Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Def Leppard, and death! This story is the property of the author. It may be redistributed, copied and stored without changes, though it is not to be used by commercial entities. Using this material in any commercial publication, including websites, without the express permission of the author, will be followed up with legal action. This fictional story was written for the entertainment of adults and should not be viewed by those under the legal age. This is a story of casual, unprotected sex, and is a work of fiction. In real life, use a condom, damnit! Unwanted babies, HIV and all sorts of lesser sexual diseases await the idiot who "dips his wick" or "rides the rod" without protection. -- I Dream of Demie 35 - Carl (MF, cons, magic, oral?, parody, viol) by Krosis of the Collective (krosisofthecollective@gmail.com) -- That night, Patty dreamed of a man whispering in her ear -- a bad boy, by the sounds of him, with his buttery deep voice and confident manner. He told her about all the things he could do for her, *to* her, and all she had to do was... Patty startled awake. A loud booming bass line was coming from her landlord Carl's house next door. She looked at the clock: 3 AM. She would normally have just turned over and plugged her ears, but that dream had left her feeling full of energy. She grabbed her bathrobe, put on some slippers, and strode across the intervening lawn, the cool night air slipping under her robe and up her thighs like an overeager lover as she went. She shook her head at that thought...she had been reading too many romance novels! She banged on the door of Carl's house with her fist. A few moments later, her nose was assaulted by the scent of unwashed male and cigarettes, and her ears by Def Leppard, as Carl opened the door, beer in hand, still wearing the jeans and dirty t-shirt from earlier that day. He leered at her. "Who're you, babe?" "I'm...Patty," she answered, confused, "your renter?" "Oh shiiit!" Carl whistled as he squinted at her. "Without yer glasses you look totally different, like Clark Kent and Superman, y'know? Well, come on in, Supergirl!" He opened the door wide. Now Patty realized that she was standing there in a simple bathrobe being ogled by the man who had been stealing her dirty panties, and she had left her phone back in her bedroom. Was she stupid? she wondered. Why did she think that this was a good idea? "I...no, I need to go to sleep. Please just turn down the music, Carl." She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. "Naw, I said get in here, bitch!" Then he yanked her into his living room, her robe coming open as she spun about. She heard the front door slam and the deadbolt lock as Carl strode toward her. "Carl, no--" Smack! He backhanded her, and she fell to her knees, her face nearly hitting the coffee table. She could see several bottles of liquor on it, mostly empty, and the remainder of a line of white powder on a mirror, which explained Carl's lack of restraint. Then her face was shoved forward into the dirty carpet and she felt her bathrobe being flipped up onto her back. Her bare ass was hanging out now! "Noo!" she cried, but her voice was muffled by brown shag carpeting, long past its trendiness. She heard Carl unzip his pants. All her life, Patty had been treated like she didn't matter. Her older sister was prettier and more successful, her only boyfriend in college had revealed that he had settled for her when he really wanted her more attractive roommate, and now she was going to be raped by this skidmark!? Her hand flew out to grab something, anything, that would help her. Her fingers closed around something solid, and she swung it back, hard. "Ack!" Carl yelled, and fell back, holding his head where the whiskey bottle had tagged him. "Fucking bitch! I'll..." Then he was face down on the floor and no longer moving. Patty hadn't even realized that she had jumped to her feet and swung the bottle again, this time with maximum force, fueled by her anger and adrenaline. "Carl?" She dropped the bottle. She knelt next to him and saw blood trickling from his head. "Oh no...no no no..." She looked for his phone but realized that it must be in his pocket. She didn't want to touch him again, so she unlocked his door and dashed back for her own phone. As she ran into her bedroom, she tripped over something. The old book from the apartment fire was on the floor. How had it gotten there? she wondered. She was sure that she had left it in her bag. Then she thought for a moment...the book promised power, everything she ever wanted, and all she had to do was... She rushed back to Carl's house, the book in her hand and her phone in her robe pocket. As she reentered his house, she noted that he was still breathing, but the growing halo of blood around his head told her that time was running out. Phone or book, she asked herself? Book or phone? A buttery deep voice whispered in her ear and she felt her nipples harden. Book. She found Carl's box of table salt and drew the circle and the symbols, as the book prescribed. Then she doused Carl with the remains of his liquor bottles, careful to not mess up the salt circle. She spotted the dying man's cigarette, burned down to almost nothing in an ashtray on the corner table. She grabbed it, took a puff to steady her nerves and inflame the end, and then held it above Carl's dying body. She couldn't, she realized. She needed to call the paramedics. "Boo!" "Aaahhh!" she screamed and dropped the cigarette. That sound had come from right behind her, but when she turned, no one was there! Fwoomp! Carl caught on fire as the cigarette hit the high-proof liquor. "Noo!" Patty screamed, but it was too late. With the burning on top of the damage from the head wound, she knew Carl was done for. She ran back to her home, crying, book in hand, as the flames spread through Carl's house. -- Another week passed before Demie came back, dressed in her usual short purple dress. God, she was gorgeous! "Okay, gang!" I greeted my friends in the living room. "The newspaper reports that old Mr. Winthrop's bed & breakfast is haunted by a ghost, and it's interfering with his business! Are you ready to solve a mystery?" "Boinks!" Monday exclaimed as he sat on the sofa wearing his customary green t-shirt and brown bell bottom pants. "A g-g-g-ghost!? That's scary, right, Doobie Roo?" "'ca-ree!" the shaggy brown mutt next to Monday responded. "Ghosts aren't real," Kate replied, pushing her thick glasses back up her nose. "So says an ex-witch," I told the voluptuous former magic user in her oversized orange sweater and brown skirt. She shrugged. I went to the mirror to adjust my ascot tie. Lookin' good! I told myself. "Okay everyone, to the Misery Machine!" -- As we drove out to the boondocks in the green-blue Chevelle, my mind started to wander. Something was bothering me, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. "Hokay, Tom?" Doobie Roo had stuck his head up from the back seat. I looked over and scratched the mutt behind one ear. "Uh, yeah, Doobie, thanks." The dog pulled his head back, and then I was looking at Demie in the passenger seat. "I missed you," she said. I thrilled to hear that. "Me too." I struggled to remember why she left, but it wouldn't come. Then I felt something snaking along my leg. I started for a moment, but it was just Demie's hand. She had stretched her arm along the car's floor so that no one in the back could see, and now it was unzipping my pants. I did my best to keep my focus on the road as her hand snaked into my underwear and then I swear I felt a hot mouth surround my hardening cock. I gasped softly and looked over at Demie, and she had that little mischievous smile on her face that I loved so much. Now that hand-mouth was sucking on my full erection, pulling off and back on, and thankfully I was able to keep us on the road as she hand-blew me. Finally, I moaned softly as the demon expertly brought me to orgasm and her hand sucked out all of my cum. "Mmm..." she moaned, and I could see her cheeks expanding, as if I was cumming in her mouth. Then she gulped it down and gave me a sexy smile. A moment later, I was zipped back up and she gave my wilting penis a pat before pulling her arm back. A few minutes later, I heard Kate whisper into my ear, "Hey, only one more week..." "Oh yeah..." I replied, turning to give her a grin. Then we'd finally be able to have sex, since her body would have recovered from...from... "'nuggle Bottom!" Doobie Roo called out, standing up and using his full body to point like a hunting dog toward an upcoming road sign that announced that we had arrived at our destination, the Snuggle Bottom Bed & Breakfast. There was a mystery to solve! To be continued... -- Krosis' home on the web: http://www.asstr.org/~krosis Fans or pans? E-mail Krosis of the Collective (krosisofthecollective@gmail.com)