Bob’s Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon
62
The Exorcist
BEING CHASED AROUND in a game was not the first time I’d been chased. Might have been the most fun, though. And Sally proved to be both an enthusiastic lover and a great researcher. What I know about the infinity room now, I mostly learned from her.
And when Nimia read and translated the ancient words to her, they always ended up in bed together. Sally came to us an exclusive heterosexual and progressed to being not quite so exclusive. But no one pushes her. She just gets involved and can’t help herself.
Eventually, I did swap bodies with her so she could experience what it was like for a man to make love to a woman. I’d have to say she was far more enthusiastic about loving either sex after that.
I was getting ready for my second foray into the natural world in search of a future crewmate. We had agreed that I needed a little more flexibility. Living and working with the original crew contestants had been a growing experience, and it took us weeks to develop the relationship that turned them into such a tight and cohesive team. It didn’t seem that three days was enough to make a positive decision. For example, I’d have left it up to the other crew members to decide between Sue and Amy. Instead, I happened to find Annie. I needed an out.
I figured that some of the women I would meet would be eliminated from consideration immediately, but that others might need more time to grow on me. I would no longer be limited to making a choice among three, but would continue to travel and interview and repeat visits to some before I chose one. That would be good, but I wanted to spend some time getting to really know Annie better before I went out again. We stayed in the beach house—well, the satchel stayed in the beach house. Annie and I stayed in Areola most of the time, though I emerged each day to make sure the guards were changed and everything in the natural world was okay.
After a week that we lightly called a honeymoon time, I was surprised that it was Annie who told me I needed to get some more footage in the can.
“Bob, we have a mission and getting more people in the crew is necessary for the television series,” she said. “You need to get out there and hunt down some more women. And maybe even some men.”
“Are you tired of me already, honey?” I teased. We’d made love every day and I’d taken her exploring in some of the less accessible areas of Areola.
“You know better than that, Bob. But I’m a member of the crew now and we’ve been meeting about the second season show. You need to be out there.”
“Yes, you’re right, I suppose.”
“Oh, Bob. It would be wonderful to imagine it was only you and me that counted. But you have five wives, five possessions, eleven other crew members, fifty-two priestesses whom I adore, and at last count there were seventy-three concubines in the harem, but I’m informed that number changes almost daily. And in addition to those, or included in those are other women who have a very special relationship with you.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t be dense, honey. Zhi, your warrior. Marian the Librarian. The little researcher Sally. Social engineer Virginia. Dora, who took you to Troy. Doria, who was part of your spoils of Troy. Chione, from Nebuchadnezzar’s harem. Ali, the former slave in Musa Massa’s court. A whole bunch of priestesses of Aphrodite who say you are their god now. A woman named Srininx who has a bronze colored breast. I could go on and on, and you know it. This world is filled with women who adore you and would open any passage for you. But the crew is still working hard to become the best possible crew to sail your ship into space, and I need to take my place among them. Don’t worry. I’ll always be in line to make love to you when you return.”
Well, she was right and I took the list of women and locations with me as I set out for another trading mission. This one would take me back to the mainland of the US and then to Europe. It would be exciting.
“It’s time for Bob to return to the US,” Doug told me. “You need to make some appearances to announce that you are working on season two of the show, since the ship is not yet ready. There will be questions and maybe some laughter, but you should be able to move around fairly easily. I think you should take Peninnah and Liz and me with you to the mainland. And Avril—to film, you know.”
I knew. Avril and Doug were quite an item. But he was right. As my producer, he should be seen as well. I took the appearance and identity of The Bob and we headed for the airport and our private plane.
One of the things I stocked up on were satchels. If anyone was thinking they could snatch and grab my portal, they’d need to figure out whose satchel to grab.
I saw a great movie about that, once. Man in a bowler hat who steals a priceless work of art and suddenly there are several dozen men in bowler hats with a portfolio like his wandering around. Fun movie. We were prepared for something similar. Doug would be my foil. Once we were airborne over the Pacific, I worked the transformation spell that turned him into an image of me and me into him. That way, I could keep hold of the real satchel while he took the heat for possibly carrying around alien portal technology.
When we got to LA, a customs agent boarded the plane and went straight to Doug. After several minutes of arguing, Doug was led to the customs desk with his satchel, while I protested that this wasn’t an international flight and Customs had no right to be inspecting our personal property. You can imagine how far that went with a government employee.
Doug came out of the terminal looking a little bedraggled, but in good spirits. We picked him up in our limo and drove to the mansion, which had not been in use since the first season selections were made.
“I was really afraid they were going to rip the bag apart at the seams searching for ‘the portal.’ I kept the protests up. Even demanded to speak to my Senator,” Doug said. “I told them I’d left the portal at my palace and didn’t intend to use it anytime soon. They finally gave up and sent me on my way. Oh, the tampons in the bag were a nice touch. I just told them I was carrying some things for my wife.”
We congratulated him on making it through customs and we switched body transformations back to our own likeness in the back of the limo.
When we got to the mansion, I pulled a bug detector from Areola and we all swept the house. I had Avril check all our camera installations to make sure they were ready to record for the show. Of course, as she was checking, she found one camera that had been tampered with to send its signal to a receiver off-site. She also found two other cameras that were not part of our setup. They’d been in the mansion in my absence.
We neutralized all the bugs we found and set all our own cameras to play an endless loop of the rooms. That was the best we could do for now.
Doug and I had meetings and interviews for the next few days.
I’m afraid it was not to be a time of peace and quiet. I expected to need to work, but I wasn’t quite expecting the crowds that followed me around everywhere. Most of the time they were peaceful and friendly. Occasionally, there was a mob of protesters against our show, against leaving earth, against sex, against science, against the government, against the church, against taxes, against medicine, against women… It seemed there was a crowd against just about everything. There was even a crowd against natural grains and whole food. Somehow, they all figured I was the right place to protest.
On the other hand, there were crowds—mostly women, though not exclusively—who cheered and held signs that said “Pick me!” “I’ll boldly go!” “Let me port with you!” “Official Space Cadet.” I’m not sure that last woman understood what her sign said. Which was appropriate. And, within the crowds both for and against, I could see hundreds of “Bob’s Satchel’s.” They’d become quite the fashion accessory and nearly every high school student had one.
“Tell us about your new show,” Elaine Frost, the newest host on a late-night television show asked.
“Well, it’s season two of To Boldly Go. But we kind of shot our wad on the first season because we thought we’d be leaving earth at the end of the season and would be sending season two back from space. So, we’ve had to change our format considerably. I’m going out to personally interview contestants,” I said.
“How many contestants are we talking about this year?” Elaine asked.
“This is unbelievable, but we have received 30,000-plus applications to be on the show. I’m sorry to say that for many reasons, the vast majority were unacceptable. But the crew selected in the last show, along with my family, have reviewed over 5,000 and sent out letters of commitment. We have received some 2,000 responses with signed consent forms and releases to use footage we shoot of them candidly on the show.”
“You can’t mean to say you’ll be ‘interviewing’ all 2,000!”
“I doubt it. That would probably take us into season five, at least, and I hope to be long gone before then. I’m sorry to say that I’ll get as far as I get. I can’t hope for more than that,” I said.
“So, it seems like doing a personal interview would be a good way to get a lot of innocent women into bed with you,” Elaine said skeptically.
“Well, it would be if I was recognizable. But I’m pretty good at changing my appearance.”
“You mean makeup and such?”
“Oh, sure. But do you remember that movie a few years ago where the guy put on a mask and suddenly had a rubber face?”
“It’s hard to do special effects when you’re live.”
“Yes, but that actor reduced the number of special effects that were needed. He has a rubber face. A couple of adjustments and he’s a different person. I have the ability to do some of that, too. Then with a little makeup, I’m someone totally different.”
“I’ve got to see this. Audience, would you like to see Bob demonstrate?” Loud applause indicated their answer.
Elaine looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I suppose she expected me to make a funny face at her. Instead, I started doing facial expression stretches—yawning, raising and lowering my eyebrows, squinting and popping my eyes open, and shifting my jaw from side to side and in and out. While I was doing the exercises, I worked a few magical transformations on my face, careful not to go overboard. I pushed and pulled at my face, and covered it with my hands.
“I hope this worked,” I said with my face covered. I usually work in front of a mirror.
“You mean all those funny faces you were making were your disguise?”
“No, this is.” I uncovered my face and the audience gasped. I hadn’t gone overboard, but I was more square-jawed, my nose was narrower, my mouth a little smaller, and my eyebrows closer together. I looked like a different person.
“Whoa! Where did Bob go and who are you?” Elaine said.
“I call this one Dean Larson,” I said. “Add a blond wig and I’m good to go.”
“Cameras, can we get a split screen with one of our earlier shots of Bob and what he looks like now?” Elaine asked. The audience saw a big screen with the two Bobs side-by-side. When you looked closely, you could tell we were the same person and looked like there had just been some really good makeup applied. The audience applauded.
“How do you do that?”
“There are forty-three muscles in the human face. The real trick is to be able to isolate and flex each of them independently.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“This is a little difficult to hold,” I said. “Can I go back to myself again?”
“Uh… sure. Does it take all the same gyrations?” Elaine asked.
“No.” I shook my head violently back and forth, making a noise like I was spluttering. When I stopped, I had returned to my normal look.
“That was truly amazing. If you hadn’t been sitting right beside me, I wouldn’t have believed it.” She paused for more applause. “So, you’ll be in disguise and supposedly the women won’t know who you are. Anything you’d like to tell them?”
“Yes. A couple of things. First of all, I will never, ever force myself on a woman. Don’t feel like you have to accept every overture from every man because he might be Bob. That’s not what I’m judging my interviewees on. It’s all going to be based on how good our chemistry is with each other. Second, not every man who approaches you will be Bob in disguise. Exercise normal precautions that you’d use upon meeting any guy who sparks an interest in you. Third, I will not try to lure you into an unmarked van on the street. There are very real traffickers out there and until we get to know each other, you should exercise good dating protocol, including letting a friend know where you are, staying in well-lit public places, and keeping information about yourself confidential. I don’t need your social security number, driver’s license, or bank account. I already have that because it was on the application form. Don’t give it out freely.”
“That’s really good general dating advice, Bob,” Elaine said. “I see our time is about up. Is there anything you’d like to add?”
“Yes. This is to the men who think this is an opportunity to exercise predatory behavior, or want to pretend they are Bob and see where it gets them. I spent $100 billion last year on the show and on spacecraft development. My investments are growing so fast that I still have over $500 billion. That’s $500 billion I can spend to chase down and eliminate traffickers who think they can cash in on a woman’s desire to be on my show. $500 billion I can use to prosecute frauds and impersonators. $500 billion that I can use to track you down to the ends of the earth and make sure you never hurt another person again. Beware. You’ve been warned.”
I delivered that line standing and staring straight into the camera. There was stunned silence on the set for a moment and then a standing ovation from the live audience. I waved at them and left the stage.
Liz and Peninnah, of course, were always with me when I was out in public talking about the show. Doug was usually nearby, but he had responsibilities that took him to other offices or studios as he got us geared up for production. We had to verify that we were using union employees and were paying union scale, or we couldn’t be broadcast. Our contacts at HECN told us they’d had to comply with the union standards eventually, though they’d managed to fly under the radar for several years as providing educational internships.
We were usually pretty friendly with people. Police and security services made sure fans didn’t get too close to us as we went from the studio to the waiting limo.
As we made it to the limo, I became aware of a man on a soapbox preaching to the crowd about the evils of my show and the perversion of Bob. I paused to listen to him as he railed on.
“Women boldly go into his lair and are never seen again. He preys on the dreamy-eyed, making them victims of his perversions. I tell you, he is an emissary from hell and has possessed those women. Do not render yourselves into his devilish lair. Stand firm upon the word of God and resist this temptation.”
I was thinking about replying to him, but Peninnah grabbed my arm and pulled me into the limo with her. We headed back to our hotel and ordered dinner sent to our suite. We always did that rather than simply stepping into the infinity room and eating. Hotels became suspicious if you never ordered food or ate in their restaurants. This week it had been much easier to book a downtown hotel than to commute out to the hills to the mansion.
As soon as dinner had been delivered, I opened a gateway and half a dozen others came out of Areola with additional food to join us. Peninnah and Liz went back to the palace for the night. That, too, was typical as they did not like to spend the day in the natural world and then the night, too. They were concerned that they would start aging. I believed the room had a rejuvenating effect on them as they looked as young and fresh as the first day I met them.
Tonight, Esmeralda and Maya joined me—my fourth wife and my fourth possession. They were accompanied by Zhi, Artemisia, Julie, and Deedee. The latter three were contestants in the first season. Zhi was my very special devotee. I loved her and she loved me in a very special way that was different from others. That being said, I noticed that Artemisia was often with her and her level of devotion was nearing the level of Zhi’s.
“You know, everything is just perfect in Areola,” Deedee said. “There are times when it is a relief just to come out into this flawed natural world and have a bite of a steak that was overcooked by an inattentive chef.”
We all laughed and all had a taste of the too well-done meat. It was true that we seemed to never have a meal that was lower than our expectations in Areola. And that was true whether the person eating liked rare meat or well-done. In a way, I was reminded of Aphrodite. I pulled Deedee to me and began to caress and kiss her.
Why the juxtaposition of Deedee and Aphrodite? you ask. Well, I’d had a dream of Aphrodite the week before our final elimination challenge of the first season. I’d been making love to Deedee and the visage of My Lady Goddess came over her. I knew there was something familiar about Deedee that attracted me to her. She’d been blessed by Aphrodite and shown how to find me. She was my special gift from the goddess.
But as for why I’d been reminded of My Lady, it was related to why she was the most beautiful image of a woman the world had ever seen. Now, if I lined up one hundred men and asked each to describe their vision of the perfect woman, I would get one hundred different descriptions. Some would be redhead, some blonde, some brunette. Some would be black, white, Asian, Native American, Latina. There would be tall, medium, short, and ridiculous. They would have breast sizes from nearly flat to impossibly huge. I guarantee you that no two descriptions would be the same.
Still, every one of those men would look at Aphrodite and pronounce her perfect, the very image of the most beautiful woman in the world. I think it had to do less with the goddess herself and more with the image each man would project upon her. She would always be perfect.
I’d once asked Sally to look into that aspect of our world and she reported that, as far as she could tell, our world was shaped by the projections of its inhabitants. Essentially, Areola had no fixed shape at all. Each individual found exactly what they considered perfect. And that extended to the food, as well. I agreed with Deedee that there was something refreshing about sampling something that wasn’t perfect occasionally. It certainly heightened our appreciation of that which was.
And all that line of reasoning ended up with a very naked Deedee on her hands and knees on the sofa as I plowed into her hot wet pussy, which I found was just perfect.
“At the bottom of the barrel for entertainment news tonight, Bob is causing quite a stir as he announces plans for casting the coming season of To Boldly Go,” said the news announcer. “According to an interview and press release from Bob’s Studio, the entire second season will be done candidly, with Bob in disguise and secret cameras recording every interaction as he travels the world looking for additions to his harem crew. But not all reactions have been positive. Here’s a report from our woman on the street, Lily Lalane. Lily?”
“Thank you, Delilah. It’s hard to tell if Bob’s announcements about how to behave with a new man, his threats against men who try to imitate him, or the denunciation of his entire being by Rev. Ronald Richards of Bethany Consolidated Church of the Holy Grail is at the top of the news tonight. Rev. Richards preaches regularly to crowds nearing a thousand people at his megachurch, but has taken his ministry to the streets to reach out to the people who throng after Bob.”
“I tell you, this Bob is the devil incarnate,” Richards said in the interview. “He thinks the world has sunk so low into depravity that it will sit idly by as the flower of humanity is plucked and destroyed. Oh, we can all get a little wistful about the promise of wealth, sexual gratification, abundance, and gluttony. But down that road lies the gates of hell. I tell you, Bob must be stopped and the women he has captured must be freed from this cult that has risen around him.”
“So, you believe the women have not gone willingly to be on his show and compete for inclusion in his space journey?” Lily asked.
“I believe they have been bewitched, enchanted, and possessed,” Richards said. “They might think they have entered his lair of their own freewill, but once there, like a fly on a spider’s web, they discover there is no return—no way out. They must have the devil within them exorcised.”
Maya grasped my arm and buried her head on my shoulder. She was shaking and sobbing.
“Don’t let him near me, Bob. He is like the Spanish priests of so long ago. They exorcised demons by burning people at the stake or cutting their heads off. Don’t let him, Bob. Please don’t let him near us.”
“I won’t, my sweet love. You were given into my care by the god Kukulkàn and the goddess Ixchel. You asked me to possess you and I entered every fiber of your being. But that is a two-way street. At that same moment, you entered every fiber of my being and we became one heart. I will protect and defend you to my last breath.”
I bundled everyone but Zhi and Artemisia back into Areola and the three of us went out hunting. I chose these two for many reasons, but not the least of them was their devotion to me. They were devoted but not possessed. Should it happen that the preacher attempted an exorcism—which I doubted would work—I didn’t want to risk one of my possessions. For now, the five of them would stay in Areola until I assessed how big a threat this was.
It wasn’t difficult to find where the preacher lived. His mansion was every bit as big as mine in the hills. The difference was that mine was meant to entertain dozens of people inside. It was actually rather modest from the outside. His was meant to be seen from afar. I very much doubted that anyone who belonged to his megachurch had an idea of how he lived. When we got inside, we saw that no one could possibly know how he lived.
Yes, we got inside. Even though my look-away spell that I’d been using for millennia didn’t leave us undetectable from electronic devices, Artemisia, Zhi, and I had developed many ways to circumvent alarm systems. Zhi and I had developed our tech when I started unleashing the ninja priestesses on traffickers. Artemisia was a natural at it, excelling in the physics and electronics aspects during our rocket school training. We avoided most of his alarms and disabled others. When we got inside, we found a hedonistic palace made for the pleasures of the flesh. And Reverend Richards was taking great pleasure in them.
Well, he was in one of them. Others were attending him in various stages of preparing for him to be in them. Now, I can’t really be judgmental about a man with any number of women ready to please him. Or any number of men for that matter. Reverend Richards had both. But there was something I didn’t like about the scene. Every one of them wore a collar. And it wasn’t just a necklace collar or a collar from the lifestyle. I don’t argue about the lifestyle either. I recognized these collars for exactly what they were: slave collars.
And each had a blinking light on it, which told me they were undoubtedly equipped with some kind of electronic system, most likely for tracking, but possibly to administer punishment as well. I could see red burns on the necks of two or three.
All told, the right reverend was entertaining half a dozen men with over a dozen of his slaves. We stayed quietly in the background witnessing to make sure we understood fully what was going on.
“What did I tell you, Ronnie old boy? This new batch has been trained by the best. The drugs and the shock therapy keep them compliant with your every wish,” said a broad man sodomizing a boy who was probably underage.
“Oh yeah. I like this,” the preacher said. “She lubricates on command. And you’re sure they are all clean?”
“Clean and sterile. No fear of disease or pregnancy to spoil your fun.”
“How about the pain quotient?”
“Oh, they’ll take it. They don’t like it at all, but they’ll submit. Hell, if you commanded one of them to slit her wrists while you fucked her and let her bleed out, she’d do it. They can’t resist.”
“I’ll take them, but you’ll need to remove the last batch from the playroom downstairs. Two didn’t make it. The others are pretty much used up.”
I’d heard enough. I nodded to Zhi and Artemisia and in a few seconds, all seven of the traffickers were unconscious. I worked a releasing spell on the collars and they fell to the floor. I couldn’t do anything about the compliance of the slaves, but at least if I missed something, the slavers couldn’t punish them with the collars. I examined one of the collars and was shocked to find that they contained an explosive charge as well. I put a binding spell on the seven slavers, including the preacher, and left Zhi in charge so that the slaves didn’t attack them. The slaves seemed unaware that anything had happened as they continued in whatever activity they’d been engaged in when we arrived. A look in their eyes told me they weren’t home.
In the basement, we found a horror. Another dozen slaves lay chained to the walls. Two of them were dead. All bore scars and open wounds. The room was filled with various dungeon equipment, most of which was used in the more radical forms of bondage and discipline.
I didn’t hesitate. I opened a gateway and my concubines flooded out to care for the tortured slaves as I released their bonds. They led the slaves—or in some cases carried them—to Areola. When all were gone, I took Artemisia back to join Zhi and our captives.
She was having a bit of difficulty controlling the slaves as whatever commands they were under began to dissipate. I opened a gateway again and concubines took charge of the freed slaves and led them away as the slavers looked on. They had woken from their nap, but were still under the effect of the binding spell that immobilized them.
While the gateway was open, I called forth the ninja priestesses. I could see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of one of the men as he realized this meant he was about to die. Rumors in the underworld of the black-clad ninjas had been whispered for a few years as we’d cleaned out various nests of traffickers and freed their prisoners. I selected that one to read the memories of. It was possible he could lead me to more of his kind. It is hard for people to believe, but thirty-five million people worldwide are hurt by trafficking each day. And more startling, fifty percent of sex trafficking occurs in the United States. His memories were disgusting, but they revealed another level of his organization.
I shook my head in disgust, trying to clear the filth from it. Then I turned to the preacher.
“What is it that makes you think you can cast demons out of people when you are worse than any demon I have met?” I demanded. I freed his tongue to answer.
“By the power of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to release me and to depart from those you have possessed!” he shouted.
“Hmm. Not going to happen. Where’s your authority? Show me your documentation,” I yelled back.
“I have the power of holy writ behind me.”
“Not good enough. Nothing in the Bible gives you the power to cast out demons.”
“Jesus sent his disciples into the world with authority to cast out demons and unclean spirits.”
“He gave that authority to his twelve disciples and later to Paul. He never said anyone else could have it. Even Paul, who wrote half the New Testament in his letters, never mentions casting out demons. You have no such authority. And when your church finds what you have concealed here, paid for by their loving donations, you will have no authority there. And when you lie in a prison cell, the next to be gang raped, you will be powerless to stop them.”
I could see a change come over him. I half expected it and was prepared. I strengthened the binding spell as he struggled against the bonds.
“You have no authority over us either, Demon Bob,” a different voice issued from his mouth. “You cannot fight all the demons of hell. I will…”
His voice was cut off with his head.
I suspected he was not completely human, but I couldn’t act on the suspicion at once. I’d intended to kill him as soon as I found out he was trafficking. But knowing he was a demon left me few options in how to deal with him. Removing his head and burning it was one of the effective ways of killing a demon. I set the body and head aflame. My priestesses, glowing like avenging angels, set upon the six remaining traffickers and nailed them to the walls of the preacher’s torture chamber. Their particular signature for the purging of sex traffickers.
The last of the men died, choking on his own genitals.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
