up a joint and smoked it sharing with Jamal.  Vanessa sat still fingering herself and still in great wonderment.  
	“Wanna give it a try?” Janelle asked with a big smile.
	Vanessa giggled, blushed, and Janelle eased off of their brother who had a respectable cock for his age.  Before Vanessa could settle on him, though, Janelle wagged a finger—“Ut-ut-uh,” she said with a mischievous smile; she then made a motion with her hand to her mouth suggesting cocksucking.
	Vanessa blushed big this time then went down on her brother, taking his more than average member freshly explunged from Janelle’s cunt.  She sucked it without question and got the brother genuinely hard.  Before he could cum off she settled herself onto his prong and de-virginized herself.
	That was her first time.
	There were “other” times, too.

*

The Wretched Night of Wretchedness
	She awoke with a terrible headache—the drinks from the Doogal’s had been a little potent.  A horrible ringing was in her ears—no, her head.  She felt numb; and for a moment her vision was blurred.
	Then it cleared.
	Then she wished she were blind—and deaf, for before her lay one of her friends, Vashnique (VASH-NEEK-KWA) naked with one of the men from the van on top of her—raping her!  A terrible lump formed in Vanessa’s throat as well as in the pit of her stomach.
	More horror came when Vanessa discovered that she herself was naked.
	So was Jasmine, so was Vaniqua.
	Where was Shandra?
	No Shandra was in sight.
	They were still in the van—it wasn’t moving; it was semi dark save for a lantern that was dim/shielded.  Vanessa felt sick; had she been violated?  In all probability?  Yes.
	The man violating Vash was called “Louis.”
	Another vile violating man was nakedly masturbating beside him, leering down at the hapless girl who tossed her head side to side trying to keep her mouth closed tightly.  But the masturbating man, “Nick”, told her to “OPEN”.  When she did, he put his gangly penis into her mouth, then grabbed her hair and made her suck him.
	Vanessa then saw in the corner up by the front seats another man, “Alf”.  He was on top of Jasmine!  Another man, “Jock” and the lead man, Quincey, flanked Vanessa.
	“They lookin’ pretty good, eh, Chief?” said a thick Cajun drawling Alf.
	Quincey B’longpipe merely snickered, nodded his head, and fondled himself.  Vanessa felt as if she were going to throw up any second.  
	“Oh, youze awake now, eh, mon ami?”
	Vanessa felt if she spoke she would spew chunks—or liquid more likely.
	The man smiled, snickered, then yanked her legs open, “Time for another round!” his accent was thick and harsh, hard to understand but she understood it to be French.
	Vanessa was too sickened and too tired along with frightened and knowing she was in a desperate situation; it was best wait for an opportunity.  Waiting, though, meant enduring being raped (repeatedly!)
	Quincey fingered (roughly) her pussy, shoved a finger into her asshole, then lay on her gouging his eyes into her brain.  His cock gouged her pussy.  Her hands were bound behind her back and she was in a dire-dire-dire situation.  And it wasn’t going to get any better.
	Not only did the funny talking man gouge her pussy, she was rolled over onto her side and the other man, Jock, made entry into her virgin poop chute.  She was uncomfortable with the Double Penetration.  The man in her ass, Jock, giggled and seethed; his hot breath searing the back of her neck and his breath was foul.
	Before the men completed their vile doings—Vanessa passed out.

*

Out of the frying pan…
	‘We’re lost!’  There were so many roads; off-roads, fire break roads, logging roads, just-because road.  There were no maps and GPS was useless in helping as most of those aforementioned roads just weren’t shown.
	‘If I’m lost, surely that fuckin’ bitch whore LUCY is, too!’
	Maybe.
	Dirt roads went everywhere—darkness was coming on, it was Day Six and Dim needed to get off the mountain, get home, go to work—in that order.  Of course, he had some “passengers” to get rid of first.  But finding Lucy—that fucking bitch whore, was before that.  He had to find her, dink with her mind, then deal with her his own personal way.  First he had to find her.
Crestcreek Canyon
Little River
Horknose River
Devil’s Lip Gauge
Rockton
Howdigethere Lake

	Rockton was a little backwoods redneck town (think “Deliverance”).  Dim had dealings (moonshine type dealings) with the tavern owner; Devil’s Lip Gauge was a narrow walking trail upside the Hammernail Mountain.  Below it directly was the Horknose River that kissed up to Crestcreek Canyon with Little River running thru it.
	It wasn’t Dim’s forte, he liked exploring but not into those aforementioned areas.  Some of that Crestcreek Canyon was so deep you had to look twice to see the bottom.  Most of that Hammernail Mountain area of Little River was rugged and just a bit spooky.
	After finding a road he knew he made for Rockton at last.
	In the back of his now fucked up van he had still Janet Sheeshmeesh, the nosey park ranger, Angie Scooboot—the recreational mother of Randy and Janna, and Melody Bekause—a member of the “B” girls list.
	At Rockton the lone tavern was a buzz with rednecks, a sheriff’s car was there, too.  Dim held back and tried listening in on what was going on—there was some sort of happening happening—or something already happened.  Redneck pickup trucks of all sizes were everywhere and rednecks toting rifles and shotguns were assembled out front of the Rockton center of attention.
	Keeping a low profile—and visible due to crunched EMAD, Dim picked up a smattering of talk about a “rogue bear”; a crazed lunatic mountain man, alien invasion—not from Mexico or Asia, government conspiracy, and the Legend of Crestcreek—Big Dickfoot!
	Some tidbits of the conversations were:
	“I’s seen ‘im,” spoke one thick accented gangly thin man, “he was the biggest dern ursine my eyes ever did see!”
	“Twernt no bear!” popped another man, “it was Cletus!” a crazed (lunatic mountain man known to drink his own hooch that was infused with something from the wild to make one—go wild.)
	“Naw, Jimmy J and me trapped this ‘ere critter down at the Crick a fur piece back and we he gets a thru all a hollerin’ we’s gonna go back down thare and kill him up good!”
	“It was the Legend.” spoke up a man Dim couldn’t see.  His voice was hard and strong commanding attention.
	“Now, Preacher, youze knows that Legend aint but tall tales of some whacked out miners!”
	“He’s true.”
	“He aint!”
	And the convo went on like that with others chiming in that they had seen him, smelled him, seen his big foot tracks along the muddy banks of Crestcreek.
	“It’s the dern funkin’ gov’ment!” hauled out another fellow Dim couldn’t see, “They’s comin’ in ‘ere messin’ wid our minds!  They’s wants to see if we can take an alien invasion!”
	And the conversation shifted to government conspiracy therories.
	Dim slipped away into the darkness.
	Aliens—little green men, Plan Nine and a Half, monsters from Somewhere Out in Space!  Government mind tricks, the Legend.  Occasionally Dmitri had come across The Legend of Crestcreek; a mythical creatures supposedly living in the Hammernail Mountains.  Dim didn’t believe it; no one had ever taken a picture of “the Legend.”  There were tracks but some folk dismissed them as “bear tracks.”  The first time the Legend had been brought up was back in 1914—and the lone miner claiming a huge hairy (and stinky) creature came up and decimated his fellow miners.
	No one believed him.  He was naked and half (mostly) crazed.
	Occasionally, now and then, a horrendous yeowl could be heard—echoing thru the canyons for miles.  No real sightings that could be out and out documented.  Nothing.  And furthermore—IF the Legend were true—why was there only one?  How old was this creature anyway?
	Dim didn’t know—didn’t care.  He had to find Lucy.

	He didn’t find Lucy, he found Vanessa Huxunbull—or she found him.  
	Dim very nearly ran her over as she ran out of the woods right in front of him!  Good brakes!  Dim slammed on the brakes and the naked black girl hit the van’s engine hood.
	“What the fuck!?” Dim bitched but wasn’t angry.  Getting out and the girl came up hysterical, babbling incoherently and accidentally slammed the van door onto Dim’s knee.
	She was freaking out with only a few words of English coming out giving Dim insight that she had been kidnapped by some men.  Simple enough.  She was bruised and scratched up and not right in the head.  Dim brought her inside; the van was set up so as when any door was opened the interior light did not come on.  She needed medical attention but it would have to wait.
	If those damn redneck/hunters should go foolheartily into the woods seeking the Legend, Martians, Juan Gonzales, or revenuers AND encounter Lucy…
	Turning left on Ranger Rick Road and Dim had went only about a mile before two more naked peoples came busting out of the woods—the girl, like Vanessa, out of her mind.  She was beyond freaking out.  The naked teen boy she was with was out of his mind, too, but not freaking out.
	“What the hell is going on here!?” Dim wondered.  He led them inside the van and ushered off once more.
	A recent storm had washed out the bridge going over Little Creek.  It was too wide and too deep to cross—plus there were all those boulders to contend with, too.  Dim shook his head and backed up—
	And promptly smacked into something.  In the backup lights reflection in the side mirror he saw a boulder, dirt hill, and pine tree.  His Boss was going to have his ass!  Dim went forward; making a three-point turn around on a narrow mountain road wasn’t easy.
	Suddenly, the back end was lifted up and then slammed down.
	“What the fuck!” Dim shouted.
	The peoples in the back of the van went ballistic—especially Vanessa and Bonnie Truedance.  The van was shaken side to side before something went to pounding on the van’s back doors.
	Then Dmitri Tsugua froze as the most horrendous sound he had ever heard filled the sullen night air.  It was a roar—sort of.  A call, a monstrous scream of the deathly kind.  Then the backup/reverse lights went out—no, correction, something blocked them.  The entire reflection in the mirror was blocked, shadowed by some large—very large, creature.
	A bear.
	A really BIG bear?
	The van was shaken—lifted, thrown down.
	Dim hit the accelerator sending the van backwards.
	The “creature” hit the van as he was squashed up against the dirt berm that ran along the mountain road shoving it off of him.  Dim put the van in Drive and hit the accelerator again—propelling it forward smacking dead on into a well placed tree.
	The gang in the rear were freaking the fuck out.
	The van’s engine quit; Dim’s heart nearly did.
	The driver’s side headlight was out; the windshield cracked.  A dead silence filled the air—the “creature” was no longer behind the van but he could be smelled still lingering in the area—somewhere.
	Suddenly there was a horrendous pounding to the driver’s side of the van.  The van shook and was rocked—and lifted!  But not all the way.  The van was let go and it slammed back down to the ground—Dim, rattled, freaking out a little himself and moreso when the creature suddenly was at his window!
	The creature was immense.
	And that stench!
	Abruptly and huge hairy stinky creature grabbed Dim hauling him out of the van.  Dim kicked and thrashed and was promptly banged upside the non-company company van.  The creature’s eyes were yellow—if he had teeth—Dim couldn’t see them for all the mangy mangled thick coarse fur.  But the creature’s breath he could feel—it was hot against his face and probably peeling it as well as searing it.
	The creature slammed Dim to the ground.
	Dim rolled under the van to get away.
	Bad move cause the creature lifted the van toppling it onto its side—very nearly crushing the escaping Dmitri.  Very nearly.  Dim counted his blessings but didn’t have time to count very far for the huge hairy stinky breath-could-kill Legend JUMPED over the toppled van very-very nearly landing on the laying prone in the road Dmitri.
	Dmitri rolled “just in time” to the low side of the road and ditch coming up with a hunk of tree limb and smashed it against Big Dickfoot’s arm.  As the tree limb broke and the creature wasn’t impressed, 
	“Bad idea.” Dim said.
	The creature slammed Dim into the forest—then came after him.

	In the darkness there was chaos—bodies were everywhere.  Panic was among them; blood, broken bones, uncertainty.  Screaming seemed to be the in thing but Janet Sheeshmeesh had had enough—
	“SHUT UP!” (she screamed)
	Everyone breathed hard, bled, sobbed, and whimpered.
	“I think—I think he’s gone.” whispered Bonnie.
	Bodies were strewn haphazardly everywhere; arms and legs akimbo.
	“We gotta get out of here.” Janet said.
	“That creature’s out there!” wailed Vanessa.
	A moment of silence, then, “We cant stay in here.” Janet said, ‘it’ll become our tomb for sure!’
	Moving, though, wasn’t an easy task—and did she smell gasoline?

	In the darkness there was chaos—bodies were everywhere.  Dim crawled finding a severed hand here, a mangled twisted torso there—a head over there.  Crawling over a huge log and there were “remains” galore.”  Dim vomited and could quit vomiting.  The stench of death was overpowering.  
 	Car parts, body parts; animals, people (rednecks), were strewn over a large area and in the middle of the night finding one’s way back from whence he came was near impossible.
	But dire determination gave Dim hope.  
	Until he faced up once more with the Legend.

	Naturally and the van had been toppled onto the sliding door.  Making way thru the darkness to the can was a chore—there were other people trying to scramble out, too.  The headlights were still on and as Janet (handcuffed still) made way to the cab—the stench of that creature still hung lifeless in the air.  She froze—but her ears didn’t pick up the huge stinky creature’s breathing.  Or anything else.
	“Is it still out there?” asked one of the ill-fated passengers, Bonnie.
	“No, no I-I don’t think so.”
	Of course, the creature COULD be lingering just outside—waiting.
	Crap was strewn everywhere—stuff carried inside the van; tools, chains, bindings (for interior cargo), bits of clothing, the contents of the ice chest, and then something familiar—her utility belt!
	In a mad scramble, though, she lost it.  Her energy was temporarily jazzed but frustrated when the belt slipped from her hands—in a pouch on the belt was a second set of handcuff keys!
	There had been no time to see if her sidearm was still there—not likely.
	Others were moving with Bonnie in the lead trying to pull her brain damaged brother.
	“What’s going on?” Bonnie asked.
	“Trying to find some keys.” Janet told.  Bonnie, having free hands, helped out the park ranger finding the web belt AND the pouch WITH handcuff keys.  A few anxious moments as Bonnie struggled nervously to unlock the cuffs.  She did ask, “Why are you handcuff?” just as the cuffs were free and the possibly was distinctive that she was freeing a prisoner.
	“Long story,” Janet said, “we gotta get out of here.”
	“My brother,” Bonnie said, “he’s got to have medical help, he’s been hurt in the head.”
	Without a light Janet couldn’t rightly see the boy’s injury—let alone anyone else.  The power stink left behind by the presence of the creature was slightly liess offensive giving way to the thought (and hope) that the “creature” was no longer there.
	Her sidearm and flashlight were not on the web belt.  Naturally.  Her wrists were sore as were her arms and it took a few minutes huddling in the toppled van to get some feeling back.  The contents of the ice chests had spilled ice and water, cans of soda and cold meats.  There wasn’t time for introductions but Janet told her name and that she was a park ranger.

	“I was kidnapped by some guys,” Vanessa said slurping on a bottle of water, “we were in the woods somewhere, with my friends—” the rest of her words were choked in her throat as the horrible scene violently exploded in her mind’s memory.  She shook and shuddered—years of therapy would never erase the night of horror.
	There wasn’t time to go into what happened to her friends; Janet’s concern was for herself and the girls, and the brain damaged boy.
	And where was HER kidnapper?
	And Lucy?  Had Lucy made contact with help?  Or, more likely, come across The Legend?
	Janet felt sick—the quick intake of cold water the problem there.  That and sheer fright.  Being victimized at the hands of that fucking teenage sonofabitch was one thing—victimized by the crazed wood creature was something else.  The fucking teenage sonofabitch was crazed, too; dangerous, but all he wanted was sex and overpowerment.  The woodsy creature just wanted to rip heads off (and arms, legs, fingers, eyes…)
	The smell of gasoline was strong; the van had an engine that was mostly conventional but had a cowling in the cab, too.  Big V8.  Janet scrambled to right herself and wished she could have found her .45—it would seriously be needed.
	For a moment, then, she paused.  In her mind she saw herself confronting the sonofabitch who had brought her to the horror she had never known.  She saw herself shooting the bastard, too.  She saw herself shooting the creature, too.  More thoughts came but were interrupted by the people in the van with her vying to scramble out of their impossible situation.
	“Is that gas I smell?” whimpered Vanessa.
	“Yeah, we need to get out of here.” Janet said carefully sticking her head out of the driver’s side window.  The van’s headlights were still on giving some light to the piercing dark night.  Not a sound did she hear—dead silence.
	With slow trepidation she crawled up out of the van.
	Nothing.
	No big hairy stinky monkey-like creature—no sonofabitchin’ kidnapper.
	Janet assumed the big furry creature took the kidnapper off.
	Good!
	But Janet kinda wanted to see the young man prosecuted—after being beaten to a pulp by the creature!  She had no love for the young man; no sympathy or any other compassionate feelings.  He was a monster and deserved what he got.

	With that sentiment settled she finished hauling herself out of the van—and her recently bound/recently freed wrists “just gave way” and she fell.  Out of the van and onto the ground smacking her shoulder with a hard thump.  It hurt.  Her body was already ravaged by her experiences in the van—she didn’t need any more.
	Melody came nextly—and although she hadn’t been bound in anyway she nearly fell out of the van, too.  She helped the boy, Sam, out by pulling while his sister pushed from inside.  Vanessa helped.  Janet sat up and cared only for her new pain—shoulder injury.  It wasn’t dislocated but it didn’t feel too good just the same.
	Just then a sound reverberated thru the chilling night air.
	Vanessa screamed and sunk back inside the van saying “I’m not going out there!”  Melody scrambled back up but didn’t make it as the van’s underside was hot and filthy—and she grabbed the driver’s side tire that spun her to the ground.
	Bonnie thought wisely and pulled her almost-out-of-the-van’s-door- window brother back inside, too.  Janet grabbed Melody shushing her.  Melody was on the verge of freaking out but pursed her lips tightly trembling uncontrollably.
	Janet tried to soothe the naked banged up twelve year old but needed consoling and reassurance herself.  There was something out there—big and lumbersome.
	“When I say run—you RUN!” and it didn’t matter where.
	Melody nodded.  She trembled and shook and for a moment couldn’t breathe.   Something in the woods stirred.  Something in the woods moaned.  Janet wished beyond wishes she could have found her weapon.  She clenched and waited.  Something was coming.

	In the distant, in the mountains higher, thunder rolled across the heavens.  Lightning flashed and crackled electrifying the air sending reverberations down thru the very trees below.  The clouds formed angrily swirling in a giant mass of pissed offedness bringing a torrent of rain that soon came to soak the mountains and all below it.
	Janet clutched Melody ready to propel her down the road.
	Then, passing in front of the van’s dimming headlights a form came out of the woods.  It staggered this way, crashed into a tree then slumped against the van.  Janet tensed—but realized there was no “stink” to the air.  It wasn’t the creature but the teenage bastard!
	He was naked and covered in blood; he had a twitch to him and wild eyes.
	“Get—in the—fucking van.” he said on gurgling lips.
	Janet stood frozen—there was some strange compassion for the young man; but her memory served her and recalled his abuse.
	“NO.” she said flatly.
	The young man stumbled from the front of the van; when he brushed against the tire he was thrown stumblingly crashing into Janet and the petrified Melody.  When Janet rebuked her kidnapper—he zapped her with the stun gun.
	The stun gun had been handily-dandily in a cup holder on the engine cowl cover and when Dim was hauled out of the van by Big Dickfoot he just grabbed it.  Not intentionally but it came in handy—as when the big hairy stinky creature with an enormous schwanzstucker grabbed him.  Then, in the woods, when Big Dickfoot not kindly thru Dim over a large log then began beating him WITH that enormous schwanz, Dim came aware of the stun gun in his hand—dangling in his hand by the wrist strap.
	Just as the Legend began attempting sodomy, Dim managed to wrench himself around and zap the creature’s HUMUNGUS balls.  Dim wasn’t really too sure he had zapped the creature’s furry nuggets—there was so much ratty hair there but he was realitvely certain.
	The creature had managed to get the head of his foul schlong into Dim’s clenched bung hole and cram a little more.  Dim was coming apart as he was being raped.  After zapping the creature’s balls he fall off to the other side of the log—Big Dickfoot went apeshit.

	Janet, once more, lay on the hard packed dirt road twitching.
	Melody squatted down whimpering with her beautiful eyes opened wide with fright and fear.  For a long minute—maybe two, Dim stood against the underside of the van just breathing.  His asshole would never be the same.  And who could he tell if he wanted to?  He had been raped by a sasquatch!
	Maybe that was what set the big hairy stinky creature off in the first place—he was horny!  Being a male that went without saying.  All God’s creatures had needs—sexual needs predominantly reigning.
	Then the rain came.
	It was cold but it was welcomed—it washed the blood and gunk off of Dim’s ravaged body.  Dim’s senses, though, were still “out to lunch.”  Perhaps there was a little insight on what it was like to be forcefully raped/sodomized.
 	Just desserts?
	Janet got her senses back and as she rallied herself to attack Dim—she slipped in the mud the rain had just created.  Dim grabbed her; her arms and legs went to flailing but didn’t hit anything vital.  She screamed and tried bashing her head to his but he managed to grab her slinging her to the van’s undercarriage.  There he pinned her arm behind her back—then rolled his eyes to Melody.
	“Come here.”

	Melody shook her head, bawled, and shuddered as the cold rain drenched her.  Dim gave her the “evil eye”.  His cold stare nearly caused the young girl to stop breathing.
	“Get your ass over here—NOW!”
	Melody moved, slipped in the mud then stood up shivering.
	Breathing hard—as holding Park Ranger Janet to the van was a task in itself,
	“Get inside,” he told her, “find the handcuffs.”
	Janet said something but the loud crack of thunder just above them drowned out the words.  Melody hesitated—until that loud crack of thunder then she moved climbing up into the van.
	To keep the woman who was very nearly capable of wrenching herself from Dim’s grasp—Dim zapped her again.
	“You sonofabitch!” she screamed as she once more twitched uncontrollably.
	“I know.”

*

Doom!  Despair!  Agony on me!  Deep dark depression; excessive misery!
If it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all!
	There was no way in hell he was going to be able to put the van back on its wheels.  And with The Legend roaming the woods—staying put wasn’t a good idea.  When anyone (redneck or otherwise) would come traipsing down the road was unknown.  A trek back to Rockton was the thing.  But that, of course, presented some problems—Dim was naked, so were his “captives.”  And with a smashed dysfunctional EMAD—overpowering any minds was not going to happen.  He couldn’t even render himself invisible!
	His mind raced—he thought of just dropping his crew off, “acquiring” a vehicle of some sort, and going the fuck home.  FUCK Lucy!  Maybe he’d luck up and the running away bitch would encounter Big Dickfoot!
	Then there was Ranger Janet, mother Angie, Melody, Vanessa, Bonnie and her brain damaged brother, Sam to deal with.  And Dim was in no mood to deal with them.  The rain had washed off the blood and some of the stink of his encounter with The Legend, but his body was badly bruised and battered.
	The interior of the van was thrashed but Dim searched it for anything useful just the same.
	“I don’t think we should travel—in the rain.” said Bonnie Truedance.
	“I don’t think we should hang around here—while that big hairy creature is around.” Dim replied.  The rain had turned off the “cold” and was a little more tolerable.  No one said anything to that.

	But of course, walking NAKED thru a wet forest in a slight rain storm wasn’t such a neat idea, either.  Can we say pneumonia?  Thought you could.  And with that, Dim ushered everyone back inside the van via the backdoors.  There were blankets to cover up under and bodies to snuggle up against.  Dim kept vigil at the rear doors—the image of Big Dickfoot sodomizing reigning supreme in his mind—forever!

	Janet Sheeshmeesh was once more—handcuffed; this time, her hands were cuffed between her legs!  Her ankles were tied together AND tied to Angie’s ankles.  Angie was—Missing in Action.  Her mind was gone—just gone.  Melody and Vanessa were tied together, back to back.  Bonnie was secured to her brother and Dim felt at ease enough to catch some sleep.  He kept one of the doors open; it was cold air coming in but with blankets he was warm enough to stave off freezing.
	There was no “back-up” plan.  A trek thru the woods, or along the road, either way wasn’t going to be pleasant or easy.  Sleep came easy to Dim—in short bursts.  There were interruptions of crackling thunder, someone in the van moving, something outside the van moving, and his own body jolts.
	“I have to go.” said a meek voice—Melody.
	“Knock yourself out.” Dim told her.  He shivered, yawned, farted, and tried to get comfortable.  His Boss was going to have his balls for fucking up the van.  He had to finger out a way to deal with Bonnie, Sam, Angie, Melody, Vanessa, and Janet.  Vanessa clung to herself with the visions of what had happened to her and her friends deeply entrenched into her memory.  After the vile disgusting rednecks had had their way with them (all)—they were left alone for a long time.
	When the girls, minus the missing “Shandra” came to their senses—something terrible happened.
	“What happened?” Dim asked.
	“S-something hit the van.”
	“What?  What hit the van?”
	Vanessa eyes widened as the monstrous creature (of a hairy nature) pounded the sides of the van then tore open the driver’s door.  The girls within shrieked and “freaked the fuck out”.  The creature screamed (sort of) back at the girls then began grabbing them.  Vash was pulled out first.  Vanique and Jasmine tried to keep her from going out but the monster was too powerful—and determined.
	The creature (big and hairy) dragged Vash off into the woods; the girl could be heard screaming for several minutes and then her voice—“just quit.”  Vanessa and the remaining girls huddled deep inside the van freaking out as quietly as they could.  Many minutes passed before—
	BANG! The van was rocked (but not toppled).
	The massive hairy beast poked his head inside the van with his huge hairy arm reaching back for another victim.  And he grabbed Jasmine.  Blood curdling screams came from all the remaining girls, Jasmine’s was the loudest.  The creature pulled her out and she went off into the woods.
	That left Vanique and Vanessa.
	How long of time space there was before the creature returned Vanessa wasn’t sure.  She and Vanique huddled together wishing that the vile rednecks would come back.  What they had done was merely rape and sodomize them; what the huge hairy stinky creature was doing wasn’t known—but it probably wasn’t good.
	The girls huddled for a long time actually going to sleep!
	Only to be rudely awakened by the creature’s return.
	The van was nearly toppled—but wasn’t.
	“Where’s the van now?” Dim asked.
	Vanessa, of course, had no idea.
	“How far have you gone from the van?”
	Again—she wasn’t sure.
	The creature yanked Vanique out and she went silent almost immediately.
	After a few minutes and there was dead silence—emphasis on “dead”, Vanessa made a decision not to be next on the creature’s menu.  No way—no how.  It was dark out, there were the remains of a campsite, tents thrashed everywhere and the stench of “something dead” hung ripe in the air sickening Vanessa who vomited relentlessly as she stumbled thru the woods.
	Dim had to find that van.
	Getting the frightened Vanessa to retrace her steps wasn’t easy; she had come out onto the road from the woods; there was a huge boulder she had hid behind him.  Three huge pine trees lay crisscross wise, there was a creek where she washed off some and got water to drink.  From there she just wasn’t sure—it was dark and she was frightened out of her wits.
	There was no way for Dim to lift his van right.  Besides, the battery was dead.
	Come the new morn and a new plan.
	The rain had stopped, the roar of the nearby creek was loud, the air was chilled but tolerable—unless, of course, your naked.  Traipsing about the mountains NAKED wasn’t cool.  ‘next time, PACK EXTRA CLOTHES!’ Dim made a mental note.  During his ruckus with The Legend he had lost his shoes and clothes—and voraciously was raped.
	Fitting justice perhaps.

	Dim kept brother and sister Sam and Bonnie tied together, her hands tied behind to her brother’s hands before him.  Janet was tied similarly to mindless Angie.  Vanessa and Melody were unsecured but too frightened to run.  Vanessa and Melody held Dim’s hands.  Blankets were the only thing they wore to help them from the bitter cold and wet.  A pack of “goodies” was slung under Dim’s blanket.
	Thirty minutes into their trek and there was the huge boulder Vanessa remembered.  Then the crisscrossed trees, the creek, strewn body parts, another creek, a huge pines and crisscrossed boulders—BODY PARTS!?
	The group halted.
	The sun was rising—it was a new day and it was starting out to be not such a good one.  The rain thru the night had did little to quell the stench of the strewn parts of bodies.  There were lots of them, too.
	There, too, was the rednecks’ van.
	It was upright—a little beat up but it was on all four wheels.
	A strange feelings unshakable lay on the land—in the air.  A misty fog added to the spooky ambience.  No birds, no squirrels, nothing.  Thick woods surrounded the open space of about a hundred yards or so.  A few huge boulders placed here and there—and one over there.  An overflowing creek there; a small meadow, a menacing creature over there.
	Dim approached the van; his thoughts racing—none of them good.  Saddled with “extras” and a smashed mind controlling device wasn’t good.  He didn’t like the idea of leaving his van toppled on the road where it was and noting the redneck’s van had a wench…
	A MENACING CREATURE OVER THERE!
	No one moved.  The creature, big and hairy, stood at the edge of the open space kind of slumped over a bit swaying side to side.  Huffs of air could be seen billowing from his huge rubbery nostrils.
	Dim’s asshole clenched.
	“Get in the van.” Dim said in a low voice.
	Bound up as they were, traversing UP into the 4-wheel drive van wasn’t an easy task, Dim had to help them—and though he touched bare ass skin his sexual want and perverted desires were nil.  Fear had a way of interfering with needs.
	With his eyes near constantly on the sodomizing sasquatch, Dim got his crew inside the van then himself.  The keys were still in the ignition—no one wanted to steal a redneck’s crappy van.  It was of a dull red color—several dull red colors; caked with mud, one gray door, cracked windows, boxy, locked rear doors, big mud swampers (tires), and sasquatch dents all over it.

	The van started with a whir and rattle; The Legend seemed to be “in the zone” and didn’t pay attention.  Good!  Dim backed up (over some bodies and whatever) and navigated out of the area—slowly.  
 	The road was a mere trail; the trees were thick, there was the creek to get across, and then the road split going off into three directions.  Dim had no idea which way to go.  He was cold, he was lost, hungry, in deep shit, a cargo van full of peoples he had to get rid of, days late checking in with work and home, his social group—to keep up appearances and possible alibis, and a not-so-working-well mind altering device.
	He sighed, shivered, and turned the wheel Right when--
	Something bashed the back doors.
	Everyone screamed—including Dmitri.
	Big Dickfoot could be seen in the side mirrors; he tried lifting the van but Dim floored the gas pedal and hauled ass down the questionable dirt road.  The recent rain didn’t help smooth the road—it made it worse!  Something under the van broke, something metal.  It clanked and fell off.  Dim didn’t care and kept his foot to the floor taking a couple of corners without care smacking the van into trees and boulders.  The van fishtailed badly sending the van off the road and into the woods where it stalled.
	Bonnie, Vanessa, Melody, and Janet were screaming their heads off.
	Dim was in no mood for them and yelled back for them to “SHUT UP!”
	Trying to keep his panic down he quickly tried restarting the van and keeping vigil of where the woodsy creature was.  The van finally started but was—of course—stuck.  Dim sat still in the seat fuming.
	He was losing it.  His thoughts tumbled and for some time he just went blank.  No thoughts, no plans, nothing.  He shook with fear, pissedoffedness, and cold.  At length he sighed and “got a grip” on himself.  How much time had passed he didn’t know—didn’t care.  There was work to do.
	Locking eyes with Bonnie, “I could use your help.” He locked eyes with Janet, too—but didn’t trust her.  After freeing Bonnie he put her in the driver’s seat schooling her on how to “just touch” the accelerator while he jostled the back end of the redneck van trying to unstuck the spinning wheel there.
	In the process he got thoroughly soaked and splattered with mud.
	Perfect.
	And the van remained stuck.
	A handy and dandy stout tree limb helped dislodge the wheel—and in THAT process smacked Dim in the side sending him sprawling onto the wet ground with possible broken ribs.
	Bonnie bounded out of the van “Oh my God!” she said, “Are you alright?”
	Dim shook his head, “No.”
	She helped him sit up; he winced at his side and couldn’t take a deep breath.
	He was naked.
	She was naked.
	She was not overly aware of his nasty business although was curious as to why everyone had to be tied up—and handcuffed.  Regardless, she helped Dmitri to the van and inside.
	“Can you drive?” she asked.
	“I-I don’t think so.” Dim told her.  So Bonnie took the wheel.
	“Where we going?”
	“I’d like to get back to my van.” Dim told her.  “I just don’t know exactly where it is.”
	Day was coming on, there were lingering clouds but none threatening.  The air was cold—damn cold.  Bonnie drove the van down the narrow road—chuck holes deep enough to bury the vehicle, jutting boulders, and trees made the drive impassable.
	Dim’s side seriously was in peril.
	Bonnie backed up—it wasn’t easy as the road was just treacherous and the aforementioned hazards difficult to make good travel—backwards.  There was no turning around—the road too narrow for that.
	It was a long five miles back to where there were the other two roads.
	The Right road was taken and ten miles later—the non-company company van was sighted.  Still on its side and all kinds of beat up.  Dim sighed—painfully.  He sat in the redneck van a long while—unable to move let alone breathe.
	“What do you want me to do?” the naked Bonnie asked. She had a blanket about her but still—naked.
	Dim’s mind was fogged and wracked with the ravages that had beset him.
	Raped by a sasquatch!  Wow
	“I’d like to try and tip the van back over.” Dim said.
	But there, too, was the issue of the dead battery and would the toppled over van even start afterwards.  It was a shambles, side mirrors broken, back doors bashed in, side door fucked up.  But he couldn’t return to work in a redneck’s van and not the assigned to him company van (that wasn’t a company van).
	One, they had to move the redneck van around the other side of Dim’s van.
	Two, use the redneck van’s wench to pull Dim’s van onto its feet.
	Three, take the battery out of the redneck van and install it into Dim’s van.
	If the van started—good.  If not—reverse the process and fuck it.
	A lot of work—and in the cold air AND being naked made it all the more difficult.  Dim was in no mood (or condition) to do anything.  He was shivering uncontrollably and had difficulty keeping his eyes open.  This little episode hadn’t turned out well at all.
*

Sometimes words fail me	
	Getting Quincey B’longpipe’s van around Dmitri’s van THEN turned around so as the wench in the front of the redneck’s van was in the right position—was a chore.  Bonnie managed it while Dim sat in the passenger seat trying to get warm—a case of pneumonia was more than likely his ailment.  The heater of the van worked and it was cranked to the max.
	Bonnie hooked the wench hook to the fucked up toppled van and brought it back to its wheels.  Dim sighed—but there was still lots to do.  But the air was cold and Bonnie was doing everything—naked.  She climbed back into Quincey’s van to get warm.  Dim felt ill, was in pain, and freezing.  He was sure to have a fever.
	Half an hour later and Dim was out of the van helping dislodge the redneck van’s battery.  It wasn’t an easy task and both Dim and Bonnie banged their hands and knuckles removing both batteries.
	And as presumed—Dim’s van wouldn’t start.
	Not right off.
	He sat almost broken.  He felt like crying!  He was cold, hurt, hungry, and sick getting sicker.  This little episode hadn’t worked out well at all.  At all!  Still, though, an adventure was an adventure.  They can’t all turn out prime.  He chalked it up to “just desserts.”
	The interior of his van was thrashed and then some.  Shit was everywhere.  He searched for his busted EMAD—and found Ranger Sheeshmeesh’s .45 automatic.  That was a good thing.  There were some articles of clothing—enough for Bonnie and Vanessa—pants and shoes and shirts.  No undies.  Bonnie came into the van with Vanessa to get dressed—and Dim zapped them both with the EMAD.
	It was his thing—you didn’t think he was going to change did you?
	The EMAD had limited—limited abilities.  Mind control still seemed possible but to a limited degree.  All there was was numbing the mind; the Subject was not able to “undress”, “open legs”, “suck”, or accept “a new way of life.”  No matter, Dim opened Bonnie’s legs and entered her.  She had been a damn good helper and Dim deeply appreciated that.  And her concern for his welfare was touching, too.  He gave her a gentle fuck, sucked on her delicious melon sized titties and delivered unto her a righteous amount of his love (in gooey liquid form).
	His actions, of course, weren’t without pain.  His ribs were not maybe broken but surely cracked.  Breathing was a problem, thinking was a problem, fucking was a problem.  

 	But breathing, thinking, and fucking were a done deal.  Steam arose from their bodies, he had started with a blanket over them as he did the deed—with Vanessa “laying in wait” beside them.  Mid way thru the sex and Dim was tossing the blanket off.
	He was semi back to his old self.
	He cleaned Bonnie’s cunt off then dressed her.  The mind controlling device had no effect on inserting notions or implanting new thoughts OR erasing that what had happened to her.  Vanessa would have loved to have had her mind wiped—the scene of her friends being yanked out of the van by The Legend would remain forever lodged in her memory.  Years of therapy would do little to erase Vash and Vanique’s screams as they were hauled out of the van.  Vanessa had not seen what had happened to them—but she had a good guess.  And the gruesome scene she and the others had come on on their way to the redneck van only further implanted into her the horrible fate of her friends.  It had been a wretched night.

	At length, though, Dim’s van started.  He had to cuss it, beat it, threaten to crush it at a wrecking yard, then flood it and let it set fuming with gasoline fumes before it finally sputtered to life.  He sat in the seat relieved.  His hair was caked in mud, his toes—there was mud betwixt his toes, in his ass crack, but Bonnie had helped wipe the mud off of the rest of him (earlier in the woods); his ribs hurt badly, he couldn’t shake shivering, and his asshole hurt, too.  But the non-company company van was running!
	Bonnie and Vanessa were already settled in the van; Dim had taken thirty minutes before sliding his cock into Vanessa’s pussy.  There was no “lust” involved this go round; no passion.  It was conquest.  Get it in—get it out—get off.  And he found that AFTERWARDS there was a small window of opportunity to “fix” the Subject’s mind.  Dim had to whisper his desires into the EMAD and the EMAD had to be right at the head of the Subject for the “message” to take.
	And no complicated life changing message, either—just “you like sex with me.”  That was about all he could manage and all that the Subject could accept.  He then went to fetch the others.  Melody was next.  When he got her to his van—the same went for her as had it been for Bonnie and Vanessa.  Plus spanking.  His right side was in great misery so his antics had to be seriously curbed.  The girl had crapped herself—all had pissed themselves.  While traipsing across the woods to the redneck’s camp and did Angie crap herself.  Pretty gross to see a grown woman just soil herself.  It only showed and proved that her mind was gone-gone-gone.
	Then, while just inside the thrashed van (inside and out) Dim assaulted the girl’s asshole.  He really wasn’t up to the task—only his cock.  His balls ached, his side, his asshole, then the rest of his body.  It was conquest—pure and simple.

	Dim knew he would have trouble with Janet.  Surprisingly, though, he was wrong.  She wasn’t broken, just tired, cold, hungry, maybe a little broken.  He creature, too, may have had an impact on her.  Dim uncuffed her and led her nakedly back to his van whereupon he inserted the notion that she wanted—she desired to get fucked and fucked hard by him.
	He wasn’t in the mood for much to do to the park ranger—but he did sink his throbbing smoldering aching pud into her.  No cum but that was important.  Just getting into the woman and fucking her for a few minutes was enough.
	He did Angie inside the redneck van, spanked her, doinked her up the ass—and regretted it ‘cause the woman’s turd chute was still kinda staining.  After wiping his dirty schlong on the woman’s thigh—then shoving it into her cunt to further “clean” it.  The woman didn’t even moan.
	Bonnie’s brother, Sam, did, though.  He seriously needed medical attention.
	But first!
	By the time he was plowing up Sam Truedance’s ass—Dim was about shagged out.  His cock was seriously not up to the task—but he managed just the same then loaded the boy into his van.  It was another conquest—pure and simple.  He toyed with the boy’s cock and once more denied being “gay.”  He still wanted sex with Stephan!

Rockton
	There weren’t any “lawns” in Rockton but there were some lawn mowers just the same.  A rusting hulk of a steam locomotive’s boiler, too.  A rusting train car and a caboose were also a part of the scenery that Rockton kids played on.  A few cabins could be seen, others were tucked back further into the woods.  Propane tanks were scattered about providing gas for the residents.  Power came by way electrical lines and there were also telephone service.
	A couple of backyards had washing out on the line for to air dry.
	Dim’s wallet was gone—along with his clothes.  He could go merrily back to the scene of the crime—where he got sodomized and retrieve his wallet but Dim declined that inclination.
	Although—if anyone should investigate the missing peoples and come upon that scene and find his wallet…

	A little girl caught his eye—checked red dress, braided brown hair, flat chested, flat face, about 7 years young or so.  She was playing with a rag doll in an open backyard.  The recent rains had made a mud puddles everywhere and the little girl was happily splashing in them.  There WAS a bit of grassy lawn attempt but it was sporadic and not taking hold well.

	Some jeans, socks, flannel shirts.
	Perfect.
	$150 was in his wallet.
	Driver’s license, cards, pictures, discount cards.
	There were good ideas—and there were bad ideas.
	Guess which one Dim chose?
	After grabbing some clothes—no boots, though, Dim made an unsound return trip to where he had been raped by The Legend.  It was broad daylight but the skies were not clear.  As he made the turn onto that fateful road the air suddenly was still—and lifeless.
	The redneck’s van was still in place.
	Dim carefully negotiated his van to where it pointed down the road from whence he came—in case of a quick need of a haul ass.  Then, for a long while, he sat with the engine idling.  Nothing stirred in the woods.  That meant that something still ominous remained.  The strewn dead bodies could attribute to that.
	The recovery of his wallet was important.
	The money he didn’t care about but it was the process of going thru and getting his ID, cards of this and that that was the rub.  A big pain in the ass.  speaking of pain—
	His side seriously hurt—and regardless, he had easily mind trapped the little girl, Amy, getting her to come into the van where he found she was without panties!  Cool!  The dress slipped off of her easily enough and after hugging, rubbing her butt, kissing her passionately he laid her out on the crowded floor of his van and did the despicable.
	The others sat quietly watching.  Their minds were tapped and still amazingly effected by the dysfunctional in-serious-need-of-repair EMAD.  Dim managed the head of his cock and a bit of shaft discovering that the little girl was NOT a virgin as she should be.  What a shame!  Without much effort he managed to fully insert his cock and “get after it.”
	With the EMAD not so well working the Q&A function was disabled.
	After thoroughly fucking the girl he gouged her asshole while she sucked on Sam’s cock.  The boy giggled and enjoyed the blow; Dim enjoyed the show!  Her pussy may not have been virginal but her asshole was.  Dim poked and prodded the funky hole but gave up after a short time.  His cracked and or broken ribs really put the kibosh on his illicit pursuit.
	With her dress back on and her dolly in hand, Dim sent her back on her way to play in the mud puddles.  Dim then went on his way—he wanted to fuck Sam’s sister, Bonnie while watching her suck her brother but he wasn’t in that much of a mood and was in pain.  Kibosh!

	The woods were quiet—and wet.
	The stench of death was still prominent.
	A lone bird somewhere beyond the small meadow cooed.
	Nothing else stirred.
	Dim didn’t like leaving the van—again.  He would never be the same again—especially his asshole!  Sure he wanted to get fucked in the ass—but by Stephan Calbirurch!  (previous chapter)  He moved on thru the brush getting snagged by limbs and jumping every time.
	Then, across the meadow he saw something lumbering.
	His asshole clenched and a lump formed in his stomach and throat.
	The lumbering “something” suddenly stood up then plopped back down.
	It wasn’t Big Dickfoot but a lone bear.
	Still, though, that wasn’t good, either.
	A few steps later and there was the log.
	Dim just froze.
	There were some body parts and skeleton parts about the area.
	And his boots!
	And his pants!
	His wallet intake, Dim shucked the stolen ill-fitting pants and put them on quick.  The bear was in the middle of meadow searching for food.  Dim didn’t want to be on the bear’s menu so he grabbed his boots and hauled off back to the van.
	Emerging from the woods into Rockton and there were more rednecks gathered with big black SUVs in their midst, too.  Government!  Dim slid off to one side and parked.  If he just drove on by them they might stop him—ask him where he had been and had he seen anything.  And being a “van” with fucked up doors and sidings they might get all kinds of suspicious.
	Sam, Bonnie, Angie, Melody, Janet, and Vanessa were still with him.
	He waited—and waited—and then waited some more.  Finally, some big ass four-wheel drive pick-ups took off into the woods followed by two of the four big black SUVs.  The crowd had thinned and Dim took a chance of “moseying” along.
	A mile down the main dirt road and who should emerge from the woods?
	LUCY!
	She was naked, walked with a limp, walked with a limb not quite right, leaves and debris in her used-to-be silky dark hair, and bleeding here and there.  She didn’t seem to recognize Dim, like Angie Scooboot—mindless.  Dim cleaned her, tweaked her nipples HARD, spanked her, fingered HARD her pussy, then fucked her for good measure.
	She didn’t care—he didn’t compare to being raped by Big Dickfoot.

*

X marks the spot
	With the waning days of Summer and no intention of pursuing a college career, Seth “The Strangler!” Strangle needed a job.  He landed a job as a courier; after a short stint as a warehouse worker, delivering newspapers (to newsstands), and other assorted penny ass going no where jobs.)  
	Of course he could have made life easier for himself—with the use of the mind altering device in his possession he could have very well enjoyed funding a nice lifestyle but chose not to go that path.
	As a courier, Seth ran “errands” for some large corporate executives.  It was a social job that got Seth into exclusive areas of town.  He made mental notes about those ventures—for his Mom’s psychic business and for his own personal venues.  
	Cutting to the chase, on one occasion he just happened to be at the right place and at the right time.  After making a courier run, Seth “The Strangler!” Strangle took time out at a favorite Italian restaurant downtown.  It was late at night and he was tired and ready to go home—but a plate of Luigi’s spaghetti w/heaping chili and cheese w/onions, garlic, and fresh tomatoes was just the thing.
	While in the restroom making room for a second helping,
	“We’ll take him just after he has his wine.” said a man at the wash basin counter.
	“Dean-o’s vino ‘ill do ‘im finito!” mouthed off a lacky.
	“Shut up!” sarcastically said the taller man in the 1930s dark fedora.
	The man washed his hands, one of the two farted, then left the room.
	Seth was pretty sure the two men weren’t referring to taking their Boss out for some “take-out” fare.  After completing his business, Seth made his way out of  the bathroom, snagged an apron from off a hook by the doors leading into the kitchen, then, grabbed a tray putting some chewy bread sticks on the tray.  He then made way to the only diners dinning—a big man and the two men from the bathroom.
	Dean “Dean-o” Huggenkill was the big man; he wasn’t too tall, didn’t have a lot of hair, smoked BIG cigars, and was 100% pure Italian.  A businessman he was in the Import/Export business.  He ran a couple of businesses and was known for his “charity.”
	A note was added to the breadstick delivery,
	“Your life’s in danger!  The men beside you want to “take you out!””
	Seth then grabbed some breadsticks of his own and plopped into a booth across the way.  Fat Dean checked Seth, Seth nodded.  Dean nodded.  The two men yapped about their wives, ate their dinner, and none the wiser of pending doom.
	Fat (and bald) Dean swished his wine, wrinkled his nose, leaned back in the booth—then two shots rang out (silenced shots but Seth heard them.)  Bobby Candishambono and Carlos Vendblowme fell with a thud into their linguine.  Fat Dean had blew away two of his lackies from two guns under his jacket—crisscrossing his arms to do so.  Just then the doors of the restaurant flew open and a small herd of men rushed in,
	“BOSS!” shouted one of the flunkies, “Bobby and Carlos are gonna kill you!”
	“I know.” said Dean-o.  He wiped his mouth and looked a little angry, then sarcastic.  Then he shoved “Bobby” and “Carlos” out of the booth.  He nodded to Seth who nodded back.  He had made a friend—a shady underworld friend but a friend is a friend!

	In the days that came later and Seth once more “helped” Dean-o Huggenkill.  It came about as Seth was swept up into Fat Dean’s enterprise; being a courier already, Seth “couried” packages to various places around town.  One day while waiting for a package to courie a problem with an employee was overheard.  Fat Dean had taken Seth into his confidence so it was not a problem for the young man to be present during employee troubles.
	Seems that some significant amount of company money was “missing” and it had been narrowed down to Vincent “The Cod” Soupklitz as the employee with sticky fingers.  And Fat Dean wasn’t too happy about it.  Two new flunkies were beating Vinny to a bloody pulp but he wasn’t giving in.
	Vinny was tied securely to a wooden chair—once he managed to wiggle his feet out and “sweep” the one man who was beating him to the floor.  It was a valid effort but failed and Vinny The Cod was beaten ridiculously until he was unconscious.
	“There’s another way,” Seth said to Dean-o, “one that would be more productive.”
	Fat Dean looked to Seth, “Yeah?”
	The “interrogation” room was in a private room, little furniture, no windows.  The room was divided having a large 2-way mirror whereas the second room was smaller while “conversations” took place as in confessions much like in a police interrogation room.
	“He got a family?”
	Yeah, Vinny The Cod had a family—a wife and two girls.
	Seth smiled, “Bring them in.” he gleamed, “He’ll talk.”
	Dean-o nodded and smiled, too.

	Wanda Soupklitz was a nice look dame; tall, auburn hair nicely styled and she looked like she had just stepped out of the 1950s or 60s!  Trim body, her poise, posture, voice—the whole schemer.  An active woman; active in her church, kids’ school, community functions, homemaker.
	Sitting in the secondary room with the big “window” she couldn’t see out of she was genuinely frightened.  And rightfully so; beside her were her two children, Francine and Jennifer—thirteen and ten respectively.
	In the outer room, Vincent could only see his wife—for now.
	He was not amused in the least when the light in the inner room revealed the love of his life.  “NOOO!” he screamed.  He was in panic mode.
	“Just tell me where the money is—and this ends now.” said Dean-o.
	Vincent couldn’t breath—his neck muscles tightened and he still refused to give up the location of the one thousand grand he “allegedly” acquired from the company.  He was one of Dean-o’s accountants.  (“You cant trust a fart and cant trust an accountant!” 
	“Suit yourself!” Dean-o said.  then, to Seth, “Your show.”
	Seth slipped away in the semi darkness only to reappear in the inner room.
	There was little light in the inner room but enough.  Franny and Jennifer were just off to one sight, out of sight (for the time being.)  Wanda was dressed in a short dress that hugged her ass; a white dress to mid thigh, 1960s style with large purple flowers all over them.  She was stood up from the chair, two company flunkies were inside with Seth, two others were outside with Fat Dean.
	Seth stepped up behind Wanda and groped her.
	Vincent nearly came out of his chair shouting “You sonofabitch!”
	The “audio” was on low but Seth heard.  Seth didn’t care—or stop.
	Franny and Jennifer began to sob but their young mouths were gagged.
	Wanda’s hands were tied behind her—and no EMAD was in use!
	More groping—lots more.  Seth’s expert hands fondled Wanda’s thirty-something titties that were of the cantaloupe size.  Nice and round, firm, fuckable.  The woman was delirious and freaking out—much more so when Seth whispered in her ear “Settle down or something of the same can happen to your girls!”
	Wanda freaked—but in a sobbing “I cant believe this” way.
	Her husband was out of his mind screaming obscenities to the point whereupon one of the flunkies began pummeling the already beaten to a pulp man.
	“Let him alone,” said Dean-o, “I want him to see what’s gonna happen to his family.” He snickered and sat back in a large comfy chair.  He liked Seth’s tactics.
	Vincent The Cod Soupklitz?  Not so much.

	After much groping—fondling!
	Fondling led to fingering.
	Fingering led to—
	--Wanda Jane Leapoffitz-Soupklitz freaking the fuck out!
	Seth’s fingers went UP her short near body hugging dress delving into her womanhood.  Her panties were pushed down from the rear to her knees.  Vinny hung his head shaking it sadly.
	“Please don’t do this!” he begged.
	Dean-o said nothing but sat with his hands folded resting on his large belly.
	Seth had no intention of “stopping” and pulled Wanda’s dress up revealing her lovely-lovely neatly trimmed bush.  Her two girls’ eyes bugged out of their heads as they saw their mother being molested.  More eye bugging would soon follow.
	Fat Dean’s flunkies flanking Vinny held him firmly to the chair as he freaked out watching his wife being molested.  Still though, he refused to give up the necessary information to save his wife from years of therapy.  Seth had the woman’s panties down, her dress up; then, dress off and panties off—followed by the bra and she was nude.
	Vinny nearly stopped breathing.  He sat with his mouth agape, bleeding, eyes puffy, mind slowly going.  Seth, standing behind the woman fingered her trimmed pussy, fingered it—fingered it—fingered it before turning the hapless woman around, bending her over and spanking her.  A flunky in the room with Seth held the woman firmly (while another held the girls firmly with their hands tied behind them, too).
	A small stick, like a baseball stick but small with a tapered one end and blunt flat opposite end was used to sodomize the woman.  More spanking followed with Seth at length turning the woman sideways AND ON HER KNEES.  Then, for extreme amusement and to see just how far Vincent The Cod Soupklitz would tolerate his wife being abused—Seth hauled out his more than average cock and made the woman suck him.
	When Vincent The Cod Soupklitz just about came out of his chair (and skin) the two flunkies pummeled him, socked him in the stomach, and held him firm.  Dean-o sat in his big comfy chair giggling whispering ‘go boy, go!’
	And Seth did.
	Holding the woman’s hair he humped her mouth and then her head.
	A handy and dandy table suitable for examining dead bodies at a morgue was in the small inner room and Wanda was positioned on it; firstly, though, more spanking followed by Seth stripping off his clothes.  He then “spanked” Wanda with his cock before putting her onto the stainless steel “stained” table.

	Vincent, although freaking the fuck out, was still in no way going to give up any needful information about the whereabouts of the missing loot.  He was holding out regardless of his wife’s dilemma—maybe hoping that the hundred grand would make up for her sexual assault.  Maybe.
	Seth used some rope to hold the woman’s legs back at the knees.  This angled her ass area just so—just so as her hubby in the outer room could see the rape that came to follow.  The two girls—unseen by their daddy still, were inconsolable—crying and wiggling so.
	Seth raped the woman—doing so slowly.  After he got his nut, he got off the woman and the table and stepped out of view.  Flunky Gerred Bowlinskey came into view, a tall chap who constantly sucked on a toothpick.  He was naked and had an average sized schlong of which went nicely into Wanda’s fresh fucked cunt.
	Vinny shook his head, begged and pleaded—
	GB mounted and fucked his wife—followed by Flunky Number Two, Jose Boneswellez.  Vinny hung his head and sobbed but had his head jerked up to watch the raping of his wife.
	Vinny still refused to fork over the location of the dough.
	How unfortunate.
	Wanda was moved off the table and just out of sight to the right.
	Then, the naked sweating demented Seth The Strangler! Strangle brought thirteen year old Francine Marie into view.
	Vinny went ballistic and sputtered a slew of words that were not of any known language.
	“LOCKER 5701!” Vinny shouted, “TRAIN STATION!”
	Fat Dean-o nodded his head, smiled; he was amused by Seth’s tactics.
	Looking to the flunky on his right, “Go.” The flunky fled quickly.
	Francine Soupklitz wore a body hugging dress, mid-thigh, low-cut “V” neck, basic white with a bold flowery print style all over.  The dress was pulled up and over the girl’s head and down to her bound hands.  Her pinkish bra was removed and down came her bikini style lavender tinted panties.
	Her daddy in the outer room was freaking out blabbering in that unknown language.  Fat Dean-o backhanded smacked his accountant, “Settle down, thief, enjoy the show!” he chuckled and became more amused with the underling’s actions.
	Francine was turned about, her panties down at her ankles, the dress finally ripped off her body.  Then she was bent over and Seth Strangle began caressing her ass sending her daddy into crazed orbit.
	“LEAVE HER ALONE YOU SONOFAFUCKING BITCH!” followed by, “I’LL FUCKING GOING TO KILL YOU!”

	Seth spanked the girl’s ass, squeezed her cheeks, then bent her over revealing her nice pert crack and hole—of which Seth immediately began to finger.  Vinny Soupklitz was no longer human.
	Seth went on to sodomize the girl while she sucked on the cock of Gerred.  The other flunky, Jose Bonesellez, was just out of sight holding little Jennifer to him.  Jose was naked, his manly manhood up against the back of the little girl’s head—her dress was off, too; she had had on a sun dress; red, armless, short-short, with ruffles.  Her panties were still on—and soaked with frightened piss!
	Vinny hung his head; Fat Tony rubbed himself!

*

And then this happened…
	Ninety percent of the one hundred grand had been recovered.  Fat Dean was not pleased but not too upset.  He understood the power of money.  So, to recoup his missing money he “helped himself” to his former accountant’s wife—while the former accountant watched.  Seth, GB, and JB had already had their turns; Fat Dean took his turn followed by the other flunkies, Tony “Boner” Spazkills and Kirk Cozwatt—doing so while Franny and Jennifer watched.
	Wanda Soupklitz was mindless by this point.
	Once Fat Dean had his way with Wanda—he sized up thirteen year old Franny.  Vincent The Cod ranted and raved—then dislocated his shoulder by wrenching so.  He fell to the floor to wriggle and sob—Fat Dean and his flunkies carried on with laughter and jeers.

A rotten way to go
	Wanda twitched; it could be seen in her blue-blue eyes there was nothing behind them.  She stared mindlessly up to the stucco ceiling—mindless.  She was a lovely lady—‘specially naked!  Fat Dean had made love to her once—twice—and was on his third time when the pudgy man with a stout 7-inch cock began to sputter with his face turning red; eyes bulging, choking.
	Around his throat a white piece of rope commonly referred to as “sash-cord” commonly found in old style double hung windows.  The man experienced possibly the greatest orgasm of his life—as his life sputtered and came to an end.  
	Seth calmly rolled the large rotund man off the mindlessly woman—a huge strand of manly cum squirting from his cock as he plopped to the floor.  Hardly did the flunkies take note—they were busy with Franny and Jennifer!
	When Flunky Gerred Bowlinskey sat up on his knees curiously seeing his Boss laying on the floor and sensing something may be amiss—he was met with that stick Seth had used to sodomize and spank Wanda.
	“What the—?” said Boner getting up from sodomizing Franny on all fours.
	Seth smacked him upside the head then cracked the “bat” to the arising Jose Boneswellez atop his head before shoving him to Kirk Cozwatt.  When Kirk scrambled up from having sex with little Jennifer Soupklitz—the bat broke against the man’s face—breaking his nose in the process.
	The handy-dandy brass knuckles acquired from the Boss and fitted nicely to Seth’s hand put Jose to the ground where he lay nakedly still twitching.  Kirk made a dash to grapple the attacking Seth and did manage to bear hug the man.  Seth whirled and went limp slipping down the naked man’s sweaty stinky body, diving under and beneath the man’s legs GRABBING HOLT OF THE MAN’S JUNK as he did so.  The grab was good and not done so in a “gay” manner.
	Like “what do you have when you have two little green balls in your hand?  Kermit’s undivided attention!” Kirk Cozwatt was in deep peril and doing anything to get Seth’s hand off his balls.  Seth power shoved the man to the wall then slung him in an attempt to fling him to the opposite wall—but tripped over Jose who had stopped twitching—forever.
	The trip caused Seth to sling fling Kirk to the stainless table where his head caught the edge and he slumped to the dingy beige tiled floor.  He twitched for a few moments—then, like Jose, stopped twitching.
	Gerred moaned, Boner slung his head bleeding profusely from the nose and the crack on the top of his head.  Seth took his sash cord and strangled the man ending his life in less than a minute.  Gerred tried to scramble away from the naked blood soaked newcomer to the organization but Seth grabbed him—they tussled and as the man lay atop the lifeless Jose, Seth cut off the man’s air—permanently.

	Vincent the Cod was dead.  Funny, the way he lay curled up, bloodied to a pulp, he DID look like a cod fish!  Fat Dean was dead—mostly choked on double order of shrimp cocktails (but a sash cord about the throat didn’t help!)  Flunkies Gerred, Jose, Boner, and Kirk?  Dead—dead—dead—and double dead.
	Wanda Soupklitz?  Not so much.  She was mindless but still very much alive.  So were her two children, Francine and Jennifer.  Seth led them thru the maze of the warehouse avoiding contact with the other “flunkies” and lackies and “associates” of the former Fat Dean-o, don of the underworld of the City.
	Wanda and the children were dressed in clothing from the “front” business which was a dry cleaning business.  Clothing from customers was just right for the hapless Soupklitz family.  (and a backpack stuffed with eight thousand dollars wasn’t bad, either!)  Seth palmed some of the ill-gotten loot for his troubles.  Then,
	A little gasoline spilled here, an open gas main there and viola!  Instant ka-boom and a severe dwindling of mob activity in that particular area of the City.
	Nice ending doncha think?
*

How much for just the planet?
	He boned her.
	He boned her—he boned her—he boned her delivering a massive wad of pent up cum in just under five minutes trouble.  His cock and balls were desensitized (but it felt good just the same.)  Then, in a feeble way to revitalize his aching smoldering schlong, Dim had Sam stuff himself into Randy and Janna’s mindless mother, Angie.
	As he watched the equally mindless Sam Truedance screw the naked woman, Dim realized something—the electronic mind altering device he had come to rely on so heavily was not functioning.
	But yet, Dim’s wishes, desires, yanks, and all that were still carried thru!
	He looked to Melody—
	‘come here.’
	The pretty twelve year old birthday girl obliged and crawled to him.
	‘suck me.’ he told her.  And with hesitation—she did!
	Amazing!
	He then had party girl, Vanessa, come suck him.	
	She did so without hesitation.  Vanessa had watched in utter horror as her friends were pulled hysterically out of the Quincey’s redneck van—this after Quincey and his redneck gang gang raped her and her friends.  The terror in her mind would be a lasting memory.
	And troublemaker Janet?  She seemingly willingly sucked on Sam’s cock and after Dim had squirted a copious amount of jiz onto other the other troublemaker, Lucy, she licked Lucy’s cum strewn pussy clean.
	Dim was confused.
	Something was amiss.
	He didn’t understand.
	It was pause for concern and reflection—and amidst the company of others that peaceful coexistence he sought was not possible.  He enjoyed Bonnie, Angie, Melody, Vanessa, Janet and LUCY one more time—including sodomizing Sam before cutting them loose.
	His mind was virtually blank and just went thru the motions as he did the young brain damaged Sam.  Doing Bonnie, his sister, and there was still a blank mind.  Somehow—somehow he was able to manipulate the minds of those with him even without the use of the EMAD.  Somehow.  But how?

	Down below the mountain and across the City, Seth “The Strangler!” Strangle contemplated the same thing.  This came about as he chanced one day to be strolling down the walk in his neighborhood.  A new era was coming to the land involving electronic mind altering devices—mind controlling agents of this kind and that were being thwarted by new and improved devices to corrupt and disable EMADs.  Detectors and Preventors had come a long way—Heads of States, chiefs of industries, private sector groups, public places, private places were all hailing the new devices as a godsend and very well welcomed.
	Seth shrugged taking on the “we’ll see” attitude.  He had gone for years without using a mind controlling device; he trusted his but also regarded it as a mere instrument—an extension of himself.
	As he contemplated life without an EMAD he came upon an open garage of a nice single story home.  A nice yard, big trees, bushes, shrubs, off-yellow house paint, open attached garage with a “garage band” playing inside.  A nice group of kids who actually sounded good (they’d sound better in an open air area or on a regular stage, though.)
	Seth watched them as he leaned against a sidewalk tree.  A nice group of kids, the oldest was about fifteen, the rest were thirteen and fourteen.   The lead singer was white, not too tall, long silky brown hair, beautiful green eyes, wonderful smile, small bouncy titties inside a fifteen year old frame.
	Lead guitarist was a boy, Zachary.  He wrote most the songs of the garage band, aptly named Garage Band but also included his name and the lead singer’s name, too.  Another girl also wrote some songs for the group, mostly poems she had written turned into songs.  She was a “free spirit” kind of girl, sung the upper parts of the songs, didn’t play an instrument but didn’t need to as her “body” was an instrument in itself.  She was almost thirteen…
	The drummer of the group was multitalented—concerning musical instruments.  He played drums, harmonica, and saxophone.  He was thirteen and NOT mostly white as his last named implied but a little Mexican and African-American.
	Molly Lightlygoesplop had a black father and a white mother but SHE was mostly white.  She played one of those wearable piano things, keytars.  Kinky hair, favorite color was—all of them!  She was thirteen but hardly had any titty development; small frame girl, shorter than most girls her age.  But she had a dazzling personality and didn’t let any of her short cummings befall her.
	Shaking the tambourine and “shakers” was a very pretty full African-American girl, Brenda.  Very nice girl, pleasing breasts, tight-tight pants, seriously into the music, pleasing to the eye.  Seth liked her (and it wasn’t just to the tight-tight pants.)

	The last member was a Chinese fella, Phuk Ittchiwawa.  He had a keytar, too, but it was more tuned to being a synthesizer making different sounds than music.  Short dark hair, small slanted eyes, stereo typical youth who was a whiz with electronic wizardry.
	After their “set”, the kids hammed it up a little, chatting and being kids.  Seth was about to mosey on and let them be when he noted the group’s leader, Delaney and the second banana, the guitarist Zachary, slip out the back door.  Seth had a feeling and went to investigate.
	He found Delany High and Zachary Way getting way high out behind the garden shed of Delany’s family backyard.  They shared a joint, giggling as they toked up standing so close together that they really didn’t have to use their hands to “pass the joint.”
	Meanwhile,
	Melody and Donny had slipped into the house.
	Brenda and Phuk hung loose in the still open garage.
	Molly had also slipped off into the house.
	As Seth contemplated going on home—he caught a whiff of something familiar.  More stronger than that of Delaney and Zachary’s illegal doings behind the garage.  Someone in the High house was “getting high”.  Maybe, of course, it could be Delaney and Zachary, but others had slipped into the house, too.  The thing about teenagers; they either smoking something they shouldn’t, running with a bad crowd, painting their slogan on a freeway sign, or having sex.  A long list of other things they could be doing but those were the top.  Seth decided to check up on the kids and see what was what and if there was anything he could do to help out.
	“Invisible” to their sight, Seth was not disappointed upon roaming the High house.  In the living room he found Melody and Donny smoking pot AND watching PORN on the television!
	It wasn’t tame porn, either!
	The woman on top was taking on a black man’s mamba; she was sitting up pounding the man’s snake into her well fucked cunt—her gleaming cum strewn asshole was well revealed, too.  Standing beside her was a white boy (man) whose lengthy schlong she slurped while fondling the nuggets of another fella on her right.
	Seth didn’t have to do a thing; Melody was first—she undone her turquoise jeans and slid them down followed by her bright yellow panties.  Then she parted her legs and furiously began fingering herself!
	Donny followed suit.  The thirteen year old had a nice schlong for a boy his age, a little more than average.  The head of the schlong was already coated in slippery sticky juice and was ready to spurt at any moment.
	Just a few strokes into pleasing himself and young twelve year old horny and giddy MelodyBeekneek was on Donny’s schlong.  She slipped off her shirt and bra, kicked off her shoes, pants, and panties, then mounted the willing garage bandmate and like the black ‘ho on the television engaged in uproarious sex.
	And speaking of sex—
	In a bedroom, Delaney’s bedroom, Zachary was fucking her brains out.
	Both teens were naked and Zach was on her driving his average teenage white bone into her fuckable oh-so fuckable hot teenage cunt.  The girl was in the midst of antics; thrashing side to side, moaning, groaning, pumping back into her lover, clenching the covers and giving Seth Strangle a reason to live.
	After the young lovers had come to a delicious cumming—
	‘Suck my cock.’
	And while Delaney slurped on Seth’s cock—brain wiped Zachary entered into the girl’s asshole (this after licking it, fingering it, shoving his fingers into it, spanking it, and so on.)
	Then, uncustomary, Seth probed the girl’s mind taking on the guise his friend Dmitri enjoyed—Q&A!
	‘Do you do little boys?’
	Yes!
	Seth smiled.
	A “YES” answer was from Zachary, too—about little girls (and boys!)
	Together, along with writing songs for their garage band, Delaney and Zachary were babysitters.  The extra money helped fund their marijuana intake, music CDs, munchies, movies, pizza parties, band stuff.  Mostly, though, the “band stuff” was taken care of by their parents.  A gig here and there helped out; they were on the verge of cutting a CD and playing at big venues like fairs and large social gatherings like that.
	Babysitting got them into the realm of other illicit doings—like child molesting.  Delaney mostly liked fondling little boys; giving them baths, sucking on their pee-pees, getting them to fuck her, stuff like that.  She also occasionally enjoyed licking the pussy of a little girl!
	Zachary had a serious boner for young girls (well, don’t we all!)
	No penetrations on Zachary’s part; just fingering the young girl in his charge, rubbing his penis against her (between her legs) and jerking off onto her pussy, ass, and face.  What a guy!
	Not a lot of details did Seth go for; he saw vaguely the children Delaney and Zachary enjoyed (in their minds) but not clearly.  Dmitri was the one who liked to see the vivid details of illicit happenstance.  Seth just wanted to touch bases and go on.

	Seth pulled out of Delaney’s mouth—a Christian girl.  She and Zachary wrote Christian songs!  They went to the same church; they played in the church choir—singing and playing instruments!  But on the sideline they were engaging in immoral acts—in all kinds of ways!
	Delaney was turned about and Seth entered her sex from behind.
	Further probing (of her mind) revealed that there were just two young boys she was into—or they were into her.  One was Danny Firetuck.  He was seven, very cute, handsome, bashful, and as sweet as could be—‘specially naked!  Delaney fondled his little boyish pud getting it as hard as possible—often sucking it along with his testicles before parting her legs and taking him into her.  She seemed to really enjoy her immoral interlude virtually melting and succumbing to incredible orgasms!
	Another boy was a year old, red hair, freckles, a little wiser.  They enjoyed out and out fucking, spanking, and bathing together.  Tyler wasn’t bashful and seemed to be more in the know about sex, sex acts, positions, and doings of that illicit nature than he should for his age.
	Seth drove his prick DEEP into Delaney’s cunt, spanking her butt and reaching around her to caress her bouncy titties.  Zachary sat on the bed with his pud still mightily strong, still coated with spew sauce.
	‘Suck his dick.’ Seth minded to the girl.
	Delaney took her friend’s schlong and gleefully engulfed it.
	Zachary had three young girls under the age of ten he was enjoying.  The youngest was merely six, the oldest was merely eight.  None of the girls was he getting his cock into it—just a rub up against their bare bodies; ass, pussy, and face.  He did a significant amount of fingering but nothing to damage their virgin status.
	But the desire to do so was strong.  Zachary Way very muchly wanted to schlepped his schlong into a young girl—one of the young girls.  Pussy, mouth, asshole—didn’t matter so long as his cock was IN a hole and he could get off.  Of course, the pussy was the primary target of desire—the mouth and asshole were secondary with the mouth being more desired than the asshole and the asshole being the finale.
	Typical male horndog desires.
	Amanda, Lori, Wendy.  Wendy was the six year old.  There were other girls, too, of varying ages—some under ten, some teenage.  Typical desires and wants.  Basically, any girl in his sight and did young Zach have a desire to see her naked.
	Typical male horndog desires.
	After creaming Delaney’s cunt, spanking his cock against her ass and having the girl suck his nuggets, he fucked Zachary’s asshole “just because.”

	Seth encountered Molly coming out of the bathroom.  She looked a little haggard—sweaty.  She either took a hard crap OR—
	Right there in the hallway Seth had her undo her pants and push them down.
	Then, he slipped his hand inside her red panties and fingered around her lovely thirteen year old cunt.  He was not disappointed and found a “wet” snatch for his fingers to delight in.
	‘Who were you thinking of?’ Seth inquired of her mind.
	“Delaney.” the young girl answered.
	Delaney!  The leader of the garage band.  The girl!  Imagine!
	Seth returned her to the bathroom, stripped her down, loved on her—then in her.  His cock was in overdrive and found enchantment with the girl’s teenage body; her nicely developed titties, trimmed trim, shapely moon ass, lily white skin that was soft and supple.  Seth entered her doggie-style finding that she was not a virgin.  She HAD had sex with a boy, three different boys at that.  One had been at summer camp the previous year.  Her age.  Another had been from the local high school—she was twelve at the time and he was not.  Another was a boy she was in charge of—babysitting.  He was seven years young.
	Regardless, Molly Lightlygoesplop preferred girls.
	She had not had a sexual encounter with a girl but desired to do so.	
	And that unnatural desire was for Delaney!

	Brenda Stinkishoes and Phuk Ittchiwawa were found days later slipping about (sneaking about) their neighborhood.  They were up to something and Seth decided to see what.  Just four houses down, corner house on Hurtmebad Lane, and in broad daylight—but inside a backyard detached garage, a man and woman made out.  They were married—but not to each other.  The woman was some years younger, very thin, very long dark hair, small titties but womanly titties, and quite the little horndog herself.
	The man, Harold Jerksum, was a tall fellow just under six foot four.  In his late 40s, dark raven jet black hair, dark eyes, semi muscular, eight inch cock.  The woman’s hand manipulated the mighty cock, cupped his hairless nuggets, and worked the organ into her mouth for a full five minute suck!
	Both were nude.
	There was a boy and girl in the house—the boy was the cocksucker’s son, the girl the cocksuckee’s daughter.  The house was the woman’s husband’s house.  The man was the best friend of the woman’s husband.  They were not “swingers” but that wasn’t stopping them.
	The spies were in awe of Harold’s cock—and in double awe that the woman, Clara, was able to take it!  She sucked it—sucked it—sucked it taking virtually all of the lengthy manhood before it was out humping her face.
	Then, on an old wooden wire spool the woman was placed.  Harold “went down” on her eating her out making a lot of noise as he did so.  Cum began dripping from his cock and soon he was jamming his schlong into her crevice and fucking her married brains out.
	It was sensational!
	Their illicit union was fantastic!
	Clara was just as vocal as Harold.  She raised up, clenched her errant lover; they stood up and fucked standing up!  Then back on the spool table, then onto the workbench counter, then—then onto the floor on their clothes with Clara on top.  On the floor and they were mostly out of sight of the spies one-two-three.  All that could be seen was Harold’s hands mawing Clara’s delightful titties.
	What’s going on inside the house?
	Trianna Jerksum and Fred Holdsome knew pretty much what their parent halves were doing.  They seemed upset, antsy, fidgety.  Both were upset that their parental units were cheating on the other parental units.  They both sat slumped in a pissed off state of being in the living room staring blankly at the television (which was on a sports venue.)
	‘Would you like to FUCK her?’ (Trianna sitting beside him)
	Harold made a face, cocked his head, looked to Seth’s direction, then to the girl beside him.  Trianna Jerksum wasn’t a bad looking girl—seriously-seriously kinky hair that hung full of life to her delightful teenage breasts.  Nice skin, a lot of baubles, beads, bracelets, and small colony of earrings.  She smelled lightly of “peaches”; gloss lip stick, pink ankle socks, semi tight jeans.
	It took as many as five minutes before Fred was able to relax enough to nod his head and confirm, “Yeah, yeah I would!” fuck Trianna.
	Trianna took five minutes twice to “calm down.”
	She would NOT have sex with Fred.  She was a virgin and planned on staying so for quite some time.  She WAS, however, an avid masturbator and used “instruments” to please her cunny.
	‘Would you like to see my breasts?’
	“Would you like to see my breasts?”
	Fred blinked his eyes, mouth open agape, mind in disarray.  ‘What?’
	“What?”
	“My breasts, would you like to see them?” and then she was pulling up her short sleeved summer blouse then popped up her bra cups revealing a pair of very nice round globes.
	Sproing!
	Fred’s cock was instant hard.
	He was a virgin, too.  (and an avid masturbator, too!)

	Further mind manipulating and,
	Trianna’s top and bra were off onto the floor followed by the shucking of her jeans and panties.  She opened her legs and began doing what she did best—fingering it.  Fred was beside him and couldn’t get out of his pants fast enough.  And as soon as he was out of his clothes he was licking out the girl’s cunt with a ravenous appetite.
	Trianna seemed to like it.
	And after licking out his first pussy—Fred was hooked.  He had no idea.  The young man’s eyes locked on the girl’s pussy; he had seen little girl’s pussy and had a semi fare idea of what a girl his age looked like naked.  Up close and personal put a whole new perspective on “what a girl looked liked naked!”
	Natural instinct help put the boy’s prong into the girl’s slot.
	Further instinct helped the boy fuck.
	Right there on the sofa!
	Pussy juice and cock juice stained the paisley country style sofa; Trianna didn’t care and Fred definitely didn’t care.  It was his Mom and Dad’s house and his Mom was out in the garage cheating on his Dad with Trianna’s Dad!  Awesome!
	After the first fuck—there was a bit o’ rest.  Fred sucked on Trianna’s titties and grinded his cock on her cunt.  Trianna heaved, caressed the boy’s ass, and lay in sexual wonderment.
	Then, taking a cue from Dmitri, ‘You want to have sex with him—often!’
	Fred sat up—and on his own, flopped his cock against Trianna’s cunt.  She had broken her hymen years earlier utilizing a candle to please herself so there was no “evidence” of virgin busting on his cock.  His cock was still hard—being a teenager that was the norm.  Up and down the crevice he went before sliding back in for Round Two.
	And there was a Round Three, too; this occurred on the floor.
	It was during Round Three that Seth noted something odd about his EMAD.
	It wasn’t working.
	It was—but the lights were all flickering on and off with the other indicators going off-line, too.  Curious.  He was still “invisible” to sight—he checked a huge decorative mirror and there was no reflection.  He often didn’t get frightened; he often didn’t feel remorse, feel sad, or have any emotions whatsoever.  But for one of the few times in his life—there was something amiss with those staid emotions.
	Fear?
	Trepidation?
	Concern?
	All little of all the above plus.

	Something for sure, though, wasn’t right.  But still—still the thing was working.  Wasn’t it?  It was confusing.  And of course, there was the “unseen” issue.  Was he stuck like that?  That wouldn’t be good.  It would but he didn’t want to be “unseen” all the time.
	Stepping back to the wall mirror he stared and stared—
	‘Visible.’ he said lowly aloud.
	For a moment—nothing.
	That wasn’t good—he was still unseen.

The mean streak
	There were two sides of the issue—one was pure uncertainty coupled with a bit of fright.  The unknown was the rub.  The other side of the issue was—‘Hey!  I’m invisible!’ but with much less exuberance.  Being invisible had its Up side—and Down side.  Up Side and No One could see him!  Down side and No One could see him.  Seth Strangle hadn’t intended to go thru life unseen.
	The EMAD in his possession was Off-Line.
	Not good.
	Was it a malfunction or something else?
	He didn’t know.  The idiosyncrasies of the Electronic Mind Altering Device(s) were a little on the Unknown side.  Occasionally he had managed to upgrade the Device but thought wisely not to get too involved in disassembly of the nifty mind altering gadget—he might not get it back, parts left over, and have a nifty hunk of non-functioning “something” for his effort.
	Then, he came to realize, too; that although the Device seemed Off-Line—he was still able to put forth his unnatural desires upon those he sought to unnaturalize.  That was odd.
	‘Fuck Trianna’s ass!’ Seth “minded” to Fred.
	Fred fucked Trianna’s ass.
	Seth stood at the end of the sofa getting sucked off on by Trianna (as she got fucked in the ass).  His mind curiously going over what was going on.  He couldn’t make sense of it.  It didn’t make sense.  Repeatedly he checked and rechecked the minding device—nothing.  It was non-operational.  But yet his minding commands were being carried out.
	Odd.
	Although the blowjob was a good one, no doubt, Seth was too occupied by the Device’s mishap to thoroughly enjoy it.  A pesky thought also plagued him; ‘what if he suddenly became “visible” and had no way to fuck with the minds of those who saw him so?’
	That would be bad.
	He needed a back up plan.  Relying on the EMAD was no longer a valid crutch.  He either needed another mind altering machine or do without.  Or something.  Something had to make sense.  Having no plan in place should something go awry was not good.  It was unnerving.
	The sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway and Fred’s balls slapping against Trianna’s cunt were the only sounds—until the car pulled up in the drive way.  Seth’s heart beat faster—harder.  Quickly he checked himself in the mirror—nope—still invisible.
	‘Get your clothes on!  Quick!’ he minded to the kids.  Normally he used the EMAD to “release” the Subjects’ minds.  Without the nifty machine to do so he wasn’t sure how or what to proceed.  He threw himself into his own clothes—just to be safe.  That uncertainty was a bother—and a compelling concern.
	‘Be yourselves!’
	‘You still want to do one another,’ Seth added, having Trianna want to be fucked, sucked, spanked, and peed on—and Fred willing to do so.
	The parental units came into the house giggling—unawares of all the naughty business that had been going on.  (but truth be known; Trianna’s Dad and Fred’s Mom had been to a hotel across town engaging in immoral practices of their own!)

	In the alley, Seth made way for home.
	Could he confide in his Mom that he was stuck in Invisible Mode?
	Would she understand about the EMAD?	
	Could he come up with a convincing tale of “just finding” the Device and unknowingly activated said Device and it made him unseen to sight?  Hmmm  No.  She wasn’t a stupid woman, she was a Medium, used parlor tricks to make her way in the realm of deception against weak minds who sought solace.  And he had never lied to his Mother—he just didn’t offer the truth!  But out and out lying wasn’t his forte.  She’d see thru it; he wasn’t a convincing liar and hadn’t practiced such ruse.  ‘If you can’t tell the truth—don’t say anything!’
	Two blocks from home and he chanced upon a little girl in the alley.
	A high cinderblock wall on one side, wooden and chainlink fencing on the right with huge ivy and oleander bushes covering them.  The little girl was about seven; blond hair in serious curls to her shoulders, sun dress, bare foot, incredible dazzling blue eyes.  She pulled a little red wagon with some girlie dolls and plush toy animals—she also had on a small school backpack.
	Seth stood right in her path.
	The little girl walked right into him!
	The little girl backed up startled; she cocked her head and stared in wonderment—‘WTF?’
	Seth waved his hand before her face.
	Nothing.
	Boldly he hauled out his cock and waggled it—right in her face.
	Still nothing.
	‘Take your panties down.’ he said in his mind strongly.
	Lo and behold—the little girl let go the wagon handle and reached up under her short kiddie sun dress and pulled down her panties!
	Seth was stunned.
	This was—weird.
	It was good—sorta—but weirded him out.
	‘Pull your dress up.’ he minded calmly.
	Lo (and behold), little Cindy Mulehair, seven, hiked up her dress revealing her nakedness.
	Seth stared and stared and stared some more.
	Then,
	Into the ivy they went whereupon Seth pulled the girl’s dress off.  Standing inside the ivy wall someone alley kids had formed to make a fort, Seth put his cock into her mouth.  The girl did not fuss in any way leaving Seth more confounded than ever.  And like at the High house, he was too mind frapped to really enjoy getting sucked.
	Maybe he was losing his mind?
	After fingering Cindy’s virgin vagina he laid her out on her dress and then laid his pup against her.  There he did begin to grind—and heard a woman’s voice down the alleyway calling out “CINDY!”
	Cindy Mulehair was “running away”—after being spanked by her mother.
	Seth grinded against the little girl’s pussy—grinded against the little girl’s pussy—grinded against the little girl’s pussy until there was sufficient lubrication to start the invasion.  Why he thought of the Huns plundering the Balkans and Italy he didn’t right know but his thoughts fell upon Attila as he “plundered” little Cindy’s cunt.
	Only when he felt the final surges of his orgasm did he come back to his senses.  Quite a mess there was—little Cindy’s cunt deflowered and a great gob of spunk coating thereon.  The satisfaction wasn’t all there, though.
	And no, no use of an EMAD or sash cord was used!
	(and those at the High house were still breathing, too!)
	Seth encountered Cindy’s Mommy down at the end of the alley facing the opposite direction.  She didn’t think for one instant that her little girl would dare cross the street to the adjoining alley—but she might!  Seth stepped right up behind her—so close that he was breathing on her neck.
	The woman turned sensing someone was there—but by her frightened eyes he could tell that she did not see him.  It was a little more than chilling—the woman’s eyes darting all about searching frantically for her child; Seth standing NAKED and no one frantically freaking out about it (except Seth!)
	‘Go to your house.’ Seth whispered in his mind to the woman.
	Erin Mulehair cocked her head, her fright preempted Seth’s minding.  She wrinkled her forehead, “What?” she said aloud.
	Seth thought thoughtfully and felt a bit more than sheepish (for being so exposed.)  ‘GO TO YOUR HOUSE!’ he said with more umph.
	Erin blinked her eyes, nodded, and walked off to her house.
	Seth followed.
	Two houses from the end of the alley entrance east was the house of Mulehair.  A nice backyard, playhouse, garden shed, small garden, manicured lawn, lots of trees, fruit trees, and child toys all over.  In the house and the woman paused awaiting further instruction.
	‘Take off your clothes.’
	Seth felt better being inside the house.
	A nice modern kitchen; cherry wood cabinets, a dinette set of wood, fresh cookies in the oven with the feel of a quaint Americana feel and a dozen or so “paintings” drawn by Cindy on the fridge.  The house was quiet and cool; the man of the house off at work and there were no other children.
	Erin stripped off ALL her clothing.
	Seth stepped up behind her pressing his aching cock against her lily white ass.  A hand around her he cupped a breasts, then lowered it to fingering her womanhood.  There was a “gush” coupled with a sudden startle but nothing more.  Seth fingered the woman then placed her onto the wooden kitchen table, opened her legs and noshed at the “Y” to his delight.
	He asked no questions of her.  She was in her late thirties, strawberry blond, strong features, high cheek bones, thunder thighs.  Seth noshed her womanly pussy then slipped into her his smoldering schlong for a righteous three minutes fuck.  A power fuck; his balls slapped hard right up to the end when the delivery of a gracious quantity of spunk was spewed.  His cock stretched deeply deep inside her spewing the contents of his balls.
	When done, he turned her over and spanked her.
	His hand and cock first, then the handy-dandy skillet on the stove that was warm.  A bit of a mean streak had come upon him—he was confused, invisible, and able to communicate his EMAD’s abilities without the EMAD’s doing so!  And he didn’t know how!

	Erin’s asshole was virginal.  Was.  Seth schlepped his salami into the virgin pooper and sodomized the Christian woman but good!  He had cum his all for the day and there just wasn’t any more.  Regardless, he fucked furiously striving to achieve that ultimate goal.  He wore out before that achievement and gave up.
	He left the woman naked as she was and brought little Cindy into the house, spanked her (bare handed) and once more raped her on her own bed.  He lounged there during and after his doings; toying with her hair, fingering her well fucked cunt, lost in thought—deeply.
	Was he losing his mind?
	What had happened?
	How?
	Why?
	Why?
	Was there a way to return himself back to visible sight?
	Was his personal mind altering device fucked—finito?
	What about Dmitri?  Hmmm  He had to contact his friend and see if maybe perchance HIS EMAD could help him.  It had been some time, though, since Seth had heard from Dmitri.  Wonder what was going on?

Your status is you know someone, or have heard of someone who knows someone that may know someone who knows anyone
	Seven days and some hours later and Dmitri Tsugua was home.
	A little haggard, worn, frapped—but home.
	The non-company company van was—fucked.
	Sam Truedance had a significant brain injury; his sister, Bonnie, had a significant mind injury.  That went for Vanessa, too.  She suddenly stopped talking and was uncommunicative.  A blank mind was for Melody Bekause, too.  Lucy (LUCY) had survived alright and her wild tale of kidnapping, rape, and encounter with backwoods rednecks and a “creature” was incredible.  Unfortunately, it was true—backed up by the rednecks of Rockton despite the federal government’s attempts to quash such outlandish rumors.
	Angie was found wandering down a lone backward highway.  Naked and mindless.  A trucker had taken her—and “taken her” before dropping her off at a truckstop—unfortunately security cameras saw him “dropping off” the mindless naked woman and arrested him.
	The park ranger, Janet Sheeshmeesh.
	She was never the same herself.  Not quite as mindless but she babbled a lot and no one could make sense of what she was saying.  A few days after hospitalization and she escaped—only to be found in the mountains around Rockton totally and way out of her mind—naked.
	Strangely, the Boss wasn’t too upset or bent out of shape about the demise of the van—
	“You alright?” was the Boss’ concern.
	The van could be replaced—written off.  Dmitri was a “valued” employee.
	After a long soak in the tub at home, a bit of dinner with his folks, some chit chat, some lying about his 7-day adventure, he slept for twelve hours.  He went to work, worked, and went home.  Work—home—work home.  A ballgame with his Dad, a bit of socializing with his friends and repeat.
	The EMAD that had been smashed finally had quit.
	But, Dmitri noted that something was odd—although the minding device was no long functioning many of those “functions” found only on the minding device was with him!  He didn’t know how and was only mildly concerned—unlike his friend, Seth who was overly concerned.
	What did it mean?
	Why?
	How had it happened?

*

Kleep!  *%$#@!  Bleep!  !@#$%*  Nleep!
	A little way out and high above the clouds—
	“I see our plan is working—kleep!”
	“I knew it wouldn’t take long—bleep!”
	“Silly humans, they’ve done well enough to corrupt their world—nleep!”
	“We should have done this long ago—bleep!”
	“Yes, before the humans have fouled our planet—kleep!”
	Glurb, the elder, sat folding his tri-arms shaking his large bulbous head sadly.  “We have given them an instrument to their final demise—bleep.”
	“It will be eons before we can resettle—nleep!”
	Slurb, a rather larger alienkin, shook his smallish head; his upper mouth blew out air while the lower one whistled.  “The mind altering instruments are failing now—kleep.”
	“We have let them soil our home—bleep.” stated Mlurb, “Too long.”
	“A least our offspring will have a home of—bleep—pristine conditions.”
	Glurb adjusted the view finder scanning over the home planet of the alienkin.  His large green speckled yellow face was of displeasure.
	“They’ve overpopulated themselves—kleep!”
	“Yes—nleep!  The caste system is terrible—kleep—many are in demoralized conditions while others—bleep—our doing well!”
	“I—bleep—do not understand this culture.”
	“Alurb the Klarnac should have not forged his experiment on our home world—kleep!” Mlurb pounded his fist onto his armrest.
	“Experiments should be done on planets not of our own—nleep!”
	“Human beings are more (or less) like helpless robototrons or our androidodos—gleep!”  Glurp said stretching his bulk in his command chair.
 	“They seem to run around in pre-programmed ruts—kleep—than actually of free spirits as Professor  Klarnac intended.”
 	“They boggle my minds—nleep—creatures who can understand and seemingly comprehend life on their planet—gleep—do live in such—bleep—complex societies.”
 	“Mlurp is right,” said Blurb, “they are—kleep—hapless beings; something unusual or out of character happens to one society filters down and corrupts the entire planet—nleep!” 
 	“Human beings!” scoffed Glurb, “they are like—nleep—herdkins; clinging to conditioned norms and pseudo-moralities even when the norms and spurious moralities—kleep—have proven themselves to be destructive to their health and sanity—gleep!”
 	“They tend to destroy anyone who is different or have other beliefs other than—bleep—than their own.”  Slurb made his statement, belched; then fished out of the sustenance accumulator another rodentkin.  The smallish creature was juicy and some of its juice splattered onto Mlurb.
	Mlurb gave his companion a harsh look.
 	“There is some curious respect—gleep—to their primitive behavior, however odd—bleep.”
 	“I do not agree—nleep—Slurb, “they have the ability to care for the subnature of their planet—bleep—but fail!  Gleep!”
 	“They have a simplistic lifestyle—nleep—an ability to live in harmony with nature, and an inane—gleep—to enjoy and embrace life; to live and enjoy the simple things—bleep—to take in the beauty of this universe—gleep—instead, they only tear down that of—nleep—what that spent inordinate time and already exhausted resources—bleep—replacing it over and over—nleep!”
 	“There are, though—gleep—Mlurb, a great amount of humanskin who understand and respect nature—nleep—however in a small way and not shared to—gleep—the rest of planet—bleep.”
 	“Sad, Slurb, I agree—bleep—we have perhaps come too late—nleep.”
 	“I believe they are completely boring and pathetic; they—gleep—are destructive and a menace to the rest—gleep—of the rest of the civilized universe—bleep!”
 	“They are corrupt!  Nleep!  Greed rules them and—gleep—I personally see no value remaining in—bleep—their society—gleep!”

	“I do not—bleep—believe that the humnkin are—gleep—totally without some merit—bleep.” stated Mlrub.
 	“Stupid ignorance!  Gleep!” shouted angrily Glurb.  “Silly egotism—Mlurb—gleep—egos as big as Tlurb Prime!  Bleep!”
 	“Settle down, Slurb—gleep—before you have an orikin!”
 	“It is very clear—bleep—that the humankin race is a very sad species—nleep—they have an inert lust for power and an extraordinary ability to destroy everything around them—nleep—on some pretense—gleep—that they are making the world—bleep—a better place!  Gleep!”
 	“They have an almost infinite capacity for good—nleep—my dear Glurb—gleep—and an unlimited capacity for evil.  Bleep!” the great Mlurb continued, “And that they—nleep—are capable of both great beauty and great horror is frightening—gleep!”
 	“Selfish!  Nleep!” exclaimed Slurb, “Destructive and careless!  Gleep!”
	Slurb’s mates tended to agree; to some degree of one kind or another.
	A slight silence came upon the crew as they settled into their chairs.
	Mlurb the Mighty sighed, stretched, released stench then sighed again.
	“I had a revelation—gleep—of these humankin—”
 	“Share—nleep—with us, Mlurb.” said Slurb.
 	“I tried to classify the humankin species—gleep—and found that humankins are not actually mammals—mleep—as Alurb the Klarnac first described in—kleep—his early writings.  Every humankin mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural symmetry with its surrounding environment—gleep.  Humankins do not do this.  Instead—bleep—they move to an unspoiled area and multiply—nleep.  There they multiply until all natural resource is consumed—mleep—and the only way they can survive is to spread out to another area—gleep—and soil that one—bleep—as well.  Nleep.”
 	He continued with, “There is another organism on this planet—gleep—that follows the same pattern—nleep.”
 	“What is it, Mlurb?”
 	“A virus.” Mlurb stated factly.  “Human beings are a nurleep (a type of cancer) of this planet—mleep—they are a plague—gleep.”
 	Slurb nodded folding his tri-arms across his bulbous stomach stating,
 	“And—mleep—we are the cure!”
	“I have no sympathy for them—kleep!” stated Slurb.
	“Nor, I—nleep!” said Glurb.
	The alienkins nodded, ate their rodentkin, and made stench.
	Mlurp the Mighty chuckled, “How ridiculous—gleep—that we have given them so much—bleep—and they believe that they—nleep—THEY are the ones who—nleep—came up with the notion!  Gleep!  HA!  Bleep!”
	“It only—kleep—shows their inferiority—nleep—Mlurp.”
	“It shows their ineptness!  Mleep!”
	“We have been there—gleep—nurturing their societies—bleep—”
	“And then we were—bleep—foolish to leave them be!  Kleep!”
	Silence once more fell upon the alienkins.
	“Well, anyways—nleep—our little devices will end them—bleep.”
	Slurb chuckled—followed by Glurb, Blurb, and Mlurb.
	“I hope it wont take too long—kleep.” said Blurb.
	“With all the other destruction—nleep—they are immersed in?  Gleep!  I should think a short time—mleep—indeed.”  Mlurb leaned forward spinning the controls that rotated the viewfinder.  “They have—bleep—corrupted all that they see—gleep.  Their land, air, waters, and—nleep—themselves most of all.”
	“I have no pity for them—nleep.”
	“Nor, I—mleep.”
	“Death to humankin!” exclaimed Blurb.  He shot out one of his hands stretching out a glass of olosqueak.
	Glurb and Slurb joined in with Mlurb the mighty nodding but keeping his glass to himself.  ‘Wars, famine, destruction of this and destruction of that—corruption, inadequate caste systems, overpopulation—all have not eliminated the humankin experiment.’ He mused and drank his olosqueak,
	‘but a simple mind altering device!’ he giggled to himself, released stench, and closed his eyed.  All the alienkin chuckled, ate their rodentkin and released stench.  

*

A streak of mean
	Further down on Hurtmebad Lane and Dmitri Tsugua was on his way (walking) to see his friend, Seth—and he came upon yet another garage band.  A little younger and smaller group (with only one black participant!)  The garage door was open and Dmitri paused leaning against a sidewalk tree to listen.
	They weren’t bad.
	They also weren’t bad singers!
	The lead singer was a long blond haired girl—really nice young body, good voice, wearing a multi layer of tops, an open boy’s shirt with a multicolored tee-shirt and another one beneath that.  Lots of jewelry; necklaces and bracelets.  A different kind of “jeans” with patches; peace signs and daisies.
	Playing a wearable keyboard was the group’s only black player; but she was pretty, kinky hair reminiscent of 1970s afros—but smaller.  Her favorite color was pink—no, orange.  No, green.  No—purple.  No—

	Playing electric guitar was a tall gal, kinky permed dirty blond hair, braces, large earrings so she could stand out more than she did with her tallness and kinky permed dirty blond hair.
	On drums was a white boy, typical fellow who grooved on beating something other than what was aching between his legs.  A nice looking fellow; good hair, good smile, an earring in his left ear.  Dim found himself strangely attracted to him—his mind jarred back to Sam and watching the boy’s lily white ass as he fucked his sister—and Janet, and Melody, and Angie, and Vanessa, and LUCY!
	Focusing back to the lead singer, Dim adjusted himself saying softly “invisible.”  Then, checking the water in the gutter and seeing no reflection he proceeded up the drive checking the side mirror of a small compact sports car parked thereon.
	No reflection.
	The new nuance of having the powers of the EMAD suddenly imbued upon him—in him was a little startling.  He didn’t know how—didn’t know why.  But he had the powers of the EMAD IN HIM!  Awesome!
	At the opening of the garage he leaned against the edge; the kids were jamming and no need to interrupt right off.  They had a good beat, a decent song, good melody.  After their set,
	‘pick your ass.’
	Stacey, the blond haired singer, dug at her delightful ass crack “picking” her panties out of her crack.  She did so surreptitiously so as not to bring attention to herself.  It was a test.  There had been no hesitation.
	Twelve year old Denny, the drummer, stood leaning against a workbench gouging the heel of his hand to his aching-aching boner.
	‘turn around; rub your ass.’
	Denny Hamshank “turned around” and began rubbing his ass.
	Lori and Georgette saw him, giggled and blushed.
	‘rub your pussy!’
	Georgette Gangplank stopped her giggling—paused half a moment, blinked her eyes, cocked her head, then began gouging the heel of HER hand to her young sensitive pussy.
	Lori did likewise.

	There wasn’t anyone home.  The sports car had something wrong with it and belonged to the brother of Stacey.  Stacey’s parents both worked, it was midday and no one was due home for some time—Stacey’s brother, Stewart, was at work also.  Perfect.
	‘let’s all go into the house.’
	Stacey, Lori, Denny, and Georgette all filed into the house—with Dmitri following—his cock leading the way!  A week and days he had taken off since his trek in the mountains.  Being sodomized by the mountain creature had faded and the mishap with LUCY was also a memory.
	In the house the garage band gang was further directed to Stacey’s bedroom.
	‘take off your clothes.’
	And one by one (by one by one) they did so.
	Dim, too.
	Denny had a hard-on.
	Denny was a virgin.  He jerked off, humped his bed, humped his pillow, humped his hand religiously.  There were no desires to hump a fellow guy—just girls.  All girls.  Any girl.  No thoughts of the naughty kind to girls younger than he, only girls his age and older.  Teen girls; cheerleaders especially!
	Stacey was months away from being thirteen but had a nice set of teenage titties just the same.  A braid run over the top of her punkin head to weave into the rest of her hair.  She smelled of apples!  She was a virgin and was not—NOT fingering herself!  There was a mild curiosity about sex but she was more into fashion and music.  Sex was for later.
	Lori was also a virgin.
	Georgette was not a virgin.  NOT a virgin!  But not a slut, either.  A horny cousin she was having occasional sex with.  After midnight, in her backyard, his backyard, in her bedroom while folks were slaving away at work.  Five times so far, the last fuck session was three nights ago.  She handled his cock but nothing else—not up the ass, between the tits, and definitely not in the mouth.
	‘suck his dick.’ Dim commanded of Stacey to Denny.
	And while Stacey slurped on Denny’s schlong, Lori serviced Dmitri while Georgette lay on Stacey’s bed, legs open wide, fingering herself.  Dim smiled and went down on the young preteen eating her pussy out feeling a bit more of his old self.  The horrors and terrors of his days in the mountain, his encounter with Big Dickfoot would not be forgotten but could be quelled.
	A twelve year old’s pussy was just the trick, too!
	The girl twisted, arched her back, and Dim drove his tongue into her delightful enticing sex.  Being a non-virgin made it easier for Dim’s schlong to invade her without difficulty.  He slid into her and felt incredible sensations familiar and not so.  “Oh yeah!” he exclaimed.  “That’s the stuff!”
	For Stacey, he laid the girl across his lap (whilst she sucked on Denny’s cock) and spanked her.  A curious delight there was in the disciplinarian deed; her ass was fairly white (but she had a good tan everywhere else.)  Dim landed a smack to her skin and felt a strange revitalization surging thru his loins.  He had spanked girls before, hard and very hard.  He had tortured girls, too!
	But some sort of strange new curiosity came over him—he couldn’t explain it.  For a moment, a brief instance there seemed to be a tug-of-war raging within him—Good vs. Evil.  Briefly he knew what he was doing was wrong; illicit, immoral, corrupt, illegal.
	Then, as his hand made circles on the girl’s ass—there were feelings of the unnatural kind overwhelming everything—superimposing sensational feelings he couldn’t understand.  There was nothing really to do about it but to go with it.
	A daring finger went into Stacey’s asshole.  Cum leaked from his cock pasting against her belly; he spanked her again—and again—and once more before the need to FUCK overtook him and he placed the girl on the bed and did so.
	Denny’s dong was hard enough to hunt with.  Dim put him into fucking Lori.  Stacey’s nipples hardened; her skin was soft, warm, a little sweaty.  His bone ached as it slid into her pussy.  He kissed her driving his tongue furiously into her mouth engulfing the whole of her mouth.  He moved only his hips; the rest of his body lay on the young girl with her breasts pressed nicely against his chest.
	He felt his cum surging thru his dick and the awareness left him numb.
	The black girl, Lori, who had a myriad of color schemes in clothing and attachments, drew Dim to “fuck her brains out.”  There was just something about her that after Denny got his rocks off in her pre-teen cunt—Dim slammed his schlong into her rocketing himself into a plane of existence he didn’t think possible.  
	There was little stamina left but Dmitri found enough to bugger Denny.
	Lori sucked his dick while Dim schlepped his way into the boy’s turd hole.  Georgette and Stacey lay on the bed, legs dangling over, fingering themselves.  Had there been time Dim would have repeatedly enjoyed the garage band group.  But he felt odd—he couldn’t finger it or make any sense of it.  So,
	After a little mind manipulating having Stacey, Lori, Denny, and Georgette engage with one another sexually, Dim went home (forgetting to go on up the street to Seth’s house.)
	That was ok—Seth wasn’t home anyways.  Here’s why—

LOVE!
HAPPINESS!
MIND CLEANSING!
CAREER!
MONEY!

	Free Consult!  First reading FREE!  Dreamer Projections! Prophecies!
	Bonita Strangle was not amused with the new “psychic” business opening up in town—and too close to her own business!  She asked her son, Seth, to go investigate.  Seth obliged her.
	In the days after his own stint happenstance with his own garage band, Seth had finally gotten control of himself and his malfunctioning EMAD.  The minding device was still off-line but now it seemed as though the narly mind controls exclusively to the Device were within him!  How he didn’t know; why—also unknown.  But the powers that were specific to the mind altering gadget now seemed to be a part of him.  There was some correlation there—some relationship between man and machine he did not understand.
	Regardless, he was still bugged by the occurrence but willing to let it be—so far.  At some point in time he had to get a grip and uncover the WHY of what had happened.  He also wondered about long lasting effects—for some hours he had been “stuck” in invisible mode.  He felt that he was not all that in control of his faculties—or the suddenly imbued EMAD!

Funny thing happened on my way to the slime pit
	The EMAD still functioned, though.  This came to light one morning after returning back to “visible” sight.  After studying the electronic mind altering device, shaking it, beating it against his desk—the unit suddenly sprang back to life!  He shook it again holding it up to his ear but heard nothing loose inside.
	But could he put his trust in it?
	Did he still the EMAD’s abilities?
	Let’s find out!

	The new “psychic” business was in one of those mini malls; a store front business tucked in between a used book store and a used furniture store.  A new business opening caught Seth’s eye; a combined business of a psychiatrist and a proctologist:  Analysis and Anal Cysts!
	That was ok, the newly opened store front church had their sandwich board sign out on the walkway:  In your right hand there are pleasures forever—PS 16.

	Seth firstly checked out the outside of the new psychic store.  A few gaudy signs proclaiming “future” readings, soul searching, mind cleansing.  Seth entered the “store”; visible.  The time of day was late afternoon, close to closing time.  Two women ran the psychic operation—and cums to find out—the large woman decked out in layers of baubles, beads, bracelets, and a loud muumuu was Delaney’s Mom!  
	The other woman was less outlandish; a simple knee length deep purple dress with large flowers all over it.  She was very slender, reeked of perfume (but not as much as Delaney’s Mom, Wanda!  She was also Asian.
	The “store” was small, a few pictures on the walls, mostly posters promoting the business.  A counter, huge potted plants, a “waiting” chair, and not much else—there wasn’t room!  The “business” was conducted in a backroom behind a beaded door.  No “customers” were in and the ladies were readying to close up.
	‘You don’t want to do business here.’
	Wanda High turned to look at him strangely.
	Seth knew “the jig was up.”  He didn’t panic but panic was an option.
	The Asian woman, Belinda Wophat, asked something or said something—Seth was too occupied with Wanda the Mystic.  
	‘Your business is a fraud.’
	Wanda glared at him.
	This wasn’t working—new tactic.  Seth backed out of the establishment and down to the end of the block, around the corner into an alcove where he got a grip on himself and said lowly—“invisible.”
	Then, checking himself in the side mirror of a nearby parked car (and seeing that there was no reflection) “Let’s try this again.” He had more confidence and more certainty—but still there was a lingering doubt.  There always is…
	A man and a little girl were walking down the sidewalk; the man seemed to ignore Seth but the little girl smiled at him and said “Hello!”
	Seth closed his eyes and clenched his fists.
	In the store front window of the furniture store, though—there was NO REFLECTION!  But yet, the little girl seemed to be able to see him regardless!
	Frustrating.
	No matter—he proceeded and re-entered Mystic Wanda’s psychic emporium.  
	The two women were chatting; Mystic Wanda was behind the counter yap-yap-yapping, scribbling on an appointment pad, making noise with all that jewelry she had every time she made a move.  The Chinese woman sat in a lavender chair with a deep cherry wood frame, short back.  Her legs were cross over and she thumbed thru a glossy magazine—and didn’t look up when Seth entered.
	Wanda did, though—the opening of the door was the trigger.
	Seth held fast where he stood; Belinda looked up to the door, then to Wanda, then back to her book and babbled something—Seth did not hear what she was babbling as his attention was on Wanda.
	Wanda stared and stared—seemingly staring thru Seth!
	“Belinda!” said Wanda, “Do you see someone here?”
	The Asian chick looked up, looked around, then shook her head, “No.” in a long drawn out fashion adding, “Do you?”
	“I’m—I’m not sure.”
	‘You do NOT see me!’
	Wanda High reared her head back.  “He’s speaking to me!”
	This was a little alarming.
	And speaking of “alarm”; out the corner of his eye was a small blinking light behind one of the potted plants by the door in the corner—an EMAD in USE detector!  Wanda, though, didn’t seem to see it—and you couldn’t see it ‘cause of the potted plant in the way (only if you were looking for it and stood in the right spot in the small room.)
	Seth noted that his EMAD was “working.”
	Great—only adding to his confusion.  Was he imbued with mind altering powers or not?  How did the EMAD play into this phenom?  Was he going crazy?  Maybe he needed psychic help!  No, maybe it was the other “p” word—psychiatry.
	Whatever—the jig was proverbially up.  Wanda came marching around the counter right at him.  Seth backed up and tried waylaying her with his mind—
	‘BEHAVE!’
	Wanda did suddenly stop.
	Seth was stunned—on top of being ultra confused.
	Belinda stood up, “Wanda?” she asked curiously.
	Seth shot her a hard look as well.  Normally the EMAD did its magic and how it did it Seth wasn’t sure.  The machine “overwhelmed” the Subject electronically—Seth didn’t have that exact ability and wasn’t sure how to do it or exactly how to proceed.
	For the moment, Wanda the Mystic was “stunned.”
	Seth trained his attention to Belinda Wophat.
	‘Calm—be calm—be at ease.’ Seth said tranquilly as possible.
	Belinda looked to him strangely, cocking her head, wrinkling her brow.
	Seth determined that there was not as much cohesion of minds as he hoped.
	He waited.
	And waited.
	And then waited some more.
	Neither Wanda or Belinda moved, spoke, blinked their eyes, or did anything to indicate that they were “aware”.  Seth waited a few more minutes—then,
	‘Take off your clothes.’
	There were rivets of sweat trickling down the back of his neck—his attention was to Belinda and sure as shit wasn’t for Wanda!  Thankfully, it was the skinny Asian who slipped off her skin tight dress.  She wore dark purple panties and a light purple bra.  Once she was nude, Seth embraced her, cupped her ass, eyed Wanda, then laid the Asian down onto the floor.
	The door to the business had a long privacy shade, Seth pulled it down and then locked the door before undressing himself.  His cock was damn hard and there was still a bit of wonder and fear dare he admit racing thru him.  Dismissing the “fear” aspect he went down on the 30-something year old woman eating out her pussy before slipping into her his magnificent hard cock.
	It was a odd thing to be boning the woman while people outside the store walked by.  With the door shade drawn he could only see their ankles.  He found it amusing and continued on with his work. 
	That was until Wanda the Psychic “came around.”
	“WHAT THE HELL!?” she screamed suddenly.
	Seth jumped up yelling back “BEHAVE!” but Wanda would have none of that and charged the naked almost adult naked male.  Seth couldn’t get out of the way in time and was grappled.  The woman was a BIG woman—short and large—XXX large.  After wrapping her arms around Seth they went barreling over the naked Belinda and crashed into the wall.  Luckily the wall was made of sound stuff and held—the pictures on the wall shook, though.
	Seth tried “kneeing” the Psychic but that only worked on guys.
	Wanda grabbed Seth by the ears and flung him to the floor—where he crumbled onto Belinda.  Belinda, though, strangely—remained mindless.  Wanda kicked Seth in the ass—aiming for his balls but missed.  Seth rolled over and came up with his minding alter machine.
	Wanda was zapped and temporarily held in suspension.
	But the lights on the EMAD were flickering—all in yellow and red.  No green.  The dial indicators fluctuated all over and hardly any “activity” of connectivity was shown on the brain wave pattern display—meaning that there was little electronic overwhelming being done at all.
	Not good.
	Then, on the sidebar menu where the Operator of the EMAD could select a pre-programmed act—STOP  SIT DOWN  NAME?  Q&A (with sub mini menu) and a list of other “commands” for the Subject to adhere to, was the message:
	“Transfer Complete”
	Transfer complete?  What the hell did that mean?
	The EMAD then went off-line.  No lights, no dial indicators, no brain wave patterns.  Nothing.  Silence.  Seth rolled his eyes to Wanda—
	Wanda’s eyes rolled to him—the look on her face was not good.
	“Try that electronic magic shit on me!” she shouted and came unglued charging the bewildered Seth once more.  Belinda remained naked on the floor unaware of the happening around her (above her.)	
	Seth feigned right and rolled left but was brushed by the big woman anyways.  He tripped over Belinda and in a panic to save himself narrowly avoided being impaled by the sharp corner of an ornate Chinese end table as he went toppling down.  Wanda whirled upon growling.
	Seth grabbed an ornate Chinese ashtray and as the mighty big woman grabbed him—he clunked the glass ashtray to Wanda’s temple.  The ashtray had four sharp points, was green with mixed greenish colors.   A bit of blood spurted out and the woman was stunned.   Her eyes rolled backwards and she began to jerk and then twitch all over.
	She still clutched Seth; he wrenched himself from her clenching hands and backed up against the wall.  Blood spurted still out of the woman’s temple—then she fell to the floor in a heap.  

	“SHIT!” Seth yelled.  His panic was something he was not used to.
	The EMAD he picked up and then threw it to the back wall behind the counter.  A large pool of blood formed on the floor; it was a quarter after five, and Seth Strangle was experiencing feelings he had not experienced before.  He didn’t like the panic feeling—not in the least.
	He did finally let out a deep sigh and try to rethink his situation.  One; grab the ashtray—evidence.  Two, the EMAD.  Three, use the cleaning products behind the counter to wipe off “prints” on the door handle—and then everywhere else.  Then he got dressed and knelt down to the mindless Belinda Wophat whispering,
	“Forget.”
	Then he moseyed out the backdoor dropping the ashtray into the nearby dumpster.  He was bugged beyond being bugged by what had happened.  It didn’t suit him—not at all.

*

	In the alley, after calming down and dealing with the countless emotions he was not accustomed with—Seth set his attention on two young peoples.  One of the young peoples was traipsing on the daring venture of “copping a feel.”  Being copped a feel of was a girl about a year younger than the one copping the feel—which is far better than feeling a cop!

	Anyways, the one doing the feeling was fourteen year old Charles James (CJ) and the one being copped was Jessica Rightred.  They were behind a small trashed lot behind the storefront church.  The boy was the son of the preacher who preached in the storefront church.
	Seth’s mind was still filled with Wanda and Belinda—especially Wanda the Psyhic—Wanda the DEAD Psychic.  The investigators were going to have a time with this one—a dead psychic and a mindless naked psychic.  What had happened?
	There were, of course, pesky security cameras on the outside of the store—and then everywhere else.  Seth wondered about those—he had been invisible (he hoped) but did the invisibility trick do enough to fool security cameras?
	‘Undo your pants.’
	The girl, Jessica, undone the brass clasp of her brown jeans.  This gave horndog CJ the apparent go ahead to slip his hands down inside her jeans—inside her panties.  It was broad daylight, midsummer type time—a quarter to six so there was lots of daylight left.  But in the alley the two could enjoy their shenanigans in relative security. 
	The area was not “rundown” or even redneck-like; but it was a mix of low-income and low-medium income.  Huge old-old trees lines the alley on both sides, tall fencing covered with dead and living ivy, some abandoned cars, various debris in the way of household items—washing machines, sofas, beds, that sort.
	Unless a car came down the alley—the two horny teens were relative secure.
	The girl turned around and the two began kissing.  Jessica was a whole head shorter than CJ.  No matter, they managed to kiss anyways.  CJ—on his own, copped a good feel of the girl’s ass.  Seth had no input on the deal—his mind was still mostly on the recent event in his life.
	‘Go behind the shed.’ Seth minded to them; there was an old-old crappy shed in the lot behind the church—the lot was overgrown with grass, weeds, old engines, more washing machines.  Holding one of Jessica’s hands (the other Jessica hand holding up her undone pants) CJ led the girl to the shed.  Seth (apparently invisible as he desired) followed.
	He still wasn’t himself—and didn’t rightly know if he ever would be.
	In the tool shed, more kissing.  Then,
	On her own (maybe) Jessica went down to her knees and worked out of CJ’s off-beige pants his cock.  It was significantly hard.  The girl lovingly stroked it, waggled it, then kissed it!  Seth had thought of having the girl do those things, but he wasn’t sure if whether or not he had sent the message or not.  He was getting confused—which was another facet of emotions he wasn’t comfortable with.
	Jessica began sucking CJs dick.  She sucked and sucked and sucked; worked the cock—worked the cock—worked the cock until such time as there was an explosion of the cummy kind.
	Apparently, Jessica had “worked a cock” before and had gotten a face full of cum as a prize.  She giggled; CJ blushed.  Then, seemingly on her own, Jessica rubbed CJ’s schlong all over her cum strewn face before re-sucking with the added touch of slurping on his fuzzy nuggets.
	Was Seth having any effect on the two?
	‘Take—take your clothes off.’ he minded to the girl.
	Surprisingly, the girl stood and stripped off her clothes!
	So did CJ.
	But still—Seth wasn’t convinced he was having a say in their doing.
	CJ went down on the girl—without Seth’s input to do so.  The naked Jessica wiggled, giggled, and peed!  CJ was amused by sudden urine splash—Seth was bemused.  And one thing—neither teen seemed to be “aware” of Seth’s presence (and he was right there!)
	After getting the girl to the point of whereas she was starting to scream, CJ mounted the girl and plunged his unwrapped schlong into her sex.  Neither teen was a virgin.  
	CJ went four minutes before cumming off.  His cock was still mighty hard, so; Seth had the girl get on her hands and knees and while CJ shoved his fuck stick into her asshole for another four minute fuck—she sucked on Seth!

How much for your morals?
	Still not convinced that the powers of his EMAD had somehow been transferred into him—Seth sought absolute resolve.  And it came by way of crookery—or thievery whichever how you take it.  (and he took it!)  After leaving CJ and Jessica and the alley, Seth came back out to the front sidewalk and was all the way down to the end where a small grocery store was anchored.  There, an armored truck was stopped and a delivery fellow was at the backdoor readying to place inside his parcel.
	The hour was late—most businesses in the area were closed; just the grocery store and the pizza place next to it were in operation; and the small drive-in across the street occupying space on its own.  Seth didn’t even think about security; it was,
	‘Hand over the bag.’
	And with “bag” in hand he ducked down the small access way between the grocery store and pizza joint to the shared alley—and back down to the tool shed where CJ and Jessica had been.  They weren’t there—they were in their church that was in progress.

	Seth took a breath—his mind was in uproar with a million thoughts and distorted emotions.  In the large leather pouch?  Wrapped stacks of money—profits from the grocery store destined for sorting and then accounting and banking.  Having the bag assured Seth that his minding abilities had worked—no security guard would just “hand over” a money bag.
	Lots of money inside.  Lots.
	Seth fondled the stacks; 20s, 50s, and 100s mostly.  A lot of cash.
	Seth, though, had no use for cash.  A little, sure, but ever since coming to have mind altering powers (in the way of the EMAD) he was not interested in being a bank robber.  There were those who had EMADs and they WERE bank robbers—some were successful.  But that venture wasn’t for Seth Strangle.
	Finding a plastic bag (from the grocery store no less) Seth emptied the contents of the pouch then hid the pouch behind the wooden counter in the tool shed.  Another plastic bag was acquired and then—
	Sexual exploitation of children workshop Thur 7PM (so the sign said ouot front of the store front church).  Seth was bemused by the sign and paused to linger just outside the open doors.  There was a small foyer that was partially closed off by a partition.  Inside there was singing then some preaching.
	Seth wasn’t much into the preaching—or any preaching.  Seth wasn’t sure of a “higher power”; but he wasn’t dismissing the notion, either.
	As he listened, a car pulled up to the psychic business, and “Delaney” got out with several others.  They all banged their fists on the door and someone went around to the back.
	“How much for your morals?” asked the preacher (from inside.)
	Seth found that statement amusing.  He missed most of the preacher’s preaching due to the increased activity at the psychic store but he caught a few statements that gave Seth pause to wonder.  Although someone, or a family, may be sound in their morality—there was price that could unravel that moral fiber.  The Devil was fishing, casting out a line and reeling in moral turpitude in droves!
	Of course, the EMADs the aliens had dolled out to the humankin had a play in that corruption.  But even so, even without the corruption of the electronic mind altering devices—humans could be swayed by as much as—

	Subject One was moderately pretty; blond hair in a long ponytail, happy-go-lucky, popular, nice butt.  Subject Two was her bratty brother.  Subject One was surrounded by a few other tasty Subjects but Seth dismissed them and settled on the one who had the bratty brother.

	The hour was late; the store front church had let out and there was the customary chit-chat afterwards.  There was the customary brother/sister relationship observed giving Seth insight that neither sibling were sexually active with the other.  It was doubtful (although possible) that neither sibling were sexual active at all!
	Next door and police had arrived at the Psychic Wanda’s Psychic Emporium drawing the small crowd from the church.  Although curious, the adults of the church ushered their children away.  Seth kept tabs on his subjects, Clarissa and pesky brother Jason—they lived nearby and walked home.  Seth followed.
	The walk was a short one, two blocks down to moderate income neighborhoods.  The Gnarlrad house was a two-story home; two cars, nice yard, big eucalyptus tree as a focal point in the front yard.  The topic of discussion was topic the preacher had been preaching—“morals”.  Morals and morality; EMADs, corrupt society, apocalyptic happenings—happening and so on and so forth.  The degradation of society; how easily Peoples were willing to forgo their morals for a bit of pleasure—in the form of money, success, sex, and other perversions not overly welcomed in modern day society.
	Clarissa and Jason jabbed each other and were not a part of their parents’ conversation.  Marshall and Janet entered the house continuing their discussion with one particular statement made by the Daddy Parent:  “I would not sell out for pleasure!” No amount of money, gift, or success could warp Mr. Gnarlrad into tossing away his morals for pleasure.
	His wife, Janet, agreed—and was glad to hear her husband’s decree.
	Seth wondered.
	The parental units merged to the kitchen where they indulged in coffee and more deep philosophical conversation.  Seth followed the children.  As Clarissa bounded up the stairs—was Jason watching her tight-tight ass?  Seth was.  He was beginning to feel more himself.  There was an alcove where the stairs turned half way up—in the alcove was a large potted plant, a tiki bust, and a mirror.
	Seth was still invisible.
	Clarissa went into the bathroom; Jason made for his bedroom.
	‘Open the door.’ Seth minded strongly.
	He was mildly surprised when the bathroom door DID open.
	Clarissa stood therein clutching her pants (and panties).  She seemed confused and peered out into the hall.
	‘Go back to your business.’ Seth cooed.
	Clarissa returned to her business—which was peeing.
	And farting.
	As she sat on the toilet; Seth whipped out his cock and gently guided it into the teen’s mouth.
	‘Suck cock before?’
	Surprisingly, “YES!” was the answer.
	‘Ever suck your BROTHER’S cock?’
	EWEWEWE!
	‘Would you ever suck your brother’s cock?’
	EWEWEWE!
	Seth guided the girl’s head with his hand to the back of her head; she was a lovely girl.  That long blond ponytail was nice, good clean skin, perfect teeth, enunciated her words well, had a nice-nice body.
	‘Would you consider sex with your brother—for a hundred dollars?’
	Clarissa reared her head back—Seth humped her sweet face cinching his balls up against her nostrils.
	No was the answer.
	Seth upped the ante—‘Five hundred dollars?’
	Still ewewe.
	‘A thousand dollars?’
	Not so much ewewe.  The girl paused and actually thought—actually thought of contemplating SEX with her brother!
	The ante was upped again, ‘TWO thousand dollars!’
	No more “ewewe” but serious consideration.
	‘FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!’ final offer.
	Clarissa nodded her sweet head—‘yeah, for FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS’ she would have SEX with her icky bratty brother.
	But first!
	Laying the girl out on the bathroom floor Seth stripped off her clothes, fingered her pussy, then inserted his aching cock.  He thought of Belinda Wophat—that had been some good pussy.  (and in case you’re wondering; NO, the demise of Wanda the Mystic did not count on Seth’s Strangle List—Wanda was not demised by “strangulation.”)
	Morals could be bought.
	Everyone had a price.
	Now, whether or not the girl would actually go thru with the deed remained to be seen.  Seth helped that notion along while he fucked her ‘you WANT to have sex with your brother—for five thousand dollars’ along with ‘you WANT to suck your brother’s cock’ and ‘you want your brother to spank you, shave your cunt, pee on your pussy!’
	These thoughts, those notions, all put Seth into serious orgasmic bliss and he delivered a very copious amount of love cream.  He virtually melted thereafter but managed to keep awake and fondle the girl’s very nice fourteen year old titties.

	‘Open the door.’
	A moment elapsed, then another—then,
	The door of Jason James Gnarlred marked with signage of KEEP OUT!  WARNING!  DANGEROUS ANIMALS INSIDE!  ENTER AT OWN RISK! finally opened and there stood a naked Jason James Gnarlred—with a hard-on.
	Seth made entry.
	On the boy’s bed was a crumbled pair of panties!
	Cum stains were on the panties.
	Seth deermined that the soiled undies were of his sister’s!
	Hmmm
	‘Would you like to FUCK your sister?’
	Not so much as “ewewe” but “yuck!”  however, snagging his sister’s panties was just for self-pleasuring measures and no reflection of actually engaging immorally (or incestuously) with her.  Under admission, though, it was learned that the boy DID sneak looks at his sister—whilst she was naked, changing clothes, fingering herself, that sort.  But only because she was a GIRL and not his sister.  The young boy just wanted a visual aid.
	For five hundred dollars would he screw his sister?
	No.
	For one thousand dollars would he screw his sister?
	Uh—uhm—no.
	For FIVE THOSAND DOLLARS?  same question.
	Jason paused.  Blinked his eyes—and slowly began stroking himself.
	Jason also had a pair of his MOM’s underwear!

	After sodomizing the young thirteen year old Jason and watching him hump his bed—his ever hard cock seriously fucking the basic white panties of his sister’s, Seth slipped out to contemplate his next move.  Jason and Clarissa were an interesting pair—Clarissa was an avid masturbator; she had fondled a young boy in her charge AND gotten him to fuck her!
	Jason had fingered their young cousin.
	Clarissa liked easing candlesticks up her butt (just to get an idea of what sodomy was all about.)  Jason liked to spank himself (and also shove “things” up his arse—golf club handle, screwdriver handle, anything (and everything) round (and ridged).
	In the kitchen, Marshall and wife Janet were kissing.
	Conversation about morals had been concluded and it was down to the business of “making out.”  Marshall and Janet were products from the hippie days of the ‘60s.  They had grown and matured but there was still a part of them that was “hippie.”
	They very nearly went “all the way” right there in the kitchen.
	Seth remained invisible to sight AND still naked!
	Marshall Gnarlred’s hands went all over his hot wife; a tall long haired blond woman, slender build, nice gazabas.   She made a lot of noise (but muffled as her husband’s mouth engulfed hers.)  Soon and Janet had her husband’s cock in hand.  Marshall expertly had off his wife’s blouse AND bra!
	Seth was in a bit of awe at the two’s antics.  Were they the typical American family—or British, or Irish, German, Austrian?  The two were “hot and heavy” into their frolicking—and soon were butt bare ass naked!  Hurriedly they got out of their clothes and did so right there so fuck.
	On the heavy 1970s kitchen table Janet positioned herself and horny horndog Marshall went down on her.  Janet continued to make noise—now, with her mouth free to express her feelings she expressed her feelings in the way of moans and groans, “Yes!” and “Ooooooh!” and “My GOD!”
	And that was just with Marshall’s tongue!

	As Marshall put his tool into Janet’s cunt,
	‘Would you consider—screwing your daughter?’
	No “ewewe” but a bit of a pause.  Then, “No.” he said aloud.
	Janet said “No?  No what?”
	Marshall didn’t answer—he was busy.
	‘Don’t worry about it.’ Seth cooed to Janet soothing her and putting her at ease.  Janet didn’t butt in any further.
	‘Would a thousand dollars change your mind?’
	Marshall worked as an architect and made decent money—so to give up his morals for a paltry sum of $1,000 wasn’t going to be enough.
	‘Would you like to see your daughter—naked?’
	Marshall fucking slowed as he deeply thought of his daughter Clarissa—naked.  It had been awhile since he had last seen his daughter Clarissa—naked.
	‘Would you like to see your daughter—masturbating?’
	The images of his teenage daughter laying naked on her bed—fingering herself filled Marshall’s mind.  His cock powerfully began to thrust and deliver a bountiful amount of love cream.
	‘Would you screw your willing daughter for five thousand dollars?’
	Marshall cocked his head, mouth open agape, mind full of ah.
	True answer—maybe.
	‘Ten thousand?’
	Marshall’s eyes blinked his eyes—he couldn’t believe it (the question) but—yeah—yeah, sure—for TEN THOUSAND dollars, the Christian man with normally high morals would have SEX with his fourteen year old daughter.
	‘Stay.’ Seth told Janet as a dumfounded Marshall wandered off to the upstairs bathroom in their bedroom.  Seth, meanwhile, looked over the naked sweaty woman and eased into her womanhood his teenhood.
	Janet moaned, arched her back, and gleefully accepted the teenager’s cock.
	As Seth fucked her, ‘Would you have sex with your son—for a thousand dollars?’
	Not No but HELL NO!
	She was very resolute in her morals.  But everyone has a price—even those with determined fibers of the moral kind.  Janet’s price was as with her husband’s, Ten Thousand dollars.
	Seth gave her a delicious cum wash then sent her upstairs.

	Once more and Jason James was hard at being a horny teenager—screwing the panties on his bed.  He also was spanking himself—AND—AND there was a screwdriver handle IN HIS ASSHOLE!  OH!  Seth’s cock was still reeling from the dramatic cunt fucking of the boy’s mother—so, he had the boy suck him.
	Then, once the screwdriver was removed—Seth sodomized the boy AND spanked him while doing so.  The screwdriver was a typical household device with a plastic yellow handle having ridges.  The handle was approximately six inches and young Jason enjoyed sodomizing himself with it inserting the whole handle then walking around his room with it impaled into his hole!
	Clarissa, in her room, furiously fingered her cunt.  She also spanked herself, rolled over onto her stomach snaking her hand under her to “get after it” and occasionally gave her ass a swat.  She was in a bad way.  Other than sex with the little boy under her care she had gotten laid by a handsome-handsome fella on the soccer team at the high school.  Just once.  No blow, no up the ass, but a lot of titty feeling.  She DID fondle his cock; they kissed, and fucked once in the backseat of his hot muscle car.
	Seth made love to the horny teen; spanked her, then began working on her mind—‘Let your brother fuck you.’
	Clarissa made a frown and wasn’t so set on “letting her brother fuck her” but Seth persisted and insisted.  Also,
	‘Let your brother shave your pussy.’
	‘Let your brother fuck your asshole.’
	‘Let your brother cum in your mouth.’
	Clarissa’s hot teen body enthralled Seth—he rode her good and delivered a nice load of pent up cum DEEP into her interior.  The release was fantastic; there were a multitude of feelings all cumulating to a point situated at the tip of his dick.  A thousand feelings like pins pricking tantalized his body from his curled toes to his hair.
	Seth’s hair—it was coarse black, thick, and pulled back to a ponytail.  As he boned Clarissa he let the ponytail go—he felt different but wasn’t sure why.  Then he didn’t care and not even a minute after filling the girl’s pussy with his ball juice he was screwing her hard again!
	He had cum in Janet’s cunt, fucked her son’s ass, fucked Clarissa once on the bathroom floor, and was doing her TWICE in succession on her bed!  His cock was incredible!  There was immeasurable stamina for his wang—his body, though, was tiring.
	Rolling over he sought sleep and was not denied sleeping for a couple of hours before awakening with a start.  For a couple of minutes he lay still letting his mind reset.  When he figured out he wasn’t in his own room he sighed and sat up.  Beside him and Clarissa slept soundly, naked, but soundly.
	After patting her ass to awaken her he guided her to the shower—then put her on temporary hold while he fetched her very horny brother.  Then, the three of them took a shower.  Seth’s cock was a little shagged out but was hard enough to jam itself up into Clarissa’s tight shit hole.
	Afterwards, Jason shaved Clarissa’s cunt.
	Then he fucked it.
	Seth was totally enchanted; there was a curious fascination that was gripping as the young Jason lay atop his sister gliding his virgin cock into her sex.  It would be an act that would be repeated—daily.
	‘You’ll FUCK your sister’s cunt once every other day’ Seth declared; ‘and on the days you aren’t fucking her pussy—you’ll fuck her asshole!’ and once a day he would be in her mouth!
	And once a day they would shower together.
	Once a month and Jason would shave Clarissa’s cunt.
	Once every other day—Jason would SPANK his sister’s ass—on the day that he was fucking it.  On the days he was not in her ass but her pussy SHE would spank him!  OH!
	After the bathroom escapade—back to bed for more sleeping.

	Marshall still had some doubts, reservations about having sex with his teenage daughter.  He had no doubts or reservations about having sex with his teenage daughter’s friends.  If given the opportunity—yeah, he’d put his bone into any one of his daughter’s friends.
	But his own daughter? No.  That—that just wasn’t a happening.
	Seth had to reinsert the notion of MONEY and a WILLING daughter.
	For Clarissa—ten grand would get her to lay down with her Dad.  But it was still creepy and she didn’t really think it would ever happen.  Seth spent hours rewiring the family wearing himself out in the process.
	In the end, though,
	There was Marshall on Clarissa’s bed screwing her brains out.  Seth stood behind watching getting off more and more.  His cock was amazing and almost ever the hard hard-on.  His balls tingled, his asshole puckered even!  There was some kind of odd joy watching a sex act in progress.
	Marshall had come into his daughter’s room just before noon—naked.
	Clarissa was already naked and freshly fucked (by Jason and Seth.)  Marshall had watched his son and daughter fucking but it was alright—it was the new norm for the Gnarlrad family.  After Seth got his turn, Clarissa went to her Daddy’s cock sucking serious life into it.
	Marshall rocked on the balls of his feet; eyes rolled back in his head, mouth undulating, mind in uproarious uproar.  Those feelings did not compare to actually stuffing his child’s cunt with his cock, though.  Clarissa wrapped her legs about her Daddy’s waist and the two engaged in a fantastic fuck fest.
	Seth watched for another minute then went on to help Jason and Janet.
	Seth, of course, took first dibs.  After Jason shaved his Mom’s cunt in the master bath, Seth fucked the woman while she sucked on her son’s pinkish cock.  Clarissa had very nice blond hair—strawberry blond.  Her Mom had straight blond hair while the Daddy had jet black hair.  Jason James had flaming red hair; freckles adorned his face and his cock was very pinkish.
	After Seth got his nuts off Janet guided her son into position and once more Seth was enamored watching a sex act in progress.  Of course, the illicitness of the sex act was also the rub.

	There was something about screwing a woman.  Boning a teenager was one thing—and Seth loved doing that.  But of late, Belinda Wophat and Janet had really given his cock a reason to live.  Janet moreso cause he had more time to do her and not be interrupted.  
	After giving Janet Gnarlred one more good intense fuck—he gave the family Gnarlred one more final rewiring.  Janet would suck her husband and son once a day; Clarissa would suck her brother and Daddy—once a day.  Marshall would fuck Clarissa once every OTHER day—then bone her asshole the other days.  Jason would screw his sister’s cunt on the days his Dad was boning her asshole.
	Seth was pleased with his misdoings; he showered, spanked Clarissa and Janet, then put all the money from the armored car bag on the kitchen table.  He kept a small amount for his troubles then toddled off for home wondering how Dmitri Tsugua was doing…