Bob’s Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon
80
Finale
IT WAS DONE. There was an official recognition of Areola by the United States Government. And with that recognition came a Presidential Pardon for Lacy White. She sent a note of thanks to the President and an official resignation to Lacy’s boss at the FBI. Then she and I went to bed together for the first time since her reappearance.
“You know, I can’t complain about our first time together,” she said as I filled her welcoming vagina. “But I hope this time we can take a little longer and really enjoy the experience. Thirty minutes was just too short a time for our first time together.”
“Not to mention less than ideal circumstances,” I said. “I was not expecting to engage with you in quite that manner when we went into the private room at the club.”
“I wasn’t sure I would have the courage to do it. Other girls talked about the fucks they’d had in the private rooms, but I’d never done it. It all seemed more commercial than what I wanted our first time to be.”
“You are a beautiful woman, Lacy. You were then and you still are. I came to love you during our time working together.”
“And look! In just the short time I’ve been in Areola—you’ll have to tell me if it has been a day or a thousand years. I honestly can’t tell—my boobs have gotten firmer. They’re almost what they were when I was nineteen and trying to convince myself that being a stripper was a valid way of serving my country.”
“Did you know that Nimia is 4,000 years old, by natural world reckoning? And she has the same difficulty telling time that you do. It’s irrelevant here. The priestesses have been with me 400 years and all still look like the gentle beauties I baptized on their first day here.” I was a little wistful, I guess.
“Oh, Bob, I’m so sorry your priestess was killed. She was so beautiful and so devoted. What was her name?”
“Well, that’s one of the unusual things about the priestesses. None of them has ever spoken her name. They all declare themselves simply ‘Priestess of The Bob.’ I can’t even go into their temple unless I am in full demon persona and not a trace of human in me.”
“Perhaps not tonight, but soon, I’d like that full treatment. For now, just love me some more. I am so happy not to be living under cover for the FBI.”
Lacy was not the only person wanting my time in the wake of our rescue and the recognition by the government. We were sent an ambassadorial committee of four women who, of course, wanted a tour of Areola.
It was very funny. They came to the mansion—by appointment—and were shown to my study. I opened a portal to Areola and they took a deep breath and stepped through. The first thing they did upon arrival was undress! The president had carefully instructed them on protocol. Indeed, everyone around the pool was naked and I stripped off my clothes for the tour as well. They were only a little uptight, but they relaxed as we continued through the buildings and they got used to seeing naked people.
They didn’t get the whole infinity room tour. They were shown the palace and grounds, the pool and temple, and the libraries.
They were impressed that in what looked to them like a non-technological society, we had a form of television and telephone. They were all a bit disconcerted, however, that their cell phones didn’t work in Areola. Perhaps most impressive of all to them, however, was their tour of the Library of Alexandria and the story that went with it.
“This treasure that you have collected may be worth more than all the alien technology you can offer,” Erin Flynn, leader of the delegation said. Sometime along the tour, she had taken my arm as we walked. “We would definitely like to arrange a repatriation of the volumes of this library to the new Library of Alexandria in Egypt. It would go a long way in cementing relations of Areola to the rest of the human world.”
“I think we can arrange that,” I said. “However, like other things, I believe the process should be undertaken over the course of a number of years. The sheer volume of historic information contained here would overwhelm most libraries. Our librarians have had many, many years to come to grips with what is here.”
I did not mention that some of the librarians were from the original Library of Alexandria. They had no desire to return and I had no desire to paint Areola as an eternal fountain of youth. There were already applications coming to our office in the mansion for tourist visas. I didn’t think I was going to allow tourism at all.
And, of course, the committee wanted to interview some of the women who had elected not to return to the natural world after their ordeal. When they departed, none of the committee members had dry eyes.
“Bob,” Erin said as we neared the end of their tour. “We don’t know all the customs of your world. We’ve all seen your interviews this season on To Boldly Go, though. If it is customary to seal our friendship with sex, I am willing and available.”
I was not really sure if that was an official offer or her own spur-of-the-moment suggestion. I rather thought she was hopeful.
“While Areola is a world with a lot of sex in it, no one is ever under obligation. It is not a transaction and is not expected of residents or visitors,” I said. “We even have a temple to Aphrodite here and the priestesses there make it their mission to physically comfort and entertain anyone, male or female or other, who feels in need. There has never been a case of rape in Areola. If there was, the perpetrator would have been unmade.”
“Killed?”
“More. Completely disassembled and returned to the primordial mass,” I said. She shivered and pulled herself closer to me. She was as close as we could get and still be able to walk.
“We would like to establish an embassy here. Can you tell us how to acquire land on which to build so we can have a full-time ambassador here? We’d also like to establish your mansion in LA as an official embassy of Areola to the United States. Of course, we would welcome your establishment of an embassy in Washington, DC.”
“Things don’t actually work that way here,” I explained. “No one acquires land. No one owns any. People have homes they found that are perfect for their purposes and just moved in.”
“But how do you collect taxes?” she asked.
“There are no taxes in Areola.”
“How do you fund things like the raids on the slavers?”
I led her to the pool and as if I called—which maybe I did—the fifty-one priestesses of The Bob filed out of the temple and into the pool. I shifted my form to the goat-legged demon they loved. Erin gasped at the transformed body she was still holding onto.
“Every person who participated that night was a volunteer. Our force was the fifty-two priestesses of The Bob. There are now fifty-one. One of my precious priestesses was killed by a trafficker and I will mourn her forever.”
“You did all that with these girls?” Erin asked.
“There is no force greater than these women,” I said. “You will see it in our finale.”
Erin hugged herself to my demon form and inhaled deeply. I escorted her to her clothing before I took them back to the mansion. The other three women in the delegation—the president obviously knew who to send—had scarcely said a word, but they all huddled close to me and inhaled my scent.
At the mansion, we agreed that the US embassy to Areola would be established in a mansion next door to our LA home. And we were now an official embassy to the United States.
“I still don’t believe you’re a demon, Bob,” Sonia said. I had been one hundred percent truthful with her about my nature since the day I met her and she still wouldn’t accept that I was a demon.
“I don’t know what I could possibly do to convince you, my love. I’ve been completely honest with you.” She’d even been present when I was in full demon mode and carried the lifeless body of my priestess into the pool.
“Don’t try. I know you believe that is your nature. But I have seen more since becoming one of your women than any demon could possibly hope for.”
“What is that?”
“Bob, look out at this incredible world of Areola. I won’t say there are no arguments and no pain, but look. Everyone here is cared for. There is food for all. If something is needed, it can be found. There is good, healthful, and productive work for everyone. Even if it is not perfect, it is as near to Utopia as any human dwelling is likely to be. You are not a demon, Bob. You are a god.”
That statement made me shiver. In my experience, gods get crucified. That’s what happened to Issa.
“Did you know that in the United States and in several other countries, including Japan, India, the UK, and Turkey, there is now a ‘Church of Bob?’ They profess to believe in you and offer the hope that you will take them to Areola where they will live happily ever after.”
“Oh, dear Zeus, no!” I said. “I don’t want a church. How can they offer something I have not offered? I’m not going to start moving random people into Areola.”
“Do you think a visit to the churches would help? You could tell them outright that you aren’t sanctioning their religion.”
“My experience is that none of the gods actually sanctioned the religion that grew up around their legends. Ninra, Isis, Athene, Aphrodite, Yahweh, Buddha, Issa, Mohammed, Confucius, Zeus, and now Bob. They were all called into existence by the devotees of the religion, not the other way around. And when the devotees cease to adhere to their principles, they close the gates on their world and fade away from even the memories of the churches and temples.”
“Well, you needn’t fear that in Areola. The world would cease to exist without The Bob. Now, make love to me again before the others get here.”
We had a boatload of work to do to get ready for the season finale. Part of the process was dealing with our construction of the new space station/starship. As soon as it became known we were in negotiations with the US regarding ownership of the ship, a dozen other countries wanted in on the deal. We finally put a structure in place that would continue Space Pioneers as the majority shareholder, but would sell shares to other countries. By letting everyone know that The Bob would continue to be in charge of the construction and management, the shareholding countries were reduced to participation according to the number of shares they purchased. And we strictly limited the maximum number of shares any country could own, so they couldn’t just buy everyone out.
I knew that wouldn’t last forever as the idiots who govern the world’s nations would constantly be in contention with each other over who got the best deal, the most seats, and highest prestige. The structure wouldn’t be ready for habitation for five years and not ready to move from orbit for another five after that. There could be an entirely different world order by then. It was why I’d been devoted to leaving.
“Are you really going to launch toward Mars with Space Pioneer 17 the day the mini-series concludes?” my favorite interviewer asked. Elaine Frost dominated the late-night TV schedule. I was always happy to be on her show.
“It might not be that day. There are a lot of details we still need to work out. We will be launching five missions at the same time, Elaine. We will keep the details secret as to what is on each of the ships as they launch. This is to protect the crew and the groundcrew from danger. We don’t mind protests, but we want people kept safe. In fact, I’m told we have full facilities for a large crowd at our Houston headquarters where people can come to protest in relative comfort. There will be cooled tents, restroom facilities, food vendors, and medical aid available. I encourage people to use that location for their protests as others are considerably more remote and unable to handle large crowds.”
“You’re being awfully friendly to protesters.”
“It’s a right and a privilege. Really, we just don’t want anyone hurt.”
“So, what can you tell us about the selection process that is going on in your show? Are you really going to take even more women with you to Mars?”
“The season was created because our ship wasn’t ready at the close of the last season. We thought we’d be gone by now. But the selection has included much more than the entertainment you see on the show. Our crew found a mission and they were and are completely devoted to it. We finished recording the season a few weeks ago and everyone selected has been undergoing rigorous training since that time. Everyone who boards the ship will be ready to fly,” I said.
“Is there room?”
“By this time, everyone knows that I have portal technology that I use to cross back and forth into my home, Areola. Once aboard the ship, I will open a portal to our home and everyone will return to Areola to make the trip in relative comfort. I’ll leave a portal on the ship so that when we land, we can transport back to the ship.”
“I mean, is there room for me?”
“Oh, Elaine, how I wish you had applied. I understand, however, that our network affiliation would be damaged by that move.”
“Well, it was worth a try. Any other hints you can give us?”
“Just one. The final episode of To Boldly Go will be intensely graphic and is not meant for people with a weak constitution. It is both a grueling test of the finalists and an explicit message for people who persist in thinking they can get away with human trafficking. We will find you and eliminate you.”
“That sent shivers down my spine. I can’t wait for the last episode. Safe journey, Bob, and to all you contestants who are or were vying for a place on Bob’s ship of dreams.”
Even with the frequent warning, I don’t think anyone was truly prepared for what we showed in the final episode. We had surveillance footage from Lacy’s frequent trips to scout the locations and that I had taken when the two of us surveyed the sites. Then we had brief footage of our team of ninjas and the rescue with a scrolling tabulation of how many traffickers died in each location, how many people were rescued, and what our losses were. Finally, it showed me in full demon mode releasing my priestess into the primordial mass.
It concluded with me in my office, looking like a human. Much to my surprise, the cast and crew had presented me with a new flag of Areola which hung behind my desk. It was highly stylized, but to anyone who looked closely, it would obviously be a breast and nipple.
“We may journey to the farthest stars, but we will still eliminate trafficking in humans wherever we find it,” I said, looking into the camera. “If you believe you can continue to trade in human flesh anywhere in this world, I encourage you to live each day as if it were your last. Believe me. One of them soon will be.”
I stood from my desk and grabbed my satchel.
“If you’ll excuse me now, I have a.” I opened a gateway and stepped through.
We didn’t end the show there. It shifted to a live broadcast from a luxury yacht in the South Atlantic. We had the time displayed in the lower corner of the screen so people could see it was live. It showed four women led naked into a room where men lined up with drinks and proceeded to start fucking them.’
Then, the camera showed a light appearing in the room and I stepped through, still in the suit I was wearing behind my desk. Behind me came the glowing priestesses. I used the paralysis spell on everyone in the room then moved with the camera and the priestesses further into the ship. There we saw the room where dozens of women and children awaited their call to service. They were guarded by two men who had their pants around their ankles as they held a gun to the head of a woman giving them a blowjob.
This time, the priestesses struck and the men fell. Priestesses of Aphrodite came through the portal and ushered the women into Areola. By that time, the people in the lounge were thawing and looking around to see what happened. When they saw us return, they pulled the women in front of them to act as a human shield as the two guards who had brought the women into the room swung their guns toward us. They did not get a shot off, but fell with knives and shuriken sticking in their bodies. The women were quickly released into the care of our people and ushered to Areola. Some of the priestesses moved onto the decks and began silencing the armed guards permanently.
The men in the room offered to sign confessions and we filmed each of them signing their names. Then the priestesses nailed them to the walls of the lounge and tacked their confessions to their chests with a nail through their hearts. I went on deck and my priestesses gathered to retreat into Areola. My camerawoman and I left last. The clock on the screen showed elapsed time of eight minutes and thirteen seconds. The screen faded to black.
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